What did Mechalon really know about adventurers?

It pondered this, carving a few observations into the ground. Then, more decisively, it burned the words onto a piece of scrap metal in the crisp, geometric language of the system:

Not shiny

Squishy

Weirdly shaped

Curious

Greedy

Loves my weapons

Doesn't stay long

It tapped the welder against the metal, sparks flying as it considered the list. Adventurers weren’t particularly complex, but their curiosity was dangerous. They loved meddling in things they didn’t understand, prodding at the very traps that should have dissuaded them. Then, the idea hit like a bolt of inspiration: chests. Trapped chests. Adventurers always seemed drawn to them like moths to a flame. It could leverage that to take out anyone who strayed too far from the safe paths it had laid out.

But the real question was how to turn this concept into something practical. Mechalon had plenty of scrap lying around and parts from the Cubes it had dismantled. It thought about the components it could use: leftover gears, spare limbs, all the discarded fragments of its previous creations. And there was always the fabricator. That wonderful machine could piece together anything from the raw materials it fed into it.

Mechalon snickered silently at the thought of turning adventurers into cubes, the system would probably approve. It stopped for a moment, mid-snicker, considering whether that was truly such a bad idea. In its mind, cubes represented order, precision, purpose. Adventurers, on the other hand, were chaotic, unpredictable—prone to disrupt the system and leave destruction in their wake. Would turning them into neat little cubes not be the ultimate solution? Each adventurer reduced to a perfect shape, manageable and harmless.

It stared at the list again. Weirdly shaped... curious... squishy. Adventurers were more of a problem than they were worth, and now it had the kernel of a plan. It wouldn’t just build a trap; it would create an opportunity. They were greedy. They loved weapons. They couldn’t resist a chest. So, why not give them something irresistibly tempting—only to turn their curiosity into their undoing? They would reach for loot and, in return, be reshaped into the perfect form.

Now that Mechalon had observed adventurers up close, it knew better than to think they could be shaped like scrap or metal. They were fragile—squishy, flammable even. It had seen them blister and burn when exposed to extreme heat, bubbling up like molten slag before turning to char. The idea of using fire had been discarded quickly. Blunt force? No, they had armor. But sharpness? That was different. It had witnessed the goblins’ daggers slice through their squishy flesh with ease.

But how could it control a trap full of blades? A barrel full of knives wasn’t practical. Even if it could rig such a thing, there was the risk that it would be too chaotic—too unpredictable. Mechalon was stumped for a time, puzzling over the conundrum, until a solution glimmered like a bolt of inspiration: wires. Long, thin, sharp wires. They already came in square shapes when coiled, easy to conceal among the scrap piles. The wires and cords inside the furnace, used to pull and push scrap, could be repurposed into something deadly—if only they were sharp enough.

Testing its theory, Mechalon crafted a small razor mesh in the fabricator. It hunted down a roach, watching it scuttle across the ground. When it dropped the wire mesh on the creature, the results were… underwhelming. Instead of slicing, the wires merely squished the roach. Disappointing. It needed to be smaller, sharper, and probably move with more force than its simple trap could provide.

Mechalon mulled it over, turning the problem around in its mind. Maybe just dropping the wires wouldn’t do the trick, but what if they fell onto the trap themselves? Adventurers were greedy, reckless—they could be made to trip into their own demise. It smirked at the idea, picturing an adventurer falling, wires snapping tight, slicing into their soft flesh like the daggers of the goblins. Yes, the key wasn’t the trap itself—it was making them fall into it.

Making adventurers leap into a pit was wishful thinking, Mechalon realized. Adventurers were reckless, sure, but they weren’t complete fools. Plus, there was another problem: the Cubes. Mechalon cast a wary glance at the skittering minions around it. If it simply left a pit trap out in the open, the Cubes would be the first to stumble into it, blundering straight into the razor wires like moths to a flame. It sighed mentally—its own kind could be hopeless sometimes.

