Tad started mumbling to himself. “Sorry. When I’ve got an enchantment to make, I find that it helps to talk to myself. Fara puts up with it even if she doesn’t understand half of what I’m saying.”

  “Well, you can talk to me. I don’t mind listening at all. I’ve already realized that I’m a novice of an enchanter compared to you, and I’d like to learn more.”

  “I just do what comes naturally.” Without another word, Tad put his hand on the golem and closed his eyes.

  Watching the process from the outside was interesting. He’d explained what he did to create an enchantment, but all of his talk about matrices, curving lines, and weaving patterns was hard for me to wrap my head around. It wasn’t anything like how I put magical effects on an item with rune smithing.

  Apparently, the runes I had put on the golem wouldn’t affect what he was going to do. Once again, I leaned into System Sight, but instead of looking at what Tad was doing, I looked at myself. There, I saw the familiar blueprint of the Heavens, but that was hardly all. My Hell System class also came with its own coding, for lack of a better term, interwoven with my primary class. Neither was dependent upon the other, and I got the sense that if somehow one of the two classes was completely removed, the other would remain intact.

  That didn’t mean they weren’t tangled up, because they certainly were. I began to wonder, though, if there was something I was missing, a way to empower it all that I hadn’t latched on to yet. I tried to imagine what it would look like if the forms of each system’s imprints on me became fused into one. With that single thought, it was like a strobe light went off in my head.

  The potential was incredible, but I wasn’t strong enough to process it yet. The question was a simple one, albeit with a complicated answer—was I being pushed by some unseen hand to fuse multiple systems? That specific goal seemed highly unlikely given their interactions up to this point. But maybe I was meant to be a test case, blazing a trail into new possibilities for how the systems could interact.

  The Heavens clearly had their own agenda for me, as did Asmodeus and the Hell System. I knew less about the Divided Realms, Fey, or Dragon Systems, and had to assume they would each want something from me as well. Again, I wondered if there was a purpose beyond all of it, something behind the veil pulling all the levers.

  My attention snapped back to Tad when I realized he was somehow shaping the magical flow inside of the golem. He was working on something internal, a presence that existed beneath the iron shell like a second skeleton made of intent rather than matter. Through System Sight, I saw it as a shifting lattice suspended inside the golem’s chest, three-dimensional and alive, its lines curving and reconnecting as Tad tested possibilities. While I got a sense of what he was doing, I couldn’t make out any details or see the how of it. Or the what and why, for that matter.

  What struck me was how little of it was fixed. The enchantment matrix he described wasn’t a diagram frozen in place. It flexed as Tad thought, responding to his focus like a loom that anticipated the next thread before it was laid. Where my rune smithing was about certainty and structure, this was about probability and flow, a framework that expected change rather than resisted it. I realized then that this was why Fey System enchantments could grow without collapsing. Tad’s enchantments were a reflection of his desires.

  That revelation made it all make sense. Tad was part of the Fey System in a way that I never would be. The entire framework for this universe was written around him, and he was like a pivot point.

  He began with Self-Repair, though not in the way I would have expected. Tad didn’t command the golem to heal itself or hard-code regeneration into its form. He coaxed ambient mana into a slow circulation pattern, teaching the matrix how to sip rather than gulp, how to sustain rather than surge. It was shockingly close to how a biological organism would have a level of natural regeneration as long as it had fuel for the process.

  Electrical Resistance came next, and again he avoided brute-force negation. I saw him isolate how lightning normally interacted with iron constructs, the way it disrupted motion and overloaded internal flow. Instead of blocking it, Tad taught the matrix to bleed excess energy away, dispersing it through harmless pathways that fed back into Self-Repair. It was elegant in a way that made me a little jealous, because I never would have thought to turn a weakness into a support system.

  The third enchantment made the air feel heavier, even before it fully formed. Judgment Rejection wasn’t just resistance. It was refusal, and I could see how carefully Tad handled it. He traced patterns common to the Order’s magic—chains, verdicts, radiant compulsion—then wove gaps into the matrix where those concepts simply failed to resolve. The golem wouldn’t fight judgment or break free from it. It would simply never acknowledge it in the first place.

