After the battle was over, Mechalon stood back and observed the aftermath. Roach corpses littered the floor, and its Cublings One, Two, and Three, were slowly returning to their original formation, though now with a certain air of… what was it? Confidence? Purpose?

Suddenly, a screen flickered in front of Mechalon’s vision, but this time, the Cublings themselves seemed to freeze in their tracks. Their glassy, glowing eyes fixated on something that Mechalon couldn’t see. They seemed to be staring at an invisible screen, an update of sorts from the system. Then, the message that appeared before Mechalon was as unexpected as it was exciting:

Cublings are evolving. Would you like to stop them?

Stop them? Mechalon scoffed at the absurdity of the notion. Why would it stop them from growing stronger? No, it thought, dismissing the prompt instantly. Let them evolve. If its Cublings were going to become more than they were better, stronger, faster, then Mechalon welcomed the change. It was curious to see what they would become, how they would shape into something more fitting for their roles in the lair it was building.

One was the first to move. Its form began to shift, subtly at first, but then it grew more drastic. The spider-like legs thickened, becoming sturdier, almost like pillars. Its body expanded, growing bulkier but not losing its cubic form, just enhancing it. The transformation was accompanied by the sound of metal grinding and reshaping itself, a soft hum of power thrumming through its frame.

Mechalon’s system pinged, flashing up another message:

One has evolved into a Tank Cube.

One now stood more solid than ever, like a fortress on legs. It flexed those newly reinforced limbs, clattering them against the floor experimentally, testing its newfound strength. Its movements were slower, more deliberate now, but there was a sense of unyielding power behind each step it took. Mechalon could almost feel the weight it carried, an immovable object ready to take on anything that dared to challenge it. It would be perfect for holding the line in future battles, absorbing the brunt of attacks while the others maneuvered around the enemies.

Two, however, took an entirely different approach. As its transformation began, its body seemed to streamline, its cubic form compressing and elongating slightly. Its legs retracted closer to the ground, growing sharper, thinner, and more agile. They trembled, vibrating with pent-up energy, as if Two could hardly contain the speed it now held. When it moved, it was faster, slinking low to the ground, skittering in a way that felt predatory. It darted forward in a blur, impaling the nearest dead roach on the tip of one leg before tossing it aside with an almost playful flick.

Two has evolved into a Scout Cube.

Two buzzed with excitement, a faint hum emitting from its core as it prowled around the room, always on the move, always searching for something new to poke at or chase down. It was smaller now, sleeker, but what it lost in size, it gained in speed and agility. Mechalon noted the way Two moved, how fluid it had become, almost as if it were dancing around invisible enemies. This one would be their eyes and ears, quick to spot danger and even quicker to respond. The Scout Cube's excitement was palpable, and it reveled in its newfound swiftness.

Then there was Three. Unlike the others, Three hesitated, its glowing eye glancing between One and Two before turning its gaze toward Mechalon. It didn’t rush into the transformation like the others. Instead, it seemed to contemplate its options, weighing them carefully. After what felt like a long pause, Three made its choice.

Mechalon noticed that while there wasn’t a dramatic physical change, there was something more… calculated about Three now. It moved with precision, observing its surroundings and the other Cublings with a thoughtful stillness.

Three has evolved into a Tactician Cube.

It didn’t need to change its body drastically because its transformation was in its mind, in its approach to battle. Three, the quiet one, had always been the thinker, and now it seemed even more focused, more strategic. It was as though it could already anticipate the movements of both allies and enemies. Mechalon felt a surge of pride at this evolution. A Tactician Cube was exactly what it needed someone to plan while it directed. Three’s transformation was subtle, but it was perhaps the most important of all. It would coordinate the others, making their efforts more efficient, more effective.

Mechalon hovered above them, considering. They could no longer be called just One, Two, and Three. No, they had earned more than that now. As it mused over names, it decided that they should retain something of their origins, something tied to the numbers they had once been. But there had to be more personality to it, more character.

One, now the Tank Cube, deserved a name that reflected its unshakable strength. "Onus," Mechalon thought. The name rolled around in its mind like a heavy, steadfast boulder. Fitting for a cube that would carry the weight of every battle on its reinforced limbs.

Two, sleek and agile, would be "Tuo." A name that hinted at its number origin but with a twist, evoking speed and sharpness. Tuo buzzed in excitement, its new name seemingly adding to its restless energy.

Three, the Tactician, required something that spoke of strategy and careful calculation. "Trice," Mechalon decided, short and sharp, but with the promise of something more complex lurking beneath. Trice’s glowing eye focused on Mechalon, giving a small nod as if to acknowledge the weight of the role it had taken on.

"Onus, Tuo, and Trice," Mechalon murmured, feeling a sense of satisfaction. These weren’t just mindless minions anymore. They were individuals now cubes with purpose, each serving a vital role in its plans. They were ready.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Denied! Denied! Denied!

The system’s rejection echoed in Mechalon’s mind with every failed attempt. It stared at the screen, somewhat baffled. How could the system deny the names it had chosen? Onus, Tuo, and Trice seemed fitting simple yet reflective of their new forms. But the system, ever the unseen overseer, seemed unsatisfied. It demanded something more… elaborate? Significant?