No, for the trap to work, the fall had to be deliberate. Adventurers needed to climb something, something that would spark their curiosity enough to lure them in, but not so obvious that it became suspicious. Mechalon mulled over the logistics for hours. Whatever it built had to be tall, inconvenient—just annoying enough that only the most inquisitive, and therefore the most likely to be greedy, would bother. Then, the fall into the waiting razor wire would be swift and inevitable.

A spark of inspiration hit: treasure towers. Yes, that would do nicely. Building a tower wouldn’t be too hard—just a few welded cubes stacked near the furnace. Adventurers loved a challenge, especially when the promise of treasure was involved. The furnace, it mused, would make the perfect disposal unit for the remains after the trap was sprung. Mechalon snickered to itself, pleased with its own ingenuity. The plan was perfect: lure, fall, slice, dispose. Efficient and oh-so-satisfying.

Mechalon was energized by the thrill of its new project—finally, something truly worthy of its genius. It surveyed the room, mentally marking the perfect spot near the furnace for its treasure tower. This wasn’t just any trap; it was a masterpiece, an intricate blend of cunning and craft designed to outsmart the adventurers that dared intrude.

The welding process began in earnest. Mechalon meticulously stacked cubes, one after another, ensuring that each was slightly askew, just enough to give adventurers handholds and footholds to climb. Not too easy—adventurers thrived on challenge, after all—but not impossible either. The structure stretched upward, higher and higher, nearly brushing the ceiling by the time Mechalon was done. It paused to admire its handiwork. The cubes jutted out like erratic steps, daring any greedy soul to test their mettle against it.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

The interior was where the real genius lay. Inside the towering cubes, Mechalon crafted a smooth, wide chute, polished to perfection. The slide was hidden beneath the top platform, and it would do the heavy lifting—quite literally—by dumping any unfortunate climber directly into the furnace below. It grinned internally, imagining the adventurers scrambling for treasure, only for the ground to betray them in the final moment.

It also needed a way to maintain the trap, and for that, it designed a secret path only it could traverse. Using its spider-like limbs, Mechalon built a narrow, hidden crawlspace leading to the top of the tower, allowing it to restock the treasure chest welded into the summit. Adventurers would never suspect a thing—every time they thought they’d reached the prize, it would be there, gleaming and enticing, ready to lure another fool into its clutches.

But the pièce de résistance was the mechanism beneath the tower. Mechalon spent extra time crafting a trapdoor on the platform just below the chest. It designed it to look sturdy, blending into the rest of the structure, but the moment enough weight pressed down, the entire section would fall away, plunging the adventurers into the waiting chute. Resetting it would be easy. Mechalon installed a clever series of wires at the base, hidden from view. A simple pull from its position on the ground, and the platform would slide back into place, ready to spring its trap again.

As it worked, Mechalon’s thoughts raced. This is it, the perfect test of my skill. Adventurers were cunning, but they thrived on greed and curiosity. And those two traits would be their downfall. Every little detail was accounted for. Mechalon smirked at the thought of adventurers climbing up, congratulating themselves for outwitting the dungeon, only to be dumped into the furnace with nothing more than a few seconds to realize their mistake.

By the time the tower was complete, Mechalon felt a deep satisfaction. It wasn’t just a trap; it was a challenge—a true test for anyone foolish enough to think they could plunder its lair. Adventurers loved proving themselves. Well, this time, they’d get more than they bargained for.

After one last sweep of the room, ensuring everything was in place, Mechalon rested for a moment, watching the finished product. A monument to its creativity, and a beautiful blend of danger and deception.

Now came the final touch: the razor mesh.

Mechalon skittered up the hidden chute it had designed, its limbs nimbly grasping the edges of the smooth metal surface. The inside of the tower was pristine—smooth as glass, a perfect slide for the unlucky adventurers who would soon fall victim to it. The cube-like golem paused briefly, surveying the empty chute with satisfaction. It was an efficient, streamlined death trap the best it could do at this time.

It reached into the recesses of its storage compartment, pulling out the mesh wire. Thin, nearly invisible to the eye, and sharp enough to slice through the toughest leather and skin. This was the real masterpiece, a hidden danger no one would see until it was too late. Mechalon carefully unfurled the mesh, welding it in place along the chute’s walls, right near the end, where adventurers would be at their fastest, hurtling down in a blind panic.

