Blacksmith vs. the System 289

After Rosie left, I started working on my plan. The first step, collecting raw materials.

It was not the first time I had tried to search for metal deposits in a dungeon. The steps of the process had stayed the same, but the scale had changed. Back when I was first setting up the operation, I had used a metal stick and Observe, and assessed a tiny space, forcing me to test every ten yards. In that way, finding a substandard ore pit floor would have required a few days, and a decent bit of luck.

I still used Observe, but powered up with Perception, it allowed me to check the ground for metal deposits in large pulses, allowing me to find metal deposits, each check easily assessing half a square mile easily. With that, it took merely a second to find the first iron deposit.

The other steps stayed the same. Use the hammer attack skill to shatter the ground to create a large, open surface mine, create a belt to move the stuff, and create blast furnaces to purify the ore into iron. Though, hammer attacks unearthed the full deposit in a few blows, blast furnaces required no fuel and ran based on fire rune enchantments that I injected with mana whenever it started to lose power, and the movement between different parts handled directly by shellwork.

It was expensive. It took almost fifty thousand points of mana to generate a ton of ordinary iron. But, unlike back when I was struggling alone in the depths of the decay dungeon, I did not lack mana, but time. It merely took five minutes, and that was with splitting my attention killing the monsters.

There was a reason for me to focus on refining metal. I couldn’t simply plant the flowers and spread them. Not when the corruption of the monsters was rising higher and higher. Ordinary dungeon creatures avoided the repellent plants, and tended to rest around the ones that generated dungeon mist.

But, we had learned that, once the corruption had surpassed a certain point, that behavior changed, with monsters attacking both sources. It meant, even if I was willing to canvas the first floor to plant more flowers, I couldn’t stay.

Luckily, I had long developed an alternative. Hydroponic farm, with multiple shelves filled with a modified version of the red snow flowers, the melted snow of the dungeon more than enough to support their growth.

Especially when I imbued both the metal and the water with transformed mana.

It had been a while since I had experimented with Nurture directly, but that didn’t mean my learning stopped. Among my students, six out of seven were farmers, which meant a lot of our discussions had revolved around a base of Nurture.

That gave me a strong basis of theory, allowing me to apply my Runic Craft skill in very creative ways that the skill was not prepared for. Instead of imbuing each flowerbed, I cast all my spells to a central reservoir of water, which functioned as a combination of a mana reservoir, as a medium to cast my growth spells, and a magical pump to bring nutrients to the flowers.

Each metal flowerbed rose a hundred yards into the air, the vertical growth making them easier to protect.

From there, I split my attention in three directions: mining and processing iron ore; creating and supporting flowerbeds; killing wolves and processing their tainted frost energy into mana.

That, and waiting to see what I would do, would impact the dungeon. It was difficult to feel the exact situation of the dungeon without a connection, but a smile boomed on my face when I saw the first hint of mist.

It was a soft, lingering energy, barely able to hold together around the flowerbeds. A hopeful change, suggesting that my wild plan had some viability. Too bad my success still depended on Drakka’s patience. All it would take for them to trigger the trap early.

All just had to trust that Rosie’s diversion would convince that the great reward was not too far away.

It was just after an hour, when I felt a distinct flicker in my connection with the dungeons. It was a feeling I recognized, as I had experienced the same when I struggled to take over a fire dungeon.

The dungeon was not alive, at least not in a way that we usually described it from a scientific perspective, but the more I mingled with magic, the more I realized the old description was not entirely helpful.

“It’s the time for the last part of my plan,” I muttered, and I reached for a connection, just like I did back when I was taking over the fire dungeon.

I didn’t have any boss crystals, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t replicate them. That was what those giant stacks of dungeon plants were for. The connection it provided was vague, enough that I would have missed it without my deepening connection with the decay dungeon.

And, if there was one benefit to Drakka’s grand plan, it had depleted the dungeon even worse than what the heretics did on Fire Dungeon. The dungeon was almost eager as it reached, and I just linked it to the decay dungeon, adding another subordinate entity.

Back when I took over the fire dungeon, there had been a battle between two dungeons, which ended quickly due to power difference between the two. This time, there was not even a fight. The frost dungeon bound itself to decay dungeon in a way that shocked me. Though, the decay dungeon didn’t accept the inclusion the moment I made the connection.

It was slightly different from what had happened with the fire dungeon. Since there was no second entrance for heretics, I didn’t need to violently rip the first floor. Instead, the connection formed obediently. I even managed to preserve its connection with its original source of skills, but I didn’t dare to look any deeper, afraid of accidentally ruining it.

Then, like clockwork, the dream came. I could have let it take me, but I stayed out. The situation was too tricky for me to lose myself in a dream. What followed was a vague, transparent vision rather than the immersive experience, overlapping with the dungeon.

A tundra stretched around me into a white and gray wasteland, broken only by black ridgelines of a shoreline, icebergs bobbing around. But, despite the cold, the tundra was a beautiful, lively place, flowers of many colors filling the shore, and sparse forests still resisting the cold some distance away.

With a little mental touch, I started flying around the tundra, encountering many beasts. Wolves, bears, whales, most familiar at first glance, yet each showing an inheritance of magic. Even rarer were some grand creatures, like an occasional dragon. I moved some more and came across a hint of civilization.

One that was populated by green humanoids, even the shortest surpassing seven feet, their proficiency of elemental magic and weapons alike leaving no doubt about their sapience. Their residences were simplistic, yet not primitive.

Not the savage brutes, but dangerous hunters. They rode atop monstrous wolves that surpassed their wild counterparts, each as large as a car, their fur streaked with many colors.

That didn’t last long. The view shifted, and once again, I found the creatures of the dream arranged into an army, waiting until the sky split, and the monsters of the void started to spill down. A shiver passed through me as the same view that had secretly traumatized me since childhood popped into my mind.

In a few years, the same would happen to us.

Every creature of their world responded, led by the green creatures. I decided to focus on their spellcasters. It was somewhat disrespectful to ignore the memory of their last stand, something I wouldn’t have done if it weren’t for the immediate danger we faced.

Their unique brand of spellcasting was interesting. They relied almost entirely on ice, with a splattering of other elements. There were no runes, no glyphs. Their use of elements was the purest I had ever seen, delivered through rituals that reminded me of dancing rather than spell casting.

There was no arguing with the results, especially since they had no System to empower them.

It was different from the rigid way I imbued the concepts; though maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised. My wisdom-casting was entirely derived from forging techniques. Hardly the gentlest profession.

I watched them, not just the motion, but the structure behind, calling the elements that surrounded them and repurposing them instead of aggressively reshaping; each spell giving me some new inspirations about how to combine two schools of spell casting above my Runic Craft.

As I watched, the army of the green creatures started to dwindle, but there was no end to the void creatures. Each moment, the imbalance got worse … than the dream shattered.

I shook my head, trying to dispel the fugue of the dream. Even without delving deep, it had been a heavy experience.

“Back to work,” I said instead, and started digging for ore. There was no energy flow between the two dungeons without opening a gate. It would be better to create some fortifications before our army starts to get into the dungeon, giving them a chance to resist the dungeon flow.

I built a tall wall around it while I awaited Rosie’s arrival.