Exploration (Welcome to the Multiverse Book 10), page 16
“Through it all, I got the feeling that those other worlds needed something from me, but I didn’t know what to give them.”
I nodded. “As far as I can tell, the vision you had about me depicts an event that recently happened. I get visions too, and I think my most recent ones were meant to convey a message to you. I’m not exactly sure how that happened, but I’m beyond wondering what a god can and can’t do.
“There were two that I believe pertain to you, but to give you some context, let me tell you about the other two, and about how it is that I came to have these visions of what I’ve been told are possible futures.”
With that, I told him the story about how I’d gained the Unmoored in Time title. This resulted in me giving him a good amount of my backstory, but once the words started coming out, they wouldn’t stop. Somewhere along the way, Selena let me know that she was back. Then about an hour later, Fara showed up with tea and snacks for us, while saying something about Tad not being a good influence on me because he never knows when to stop and eat.
A couple more hours after that, I got a message from Selena saying that she, Samvek, and Clay were going to take the five elves for a dungeon run. Apparently, Clay had some special ability as a guild master that would allow him to expand a normal party from a max of six to a max of eight. I didn’t know enough about this world to know if that was important. Lexa and Fara were going to stay and keep watch.
“Fara seems good enough,” Selena said through the team channel, “and they will probably make good allies. Just be careful. I know you like to live with your heart on your sleeve. It’s something that endears you to me, but it’s also a reason that I know you need me in your life.”
“There are certainly more reasons than that. Be careful in the dungeon. I know two of the elves are healers and you have potions, but I won’t be there to resurrect anyone.”
“You still haven’t thought about the potential for my reality mana. Being around you has opened up new paths for me.”
With that, she was gone. I felt a sudden surge of spatial mana. Samvek had probably teleported all of them to the dungeon entrance. Fara must have explained the plan to Tad while I was distracted, because he said, “If they’re going to be gone a while, now is the perfect time for us to work on a golem. Do you have a preference for what type we should make?”
“Not necessarily, although I’m not a fan of flesh golems. But I still want to finish telling you about my visions.”
Tad blushed. “I’m sorry. My excitement is getting the better of me.”
I’d already explained my background and had even talked about what Jay had been able to do while I was outside of time. I next told him about the recent vision with Jiang, and what I thought it probably meant.
“Yeah, that’s just part of why I don’t ever want to be an official prince,” he said. “Politics are not something I’m made for.”
“I don’t think we always get to choose. And for what it’s worth, you seem like you take really good care of your people. That’s a hallmark of a good leader. As for the fourth vision, it was about another friend of mine from a different system.”
I went on to tell him about Ryan and his wives, what I knew about cultivation, and what Ryan had told me about the threats in the Divided Realms, which was not all that much. When I finished, Tad had fixated on one part of the story, of course. “Wait, did you say seven wives? How’s that even work? I think I’d have trouble finding time for one.”
I chuckled. “You and me both, although time with Selena has never felt like a burden. Hopefully, you won’t get married off to some fey princess you barely know. I know all the powers that be in my universe want to use me as breeding stock.”
He frowned in thought. “Now, I feel guilty. Your friend, your blood-brother, needs you. I don’t want to keep you from that.”
I shook my head. “The problem is that while I can teleport, there are limits. The same for Samvek. I’m also cut off from my astral companion, because he might have been able to help us cross the Void to the Divided Realms. Ryan could, too, but I can’t communicate with him. The same thing is true of the dragon, Nico, that I mentioned earlier. The one time that I was offered a path that would have allowed me to travel through the Void, I didn’t take it.
“So I think we may need each other. The question is whether the Ways will be able to help me reach the Divided Realms.”
The figure of Arbormaris was gone, but once again her voice filled the air. “My sire says the Ways know of the Divided Realms. It is closer to the frontier than the Fey System, but not as close as the Heavens or Hell Systems that you spoke of earlier.”
I wanted to ask what they knew about the frontier. By this time, I’d started to believe that the threat had to be far greater than some primordials, but I decided to hold the question for later.
Tad nodded. “Thank you, Arbormaris. Oh, and for you, Silas, when she mentions her sire, she means Yggdrasil, the World Tree, who represents half of the Ways. Like you said, it’s starting to sound like we need each other, although perhaps we should forget about other projects and begin trying to figure out this Infinity Key, even if I have no idea where to start with it.”
I thought about his words for a moment. “No. Everything is a process. My visions are disconnected from time, and are often about distant futures. We need to learn to work together. I need to help you with your problems here. If it works out, we’ll create a way for me to go to the Divided Realms.
“Now, as for a golem, you did say that you have an affinity for Earth Magic, correct?”
He nodded.
“Then let’s start with a classic. How do you feel about stone golems?”
Chapter Nineteen: Playing with Rocks
We set up shop on the deck of the ship, which rested easy in the harbor while the tide whispered against her hull. Tad and I hauled stones up from the water in small loads—smooth river rocks and jagged basalt slick with salt. It turned out that water-breathing wasn’t an issue for either of us. We cleared a space on the deck and laid the pieces out, sorting by weight and grain like we were building something fragile instead of alive. The sailors kept their distance, pretending not to watch, while Lexa stood nearby like a living bulwark, roots sunk deep into the planks.
