Exploration (Welcome to the Multiverse Book 10), page 39
“That won’t change,” Tad said quietly. “Not until this is over.” He straightened and looked at me, then at the iron, then toward the space Spot had already begun reshaping above us. “Are you ready?”
I glanced around the warehouse. Selena and Samvek were asleep, sprawled with the careless exhaustion of people who’d pushed past their limits. The awakened elves rested nearby, power still settling into them in subtle ways that made the air feel charged. Urg stood silent and watchful, wings folded, eyes following everything without comment. This was as good a moment as we were going to get.
I walked over to the forge, and the others followed. “Once we start this, we’re both going to have to be completely focused.”
Tad met my gaze, serious now. “Agreed. This isn’t something to rush.”
Clay pushed off the wall and stepped closer, curiosity winning out over exhaustion. “So this is really happening. We’re building iron golems.”
I smiled despite myself. “Looks that way.”
Oliver shook his head with a quiet laugh. “As exciting as this is, I need some sleep. These old bones weren’t meant for cloak-and-dagger operations.”
Clay and Oliver went off to find a comfortable spot in one of the sleeping areas we’d set up. They were out before I’d even finished going over the designs with Tad one last time.
I rolled my shoulders, feeling the familiar blend of anticipation and responsibility settle in. The iron was here. The forge was hot. The design was final. Whatever came next, there was no more theory to hide behind.
Chapter Forty-Five: Flame and Hammer
I stood before the forge with the twelve and a half tons of iron stacked behind me and felt a quiet sense of rightness settle in. The heat rolled outward in waves, bright enough to wash the shadows from the far walls, but it barely registered against my skin. Spot had already adjusted the forge to the scale I needed. The airflow was deep and even, and the heat layered instead of flaring, perfect for what I was about to attempt.
I started with the legs, because anything that stood twelve feet tall needed a foundation that would never lose an argument with gravity. I lifted a stack of iron ingots that weighed more than a loaded truck and set them into the forge like it was nothing, watching the glow evolve from dull red to white-hot in seconds. When I took my first swing with the hammer, the sound rang through the warehouse like a church bell. Each subsequent impact reshaped the metal with measured precision.
I wasn’t forcing the iron to comply with my wishes. I was guiding it, letting the heat and mass do the work while I decided where it needed to go. To me, the pace of the swings was a steady, rhythmic flow, but I realized that it was more akin to some machine from the old era of Earth landing multiple strikes every second.
Force constructs flickered into place around the workplace as I needed them, invisible braces holding sections steady while I hammered others into shape. They weren’t hands and they weren’t replacements for skill. They were clamps, supports, and reference points, allowing me to work at angles no physical rig could manage. I could acknowledge that they were a crutch, a sign that my skill wasn’t truly up to this task. The numbers for the skill didn’t mean as much as they might have. They were more a sign of a high Mind stat that allowed me to learn things quickly.
I could feel the iron settling as I shaped it, density redistributing, mass flowing where it belonged. Even before the first leg took its final form, I could tell it would bear far more than its share of weight without complaint.
As the second leg took shape, I began to stack the mass mentally, picturing how the hips and torso would sit atop it. Too narrow and the golem would wobble under sudden movement. Too wide and it would lose the sense of inevitability that came from a solid, forward-driving stance. I adjusted the flare of the upper leg by inches because I felt that something wasn’t quite right. That instinct was new, sharpened by everything I’d been through, and I trusted it.
The torso came next, forged in sections out of necessity. Moving that much heated iron at once would have been inefficient, even for me. I shaped the core thick and dense, a solid mass meant to anchor everything else, then fused the sections together while they were still glowing. My hammer blows erased boundaries, the metal flowing into itself until there was no clear line where one piece ended and another began. Tad watched from a distance, silent and attentive, and I could tell he appreciated the significance of what was happening even if he didn’t fully understand the mechanics.
By the time I stepped back from the assembled body, the golem stood upright, massive and imposing even without motion or magic. It was functional, undeniably so, but something in me refused to let that be enough. The shoulders were a fraction too high, the chest carried weight in a way that would resist rotation, and the stance felt almost rigid instead of inevitable. I stared at it, hands resting on the hammer, and felt a familiar frustration creep in.
Power wasn’t the problem. Neither was strength. I could lift hundreds of tons and crack diamonds in my hand if I had to, but shaping something this large into perfection was a different kind of challenge. I knew I could make it work as it was, but I also knew that if I accepted ‘good enough’, it would haunt me later when the runes amplified every flaw I’d ignored. So I turned back to the forge, jaw set, already planning the next pass, determined to force this iron into the exact shape it deserved.
Almost as if to taunt me, a notification popped up.
Blacksmithing 297 >> 301
Metallurgy 245 >> 248
Metal Working 315 >> 318
I growled under my breath and went back to work with a sharper edge to my focus, striking and reheating, shaving mass from one place and adding it to another. Each correction improved the silhouette, but it never quite crossed the invisible line in my mind between acceptable and right. The shoulders still felt stiff when I imagined a full rotation, and the balance through the hips lagged just enough that sudden lateral movement would waste force. For something meant to stand against awakened enemies, wasted force was unacceptable.