It worked meticulously, ensuring every part of the mesh was perfectly aligned, sturdy enough to withstand the impact of a falling body but sharp enough to do its work. Each weld was precise, each strand of the wire perfectly taut. Mechalon paused now and then to test the mesh, tugging gently on the wires, feeling the subtle vibrations of strength and tension.

Yes, this will do nicely.

By the time it finished, the mesh was woven seamlessly into the interior of the chute, almost invisible in the shadows. The smooth ride down would be deceptively safe at first, but just before reaching the furnace, the mesh would greet them—sharp and unforgiving. Mechalon chuckled to itself as it descended, admiring its handiwork from the bottom. The entire setup was now complete, a perfectly designed trap with no visible flaws.

It wasn’t just the thrill of the trap that pleased it, it was the elegance of the whole system. The adventurers wouldn’t stand a chance. They’d be torn apart before they even realized what had happened, reduced to nothing but scraps for the furnace.

With the final piece in place, Mechalon backed away to admire its creation in full. The tower, the chute, the razor mesh—all were part of a deadly, calculated symphony. The next time an adventurer wandered too far off the path, they’d meet a swift, inevitable end.

It could hardly wait to watch.

Now, it needed the prize at the top—just in case some brave, clever adventurer managed to reach the chest and escape. After all, a proper dungeon must offer rewards for those who survived its trials. Mechalon couldn’t have anyone thinking that its dungeon was ungrateful. No, it had to maintain a balance: danger, yes, but with the promise of treasure to tempt the bold.

The Cubic Slicer had been a fine weapon, practical in its design and efficient in its use, but it didn’t quite fit the spirit of the tower. The tower, with its hidden deathtrap and razor mesh, deserved something more… thematic. It needed a weapon that embodied the essence of the trap: cubes, precision, and danger disguised as simplicity. Something that, much like the tower, would lull its wielder into a false sense of safety before revealing its true, deadly nature.

Mechalon pondered for a moment, its thoughts whirring like the mechanisms in its body. Then, an idea sparked. What if it crafted a weapon that stayed true to its roots? A weapon that looked like a simple, harmless cube—but wasn’t. Something unassuming that could transform into a deadly tool of destruction.

Yes. A weapon that could fold out of a cube.

With a sudden burst of energy, Mechalon set to work. It began with a solid, metal cube, about the size of a fist. The perfect shape—it always came back to cubes, didn’t it? But this wasn’t just any cube. Using its welding tools and the fabricator, it crafted hidden seams along the cube’s edges. When pressure was applied in just the right way, the cube would unfold, revealing razor-sharp blades hidden within its walls.

It called this weapon the "Folding Edge." At rest, it was a simple cube, compact, unthreatening, and easy to carry. But once activated, it would snap open into a deadly array of spinning, serrated blades. The blades, made from the same material as the razor mesh inside the tower, were thin and sharp, designed to slice through flesh and armor alike. And if the wielder managed to somehow avoid injuring themselves in the process, they would find it a formidable tool in battle.

To activate the Folding Edge, a button disguised as a harmless metal stud on one side of the cube had to be pressed. The blades would spring out instantly, rotating around the cube's edges like a whirling dervish of death. And, much like the tower itself, the weapon would require skill and wit to master, anyone foolish enough to mishandle it would end up as sliced as their enemies.

With the weapon completed, Mechalon carefully placed it inside the chest at the top of the tower. It nestled the Folding Edge among a few gold coins and trinkets—just enough to make the adventurers believe they’d found something valuable. But the true prize, of course, would be the cube.

Let them think they've won, Mechalon mused as it sealed the chest shut. I’ll just find better ways of tricking them once they figure out how it works. I need more points in mind for this don’t I?

Satisfied, it skittered back to the base of the tower, casting one final glance at its creation. The trap was set, the reward in place. Now, all it needed was the right adventurer to trigger it.