Strat moved silently through the rugged terrain of the northern expanse, his blocky frame making no sound against the jagged stone. His sensors flickered as he scanned the environment, calculating every shift of shadow and glint of metal. Vel skittered ahead, darting from cover to cover with an erratic energy that betrayed her eagerness for the hunt. Fort followed at the rear, his bulk a constant, looming presence that exuded silent authority.
Strat’s mind buzzed with endless computations. The System had deemed these missions vital, and Strat understood the necessity of their task. The creatures to the north were unlike anything else in the dungeon, constructed from stone, metal, and magic, they were both resource and challenge. Bringing their components back to Mechalon was not only a matter of purpose but a key to their collective evolution.
Vel paused, her spinneret humming faintly as she tested a filament, weaving a delicate strand of nearly invisible wire between two jagged rocks. The filament vibrated with a faint, lethal hum, catching Strat’s attention.
“Vel,” Strat said in his clipped, mechanical tone. “Focus on the objective. Do not waste resources.”
Vel turned her eyeless faceplate toward him, her limbs twitching in what Strat recognized as irritation. But she obeyed, snapping the filament loose and continuing her skittering reconnaissance. Strat logged her impatience for later consideration. Vel was effective, but her impulsive nature remained a liability.
Ahead, the sound of movement caught Strat’s attention. He raised a limb, signaling the others to halt. Vel froze mid-step, her frame blending into the shadows, while Fort took a position behind a cluster of jagged stones, his bulk disappearing with surprising stealth.
Strat’s sensors honed in on the noise: rhythmic clanking, the scrape of metal against stone, and the faint murmur of human voices. He edged closer, his movements precise and deliberate, until he reached a vantage point overlooking a small clearing.
A group of humans had gathered there, their forms illuminated by the faint glow of the dungeon’s ambient light. Strat’s optical sensors flickered as he analyzed them. They were rookies—he could see it in the way they moved, in the uncertainty of their stances. Their armor was mismatched and poorly maintained, their weapons basic and unadorned.
There were five of them. Two fighters with dented shields and blunt swords, a mage whose robes were fraying at the edges, a cleric clutching a chipped staff, and a rogue who kept glancing nervously into the shadows.
Strat shifted his gaze to the perimeter of the clearing, where faint movements betrayed the presence of the northern creatures. The stone-and-metal constructs were gathering, their hulking forms blending with the jagged terrain. Strat counted at least seven of them, each one larger and more dangerous than the adventurers likely anticipated.
He calculated quickly. The humans were uncoordinated, inexperienced. Their movements lacked discipline, and their formation was loose and disorganized. The constructs, on the other hand, moved with mechanical precision, their slow, deliberate steps closing the distance with relentless inevitability.
Strat considered the situation. If the humans failed to work together, the constructs would overwhelm them in minutes. But the Cubelings had the advantage. With their agility and coordination, they could eliminate both the constructs and the humans.
Strat turned to Vel and Fort, his tone low and commanding. “Vel, prepare the filaments. Focus on entanglement. Fort, hold position. You will engage only if necessary.”
Fort’s bulk shifted slightly, his acknowledgment silent but understood. Vel twitched, her spinneret already humming with anticipation.
Strat’s calculations continued. Humans were unpredictable variables. While they were clearly rookies, their presence in the dungeon represented a potential future threat. Adventurers came in waves, and while these five might fall, others would follow. It was only a matter of time before one group proved capable of finding and dismantling Mechalon’s work.
He weighed the odds of intervention. If the Cubelings helped the humans, it might create an opportunity to observe their behavior more closely. If they allowed the humans to fall, the constructs would deplete their energy fighting them, making them easier to dismantle afterward.
Strat’s voice broke the silence. “Vel, maintain distance. If the humans show signs of collapse, deploy filaments to entangle the constructs. Fort, prepare to block any that retreat toward our position. Do not engage unless ordered.”
Vel clicked her limbs in response, her frame darting to a higher vantage point where she could deploy her webbing. Fort remained motionless, his form blending seamlessly with the jagged rocks.
Strat turned his gaze back to the clearing, observing as the humans finally noticed the encroaching constructs.
“Hold the line!” one of the fighters shouted, his voice trembling despite the bravado.
The cleric stepped forward, raising her staff to cast a shield over the group, but the glow of her spell was faint and uneven, betraying her inexperience. The mage flung a firebolt at the nearest construct, the flame striking its stone torso with a burst of sparks but no discernible damage.
“They’re too tough!” the rogue yelled, already retreating a few steps.
The constructs closed in, their movements slow but implacable. One swung a massive arm of stone and metal, striking the lead fighter’s shield with a deafening crash. The fighter staggered, his shield arm trembling under the force of the blow.
