Uno

Spoiler - it turned out that forging weapons from Warpstone wasn’t easy.

Especially since it seemed like the green gold was behaving more like a stone, than an ore. There was nothing to melt, to purify into usable metal. This came as a surprise and meant that I currently lacked the method to process it… this obstacle could be overcome but I speculated that such experimentation would be a dangerous and lengthy process.

And that was why I swiftly delegated it to an unending stream of Ratling volunteers and one particular Idiot-Smith. This made the first-floor smithy crowded with both human peanut gallery and a constant wave of rat helpers.

It was chaos. Some of the Ratlings were screaming, others tried to assist the smith, while the rest were carried away, their bodies charred and swollen. Those in still recoverable shape were given one of the remaining serums in hopes of saving their lives. An additional objective was to create new monster types for my dungeon to recreate.

There was no need to waste perfectly good materials.

This high-speed attrition rate filled the smithy with the smell of burned fur and flesh, creating a place more akin to purgatory, than a forge room. In the middle Idiot-Smith pounded the metal like there was no tomorrow, ignoring the constant shattering of failures. Around him the rats also worked their assess off, trying different tricks while preparing the Warpstone for use.

In the end, only the most resilient humans could keep watching, yet they persisted, their eyes twinkling with greed and awe.

If what I learned earlier was correct, then their desire was easy to understand. Yana's continent lacked magical metals, items, and potions. Or at least the sentients were devoid of the means to create them. There were no crafting classes, only the combat ones, so assistance wasn’t given to those with academic minds. No skills, upgrades, nothing.

I heard that some dedicated folks were trying to rediscover forgotten secrets by recreating their predecessor’s descriptions, but their ignorant forays often ended up in disaster. Not that haphazardly throwing lives and resources at the problem like I did was any better.

There were some results already, but not from the angle I was pursuing. A new breed of Ratling had been born. An agile helper, with greater resistance to fire damage, blunt and piercing trauma. Their minds were quick and cunning, just like the Ratmen of the Old World.

Iron Ratling Crafter

A small, bipedal, hunched rat type evolved from a beast-like dungeon creature. It trades natural weapons for dexterous four-fingered hands and an equally agile tail allowing it to aid in its tasks. Their hide provides heat insulation and reasonable damage resistance.

While there are many types of Crafters, with different abilities regarding temperature resistance, strength, and nimbleness (depending on their chosen profession), all are part of the same sentient-adjacent evolution tree.

Threat level: E

I observed the new breed and discovered that the changed rats were already close to evolving on their own. I just sped up the process. The countless tunnels and underground warrens already created a need for specialized mechanics and blacksmiths. I was also pretty sure that Ratlings that took up farming or medicine were on the same road to specialize. It was only a matter of time before they achieved something truly spectacular.

But that was for later. Right now their role was to help me create an artifact I promised Non.

I focused my mind. What were the problems?

The first hurdle was to understand how to work with Warpstone. I often made fun of the crafting stories, or hell, even the Lord of the Rings, where working Mithril and Ithildin was a nigh impossible, forgotten task.

I wasn’t laughing now.

At least I wasn’t completely starting from the beginning. Ratlings had already tried a load of stuff, failing pretty much every time, but by doing so they allowed me to understand what actions I should avoid.

Like how the material didn’t respond well to excessive heat and instead turned into a mutagenic goo splashing on the floor. It dissolved most of the materials that came into contact, be it flesh, iron, or stone. Unfortunate, that. Or how it turned brittle when melted the “wrong” way, splintering explosively when struck. That one trait was useful for traps since the splinters carried some nasty side effects… ah, but the cost of building them was quite prohibitive.

Trying to find the proper procedure was grueling, dangerous work.

I left the minions to it and started to track what Charles and his surfacers were doing. My avatar was sent to observe more of the runes chaining the Snake Den’s Dungeon Core and I focused on frantic activity taking place above my head.

Part of it was watching Charles being dragged around by his girlfriend, as she used her newly gained powers to plow through both my Dungeon and the unlucky wasteland-born monsters. The Silver Oasis leader was looking increasingly exhausted, dark circles appearing under his eyes.

