Chapter 35

  Ethan stood in his workshop, staring at the two latest creations laid out before him: the Combat Strider Mark IV and his new Gunslinger Mark I Golem. Both were a culmination of his constant tinkering, his relentless pursuit of efficiency, and, of course, his ever-increasing mana capacity. It was time to get serious about these new toys.

  The Combat Strider Mark IV wasn’t too far from the Mark III. He’d streamlined its components and reduced its energy consumption, which meant it could operate for longer periods without needing to recharge. But that wasn’t all. He’d fine-tuned the mana flow through the various circuits, making it more responsive and nimble in battle. What once took three steps to do, now only took two. In the world of combat golems, that was huge.

  Ethan couldn’t help but let out a little smirk as he worked. His idea of efficiency was almost a joke at this point, considering how much energy was packed into this thing. "Let’s call it the ‘no-breaks’ edition," he muttered to himself. Sure, it didn’t roll off the tongue, but it got the point across. "When you're in trouble, you’re going to wish you had this guy."

  Next up was the Gunslinger Mark I. Now, this one was a bit more special. It was essentially the Mark II Combat Strider with a Mark IV core, which meant it had excess mana to burn. Lots of it. And Ethan wasn't about to let that go to waste. So, he outfitted it with weapons—guns, to be precise. But instead of just calling it a “gun-wielding construct,” he had to have some fun. After a few minutes of considering options, he named the weapon system "BANG," which stood for "Ballistic Armament with Nano-Generated Energy."

  He chuckled to himself. “BANG. You just can’t go wrong with that.”

  The concept was simple enough. By integrating excess mana into the guns' internal mechanisms, he was able to generate projectile blasts—but not just any projectiles. These shots would be enhanced by the surplus mana, making them more powerful and faster. It wasn’t just about firing bullets; it was about firing energy. The Gunslinger was equipped with long-range capabilities and a rapid-fire mode that would allow it to suppress large groups of enemies or create a diversion.

  Ethan moved around the golem’s torso, checking connections and adjustments. "Should be ready for a test run soon enough," he said. "Let’s hope I don’t burn through all my mana on the first shot."

  After finishing the Gunslinger, he turned his attention to the dungeon. This had been on his mind for some time now. The dungeon was getting too big for its britches—so he had to give it a little makeover.

  Ethan’s first step was to enhance the mana flow throughout the dungeon. He had learned from his past mistakes: without enough efficient energy distribution, the constructs were prone to malfunction, and traps were easily overpowered. So, he installed a series of mana conduits to link every corner of the dungeon. These conduits would help balance mana usage, keeping everything steady.

  Next, he focused on the overall layout. The dungeon needed more space for the increased number of constructs he was planning to unleash. To avoid creating bottlenecks during invasions, Ethan designed several new chamber types. Some were vast, open rooms that would give the constructs room to maneuver, while others were compact, engineered to be a labyrinthine nightmare for anyone who dared to navigate them.

  He also upgraded the security measures, adding more traps, more stealthy illusions, and some new surprises. The goal was simple: make sure no one could get in without him noticing. And if they did manage to break through, well… they’d have to face his latest creation: the combat golems.

  When Ethan was satisfied with the dungeon layout, he turned his focus back to his own progress.

  Then, as if his entire focus had shifted to the process itself, Ethan’s awareness sharpened. His heartbeat slowed, and the ambient mana in the room began to hum, vibrating through him. The feeling wasn’t new; it was the sensation of pushing boundaries—of reaching for something more. He had felt it many times before, but this time, it was different.

  The hum of energy resonated deep in his chest, and his mind started to blur the lines between his body and the dungeon core. His senses shifted. It wasn’t just his dungeon evolving; it was him.

  Suddenly, the weight of everything he had been working for—every schematic, every advancement, every painstaking effort—came together in a wave of euphoric, overwhelming sensation. His body tingled with lightning, a force surging within him as the culmination of his hard work and intellect pushed against his limits.

  A brief moment of ecstasy followed, where time seemed to slow to a crawl. Ethan felt himself breaking through, a crack in his very being forming, as if his old limitations no longer applied. His core pulsed as a flood of knowledge and abilities surged into him, his consciousness expanding.

  And then it came—the notification, flashing across his vision with the unmistakable clarity of his ascension:

  You have advanced to the Saint Stage.