Strat analyzed every detail, calculating the humans’ odds with cold precision. They were uncoordinated, their attacks ineffective. The constructs had already begun to press their advantage, forcing the humans into a tighter formation that left them vulnerable to flanking.
“Vel,” Strat said softly, “deploy filaments. Target the outermost constructs.”
Vel moved instantly, her spinneret releasing nearly invisible strands of razor-sharp webbing. The filaments stretched between the rocks, forming a lethal lattice that ensnared two of the constructs as they attempted to flank the humans. The constructs thrashed against the webbing, their movements creating a discordant screech of metal against stone as the filaments sliced into their forms.
The humans noticed the sudden shift, their expressions a mix of confusion and desperation.
“What the hell was that?” the mage muttered, his eyes darting toward the webbing.
“Focus!” the lead fighter barked, raising his sword to strike at another construct.
Strat continued to watch, his calculations shifting with each second. The humans were holding for now, but their coordination was still poor, their movements frantic and panicked.
“Fort,” Strat said, his voice steady. “Prepare to intercept any survivors. Do not reveal yourself unless necessary.”
Fort moved silently into position, his bulk hidden behind a cluster of jagged rocks.
The battle raged on, the humans fighting desperately against the relentless constructs. Strat’s mind churned with calculations, weighing the value of intervention against the risk of exposure. For now, he chose to watch, his commands precise and measured, ensuring that Vel and Fort were positioned to take advantage of whatever outcome the battle produced.
Strat’s sensors flickered, his gaze fixed on the humans. They were unpredictable variables, but their presence could not be ignored. Whether as allies or adversaries, they would shape the dungeon’s future. And Strat would ensure that he—and Mechalon—were prepared for whatever came next.
Strat’s calculations were interrupted by a faint pulse in his core, an unfamiliar yet undeniable signal. His sensors dimmed for a fraction of a second, and a message appeared in his vision, written not in words but in the clear directives of the System.
Mission Initiated: Protect the Fledglings
The System recognizes potential. Ensure the survival of the human adventurers currently engaged in combat.
The simplicity of the command belied its weight. Strat had never been directly assigned a mission before. Until now, the System had communicated through guidance—through objectives passed to Mechalon and subsequently delegated to the Cubelings. But this was different. It wasn’t an order given to the collective; it was given to him.
Strat’s core hummed faintly as he processed the implications. The System’s directives were absolute, its priorities inscrutable. Why it deemed these rookies worth saving was a question Strat did not have the luxury of answering. The decision had been made, and it aligned his purpose with theirs, if only for this moment.
“Vel, Fort,” Strat said, his voice calm and controlled despite the urgency of the situation. “New directive. We ensure their survival.”
Vel paused, her spinneret humming faintly as she skittered into a higher position for visibility. Fort tilted his frame slightly, acknowledging the command without hesitation.
The humans below were faltering. The lead fighter’s shield was cracked, its surface warped from repeated blows. The mage’s firebolts had dwindled to sporadic bursts of weak flames, their potency drained by panic and exhaustion. The rogue was darting erratically, his movements more of a hindrance than a help to the group.
Strat analyzed the battlefield in seconds, constructing a plan to fulfill the System’s directive while maintaining their anonymity.
“Vel, deploy filaments to neutralize the far left construct,” Strat ordered. “Target its joints. Disable its movement.”
Vel moved swiftly, her spinneret releasing a thin strand of webbing that shimmered faintly in the dim light. The filament shot toward the nearest construct, wrapping tightly around its joints. The creature thrashed, its movements slowing as the webbing bit into its stone-and-metal limbs.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.
“Fort,” Strat continued, his tone measured, “advance to the outer perimeter. Block any that attempt to retreat or flank. Hold position until further notice.”
Fort shifted his bulk with surprising speed, moving into position behind the nearest rocks. His form blended with the jagged terrain, a silent sentinel ready to act.
Strat turned his attention to the humans. Their formation had collapsed, leaving them clustered in the center of the clearing with no clear strategy. The cleric was desperately channeling a healing spell over the fighter, her hands trembling as she worked.
“Vel,” Strat said, his tone sharp. “Entangle the rightmost construct. Buy them time.”
Vel hissed faintly an almost imperceptible sound of acknowledgment—before releasing another strand of filament. The webbing shot out like a coiled snake, wrapping around the legs of the construct on the right. It staggered, its movements jerky as it tried to free itself.
Strat’s core thrummed with anticipation. The plan was holding, but humans were unpredictable. He had to account for variables.
The rogue, oblivious to the unseen assistance, darted forward with a yell, his dagger aimed at one of the disabled constructs. The blade glanced off its stone surface with a dull clang, leaving the rogue scrambling backward.