Despite that gaunt face, this was the only moment when I saw him smile - when he accompanied Agnes in her activities.

So, of course, I decided to add a bit to his work.

My servants wandered into the man’s compound and asked for a meeting. Things were moving and I hoped for some overall plan to be made.

It took a few days for Charles to clean up his schedule but that was fine. We weren’t that hurried. In the end, we decided that a first-floor room - the one once used as an armory - was good enough to conduct our meeting. I spawned a few chairs and a table beforehand, as the place was intentionally left decrepit. The low-level Lebirs standing near the walls were of no consequence, with both Charles and Agnes being the surfacers' powerhouses.

Additionally, Master Vincent, the old, helmet-wearing mage, and Charles' silver-haired butler, Adam, were attending this meeting, raising its importance from a simple chat into something more profound.

The young, red-haired mage was the first one to speak.

“What is it, Uno? I have work to do.” He grumbled, relenting a bit after Agnes caressed his arm.

“Well, I gave you ample time to reacquaint yourself with the Princess, so I thought we should talk about your treatment and the overall situation.”

“The situation?” Master Vincent spoke before Charles could respond. “What do you mean?”

“Do you people not share information?” I asked incredulously. “Your leader pissed off the Geinard Kingdom’s higher-ups so a retaliation should follow shortly.”

It seemed like the old mage was the only one not in the loop, as the other people present didn’t even change their expressions at this revelation. He scratched his chin while glaring at Charles.

“Care to explain?”

“You were cloistered in your tower, analyzing the information you dragged out of Uno’s creatures. Your apprentices had the gall to wave me away, even when I came to get you in person.” Charles huffed in annoyance. “What else do you want? Be glad I didn’t turn them into ashes for the disrespect!”

“Ahh…” It was time for Master Vincent to feel awkward. “I may have given out some harsh orders to stop the interruptions.” He admitted sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Charles massaged his temples. “It doesn’t matter, there’s not much we can do, anyway.”

“But being informed is a half of the battle.” I interrupted, before adding. “And the other half is raw power. My ability to gather information is limited considering I’m a bit rooted in place.” There was no chuckling in response to my pun. Shame. “Still, my furthest sentries do tell me about stirrings in Shieldstar, the Kingdom’s capital. More worryingly both wasteland and Luna Kingdom’s territories are behaving suspiciously.”

“And how did you even gather that knowledge?”

“A secret!” I grinned, even though nobody could see it.

It turned out that creating a race of prolific rat-like beings adaptable to most environments had some perks. The Queens sent raiding parties and scouting teams to find new Dungeons and places to settle. Right now their efforts didn’t bring any effects but along the way, some of the Ratlings were embedded in our enemies' territory.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

From what I’ve heard their life was anything but easy with a body count already in the hundreds but their sacrifices weren’t in vain.

“Really?” Charles snarled. “We’re allies, for Gods sake!”

“That doesn’t mean I need to share every little thing I know with you.”

“I don’t think that a Dungeon Core having scouts and spies classifies as a little thing.”

Before our argument could escalate Agnes interrupted the back and forth.

“Adam, do we have any information about what Uno had reported?”

The old butler messed around with the papers he brought to the meeting. After a short while he responded, his eyes still lingering on the written word. “Our reach in the Geinard Kingdom is limited, so I can’t confirm their mobilization but considering Master Charles's elimination of their one-woman army the retaliation is likely.”

He sighed. “Things are a bit clearer with the Luna Kingdom. We did receive an inquiry about the dungeon-born creatures being spotted near their borders.”

“Damn.” So it was my fault, huh?

Adam continued as if nobody interrupted him. “And considering that they recognize Uno’s Dungeon as pacified we deflected the query, guessing that there may be another Dungeon being born in the vicinity.”

“That won’t fly.” Agnes scoffed. “Not only for about half of a century no other Dungeon had been born, but also the creatures they found were probably rats. I assume their reaction to Uno’s undead - Lebris, right? - would be different, considering the badlands are nearby.”