  I could tell this part took real effort, because Tad slowed down and checked his work repeatedly. The sprites reacted more strongly here, flashing brighter and pulling back as if wary of what he was building. Tad didn’t push them. He explained, quietly and patiently, why this mattered and what boundaries he was setting. Watching that exchange made it painfully clear why Order enchantments felt stamped and hollow by comparison.

  Witnessing the process continued to improve my understanding of the Fey System. Tad was inherently incensed by the Order because, while he was a natural part of everything, the Order was a graft onto the system, and not one that fit particularly well. I never really excelled at biology, but I knew that certain plants couldn’t be fused onto others—you couldn’t graft an apple tree onto an orange tree, for example. The Order’s presence here felt even less natural.

  As Tad worked, I kept waiting for my rune chains to interfere, but they never did. The matrix flowed around them, respecting the paths I’d laid down without trying to overwrite them. It was like watching two languages find a shared grammar, each retaining its own rules while becoming mutually intelligible. I felt a strange, quiet pride at that.

  By the time Tad finished stabilizing the third enchantment, the matrix had gained a density I could almost feel against my skin. It wasn’t loud or flashy, but it was unwavering, like a deep current beneath calm water. I understood then that the golem wasn’t just tougher than before. It was smarter in how it endured, and that would be far more dangerous to our enemies.

  Tad finally stepped back, shoulders relaxing as he let the enchantment matrix settle into its steady rhythm. Three defensive layers were in place, each reinforcing the others without competing for control. Throughout it all, he’d been making small comments about how this or that fit, or what he thought the golem needed. I quickly realized he didn’t actually need me to respond to him—he was speaking to himself as much as anyone else.

  After pausing, he broke his usual pattern and looked at me. “I could put something here to enhance the base durability, but I think it needs more offense.”

  “I agree, but have no idea what would work. Got any Cylon lasers?”

  He smiled. “Again, no clue what you’re talking about. After gaining a couple of traits like Spellsmith, I can put most anything into it, but I think I might use a trait I’m familiar with—Void Flame. It will create a highly destructive flame that complements both my halves.”

  “Will Void Flame heal the golem like regular fire?” I asked.

  “That’s a good question. I don’t really have an answer for it, but I suppose it’s possible. If I do this right, it will blend well with the nature of the golem. And another of my traits upgrades the quality of items I work on. Not every time, not even all that often, but it’s possible. Something about this moment feels like the odds are better now, but I couldn’t say why.”

  I nodded. “That’s my potentiality blending with you and your place within the system. Corporate types back home like to talk about synergy, the whole being greater than the sum of the parts. In the business world, it’s a lot of hot air, but I suspect it’s actually the case for us.”

  “Well, no way to know but to try.”

  Tad turned back to the golem and placed his palm flat against its chest, directly over where the matrix was densest. The moment he did, the air around us shifted with a subtle pressure that made my skin tighten. This wasn’t heat, or cold, or even mana in a way I could easily categorize. I could feel the potentiality within me and around me, waiting to manifest. I didn’t think I’d ever felt it quite as tangibly as this. There was something about the interaction between Tad and me which was turning everything up to eleven.

  Void Flame formed slowly, nothing like the explosive spells I was used to seeing. It began as a dim ember inside the matrix, a darkness edged with faint violet light that looked more like a hole in reality than fire. Tad guided it with painstaking care, feeding it just enough authority to exist without letting it run wild. I could see how this was different from normal enchantments. The flame wasn’t being bound to a task so much as taught where it was allowed to be hungry.

  Sprites reacted immediately. A handful drifted closer, circling the forming enchantment with clear interest. Tad spoke to them softly, telling them the purpose of the flame and what it would be allowed to consume. He negotiated in complete fairness, offering structure and safety in exchange for their participation.

  I watched the enchantment take shape through System Sight and felt a shiver run down my spine. Void Flame interlocked with the other enchantments, drawing power from the same circulation that fed Self-Repair while also leaning into the refusal framework of Judgment Rejection. Any hostile mana that struck the golem would be eaten.

  Tad’s breathing deepened as he wove the final threads, and I could tell this was costing him more than the previous enchantments. His authority pressed harder, and the matrix responded by tightening again. The Void ember flared once, briefly bright enough that I had to blink, then settled into a steady, contained presence. There, it waited.