Our goal was modest on paper. A stone golem no taller than my shin, something simple and obedient, a proof of concept rather than a weapon. Tad knelt and pressed his palms to the stones, coaxing them together with careful nudges of Earth Magic. The rocks shuddered and scraped, edges grinding as they fused briefly before slumping apart again. Every time it failed, the magic unraveled with a dry sigh, like a breath released too soon.
Watching him was extremely helpful to me. I was nervous about anything related to my Hell System class, but when I’d chosen the Golem Molder evolution of Soul Forger, I gained inherent knowledge about creating golems. It was largely theoretical, like that one kid who read the dictionary when he was growing up. He might have had all these words that no one else knew, but that didn’t mean he could use them properly. The same was true here.
So I learned from what Tad was doing. I found there was a similarity between what he seemed to do instinctively and one of my abilities, Terrakinesis. I knew if we’d been on Earth, I could have shaped the stones as I wanted. It would have simply been a matter of focus, intent, and mana. But Tad seemed to balk at exercising the authority he had over the rocks here. I could feel it. Of course, maybe there was another lesson in that. I had the feeling that even with my increased use of Terrakinesis recently, I was still thinking too small when it came to the ability.
Watching the way he manipulated mana also helped me to understand this world better, which could only be beneficial. Not that it kept us from hours of failure.
I stepped in and tried to impose structure with force, shaping invisible frames to give the stones somewhere to settle. The rocks climbed into place, balancing for a heartbeat before collapsing as if rejecting the very idea of cohesion. I could feel the near miss every time, a moment when something almost clicked, then slipped away. It was frustrating in a way that combat never was, because there was no enemy to overwhelm or outthink.
Tad frowned, brushing grit from his hands. “It feels like I know how this should work,” he said quietly, more to himself than to me. I nodded, because I felt the same pull, that half-remembered certainty that lived just out of reach. We both had the instincts of builders, but instincts weren’t enough to make something stand up and move. The magic wanted permission, not pressure.
We tried again and again, changing approaches. Tad shaped a single stone core first, then tried to layer the rest around it. I attempted to seed the structure with a trickle of mana, hoping it would prompt the system to recognize our intent. But each attempt failed in a different way, with stones cracking, sliding, or simply refusing to bind. We never even reached the point where an enchantment prompt appeared, and that absence felt louder than any individual failure.
By the time we took a breather, the deck was littered with inert stone, and our patience was worn thin. Sweat ran down Tad’s neck, and my hands ached with the wrong kind of fatigue. We hadn’t lost a fight or spilled blood, but the repeated failures hit just as hard. Whatever made golems walk wasn’t brute force or raw magic, and until we understood what did, all we had were rocks pretending to listen.
I sighed. “Maybe we’re going about this all wrong. If you have tools, we could get a larger stone, then shape it into the form we want. I’m hardly a master sculptor, but it can’t be that difficult.” I managed to say the last part with a straight face.
“You might be right about that, but I’ve realized something else. We are also on the water. This can’t be the right place to make a stone golem, a creature meant to embody the power of land.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“I think we’ll have to head into town and rent a workshop. We’ll still need to find a big stone, but if I can rent a warehouse or something similar, I can have Spot help with that last part.”
Arbormaris was kind enough to clean up the mess we’d left behind, despite the grumbling from Captain Suther. Tad strapped Spot against his chest in a harness that looked improvised but still well made, the small core pulsing faintly as if it approved of the plan. I could sense the spiritual energy within the core. If I’d had any doubt before, it was gone now. The dungeon core was definitely alive, and as sapient as me or Tad.
Lexa moved ahead of us as we stepped onto the dock. She had an undeniable presence—her weight would have made the planks on a normal wooden ship groan, but Arbormaris was clearly made of stronger stuff. Meanwhile, Fara slipped into the edges of my vision, present without ever being obvious. She was every bit the rogue, and something about her reminded me of Lilly—not in the crazy way, but in the lethal way. The air smelled of salt and tar, and the sky had begun to bruise toward evening.
Tad led us through Basetown with quiet confidence, choosing streets that narrowed quickly and sloped toward the industrial quarter. He had said it had been months since he left home, but I figured this was what it was like if you grew up in one place. My life as a military brat had never been like that, so the way Tad obviously felt at home here wasn’t something I could really relate to.
The ambient sounds changed as we walked—fewer voices and more iron, the ring of tools and the low rumble of carts hauling meat and hides. When the slaughterhouse came into view, the smell hit hard and unmistakable, coppery and thick enough to coat the tongue. I understood immediately why other merchants avoided the area, even before I saw the empty warehouses crouched nearby like neglected animals.
I was also more than happy that I could mute my sense of smell just as easily as I could enhance it. I don’t think many people appreciated how rough it could be having the nose of a hound dog when around a group of people. There were always some who didn’t practice the best hygiene, and others who tended to emit unspeakable odors from parts of their bodies I’d rather not consider.