“Yes, I would assume so.” The butler confirmed. “And yes, before you ask, Madam, I searched the library, poor as it is, and found no mention of any other Dungeon on record to create anything similar to Ratlings.”

“Rats aren’t that uncommon, though?” I wondered.

“Rats - yes. Those things you created, with a ranged attack, social structure, and war tactics… those I would certainly classify as unique.”

I inwardly nodded. Considering that my “brothers” were simply a crystal with a baked-in loop of orders… I wasn’t surprised.

“So they’re onto us.” Charles mumbled.

“A reasonable assumption.” Adam nodded in response.

“So we’re in for another friendly incursion from their Princess or another big wig I assume?” I asked, feeling something cold crawl up my spine. This was worrying. I didn’t even have a spine!

“Probably. And considering that dungeon creatures are walking among us, with the fresh addition of demihumans.” Agnes smirked humorlessly, pointing at her scales. “We can’t allow them to reach the Silver Oasis proper.”

“Yes. The Luna Kingdom may not be as bad as Elven Theocracy or even Geinard Kingdom, but they would still purge those changed in a blink of an eye.” Master Vincent spoke with a placid expression.

“Great. Another problem on my head.”

“Our heads, darling.” Agnes smiled, touching his hands which calmed the hot-headed man down. “Any other reports, Adam?”

“Yes, Madam. Our scouts note an increased activity in the badlands.”

“Aren’t things always stirring there?” The red-haired mage grumbled.

“Surprisingly, no.” Master Vincent smiled, the question kindling a scholar’s fire in his eyes. “You see badlands are devoid of life, making any army movement a perilous operation. No food to scavenge means depending on a logistical train, something that the barbarians are nearly incapable of. Because of that most of their living population is concentrated in a few, highly contested lush zones. They’re not unlike our oasis, just bigger and located pretty much only on the surface.”

“The badlands humming with activity is a rare thing. They don’t waste food and water without a cause. For example when they’re preparing for a raid… or when the ancient undead are stirring.”

“Do we have any idea what is happening there?”

“We’ve noticed many battle sites and signs of movement. Not much more is known.”

“And the bodies?”

“Mix of undead and barbaric races. Goblins, orcs, some trolls.”

“So someone is stirring the pot.”

“It would seem so.” Adam admitted.

“At least Dwarven Holds remain neutral.” Charles sighed in response. “They rarely move unless directly provoked.” I kept quiet about a whole dwarven colony being put to the sword. Hopefully, that decision of mine won’t bite us in the ass.

“What about Dross Republic?”

“We have fragmentary reports.” The butler responded. “It… doesn’t look good.”

“What do you mean by that?” Agnes questioned their servant.

“He means that the whole place is trashed.” I interrupted. “A strange gas covers their whole former territory, killing anyone entering it. I’m working on a solution but for now, my undead are in charge of scouting.” This was an un-optimal solution because calling Lebir stupid was the understatement of the century. And for some reason, charcoal-activated gas masks weren’t able to stop the magical sarin from entering the lungs of my Ratlings.

How did I know how to make them? Thank you, Cataclysm: Dark Days Ahead. I had only the barest idea, though - all the kinks were straightened by my rats.

“But that won’t stop the wild undead or worse spawning and wandering through their territory… I shudder at what kind of mutations will appear in that place.” Master Vincent added his three cents with a serious expression. “It’s widely known that the birthplace of a monster has a great influence over its skills and body makeup. Slimes, undead, and toxic tribes are common in such places.”

There was a bang, as Charles smashed his fist into the table. “So not only did they abandon the continent in its time of need but they even left us a farewell present, did they?” His face was turning murderous.

“It would seem so, love.” Agnes caressed his shoulder once again, eliciting a small blush as he huffed. “There’s not much we can do about it. We can only hope that the ocean’s horrors will make them pay the price for their betrayal.”

The low mood persisted even as we continued to talk about our neighbors, concluding that Dwarven Holds was the only country we could trade with. Otherwise, Silver Oasis had to rely on the Dungeon and surrounding landscape to feed, clothe, and arm itself.

Things that I was able to provide.

Then it happened.

In the middle of the discussion, I was pinged by my creatures.

