Two weeks had passed since 1765 left the camp, and upon returning, he found an unexpected scene. Now, there seemed to be more golems and several wooden houses built in the area. The surprise was evident on his face; when he had left, there wasn't a single house, just the basic structure of what he had planned. Now, before his eyes, a massive building stood in the center, surrounded by at least ten medium-sized houses, all perfectly aligned in a functional and organized pattern.
At that moment, Silas spoke.
"Resuming control of the system."
Instantly, the golems paused for a moment, as if their energy had been interrupted. Then, after a brief pause, they resumed their work without missing a beat, carrying wood, reinforcing structures, and organizing materials with mechanical efficiency.
1765 frowned, more confused than surprised. He hadn't expected such rapid progress.
"When we left this place," Silas continued, "I programmed the golems to build additional units while advancing the construction of the housing structures. My initial calculations did not account for such an extended absence, but according to the data collected, the directive was executed successfully."
The group of slaves who had followed 1765 to the entrance of the settlement stopped, visibly afraid. They watched uneasily as the wooden and metal figures moved about, tirelessly dedicated to their tasks. To them—individuals who only knew the harshness of the outside world—seeing these structures erected by lifeless entities was surreal and, to a degree, terrifying.
Meanwhile, 1765 advanced and placed a hand on one of the wooden walls of the nearest building. The surface was robust and dense. Its firm texture indicated it wasn't ordinary wood.
"It's made of carbaluz wood," he muttered, recognizing the material upon feeling its hardness. "Carbaluz, though naturally resilient, was subjected to a hardening process that extracted its internal moisture through a combination of heat and progressive pressure. The logs were cut and stacked in enclosed structures where the residual heat from controlled embers gradually evaporated the moisture without warping the wood. Each piece was then pressed with the weight of large stones, achieving greater density in its structure. Finally, the wood was treated with a layer of arcaelis sap, which, upon drying, provided a natural seal that increased its resistance to moisture and erosion."
Silas confirmed his observation. "Carbaluz is naturally durable wood, but to enhance its longevity without advanced tools, we used a controlled heat-drying method and manual compression in layers. Since we lacked nails or refined metals, we employed a system of interlocking wood joints, secured with arcaelis sap, which acts as a natural sealant."
1765 ran his fingers along the joints, noting how firmly each piece fit together. "Arcaelis sap... it seems quite strong."
"Its molecular structure exhibits properties similar to rubber. I recommend a deeper chemical study, as it could prove valuable for future constructions."
"Rubber?" 1765 raised an eyebrow.
"A natural polymer known for its elasticity and resistance to wear. It's extracted from certain trees through their sap and has been used in various industrial applications, from coatings to shock-absorbing tools."
1765 frowned. "Rubber... I don't fully understand. Are you saying arcaelis sap is like that substance?"
"In simple terms, yes. Its viscosity and sealing properties resemble natural rubber. However, I still lack sufficient data to determine its long-term durability or whether it can be processed in other ways."
1765 touched the wood joint again, analyzing its resistance. "It could be useful for other things... but we'd need to test it more. How is rubber processed in your world?"
"Natural rubber is obtained by making controlled incisions in trees to extract their latex, which is then coagulated and hardened using specific methods, such as heat treatment or adding certain reagents. In the case of arcaelis sap, its characteristics suggest a different hardening process based on controlled air exposure and moisture absorption, which might make it structurally more durable."
1765 nodded slowly, processing the information without fully understanding it but knowing it was worth investigating further.
As 1765 inspected the construction and the slaves watched the golems move uneasily, one of the machines suddenly stopped. Its body stood still for a moment, as if it had lost all its energy. However, before anyone could react, another golem emerged from one of the nearby houses, approached the inactive one, opened its chest, and removed an empty cylinder. Then, it placed another in its place.
The inactive golem resumed movement almost immediately and continued its work as if nothing had happened.
"We are running low on fuel. I recommend collecting more silent fruits for processing as soon as possible," Silas reported in his neutral tone.
1765 nodded in understanding. The golems were capable of building more golems, inscribing complex runes, and even recharging their own energy tanks, but they couldn't gather the fruits used as fuel. That was a task he had to handle personally.
At that moment, he felt a trembling tug on his back. He turned to find 2876, the girl who had chosen to follow him. She looked at him nervously, clutching her hands anxiously.
"1765... w-what are those things?" she asked in a hesitant tone.
1765 smiled slightly, understanding her fear. "They're golems. They're creations of science and development, advanced tools designed to follow orders and perform tasks tirelessly. They don't feel hunger, they don't sleep, and they don't think like us. They only execute the tasks they were designed for."
The girl blinked and looked at the golems again, observing their relentless movement. "So... are they your slaves?"
