Chapter 3

  Ethan pulsed awake, his core feeling sluggish but steady. His mana had finally regenerated, though the exhaustion of repeated failure still lingered in his thoughts. The silence in his chamber felt heavier than before, almost accusatory.

  Chip broke it first. "So… figured it out yet?"

  Ethan hummed. "I’ve figured out that I suck."

  Chip snorted. "Accurate. But also, no. You don’t suck—you just went from building a sandcastle to trying to design a cathedral. Of course it didn’t work."

  Ethan sighed. "I really thought I could brute-force it. The Clockwork Crawler blueprint worked on the first try, so I assumed I could just… do it again."

  Chip buzzed. "That’s the part I didn’t get at first. The system helped you with that first blueprint as part of the ‘compensation’ it mentioned. You got a freebie. But now that it's not helping, you’re stuck doing the hard part yourself—and this is a million times harder than a standard blueprint."

  Ethan processed that. It made sense. The Clockwork Crawler had just worked, no adjustments needed. But the moment he tried to build something from scratch, everything fell apart.

  "Okay," Ethan finally said. "Then let’s try again—but smarter this time."

  Ethan forced himself to step back and approach the problem logically. He wasn’t an instinct-driven dungeon like the others. He had knowledge. He had engineering experience.

  So instead of jumping straight to a full construct, he started small.

  He visualized a simple, functional mechanical limb. Just a single metallic leg, jointed like an insect’s. If he could make something move properly before trying to make a full construct, then he’d have actual progress.

  First attempt? The mana structure collapsed.

  Second attempt? The joints fused together, locking up.

  Third attempt? It moved—once—then shattered apart.

  Chip muttered, "I can’t believe you thought making a full-body golem was a good first step."

  "Shut up," Ethan muttered.

  But failure by failure, he adjusted.

  By the seventh attempt, he realized his problem—he’d been forcing the metal into shape rather than guiding it. Instead of acting like a blacksmith hammering metal, he had to act like an artisan weaving mana through the material.

  By the fourteenth attempt, he finally succeeded.

  A single, perfectly jointed mechanical limb twitched to life under his command.

  [New Design Recognized]

  Chip, for once, was silent. Then, "...Oh. Oh no."

  Ethan hummed. "Oh yes."

  ___________________________________________________________________

  The next step was obvious.

  If he could create a single limb, then logically, the next test should be a full creature. But instead of going straight for a combat unit, Ethan decided to start with something simple: a small, utility-focused golem.

  Chip had many opinions about this.

  "You realize dungeons are supposed to defend themselves, right? You’re spending all your time making something that isn’t meant for combat."

  Ethan ignored him. A dungeon’s survival depended on monsters, sure—but he wasn’t just thinking about the immediate future. He needed infrastructure. Combat constructs could wait.

  He shaped the design carefully. A small, multi-limbed automaton built for carrying and organizing materials. He kept the frame lightweight, using only a thin metal shell to conserve mana. The joints followed the same principles as the limb he had already mastered, ensuring smooth movement.

  By the time he began testing its functionality, Chip had resigned himself to hovering in place, pulsing in mild irritation.

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  Ethan didn't mind.

  Once he got this working, the real fun could begin.

  ___________________________________________________________________

  The small golem twitched again, its thin metal limbs clicking softly as it adjusted its stance. Ethan carefully guided mana through its form, watching how well it responded to commands.

  It wasn’t perfect—its movements were jerky, and its balance was questionable at best—but it was progress.

  Chip groaned. "I really don’t get you. You could be making razor-clawed hunter beasts or heavy-plated guardians, but nooo, you’re making… what, a glorified pack mule?"

  Ethan pulsed smugly. "Yep."

  Chip flickered in exasperation. "Why?"

  "Because I need materials. My whole dungeon is built around metal, but I don’t know what kinds of ores are buried around here. I need something that can search for valuable materials and haul them back efficiently."

