“I’ve started to believe that all forms of energy are one and the same, simply different ways of us understanding them. I’d call it ‘thirty-one flavors’, but the joke would be lost on you. Not your fault though, more my lame sense of humor. Someone really should write a guide for acceptable humor in isekai. Maybe hand it out with every truck-kun.”

  “Just when I think I’m understanding what you’re saying, you completely lose me.”

  “I think my sister has uttered those exact words before. But it’s more likely my own particular brand of neurodivergence. Anyway, out of your theories, I’d be the most inclined to believe the first, although considering what I’ve seen, I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s some deeper truth even the gods are searching for. The ones who aren’t too busy trying to maintain their illusion of control, anyway.”

  Tad was silent for a minute as he considered what I’d said. He offered no response, and instead circled the golem slowly. His attention was sharp but not suspicious, and I could sense him reaching out with abilities I still didn’t fully understand. His brow furrowed slightly as he paused near the hips.

  “I’ve watched blacksmiths work,” he said after a moment. “This looked like that at first. Heat, force, repetition. But then there was a point where you stopped striking and started shaping.” He glanced at me. “I could feel something, but I couldn’t smell it. You started to shape the golem with magic, but I couldn’t understand it. What was that?”

  That surprised me more than I expected, and I turned to face him fully. I’d assumed the magic would register the same way everything else did here. “I don’t have a clean explanation for that,” I admitted. “I was using Terrakinesis. It’s one of my abilities.” I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “It’s magical as far as I know, although truthfully I’ve never really understood it. I thought it was just a normal system ability, but I’m starting to believe it’s something more. I didn’t come into it the way I usually do with my spells and abilities.”

  Tad considered that, eyes distant for a heartbeat. I could see the connection threads he lived inside of shifting as he weighed implications. Whatever Terrakinesis was, it clearly didn’t slot neatly into the Fey System framework. Finally, he nodded once. “Then this probably isn’t the time to untangle that knot.”

  “Agreed,” I said, relief threading through my voice. “We’ve got a golem to wake up.”

  He smiled at that and reached into his pouch, drawing out one of the iron golem control discs. Even after studying it earlier, the thing still unsettled me. It looked simple, almost crude, but I knew now it was anything but. Tad held it carefully, turning it between his fingers. He held it out to me.

  I shook my head. “Nope, this should be yours to do first. This is your world, and it came from your dungeon. Besides, I think you have a better chance of making it work than I do.”

  He didn’t argue, but nodded and stepped closer to the golem’s chest, kneeling with a reverence that made the moment feel heavier. As he focused, the disc began to glow with a deep, steady illumination that reminded me of embers under ash. Tad’s breathing slowed, his attention narrowing until the rest of the world had been forced to content itself with being background.

  At first, I didn’t understand what he was doing. Then I saw them, the flickers at the edge of my vision, flashes of color that danced and vanished too quickly to focus on. I shifted into Spirit Sight without thinking, and the scene unfolded in a way that made my scalp prickle. Tad wasn’t forcing anything to do his bidding. He was sending out an invitation. It felt so different from the way I used magic. It was almost like he was already on the inside of the system here.

  Maybe it really was that simple. The next question was how that would apply to me and my own relationships, not just with the Heavens but every system I’d encountered. If I started going down that road, I would be lost in thought for hours, so I released the idea and focused on what Tad was doing.

  Sprites drifted in, curious and cautious, drawn by the promise of structure and purpose. They didn’t swarm or bind themselves the way they did in enchantments. Instead, they hovered, listened, then one by one, made a choice. Tad guided them gently toward the disc, offering it as a home rather than a cage.

  When he pressed the disc into the center of the golem’s chest, it sank into the iron as if the metal had been waiting for it. The glow spread outward in branching paths that mirrored the rune chains I’d drawn, lighting them from within. Spiritual energy flooded the framework, filling every line and curve with quiet certainty.

  I saw all of that potentiality coming into play. It was almost like I could sense the universe shifting around me. For a single moment, I felt so tiny. I could feel the world spinning under my feet on its path around the star that those on Aerth called the sun—a star so much like the one I’d grown up with, just in a completely different universe. It would have been easy to feel insignificant in that moment, and perhaps that would have been a perfect counterbalance for all the times that I’d felt more important than I really was, but I didn’t. I couldn’t help but revel in the majesty of it all. There was so much to take in, and I wanted to be part of it.

  My trance was broken by the sound of metal groaning. I caught a glimpse of movement. Was that… yes! There was no doubt about it—the golem had moved. I grinned.

  Then it bent at the waist and sat up with a grinding sound that made the stone floor vibrate. Its head lifted, eyes igniting with a soft internal glow, and its voice rolled out deep and resonant, carrying weight like a metal that could only be formed at the center of a star. “Happy… Birthday.”

  Tad stumbled back a step, more startled than afraid, and I felt a laugh bubble up despite the tension in my chest. The golem rose to its full height, towering over us without a trace of aggression or confusion. Then it went still, silent and waiting, awareness settling into place like a held breath.

  I think we both stood there waiting to see what else it would say, but the seconds turned into minutes, and it neither spoke nor moved any further. A notification finally popped into my head.