They did it. The Warpstone had been processed into a usable state.

In the end, we had achieved a breakthrough by way of coincidence. Idiot-Smith smashed the prepared billet, which shattered in two pieces, ricocheting around the room. It skewered a rat on the way, before stabbing into the nearby wall. Before the rest of the helpers could dispose of another failure, Idiot-Smith picked it up in his hammer-fugue.

This time the metal didn’t bend, shatter, or leak. It allowed the Idiot-Smith to pound it into shape, sharpen it… and then its work was done.

It seemed like the answer was… blood.

Warpstone needed to be slathered in blood before forging to keep it under control.

Fucking blood-forging wasn’t a meme.

Damn.

Now only to experiment on whether sacrificing a life was a necessity, did it raise the quality of metal? Was blood from a random creature enough? Another conundrum - did sapience or maybe sentience have to be achieved first for the blood to work?

Questions, questions, questions.

I shook my head but accepted the outcome. With the Snake Den Dungeon being nearby killing off my own creatures wasn’t needed, so that part of the production process could be industrialized. Ratlings already were butchering snakes for meat and experience - siphoning off their blood only added another way to use them.

After the blades were made and sharpened I focused on the hardest part. Carving the runes. Due to their 3D nature, I focused on carving the weapon handles, since weakening a blade’ structure would be ill-advised. At least I could cheat, directly spawning the bones of many magical creatures killed off in the invasion, or even those of my own. Creating Non’s weapon handles out of fellow undead felt pretty horrible. The Ratlings' bones were too weak to be of any use and Butchers' organic parts devolved into something that wasn’t even classified as a bone, but more like a type of alloy… so I ended up deciding on some troll bones as a base.

These creatures were among the invaders killed a while back and, to tell the truth, I kind of forgot about their existence despite their useful traits like innate regeneration. The rest of the schema was pretty awful though, with the resulting creature being dumber than dumb and full of hunger.

And that was even when comparing them to the Lebirs, which certainly weren’t champions of intellect.

This combination created an omnivorous living vacuum cleaner with the intelligence of a rock. I was surprised they managed to breed, with their elevated levels of aggression activated by virtually any living thing, other trolls included. Their regeneration wasn’t compatible with Lebirs and Ratlings as they were too small (or too undead) to sustain the caloric intake needed for the regrowing ability to work properly.

Still, it was an option, just one I wasn’t sure I wanted to use.

It seemed too much like a weapon made to wipe a territory clean, making it inhabitable in the process. And a tool that could turn on its maker wasn’t a weapon at all, just a catastrophe waiting to happen.

Anyway, what followed were hours and days of slow, mindless work, trying to carve away the exact shapes of the 3D mana seals, and adapt them to the weapon itself. I was never good at this type of thing… At least I could rebuild places where my “hands” slipped, sparing me from starting all over. Still, even with such a cheat, it was a mind-numbing task, one that I couldn’t even cede on my minions.

In the end, my work ended without fanfare. There wasn’t any explosion or visual cue, at least to the naked eye. The surrounding mana swirled and disappeared into dagger-shaped holes punched into reality, as my creations greedily drank the power, stopping only when the room turned into a mana-less wasteland.

The weapon looked like a sleek pair of carved spikes made from dark, slightly green metal - perfect for stabbing. The daggers ended in a carved, white, and gleaming bone - a beautiful color, despite its gruesome origin. These armaments positively hummed with power - they weren’t even sapient, yet the greed and desire to feed emanating from them were overwhelming.

Forcing myself to ignore the intuitive revulsion I looked at them, and surprisingly, the System showed me a description. Weird. This was new.

Souldrinker Incisors

A pair of otherwise unremarkable magical daggers made from green, rare metal and smithed using a long-forgotten art of blood quenching. They carry a crude soul-stealing enchantment and have been prepared to disgorge the stolen essence into portable orbs.

Despite being only a tool of murder their innate hunger sharpens the metal they were forged from while its sheer malevolence makes it harder for their wielder to hide from sight. If fed enough souls the daggers could awaken into sentience.

Wait.

Fuck you, System! My enchantments are not crude!