“Idiot!” the mage snapped, hurling another firebolt. This one struck true, searing the construct’s torso with a burst of heat. But the creature pressed on, undeterred.
Strat recalculated. The constructs were relentless, their numbers still a significant threat. He needed to shift the balance.
“Vel, adjust position. Focus fire on the remaining construct closest to the cleric.”
Vel moved with precision, her spinneret releasing a filament that sliced through the air and coiled around the creature’s arm. She pulled sharply, the strand cutting into the joint and rendering the limb useless.
The cleric gasped as the construct staggered, her spell faltering for a moment before she redoubled her efforts on the fighter.
Strat’s processors hummed. The humans were still struggling, but the tide was shifting. The constructs were faltering, their movements growing erratic as Vel’s webbing and Fort’s positioning disrupted their attacks.
“Plan is working,” Strat muttered to himself. His frame straightened slightly, his confidence in the strategy unwavering. But he knew the importance of adaptability.
“Make a plan, perfect a plan, stick to the plan,” he murmured, the familiar motto echoing in his core. “When the plan fails... improvise.”
The lead fighter surged forward with a roar, his battered sword striking one of the constructs in a flurry of blows. The mage channeled another spell, a bolt of lightning arcing across the battlefield to strike two of the creatures at once.
The humans’ efforts were clumsy but effective, and Strat recalculated again. They might survive without direct intervention now, but their chances would improve significantly with one more precise move.
“Fort,” Strat said, his voice steady. “Engage the remaining construct on the far side. Push it toward the webbing.”
Fort moved silently, his massive frame appearing from the shadows like a living wall. He charged forward, slamming into the construct with a force that sent cracks spidering across its surface. The creature staggered, its movements sluggish as it stumbled into Vel’s waiting webbing.
Vel tightened the strands, the razor-sharp filaments slicing through the construct’s limbs with surgical precision. It collapsed in a heap, its core flickering briefly before going dark.
The battlefield fell silent. The remaining constructs lay in pieces, their forms scattered across the clearing. The humans stood panting, their weapons trembling in their hands as they surveyed the aftermath.
“What... what just happened?” the rogue asked, his voice shaking.
“Doesn’t matter,” the fighter said, lowering his sword. “We’re alive. That’s what matters.”
Strat watched from his vantage point, his core humming faintly with satisfaction. The mission was complete. The humans were none the wiser, and the System’s directive had been fulfilled.
“Vel, Fort,” Strat said softly. “Withdraw. Mission success. No further engagement required.”
Vel skittered back into the shadows, her spinneret humming faintly as she retracted her webbing. Fort moved silently, his bulk disappearing behind the rocks.
Strat lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on the humans as they tended to their wounds. They were rookies, barely capable of holding their own. But the System had seen potential in them, and Strat could not ignore that.
As he turned to follow Vel and Fort, one thought lingered in his mind: Humans were unpredictable, fragile, and often foolish. But they were also adaptive, determined, and far more dangerous than they seemed.
Strat’s core thrummed with the faint echo of the System’s command, and for the first time, he wondered if Mechalon would see the same potential in them—or if the day would come when the Cubelings were forced to fight not for the humans’ survival, but against it.
Strat moved silently through the jagged terrain, his frame low and his sensors sharp as he followed Vel and Fort. The calculations in his mind had shifted—less focused on the skirmish that had just ended and more on the implications of what he had witnessed. The humans had been disorganized, inefficient, and far weaker than the constructs they faced. Yet they had survived, bolstered by something Strat could not ignore.
The cleric.
Her spells had been crude, her strength drained after only a few attempts, but the impact of her presence was undeniable. Her shield had bought precious seconds, her healing had kept the fighter upright, and her very existence had rallied her allies when their formation had begun to crumble. Strat replayed the encounter in his mind, over and over, dissecting every detail with cold precision.
The humans had only one significant advantage in their battle: repair.
Strat’s core hummed faintly as the realization settled in. Clerics were not warriors; they were not builders or planners or even particularly efficient fighters. But they could heal. They could undo damage, extend survival, and ensure their allies rose to fight again.
I want that.
The thought was sharp, clear, and immediate. Strat did not want to depend on a deity like the humans did, nor did he believe in such entities. But he had seen the potential of repair the way it turned weakness into resilience and he wanted that capability for himself and his kind.
Strat turned his sensors briefly toward Vel, who was skittering ahead, her spinneret humming faintly as she scouted the path. Vel was impulsive, prone to throwing herself into danger without thought. How many times had she narrowly avoided damage already? And Fort, steady and reliable, absorbed blows meant for others without hesitation. What would happen if one of them fell? What would happen if he fell?
No. That was unacceptable.