  Chip buzzed. "…You do realize dungeons normally just shape their territory however they want, right? You don’t need to mine stuff—you can just use ambient mana to construct new rooms."

  "Sure," Ethan said, "but that’s just making things out of raw mana. If I want actual metal—iron, steel, maybe something stronger—I need physical resources. The better my materials, the better my constructs."

  Chip hesitated. "I mean… you could just absorb the right kind of ore deposits to get what you need…"

  "Yeah, but I don’t know where they are. And if I absorb something without knowing its composition, I could waste mana on something useless. This way, I can find the best stuff before committing to it."

  Chip pulsed, considering it. "Huh. Okay, I kind of see what you’re going for, but still, you’re way too focused on efficiency. Dungeons need to defend themselves, not optimize workflow."

  Ethan sent another pulse of mana into the small golem, stabilizing its frame. "Why not both?"

  Chip muttered something unintelligible but didn’t argue further.

  By the time the golem could walk in a semi-straight line without collapsing, Ethan’s mana reserves were running low again. He let the little construct power down, filing away all the issues he still needed to fix. Its legs were too stiff, its joints needed more flexibility, and its mana efficiency was abysmal. Still, it was progress.

  Chip hovered nearby, watching with something between fascination and exasperation. "Alright, I’ll admit it—you actually made a functioning golem. It’s garbage, but it works."

  Ethan pulsed in amusement. "Gee, thanks."

  "But there’s something we need to talk about," Chip continued. "Mob limits."

  Ethan stilled. "Mob limits?"

  "Yep! Every dungeon has a hard limit on how many creatures it can maintain at once. The exact number depends on two things—your core’s mana reserves and your affinity’s natural efficiency."

  Ethan pulsed thoughtfully. "So the stronger my mana pool, the more creatures I can support?"

  "Mostly, yeah. But affinity plays a role too—Earth dungeons, for example, can sustain a lot of stone-based creatures since stone is super mana-efficient. Fire dungeons tend to have fewer creatures because fire elementals need constant energy to maintain their forms."

  "And Metal?"

  Chip flickered. "Not great for numbers, but solid for durability. Metal creatures take a ton of mana to create and repair, but they last way longer in combat than something like a beast made of ice or raw energy."

  Ethan considered that. "And how does creation work? I know I use mana to make a creature, but does that mean my total mana goes down permanently?"

  "Nah," Chip said. "When you create a mob, you spend an upfront cost—that part doesn’t come back. But after that, maintenance is just a small, passive drain. If a creature gets damaged, you’ll have to pay extra to repair it, but if it gets destroyed, you get some of your spent mana back. Not all of it, though."

  Ethan hummed. "So it’s better to maintain creatures than to constantly replace them?"

  "Exactly! Most dungeons instinctively reinforce their creatures rather than letting them die. You’ll probably do it automatically once you get more experience."

  Ethan pulsed in understanding. "And right now, my mana reserves are tiny, so I can’t afford to maintain a lot at once."

  Chip bobbed. "Bingo! Your limit is pathetically low right now. Honestly, you’re probably capped at three, maybe four creatures before you start bleeding yourself dry."

  Ethan grimaced. That was bad. If something attacked him right now, he’d barely have any defenses.

  "But you can raise the cap," Chip added. "The more you expand your core and dungeon, the more mana you’ll naturally generate. Plus, you can increase efficiency—like, if you design your creatures to run on ambient mana rather than your direct supply, you can stretch your limit way further."

  Ethan pulsed in thought. "I’ll have to experiment with that."

  Chip sighed. "Look, I get it—you’re obsessed with optimization. But you do realize most dungeons start by making actual combat mobs, right? Y’know, defenses?"

  Ethan’s core flickered in amusement. "I’ll get to it. But first, I want a reliable way to gather materials."

  Chip groaned. "You’re so weird."

  Ignoring him, Ethan turned his focus back to the small golem. It wasn’t much now, but once he improved its movement and scanning capabilities, it would be invaluable.

  He just had to make it work.