I paused, hammer resting against my shoulder, and studied the golem from head to toe. It was impressive, no question about that, but it still looked forged rather than born, and that wasn’t what I was going for. I knew it bothered me more than it should have. I’d stood up to a goddess without this kind of doubt, but this was different. This was something I was creating to protect others, and the responsibility sat heavier than any weapon I’d ever wielded.
Urg’s presence shifted beside me, quiet but unmistakable. I drew strength from him. Where I might have lost my patience, he kept me centered. He didn’t interrupt or comment on the shape directly, just watched the iron with the same patient intensity he brought to battle. After a long moment, he rumbled, “Forge is part of dungeon. Dungeon listens to Image.” His voice carried no accusation, only certainty, like he was stating a fact that should have been obvious.
I frowned and turned that over in my head while staring at the golem. I’d been treating the forge like a tool, even an advanced one, but still just equipment. Spot had provided heat, space, and support, but I hadn’t really considered what that meant beyond convenience. I felt a level of connection with the dungeon. It was why this had felt possible in the first place.
The realization hit with a quiet snap that made me exhale a surprised laugh. “Terrakinesis,” I muttered, the word tasting right the moment I said it. I’d been swinging a hammer like a blacksmith when I should have been shaping matter like a native son of the world. Within this dungeon, with my connection to it, the rules were different. I didn’t need to fight the iron into place. The boon I’d gained caused me to be able to use Terrakinesis inside the dungeon. The forge was part of that dungeon.
I mentally thanked Urg for the reminder and gathered my thoughts. This was an ability I knew I needed to use more—I didn’t have anywhere near enough experience with it. On Earth, it held the potential to be my most powerful ability, and that was saying something.
I set the hammer down and closed my eyes, extending my awareness into the golem’s body. The iron responded immediately, but it was still mindless and couldn’t yet obey commands. I felt its mass, its density, the way stress wanted to travel through it when force was applied. With a careful push of intent, I began to guide that mass instead of striking it, smoothing transitions, redistributing weight, and aligning structure in ways no hammer ever could.
The change was subtle at first, the kind you’d miss if you weren’t looking for it. Edges softened into curves that carried force more cleanly, and the torso rotated a fraction of a degree that suddenly made everything click. I adjusted the hips, lowering the center of gravity just enough to where the stance became unshakeable, then refined the shoulders so the arms could swing with devastating momentum. The iron no longer glowed. It didn’t need to. It flowed under my Will like clay remembering it had once been part of the earth beneath our feet.
When I opened my eyes, the golem stood transformed. It was still iron, still massive, but now it looked whole rather than assembled. The balance was perfect, the lines clean and purposeful, and the sheer presence of it pressed outward in a way that made the space around it feel smaller. I felt a deep, satisfied calm settle in my chest, the kind that only came when something was finally done right.
Urg inclined his head slightly, which for him was high praise. I smiled and rolled my shoulders, already feeling the next steps lining up in my mind. The body was finished at last, shaped not by brute force but by understanding and the power of a Forerunner. Now came the part that would decide whether this was just a statue or the beginning of something truly dangerous to our enemies.
I turned my attention inward again, letting the satisfaction fade back into focus. Shaping the body had been about balance and inevitability, but runes were about intent. Each string I placed would change how the golem interacted with the world, not just how it moved through it. I took a steady breath and let Terrakinesis remain active, holding the iron receptive, like soil ready for seed.
I’d never tried using Terrakinesis to inscribe the runes before. I’d always done it by hand with my armor or any of the other magical items I’d created. This would be a first, but logically speaking it made sense.
I started by enhancing speed, not in the sense of grace, but in response. I guided thin channels through the legs and hips, embedding rune strings that would compress and release force in controlled pulses. These patterns would pull mana into the golem, giving it abilities it wouldn’t have had before. They were about making the golem react more quickly and move faster once it was reacting. With Terrakinesis I simply sank the strings of runes into the metal, folding the rune paths inward until they became part of the structure.
Next came kinetic amplification, and I treated it with caution. Power without direction destroyed more than it helped, something I’d learned the hard way more than once. I layered the runes along the arms and across the chest, weaving them into the mass points I’d already identified. When the golem struck, these paths would gather force, reinforce it, then bleed a portion outward in a shock rather than trapping it inside the body. That would keep the structure intact while still letting it hit like a siege engine.
The jump capability came after that, and it made me smile despite myself. The sight of something this large flying through the air would give at least some of our enemies pause. I embedded the runes deep in the feet and calves, tying them into the center of gravity I’d already perfected. The idea wasn’t flight or elegance, but explosive displacement, the ability to launch that twelve-foot frame across a battlefield and come down with catastrophic intent. I could already imagine the impact, iron meeting ground with enough force to crater stone and shatter foundations.