1765 was silent for a moment, pondering the question. Then he shook his head. "No, they're not slaves. They're machines without their own will. They lack consciousness or emotions. They simply execute their programming; they can't decide for themselves. They're tools designed to make work easier, like a hammer or a wheel."
Somehow, 1765 managed to explain to the other slaves that the place wasn't dangerous. Over the course of the next few hours, the tension on their faces eased, and they eventually began moving around with more confidence. Then, he organized the group and divided them among the completed houses. Fortunately, another house was finished by sunset, allowing them to divide into groups of four per house, while the largest structure would serve as a storage facility.
Two weeks had passed since 1765 left the camp, and upon returning, he encountered an unexpected scene. There were now more golems and several wooden houses built in the area. The surprise was evident on his face; when he had left, there were no houses, only the basic structure of what he had envisioned. Now, before his eyes, a massive building stood in the center, surrounded by at least ten medium-sized houses, all perfectly aligned in a functional and organized pattern.
As the former slaves settled into their new homes and a large bonfire illuminated the center of the makeshift village, 1765 quietly slipped away. From a small hill, he observed the settlement, the golems moving tirelessly, and the flames dancing in the dark. He sighed to himself and, without realizing it, murmured:
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"Thank you."
A minute of silence followed his words.
Finally, Silas broke the quiet with his neutral tone. "The host's intention to express gratitude is irrational."
1765 smiled wearily and shook his head slightly. "I say thank you for letting me fight back there. Usually, you'd bother me to avoid unnecessary combat or stop me from putting myself in danger. But this time, you didn't say anything. Not even when I decided to go back. That allowed me to clear my mind and focus."
"My purpose is efficient assistance," Silas replied calmly. "According to the Universal Code of Ethics and Sapient Life Protection, established in the Interstellar Convention on Reasonable Conduct and Armed Conflicts, unnecessary and unjustified killing is considered a grave violation of the principles of interstellar coexistence and a punishable act under treaties of multiple civilizations. However, within the same provisions, the use of justified lethal violence is recognized as a legitimate act of self-defense or third-party protection, provided it meets the criteria of necessity, proportionality, and lack of viable alternatives."
1765 let the words resonate in his mind for a few seconds before responding. "In other words, you let me fight because you thought it was necessary."
"The situational assessment determined that direct intervention minimized long-term risk and generated an optimal outcome in terms of survival and stability. Additionally, your psychological state required a process of adjustment and reaffirmation of purpose."
1765 sighed again, this time with a hint of relief. "Silas... thank you."
The night sky stretched above them, illuminated by distant stars. In the settlement, the fire continued to burn, and the former slaves found some peace for the first time in their lives.
The sun rose, marking a new day. The former slaves awoke once more, but this time their faces reflected calm. They had a roof over their heads, a safe place to rest, and as they approached the campfire, they saw food cooking. This time, it appeared to be fish, accompanied by some wild fruits. The aroma stirred the appetite of many, and soon they gathered to finish cooking and share the meal. However, something struck them as strange: 1765 was nowhere near.
While the golems continued their relentless work, the former slaves, who had grown somewhat accustomed to their presence, quickly noticed their leader's absence. Their doubts were soon resolved when they saw him running around the village. His behavior was strange, but no one asked many questions; they simply watched as he carried out his unusual activity.
The morning passed slowly. With no tasks assigned, the former slaves began to realize that they didn't have much to do. The golems kept everything under control, handling the settlement's tasks with mechanical precision. Over time, their attention shifted to 1765, who continued to perform strange movements.
As he ran, he would occasionally stop to perform exercises that seemed incomprehensible to many. He would push his body up and down with his hands on the ground in rapid repetitions. Then, lying on his back, he would lift his legs in a series of controlled movements. After a short rest, he would squat and jump with force, reaching a considerable height before landing precisely. Next, he would pick up a large rock and repeatedly lift it above his head, maintaining a firm posture.
The exercises continued with intensity: push-ups in various positions, deep squats, short sprints with sudden changes in direction, and explosive jumps that defied gravity. At one point, he even began practicing combat movements, throwing punches and kicks into the air with surprising speed and precision.
The former slaves looked at one another, confused. To them, it made no sense.
After his morning training, 1765 ventured into the forest to gather food and silent fruits. He collected enough for the day and returned to the settlement, where he prepared lunch before continuing his training. In the afternoon, he went out again in search of more resources, returning at sunset. As usual, he settled at the base of a sturdy tree and slept outdoors. It was where he felt safest, which caused the former slaves to notice that he didn't return to the houses at night.