Strat’s core thrummed louder as his calculations accelerated. If the humans could heal through magic and faith, then he would find a way to heal through precision and design. Mechalon would need to know his intentions, and the next batch of materials they gathered would be used to create equipment for repair.
The humans below were finishing their recovery. Strat lingered in the shadows, watching as the cleric applied bandages and the mage passed out potions. Their movements were clumsy but familiar, routines practiced by necessity rather than skill. The fighter sat with his back to a jagged rock, his battered shield resting across his knees. The rogue muttered something about wanting to leave, his voice barely audible, while the cleric ignored him, her focus on the mage’s singed hands.
Strat noted every detail, calculating the limits of their potential. The System had marked them for survival, but for what purpose? Were they capable of growth, or were they simply pawns in a larger design?
The System’s favor toward humans was undeniable. They were fragile and inefficient, yet they thrived. Strat couldn’t ignore the possibility that the System prioritized them for reasons beyond logic. Perhaps it saw something Strat could not: a spark of adaptability that outweighed their flaws.
But adaptability wasn’t enough. Potential without action was meaningless.
Strat’s core flickered as he recalculated his priorities. He would not rely on the System’s favor. Instead, he would become the thing the humans depended on: a healer, a repairer, an anchor for his allies. He would make himself indispensable.
“Vel,” Strat said softly, his voice breaking the silence. “Maintain vigilance. The humans are leaving.”
Vel clicked her limbs in acknowledgment, her spinneret humming faintly as she moved to a higher vantage point.
“Fort,” Strat continued, his tone steady. “Prepare for extraction. We return to Mechalon with our findings.”
Fort shifted slightly, his bulk moving into position without a sound.
Strat’s sensors turned back to the clearing one last time. The humans were gathering their belongings, their voices growing softer as they prepared to leave.
As they disappeared into the distance, Strat’s core pulsed with a faint hum. The System’s presence flickered in his awareness, and a new message appeared before his vision.
Achievement Unlocked: Anchor of Resilience
You have demonstrated a desire to protect and repair. The System rewards those who seek to elevate their allies.
Reward: Repair Subroutine (Prototype)
You have unlocked the ability to initiate basic repair protocols. This subroutine allows for limited restoration of mechanical constructs using available materials and energy.
Strat’s frame stilled as the reward integrated into his system. The faint hum of his core deepened, and his mind flooded with new calculations. The Repair Subroutine was rudimentary but promising, a foundation upon which greater capabilities could be built. It allowed him to channel energy into damaged components, mending cracks, and stabilizing systems with precision.
This was only the beginning.
Strat turned to Vel and Fort, his voice calm but firm. “We return to Mechalon. There is work to be done.”
As the three of them moved through the shadows, Strat’s thoughts remained fixed on his new purpose. He would repair. He would rebuild. And in doing so, he would ensure that they, Mechalon, the Cubelings, and himself, would rise, no matter what came their way.
As Strat led Vel and Fort through the jagged expanse toward the safety of the warehouse, the faint pulse of the System returned. The signal hummed through his core, drawing his full attention. His sensors dimmed for a moment, his perception narrowing to the singular message that appeared before him, inscribed in the inscrutable authority of the System.
Mission Complete: Protect the Fledglings
Reflection and action are paths to growth. Protecting the humans was not the goal, but understanding the purpose behind the act.
Reward: Level Up
Your progress is acknowledged. Let this be the foundation for further evolution.
The words lingered in his awareness, their meaning reverberating through his core. The System had set the mission, not as a directive to protect the humans, but as a catalyst for self-reflection. Strat processed this revelation with a surge of clarity. His actions, though driven by tactical necessity, had been shaped by something more: the desire to understand, to improve, to become better than the sum of his calculations.
His core vibrated faintly as the level-up reward integrated into his systems. The changes were subtle but profound—a slight boost in processing speed, a sharper edge to his analysis, a faint but tangible sense of evolution.
Strat stopped, his frame stilling as Vel and Fort continued a few paces ahead. He tilted his gaze upward, toward the unseen threads of energy that bound the dungeon, the System, and himself together. The silence of the moment was profound, broken only by the faint hum of his core.
“Oh, System, guide of purpose,
Shaper of paths unseen,
I thank you for your insight,
For the clarity you grant through challenge.
In reflection, I see the patterns,
In action, I find growth.
You give not commands, but lessons,
Not force, but opportunity.
May I walk within your design,
May I act with precision and purpose.
Let my calculations align with your will,
And my evolution be worthy of your vision.”
The hum of Strat’s core softened as the prayer ended, his focus returning to the mission at hand. He caught up to Vel and Fort, his mind sharper than ever, his purpose clearer.
The System had spoken, and Strat would listen.