  System Update – Saint Advancement Achieved

  ? Mana Capacity: Massively Increased. Regeneration rate significantly boosted.

  ? Core Evolution: Dungeon Core now stabilized across dimensional threads.

  ? Essence Conversion Efficiency: Passive mana-to-matter and logic-structure conversion boosted by 70%.

  ? New System Access: [Dimensional Architecture] Unlocked.

  ? New Innate Ability: [Manaspirit Binding] Acquired.

  ? Alert: World System reaction detected. Visibility to higher-tier entities increased.

  It came like a wave tearing through the seams of reality. The moment his core crossed the threshold, the air folded in on itself—silent, trembling, weightless. Ethan didn’t fall or rise. He just existed, floating in a depth of mana so rich and dense it hummed like a tuning fork struck in the center of his soul.

  His body, forged from enchanted alloys and tempered mana, wasn’t the focus. The real change happened in his core. The dungeon heart bloomed. Mana surged through every reinforced corridor, construct bay, forge node, and control rune like a second heartbeat. It didn’t feel like power—it felt like permission.

  He breathed, or at least simulated the sensation. The world felt lighter, and infinitely more detailed. Even the threads of logic that ran beneath his own blueprints now shimmered with patterns he hadn’t been able to perceive before.

  “I can feel every piece,” he muttered. “Not just the walls… the logic, the rules underneath. It’s not architecture anymore. It’s—language.”

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  “Dimensional Architecture,” the Strategist said, calm and composed as always. “You can now create internal realms, layered folds of space that ignore normal spatial logic. Rooms within rooms. Gates that only appear when the right thought is spoken. Entire constructs housed in compressed realities that deploy on command.”

  He could see it—barracks that didn’t take up space until they were needed. Halls that looped forever unless you had a specific marker. Constructs stored inside sealed realms that snapped open with a thought, arriving fully active and combat-ready.

  And then the second message clicked into place.

  Manaspirit Binding.

  He didn’t even need to test it. He knew what it meant the moment the System granted it. This wasn’t a spell or a trick. This was an ability tied to his existence now—his mana could shape spiritual echoes. Not just thoughts or instinctive reactions like his semi-sentient traps or constructs before.

  Actual sapience. He could embed awareness. Create constructs that grew—not just upgraded, but changed as they experienced things. A Gunslinger construct that began with basic firing patterns could, over time, learn terrain preferences, anticipate cover behavior, or even make judgment calls. Not true life, not yet—but the spark of self that would become it.

  “Living constructs,” he whispered.

  “Not quite alive,” the Strategist corrected, “but walking the edge. You could form command units with their own initiative. Defensive tacticians. Workers that innovate. Even commanders to lead independent detachments.”

  Ethan grinned. “So I don’t have to micromanage every single turret anymore.”

  “You could still do that,” the Strategist replied. “But now it would be a choice, not a necessity.”

  The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—it was anticipatory. As if the world itself had paused to see what he’d do next. But the Strategist wasn’t done.

  “Now that you’ve ascended,” it said, its voice shifting, becoming sharper, more formal, “the Silence has authorized me to reveal more.”

  Ethan’s eyes narrowed.

  “Now that you’ve ascended,” the Strategist said, voice clearer than ever, “the Silence has authorized me to reveal more.”

  Ethan didn’t answer. His focus narrowed to the voice threading through the now-vast currents of his dungeon core. Every word felt like it echoed not in the air, but through the logic that bound his domain together.

  “The world you inhabit—this region, this continent—is a closed system. Limited. Not by chance, but by design. Mortals rise through ten tiers, then ascend through Saint, Sage, Duke, King, and Emperor. But those are mere titles. The true endgame, the final step, is the Overlord Stage.”

  Ethan felt his heart skip a beat. “And that is the last, right?”

  “Not exactly,” the Strategist continued, his tone reflective. “The Overlord Stage is a step before true ascension. It’s the point at which you transcend this world entirely. A being who reaches that stage is granted the authority to command worlds—perhaps even to shape them in their image. But you, Ethan, are already far more than just another ascended individual.”

  Ethan’s mind churned. “You said I wasn’t like the others. Why?”

  The Strategist paused. “You were never meant to be a regular mortal. You’ve always been a special case—a consequence of the unique intervention of the Silence itself. The path you walk now is one that will take you beyond even the Overlord stage. None of the entities above you in tiered power structures, from the mortal emperors to the Observers themselves, know what lies beyond. The Silence, however, sees you as a being who can bridge that gap.”

  Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “So, there’s more to this. There’s something more than being an Overlord?”

  The Strategist nodded, a rare trace of emotion flickering across his words. “Yes. After the Overlord Stage, you’ll be a being of true divinity—beyond even the realms of existence known. The final ascension is not just a progression in power. It’s an evolution. But that knowledge is still veiled. The Silence is the only one who understands what lies beyond. And it is because of your unique connection to them that you will experience this… personally.”

  Ethan stood still, the sensation of his recent ascension still lingering in the air around him. His core hummed, not with power, but with potential. The world felt sharper, more vivid, but there was an odd weightlessness to it, as if he was floating just slightly above his true self.

  He had broken through to the Saint Stage, a monumental milestone. His mana capacity had expanded, his regeneration rate significantly boosted. He could feel the dimensional threads wrapping around his core, stabilizing it in a way that it hadn’t been before. But for all the new sensations coursing through him, Ethan knew one undeniable truth: he was weak.

  He had just reached the Saint Stage, but here, in this backwater corner of the world, a dungeon achieving such a feat was incredibly rare, almost unheard of. It was a significant accomplishment, but one that barely scratched the surface of what true power looked like. And the world beyond? Ethan wasn’t blind to the fact that, compared to the greater forces at play outside this dungeon, he was still insignificant. His power, for all its growth, was nothing in the face of the true titans of the world—the Emperors, the Observers, the forces of the Church.

  And those forces were watching him, waiting.

  “You’ve ascended to the Saint Stage,” the Strategist’s voice broke through his thoughts, calm and measured as always. “But in the grand scale of things, you are still exceedingly weak. There is no denying that. Compared to the power outside, your current strength is negligible.”

  Ethan nodded, feeling no sting of resentment. He knew. The system had already warned him of his fragility in the face of what was to come.

  “The Church’s support, and the Observers’ interest, will not save you,” the Strategist continued. “Not if you don’t grow quickly. There are forces beyond even their reach, and there are countless entities that would see you wiped from existence before you can become a true threat.”

  Ethan didn’t respond immediately. The words weren’t new to him. He understood the stakes. What mattered now was how he would proceed. For now, it was about survival.

  “Even now, you cannot afford to stand still,” the Strategist added, its voice unwavering. “I’ve been assigned the task of ensuring your survival. The Silence itself is interested in your future but don't take this as need, it simple supports you for its own amusement. It will guide you, but you must walk the path alone—at least, for now.”

  The Strategist’s next words were almost mechanical, matter-of-fact.”Your memories of your previous life as well,the immense intellect you posses compared to your fellow Dungeon Core kin and the advantages the Silence has granted you may be useful,But remember—this world is not kind to those who are weak. And right now, you are not yet prepared to face the challenges that lie ahead.”

  The words didn’t weigh on Ethan; they merely reinforced what he already knew. His power was not the problem—it was his inability to withstand the world outside. And that was something he would remedy in time.

  Your advantages may help you thrive and grow at a far faster pace than everyone else but you need to be strong enough to survive till you can achieve this immense potential you possess.

  You need to learn, adapt, and expand. I will assist you as per the orders of my Lord but I cannot guarantee your survival only your wits and efforts can.

  Ethan’s thoughts turned inward. There was no room for hesitation, no time for distractions. He had a long road ahead, but for the first time, he understood the magnitude of his journey—not as some grand destiny, but as a survival instinct. He needed to keep moving, keep building, keep adapting.

  “I understand,” Ethan said, his voice even, his thoughts already moving past the Strategist’s words. There were always more blueprints to refine, more constructs to craft and more Tiers to advance.

  “Good,” the Strategist replied. “Then let us proceed.”

  Ethan turned his focus inward, back to the hum of his core. He could feel the power thrumming within him, just waiting to be shaped, honed, and expanded. But even with this newfound strength, there was no illusion—he wasn’t invincible. He wasn’t even close. The outside world would crush him without hesitation, and the Church, the Observers, and every other force that lurked in the shadows were watching his every move.

  The Strategist, with its endless patience, would guide him. But survival would depend on how quickly he could turn his potential into something real—something formidable.

  With that resolve firmly in his mind, Ethan began the quiet process of expanding, refining, and creating. One step at a time. Survival wasn’t about strength. It was about evolution. And evolution, for him, had just begun.