This pattern repeated for an entire week. 1765 trained with discipline, collected food and other resources, while the golems continued exploring the area for useful materials. Thanks to the advanced rune systems and detection matrices developed by Silas, mechanisms were implemented to collect real-time environmental data. These systems could detect variations in temperature, soil density, air humidity, and infrared radiation, as well as measure the chemical composition of certain materials and detect latent energy patterns in the local flora and fauna. This allowed them to identify water sources, buried minerals, and the composition of the local flora. By comparing this data with the information stored in Silas's knowledge base, the valley's resources could be cataloged efficiently, facilitating their future exploitation and optimization for the settlement.
1765 paid little attention to these details. He focused on his training, leaving Silas to handle the more complicated matters he didn't fully understand. However, that didn't mean he was exempt from learning. His two weeks of adventure had been a break, but now that he was relatively free, Silas had become much stricter, forcing him to study each night.
Thus, between physical training and Silas's lessons, 1765's days passed in a routine of constant improvement, preparing him for what was yet to come.
Although 1765 was focused on his training, he still gathered food for the new inhabitants of the village. However, he had overlooked an important detail: these were people with their own thoughts, not golems that simply needed to be fed and maintained.
At first, 1765 didn't want to bother them. They had just escaped from hell and were still recovering. They were eating better than they ever had, although 1765 knew the food was still basic compared to the delicacies stored in Silas's memories. For now, his priority was elsewhere.
This approach led to an unexpected situation. One morning, as 1765 carried out his training, the former slaves interrupted him. At the head of the group was the eldest of them, who looked at him with a determined gaze. His resolve surprised 1765.
Without warning, the young man knelt on the ground and spoke firmly:
"Please, teach us how to fight."
1765 frowned, clearly confused. But the young man seemed to interpret his silence as doubt, so he continued with greater fervor.
"A week ago, none of us thought about escaping hell. We had resigned ourselves to our fate. Every day we woke up with the certainty that we only existed to serve, to obey, to be punished if we failed. But now we are here. We no longer bear the mark of slaves, we have no chains binding our wrists, no orders dictating our every move. For the first time, we eat without fear that someone will snatch the food from our mouths. For the first time, we sleep without fear of being punished for sleeping too early or too late."
The young man lifted his gaze, his voice charged with contained emotion.
"We were born slaves. We were born as Indómitos. From the day we opened our eyes in this world, we were forbidden to love, forbidden to dream, forbidden to even feel affection. We were told we deserved nothing more than to be tools. But even so, many of us had friends. Some even remember their mothers. Not all of us were separated from them too soon. I... I remember mine. I remember her voice, her warmth, even if it's a distant echo in my mind. And now that I'm here, free, I can't help but think of her... and how I wish she could taste just a little of the meat I've eaten these days."
He stood up, his eyes red from emotion, but not letting the tears fall.
"You've already done so much for us. You gave us the chance to live. You let us stay here without asking for anything in return. But I don't want to keep living like this. I don't want to keep depending on others for my survival. I don't want our freedom to be an accident of fate. I want to be able to defend myself. I want to take my life into my own hands."
The young man took a deep breath and finished with a firm tone:
"Please, teach us how to fight."
1765 scanned the faces of the former slaves who were watching him intently. A week ago, he had barely seen a spark in their eyes. Now, they seemed to burn like uncontrollable flames. He didn't fully understand why they were reacting this way, but in some way, it reminded him of the day he decided to escape, four years ago.
Unknowingly, his actions, his unrelenting training, had ignited something within them. It wasn't just a desire to learn; it was something much harder to extinguish: faith and hope.
The simple sight of others, born like him, trying to rise and fight for something more, stirred something deep within him. A feeling he hadn't experienced in years. Without thinking too much, he asked:
"Are you sure this is what you want?"
The 45 former slaves nodded in unison, without hesitation. Their bodies, still fragile from years of abuse, seemed charged with a new determination.
"The training I do is not easy. It's not just exhaustion and pain. If you want to reach a strength similar to mine, you will have to endure suffering that will test your bodies and minds."
He remembered the changes Silas had to make to his metabolism to allow him to consume the silent fruits, the pain he had to endure as his body adapted. He knew they wouldn't have to go through the exact same hell, but Silas had developed alternative methods, including a series of tonics that simulated certain effects, adapted to the Indómitos.
The young man leading the group smiled confidently, with an expression that almost seemed defiant. "I doubt the pain will be worse than the hell I lived through for twenty years."
The others' gazes reflected the same conviction. None of them faltered.
1765 observed them in silence for a moment, letting the weight of their decision settle on his shoulders. He couldn't deny that, for the first time in a long while, something inside him felt... right.
Finally, he nodded solemnly.
"Very well. Then, follow me."
And so, under the dawn sky, the first day of training began for the group of former slaves who had decided to challenge their fate and reclaim the life that had been stolen from them.