Cyrus looked up at the exposed cross-section, composed entirely of steel. He didn't know how to feel about this "improved" design. Doubts clouded his mind. The man turned to his second-in-command, currently standing on the top of this structure, measuring the width of the standing area. He craned his head in her general vicinity, "Are you sure this is going to work?"

A distant yes echoed back, reverberating off the grey metal. Cyrus massaged his temples, performing circular motions on either side. With another sigh, he returned to elongating the battlement. Cupping his mouth to extend his voice, Cyrus alerted Shaylah, "I AM GOING TO EXTEND THE WALL! HOLD TIGHT!" In response to his message, two loud bangs in spaced intervals rang out.

The dungeon core pressed his bare palms against the cold, foreign surface. A shiver shot down his spine, whether from anticipation or revulsion, he couldn't tell. He understood the basis of this idea, crafting weapons, tools and other objects out of higher quality materials and superior techniques was an ideal ingrained into roman society. Cyrus knew he should be feeling invigorated at the discovery of such a cheat, bursting with happiness and excitement yet...he couldn't. The idea of replacing bricks with such an expensive commodity gave him episodes of headaches all on their own from the sheer wealth it would consume. Many high-ranking folks, stuffed full of wealth had toyed with the idea, adding reinforced strips and plates to their chariots and houses but none could even imagine the scale of which Cyrus had accomplished through a mere skill in a different world. He could fulfil every desire of mankind yet the roman felt indifferent, treating gold and silver like how society treats bricks and stones, mere building materials, utterly sacked of importance. "Am I even human," he voiced out loud as his line of thought penetrated into the real world.

While the dungeon core was contemplating philosophical topics worthy of even Socrates and Aristotle, he absent-mindedly stretched the wall outwards in accordance with the white, dust markers.

Another tug at his soul. Another notification of his mana reserves being drained dry. The cycle continued.

As Cyrus began upon construction on the final stretch, now nearing the corner of his influence, a shout pierced his mental bubble.

"STOP! That should be enough!"

Although the roman couldn't see the source of the voice, he reflexively craned his neck to look in her direction, only to find his view blocked by steel. He shouted back, "Okay, but why?!"

"Don't tell me you want a square castle?"

Grunting in admission, the roman left his post and circled around the structure, intending to catch sight of his second-in-command. A figure leapt over the edge, landing gracefully behind him in a crouched position. She came face to face with bare, pointed steel, aimed at her face, fleeing hurriedly back into its thin, rectangular lair.

"You should know by now not to sneak up on me," Cyrus groaned, "Really?

Shaylah shrugged nonchalantly and stood up, patting her knees free of dust. "So back to the reason for this little meeting," she leaned against the wall, legs and arms crossed, "I don't get what is wrong with your mind. SQUARE castles? Your world must've been so primitive!"

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Cyrus opened his mouth to rebuke the statement but it was a futile attempt. Her momentum had already gained critical mass.

"Squares offer less coverage and line of sight, leaving a lot of space undefended," while pulling a massive tome out of her pouch and flicking to a dog-eared page. She waved it in front of his face.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Cyrus threw his hands into the air and gave the too-logical-well-reasoned officer the ability to change the dungeon.

[Would you like to give [Shaylah Taneisha] access to all your available dungeon skills and traits?]

[Y/N]

Muttering yes, he stalked away from his gaping second-in-command, throwing a glance over his shoulder. Cyrus left with a few ending remarks, "Just do your thing, get me when we need to do fighting or you're done with this project..."

Shaylah raised a fist to her chest, bowing slightly. "In logic, we trust," managing to stifle her laughter as every emotion flickered across Cyrus's face like a waterfall.

"Whatever!" He fled the scene, bolting into the entrance.

His second-in-command chuckled, walking towards the incomplete wall.

Cyrus was displeased, at himself and his officer. The fact that he so easily gave her administrator commands due to his personal frustrations could've been cataclysmic if Shaylah had even a tinge of evil within her mind. Not that he could tell of course. He furiously rubbed his head while jogging towards the end of the dungeon, utterly oblivious to his surroundings. Low-hanging branches skimmed the top of his head, imprinting thin red lines on his forehead.

After many collisions, near-misses and a waterlogged set of equipment, Cyrus arrived back at the training camp. The blue vortex embraced him before switching its mind and spitting him out the other side. With his vision no longer painted blue, the roman beelined towards the rows of dummies.

Selecting one, he pulled his will out of his mortal shell and infused it into the training golem. Blue light flashed in response, temporarily blinding him. After rubbing his eyes for several seconds to remove the inky blots on his vision, Cyrus directed the machine to follow him.

Strolling through the ranks of statues like a general inspecting his troops, the line of dummies finally ended, bringing the empty parade ground to full sight. He walked a couple paces on the stone before choosing a relatively barren, even spot much like any other. It simply felt right.

The mana-powered robot trailed after him, mimicking Cyrus in its movements. The man halted. The construct halted. The roman rotated his heels, turning his body towards the training tool.

The dungeon core manifested a scutum and a gladius in the training dummy's hands. His sword left its cramped, fleece-stuffed home. The shield no longer protected his back but his front.

"Attack me with everything you have."

The golem jerked into motion, lunging forward, blade aimed at his heart. Cyrus angled his shield towards the incoming blade, letting it skim off the side. A thin strip of leather had been removed. A ding rang in his head. But the decanus had no time to check, flicking away the blue box a split second after it appeared. The distraction cost him. A searing white pain shot through his arm. A red line, similar in dimensions to the mark left on the scutum had appeared.

[Combat Notifications Activated! Peruse at your leisure!]

A twisted smile appeared on his face.

"Again!"

The ringing of steel on steel, the thud of wood and the occasional grunt of pain echoed across the empty chamber. It repeated, over and over and over. Hours passed. The sound persisted, never breaking or pausing.

"Yikes, you are scary when you have tunnel vision. Just wanted to let you know I am done!"