The breath weapon runes were the most complex, and I really took my time with them. I traced a network through the chest cavity and throat, leaving space for whatever animation process Tad and the disc would introduce later. These runes weren’t defining the breath itself, only amplifying and shaping it, reinforcing output and stability so the discharge wouldn’t tear the golem apart from the inside. Whatever curse or cloud it exhaled would be denser, longer lasting, and harder to resist because of these foundations. The trickiest part of this was that I was seeking to amplify an ability which didn’t yet exist. That wouldn’t come into being until we’d installed the control disc.
Throughout it all, Terrakinesis and rune smithing blended into something new. I was no longer switching between skills. There was no reason to. I was using them together, Will guiding structure while understanding dictated placement. The iron accepted the rune paths without resistance, and I felt the dungeon hum softly, as if Spot approved of what I was trying to build. That feedback helped, steadying my focus whenever doubt crept in.
I paused several times to reassess, pulling back and then diving in again when something felt off. One rune chain along the spine created too much feedback, so I reworked it into shorter segments that could vent excess force. Another cluster in the shoulders threatened to over-amplify rotational momentum, so I redistributed it into the upper arms instead. Each correction made the whole more stable, more coherent, until the rune network stopped feeling like an addition and started feeling integral.
When I finally stepped back, the golem didn’t look any different on the surface. There were no glowing symbols or etched markings to give away the work I’d done. Yet with Spirit Sight, I could see the internal lattice clearly, a web of intent and reinforcement that made the iron feel awake even without animation. This wasn’t flashy craftsmanship, but it was dangerous in a way that mattered.
I let Terrakinesis ease and rested my hands on my hips, studying the result. This was as far as I could take it alone. The body was shaped, the runes were in place, and the framework was ready to accept the control disc and Tad’s authority. Whether it would become a true weapon or collapse into an expensive lesson depended on the next steps, but for the first time since starting, I felt confident.
Urg’s presence remained steady at my side, and I drew strength from that quiet approval. I wasn’t done, not by a long shot, but I’d laid the groundwork for something that could change the balance of power in Basetown. Now it was time to see if the rest of the plan would hold together as well as this had.
There were a few notifications to attend to. This time they were welcome.
Metallurgy 248 >> 250
Metal Working 318 >> 324
Rune Smithing 290 >> 305
Terrakinesis (Epic 95%) >> 99%
That gave me something to look forward to. Terrakinesis was so close to evolving, and I still had another golem to shape. I was hopeful that before the day was over, I’d have another legendary ability, but for now, it was time to install the disc and see if all my work had been worth it.
Chapter Forty-Six: Happy Birthday
The forge had gone quiet in that peculiar way only profound work could create. Heat still shimmered faintly in the air, but the iron had cooled enough to hold shape without assistance. The golem lay on its back across the stone floor, twelve feet of dark iron constructed so perfectly it looked restful rather than inert. It didn’t feel like a thing anymore. Instead, I could almost imagine the chains of potentiality as they swirled around it.
I stood there for a long moment, hands braced on my hips, letting my breathing slow even though I didn’t need to recover. I wasn’t tired, not physically, but something in my mind needed to settle. This had taken a little over two hours, yet it felt longer, stretched by focus and revision and the weight of knowing this mattered. I’d shaped weapons before, armor before, even buildings, but this was different. This was something meant to stand on its own.
Tad approached quietly, his footsteps light against the stone. He stopped a single pace away from the golem and took it in from head to toe, eyes tracing the lines and proportions without touching. I could tell he was impressed by the way his posture changed, the way his shoulders relaxed as if a worry he hadn’t voiced had been put to rest. When he finally spoke, his voice carried genuine approval. “It’s… better than I imagined. And I have to admit, I wasn’t sure what to think of your designs. I mean… all those squiggly marks? Please don’t take offense to this, but part of me thought you might be a bit mad. But your runes seem to work. They draw in magic.
“But I still don’t know why. That should be magic of the Heavens, yet it is working here. The same could be said of all of your spells. Why do they work here? The only answers I can come up with all leave me uneasy. Maybe all these magics work simply because they all tap into some unwritten code of the multiverse, or the ‘base code’ of the universe, as you called it before.
“If that isn’t the case, I have to wonder if the systems are all operating under some ancient pact which causes them to support one another’s magical protocols. That one seems the least likely. It definitely isn’t consistent with how jealous of its domain the Fey System appears to be. My final theory is that the systems aren’t separate entities at all, but are all really just part of one divine being with multiple personalities, which, either willingly or unwillingly, opts to present itself to us in a myriad of ways. That option frightens me the most.”
I nodded once, not trusting myself to speak. Compliments landed differently when they came from someone who could feel the world the way Tad did. He was looking at me as though expecting an answer. I glanced at Urg, who’d been hovering around supportively throughout the entire process. I didn’t know what I’d hoped for, but Urg clearly wasn’t going to reveal the secrets of the multiverse to me in that moment. Maybe he didn’t know any more than I did.