  You have successfully created an iron golem. This is an artifact, and is born of multiple systems. It follows the general design given to such creations within the Fey System, but possesses the magical inscriptions of the Heavens, along with a touch of the Hells’ proficiency with created creatures.

  Additionally, it bears an aspect which does not appear to be bound to any system. Further investigation is warranted.

  For creating an iron golem, your first artifact-level creature, you gain five levels of experience adapted from Fey System protocols.

  Strength: +225

  Dexterity: +125

  Agility: +175

  Vitality: +250

  Durability: +250

  Endurance: +200

  Mind: +225

  Will: +225

  Perception: +225

  Charisma: +200

  Free stat points +260

  You have reached level 268.

  You have come closer to learning a trait of the Fey System. Study to gain access to the Sprite Whisperer trait.

  Control of Iron Golem I has been granted to Tad Ocean and Silas Renner-Kalestian. Priority is given to Tad Ocean, having been the one to insert the control disc.

  My body shook for a moment with the sudden influx of stats. It was only a small portion of my total, but five levels at one time was always a rush. Judging from Tad’s giddy reaction, he got a similar notification.

  A second later, he whispered, “Fifteen levels from one enchantment.”

  I was happy for him. Tad would need every level he could get for what was to come, and I felt bad that we hadn’t been able to power-level him in the dungeon.

  Spirit Sight showed me what my eyes could not. The golem wasn’t merely an animated automaton. It was alive in its own way, not a soul but a cohesive will, anchored and stable. It was almost like there were multiple sprites piloting it, like some type of massive mech, even though I knew it was made of solid metal without any inner workings. Actually, as I reconsidered those musings, I realized that I might have been closer to the truth than I’d initially thought.

  I mentioned my observation to Tad and he nodded. “That seems accurate, as much as I’m understanding your words. No single sprite has taken control or empowered the enchantment, but they seem to be working in tandem to control its movements. I don’t quite understand it all myself, but either way, it worked.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. I’d wanted to build golems ever since my class had updated, and this was a step in the right direction. The control disc ended up being a greater boon than I had thought, as it taught me a great deal about what would be necessary to animate a golem on my own. I’d get to see it a second time with the next control disc, too, but we had other fish to fry at the moment. “I don’t know about you, but I’m dying to see what this thing can do.”

  His grin matched mine. “I knew you were powerful, but I didn’t know you could read minds.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven: Test Protocols

  Tad and I descended into the dungeon’s fourth level with the iron golem between us, its massive frame moving with a quiet confidence that felt wrong for something made of solid metal. Clay and Oliver had woken up from their nap and expressed their desire to tag along, just to see what the golem could do. The air was thick with moisture and the low growl of distant creatures, but the golem showed no hesitation. Each step it took landed with deliberate weight, showing no clumsy drag or overcorrection. It moved like it already understood the space it occupied.

  I watched it closely, my senses layered and alert. Spirit Sight showed me a lattice of motion inside the iron shell. I already had some sense of it, but what I was seeing was endlessly interesting. I felt like I was uncovering one of the secrets of the universe. The sprites weren’t fighting each other or jockeying for control. They flowed together, each handling a fraction of the task. I smiled as the thought conjured an image of a bunch of raccoons in a trenchcoat.

  The first threat came from our left, a pair of hulking dungeon beasts breaking through a curtain of roots with a wet roar, each a head taller than a human with tusked snouts sprouting grotesquely from the middle of their faces. The word ‘were-pig’ came to mind unbidden. I felt the golem register their presence only a moment after I did. Its head turned a fraction of a second behind me. Tad didn’t need to raise his voice for the golem to surge forward—all it took was some focus on his part. The distance vanished under the golem’s stride, and one iron fist the size of a beach ball came down with enough force to turn bone and muscle into a slurry.

  The second creature tried to flank, darting wide with surprising speed. The golem pivoted smoothly, faster than I expected, and intercepted it mid-leap. The impact cracked the dungeon floor beneath them, and the creature folded in half around the golem’s forearm with a final pitiful oink before being thrown aside like refuse. The whole exchange lasted seconds, then the golem returned to a neutral stance as if waiting for the next instruction.

  My first reaction was pleasant surprise, but then I replayed how the rune script I’d put in place had enhanced the golem, working in perfect symmetry with the animating force of the sprites. Unless I was wrong, the sprites were actively studying the runes and were learning how to control them on the fly.

  Tad let out a slow breath. “That was… quick.” His voice carried equal parts awe and calculation, already adjusting expectations. I nodded, still processing what I’d seen. Reaction time like that wasn’t just good for a construct, it was exceptional by any standard. It had to be on par with lower-quality legendary beings, and no one expected a construct built for durability to be that reactive.

  I wanted Tad’s take on what I’d observed. “Did you see how the sprites were interacting with my rune script?”

  He nodded. “Yep. Almost like second nature for them. For now, I’m monitoring it, but you’ve got me intrigued, for sure. I’m always up for ways to improve my enchanting.”