We found a place that might have worked, a broad stone structure with a sagging door and a roof that hadn’t yet given up. The space inside felt right to me, grounded and heavy, the kind of place where earth would answer much more readily than it had on the deck of a ship. Unfortunately, there was no sign of the owner, no light, no caretaker. Nothing but dust and old stains. The sun was already sinking, shadows stretching long across the yard.
We made a bit of a nuisance of ourselves, speaking to any shop owners who were nearby, and they all told us the same thing. A man named Albert owned almost all of the unrented property, but he was only around in the morning. No one knew where he lived or even what his last name was, and I got the general impression that no one cared for him. Even a flex of my Charisma didn’t get us any more information, presumably because they simply didn’t know.
Tad hesitated, then glanced at me. “We could use it tonight and ask forgiveness tomorrow,” he said, not entirely joking. Lexa tilted her head, seemingly considering the structural integrity of the building, while Fara watched the street with a predator’s patience. I was about to answer when the hair on my arms lifted.
I felt them first, a disturbance in the rhythm of the city that didn’t belong. Tad stiffened at the same moment, his attention snapping outward as Spot’s pulse sharpened against his chest. Footsteps approached in measured cadence, armor clinking in disciplined time, and with them came a pressure that tasted like authority pretending to be righteous law.
They emerged from the street in formation, a patrol of the Order moving with practiced confidence. Lawkeepers made the bulk of the group, but my eyes were drawn to the figure at their front. The Dreadnought wore heavier armor than the rest, plates of a silvery metal which would have likely shone in the sunlight. His presence bent the space around him in subtle, unsettling ways. He stopped when he saw us, helm turning slightly as if taking our measure.
Khal’kar Nussum
Tier: Grandmaster
Level: 210
Class: Dreadnought
Race: Awakened Human, Soul-Debted to the Lawgiver
I didn’t know what the last part of his racial description meant, but I could guess. Beside him were two of the Lawspeakers, both wearing robes, one at level 90 and the other at 96. Behind them were ten Lawkeepers in twin columns, all between level 50 and 60. I was confident that even with the strange effects of the local mana, I could obliterate them all. Our time in the dungeon had served me well, and while I might not be at one hundred percent, I felt more confident than I did when I first arrived.
Fara and Lexa could probably handle the entire squad themselves save for the Dreadnought, if I was any judge of their power. I didn’t know exactly how strong they were, but they were a cut above the Order in quality. The Lawspeakers might be the most annoying, as they were clearly caster types.
The air went still. Lexa shifted forward a fraction, roots whispering beneath the stone, while Fara’s hand drifted closer to her blade. Tad’s jaw tightened, and I felt the same calm readiness settle into me that always came before violence. I didn’t get the feeling that any of them were going to share my love for battle, but that was likely for the best. They’d probably live happier lives without becoming battle maniacs. Whatever we’d planned for the evening, it wasn’t going to start with sculpting stone.
Before I could do anything, Tad spoke up. “Why are you bothering people? Shouldn’t you be hiding in your temple, waiting for the light to come out again?”
The Dreadnought took a step forward, but one of the Lawspeakers held up a hand. “Lord Nussum, don’t let such filth bother you. They aren’t that impressive. Maybe a lesson—a few fingers lost, perhaps—will teach them to walk in the grace of the Lawgiver.”
I was confused. If they could truly sense our levels, they should know that Tad, while not quite as high a level as the Dreadnought, was still far beyond them. And if they could see my level, I’d expect them to be running by this point. “Can’t they sense our levels?” I whispered to Fara.
“Tad puts off a distortion field that makes it difficult for those sworn to the Order to detect him, and if we’re close enough to him, it can affect us as well.”
Tad stepped forward. “Enough chatter. They clearly don’t want to talk. Leave them to me. I’ve got some pent-up frustration I need to vent.”
I expected Lexa or Fara to protest, but while they both got ready, neither made a move to join Tad, who was now standing halfway between our group and theirs. He did glance back at me. “I’m sorry to be a poor host and not share, but this is personal.”
That raised all kinds of questions, and I was a little upset I was going to miss out on a fight, but I figured it would be informative to see how he handled himself in battle. He was extremely confident, despite being outleveled by the Dreadnought.
I felt magic flare around him. I couldn’t have said what it was exactly, but there was a haste effect for sure, and another which seemed to enhance his physical traits, causing them to shoot up significantly, if I was getting a good read of the magic.
“No quarter asked for, nor given,” Tad said. “Tell the Lawgiver when you see him that this isn’t his world.”
Tad moved before they could react, and the fight ended before it truly began. Lightning exploded outward from him in a blinding chain, snapping from one Lawkeeper to the next with impossible speed—I recognized chain lightning when I saw it. Ten bodies hit the ground almost simultaneously, armor blackened and smoking, eyes already dead before the echoes of thunder finished rolling. It was precise, surgical, and utterly final.
In the same instant, Tad flickered through space. One heartbeat, he stood before us, and the next, he was directly in front of the Dreadnought. His foot slammed into the man’s chest with brutal force, sending him staggering backward as though he weighed nothing at all. A heavy cleaver with a crescent blade appeared in Tad’s hands, drawn from spatial storage mid-motion, its edge gleaming with quiet menace.