Mechalon mulled over it, the rejection sparking a challenge in its mechanical mind. If the system wanted more, then more it would get. But the names had to make sense, had to reflect not just their origins as One, Two, and Three, but also their evolved states. They weren’t just basic cubes anymore; they had transformed into something far greater, each representing a different aspect of Mechalon's growing empire.

First, it turned its attention to One, the bulky, indomitable Tank Cube. It needed a name that conveyed both strength and protection, something that evoked the weight it now carried and the role it played. But “Onus” wasn’t enough for the system, clearly. Mechalon pondered, then struck upon the idea: Fortuno. It combined the essence of being first, its numerical origin, with the sound of "fortress," representing the strength and endurance it now possessed. Fortuno would be the shield, the unbreakable wall that stood firm in the face of any assault.

The system hummed, and this time, it didn’t reject. Fortuno was accepted.

Next was Two. Sleek, fast, almost predatory. Its energy seemed to vibrate at a higher frequency, constantly seeking movement, always on the prowl. Tuo, while an efficient name, lacked the complexity the system apparently desired. Mechalon considered the Scout Cube’s new form, its low stance, its precision, and thought about speed, stealth, and its natural role as the eyes and ears of the lair. Then, the name clicked into place: Velocitwo. A name that married speed with its numerical origin, while also hinting at its relentless, razor-sharp agility.

The system paused, as if considering this new offering. Another chime. Velocitwo was accepted.

Now, Mechalon faced its most strategic Cubling: Three, the Tactician. Its intellect was sharp, and its ability to analyze situations had already proven invaluable. But Trice wasn’t enough, no, this Cubling deserved a name that reflected its keen mind, its capability to command the battlefield with precision. Mechalon thought deeply, considering all angles. Three’s role was one of control, of subtlety, of calculation. It needed a name that embodied wisdom, strategy, and its natural position as third in the hierarchy.

Strategemtris came to mind, a name that combined "strategy" with the number three in a complex but meaningful way. It felt fitting, a name that spoke of intellect and tactical superiority. The system chimed again, and this time, Strategemtris was accepted without hesitation.

With the names settled, Mechalon surveyed its newly named creations, Fortuno, Velocitwo, and Strategemtris. Each had come from humble beginnings as simple Cublings, but now they stood as proud extensions of its will, their names reflective of their evolved forms. They were no longer mere numbers or basic minions; they were unique entities, tools of precision in the vast, intricate mechanism that was Mechalon’s lair.

The system’s acceptance of the names felt like a victory, a confirmation that Mechalon was on the right path. With Fortuno’s strength, Velocitwo’s speed, and Strategemtris’ intellect, it had the perfect trio to assist in the ever-growing plans for the dungeon. It was no longer just a simple cube-making automaton, it was a leader. A commander.

"Now with names in place, I can call them by nicknames. Vel, Strat, and Fort," Mechalon mused, feeling a sense of smug satisfaction wash over it. The solution felt clever, almost too clever for something as straightforward as itself. Here it was, circumventing the system’s rigid demands with a bit of finesse a workaround that allowed it to stick to its preference for simplicity, while still adhering to the system’s more complex requirements.

It raised one of its newly acquired utility limbs, flexing it as if to give the system a proverbial middle finger. A snicker echoed from within its core, mechanical but genuine. The system had tried to force complexity upon it, but Mechalon had outsmarted it, just like it had outsmarted those pesky adventurers with its traps and inventions. Nicknames were practical, efficient, even, and perfectly aligned with its philosophy of function over form.

Mechalon observed the trio—Vel, Strat, and Fort—with what could only be described as a kind of pride. It couldn’t speak to them directly, but the mental commands it sent were sharp and clear. “Use your points as you see fit,” it suggested, trusting them to make the right choices.

Without hesitation, they responded. Vel darted off first, its body brimming with energy, eager to put its newfound power to use. The nimble Cube’s legs flickered as it scuttled off to hunt roaches, almost impatient to try out whatever enhancement it had chosen. Mechalon couldn’t help but admire its speed.

Fort stood steady, the bulk of its Tank Cube form looming like a small fortress. It gave a barely perceptible nod before lumbering off, no doubt reinforcing its durability, making it an even stronger barrier against the inevitable dangers lurking in the dungeon.

And Strat, cool, calculating Strat, was already deep in thought, sending out precise mental commands to the other two, subtly coordinating their movements. It was clear that this one enjoyed its role as the tactician, analyzing the battlefield and deploying Vel and Fort like chess pieces on a board.

Mechalon turned its attention inward for a moment, considering its own choices. Should it create more Cublings? The thought lingered, but it dismissed it for now. More Cublings would mean more chaos, and it wanted to see how Strat adapted to managing this small team before adding more variables to the equation.

It mentally poked the system, half-expecting it to provide some insight into the stats of its creations. But there was nothing, no data on their progress, no feedback on their strengths and weaknesses. Mechalon clicked a utility limb against the floor in frustration. It had made them, after all; shouldn’t it be able to monitor them?

For now, though, it had to trust in their instincts and their abilities. The system was clearly intent on keeping some mysteries hidden, but Mechalon was confident that its creations would thrive under Strat's direction.