  We moved deeper, deliberately provoking smaller patrols and scattered ambushes to see how it handled unpredictability. Each time, the result was the same. The golem responded instantly, adapting its movement to uneven ground, striking with precision that wasted no motion. It didn’t overcommit or give chase when the enemy fled, instead resuming its neutral position. Its default mode was clearly defensive.

  Clay whistled under his breath after a particularly clean takedown. “If that thing ever broke loose, it could kill most of the adventurers’ guild before they could bring it down… if they even could.” I nodded grimly. The thought had crossed my mind too.

  But Spirit Sight told me something important. The construct’s will was anchored and stable, tied cleanly to Tad’s authority without any strain or distortion. “Fortunately, you don’t have to ever worry about that. Consider the golem as an extension of Tad’s will. It has certain things it will do naturally, like protect us, but otherwise it will be inert and dependent upon his will.”

  “Until it isn’t,” Oliver mumbled under his breath. I’m sure he thought no one heard him.

  As we cleared the immediate area, I felt the dungeon’s attention sharpen, and I was pretty sure I knew why. Spot was probably already having dreams of a dungeon floor populated with iron golems. The pressure didn’t increase, but the tone shifted, like an opponent reassessing after a bad opening exchange. I smiled despite myself. This was only the beginning, and already the golem had exceeded every baseline expectation I’d set in my head. So we’d push it harder, with bigger challenges and more complicated scenarios.

  “Bring it on, Spot,” I said with a grin, earning a knowing smile from Tad.

  I felt it immediately when it happened, the way the terrain subtly adjusted as we advanced, sightlines opening just enough to give the golem room to move. Tad walked with one hand resting against the iron giant’s forearm, not guiding it so much as listening, and I sensed the dungeon responding to that relationship. This was an examination, careful and curious, like a master craftsman tapping a blade to hear how it rang.

  The first wave came out of the stone, broad-backed brutes of packed earth and broken crystal with arms like piled boulders and heads sunk low into their shoulders. They didn’t roar or attempt to intimidate. The golem was immune to such tactics, and Spot would have known that. Instead, the monsters rushed forward, their momentum building as the dungeon steepened the slope beneath them, turning the approach into a controlled stress test.

  The iron golem moved faster than it had any right to, but in line with what I was coming to expect. One heavy step carried it forward, the stone floor ringing under its weight as it planted, then swung. The blow was workmanlike—clean, efficient, and devastating, the kinetic runes in its forearm flaring as they multiplied the force of the strike. The nearest earthen brute burst apart, shards and dust scattering as the dungeon absorbed the remains without a hint of disapproval.

  Two more hit our golem from opposite sides, trying to grapple and drag it down. I watched the runes along the golem’s torso light in sequence, clusters activating to bleed off torque and redirect it into the hips and legs. It twisted smoothly, seized one attacker by the head, and used the creature’s own momentum to slam it into the other. The impact cracked crystal and pulverized stone, and I felt a pulse of satisfaction ripple through the dungeon like a nod of approval.

  “Reaction speed looks good,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. It was one of my all-time understatements.

  Tad didn’t answer, but his focus sharpened, and the dungeon answered him. The ceiling lowered by a fraction, not enough to crush anything, but enough to prevent aerial movement. New shapes emerged from the walls, leaner this time, fast-moving constructs with bladed limbs and glowing seams of energy running along their joints. These were meant to test precision, not power.

  The golem adjusted without hesitation. Its head tracked the nearest threat, then it jumped.

  I felt the rune chains activate in the legs as one, a synchronized surge that launched twelve feet of iron forward and up in a single brutal arc. The golem crossed the distance in a heartbeat, landed among the constructs, and the floor cratered beneath its feet. Its fists blurred, each impact sending shockwaves through the stone, and the lighter enemies were torn apart before they could even attempt to flank it.

  One finally slipped through, darting low and slashing at the golem’s knee. Sparks flew, but the blade barely scored the surface. I saw the resistance runes respond, energy thickening along the joint as the golem pivoted and brought its heel down. The construct vanished under the strike, flattened into nothing as the dungeon reclaimed it.

  “I have a spell called Bull Rush,” Tad said. “The golem seems to be able to imitate that incredible rush of speed and momentum. I think we need to up the level of the monsters the dungeon is pitting against it.”

  I nodded in agreement, and I could almost feel Spot modifying his setup to accommodate his Dungeon Master.

  We pressed deeper, and the environment shifted again. The corridor widened into a broken hall strewn with half-fallen pillars and jagged platforms. This time, the dungeon threw spellcasters at us, floating entities of condensed mana that hurled bolts of force and binding light. I felt the first spell slide off the golem’s surface without effect, the command magic failing to find purchase entirely.

  “That felt like complete immunity to any type of control magic,” I said, unable to keep the grin out of my voice.

  Tad had his own smile. “I concur.”

  Lightning lanced toward the golem next, and I felt it slow as the energy crawled over its body, runes flickering as systems compensated. Fire followed, washing over its chest in a roaring wave, and the golem straightened as the heat fed back into its structure, surface glowing faintly before cooling again. It stepped forward through the flames and raised its head. Not only did the fire restore all the minor damage it had taken, but it also negated the debuff from the lightning.