  “That’s done,” Tad said quietly, pulling his hand away. Sweat beaded along his temples, but his eyes were bright. “At least, as done as I can make it right now.”

  I stepped closer and extended my senses again, this time looking at how the new enchantment interacted with the rune chains I’d embedded. What I saw made me grin despite myself. Tad hadn’t overwritten anything. Instead, he’d reached into the matrix and drawn out fine, nearly invisible threads, weaving them outward into my rune paths like roots seeking water.

  Each connection amplified what was already there. The kinetic runes flared brighter, multiplying force and channeling it more cleanly. The movement runes gained sharper responses, their timing synced with the internal flow of the enchantment matrix. Even the jump runes I’d designed felt stronger, as if gravity would hesitate a heartbeat longer before pulling the golem back down.

  It was synergy in the purest sense. I didn’t have to worry. Not only had my designs survived Tad’s work, they’d been elevated by it.

  I leaned against a nearby pillar, suddenly aware of how much anxiety I’d been holding in. “You know,” I said, “if we survive the next week, I’m going to have to rethink everything I know about crafting.”

  Tad laughed softly, the sound tired but satisfied. “If it helps, I’ve been rethinking everything I know about… well, about everything since you showed up. I’ve been struggling with decisions, feeling like I was stuck between different options that I didn’t like, and now I’m realizing there are more choices than I was ever aware of. I know this isn’t really the time for it, but assuming you end up leaving, I think I might like to visit your world someday. I mean, if that isn’t overstepping.”

  I slapped his back. “Not at all. My planet is your planet. Besides, I think you’d get a kick out of meeting Nico and some of the other dragons.”

  We looked back at the golem as it stood there in silence, its mirrored shell becoming easier to focus on now that I knew what to look for. To normal eyes, it would still be hard to see, but to mine, it was a convergence point, a living experiment in cooperation between systems that were never meant to overlap. I had no doubt—this thing was going to terrify the Order, and I was going to have fun watching it.

  The enchantment matrix pulsed once, almost like a heartbeat, and the sprites drifted away to take up new positions throughout the structure. Everything settled. The golem remained motionless, but I could feel the readiness coiled inside it, patient and absolute.

  It was fascinating to me that a notification hadn’t popped up yet. Normally, it was the only way I knew a build was complete, but perhaps something about the interaction of multiple systems delayed the process. Either way, Tad had just spent several hours working, yet I’d barely even felt the passage of time.

  Finally, the message I was expecting arrived.

  You have assisted in the creation of a new type of magical item. The mirror metal golem has been upgraded with a set of enchantments drawn from the Heavens and Fey Systems, woven together flawlessly.

  Metallic Mirror Golem has been upgraded. Tad’s Legendary Prodigy title has triggered…

  error.

  Item was already artifact tier. Item has exceeded limits through synergistic combination of multi-systemic components.

  Metallic Mirror Golem has become Mercury Mirror Golem (Artifact+) Level: 325.

  This item is a growth item, and will continue to evolve.

  Strength: 17,410

  Agility: 6,080

  Durability: 20,340

  Endurance: Limitless except in Null Magic fields

  Magic: 4,350

  Will: N/A

  Perception: 10,015

  Void Flame: Born of two things never meant to mix, these black flames are nearly invisible to the eye and call to mind endless burning in absolute emptiness. Anyone other than the user struck by Void Flame will take fire damage equal to the user’s level. This fire is infused with the Void, and will bypass 75% of any fire resistance. The flames are hungry, and will quickly drain any hostile mana they come in contact with, making this trait perfect for bypassing magical defenses.

  Both creators are rewarded. Tad gains that which he needs the most, 15 levels’ worth of XP.

  You gain the Inter-System Engineer trade skill. This will make it easier for you to see connections between systems and work out ways they may enhance each other.

  Your title System Mediator is upgraded to System Mediator II, with increased privileges and recognition by any system you interact with.

  The remainder of your reward will be a functional copy of the existing golem you have created. You will be allowed to bring it with you when you leave the Fey System.

  Chapter Fifty-One: Duplication

  That notification was quickly followed by two more.

  Mercury Mirror Golem has been added to your inventory. It cannot be deployed as long as you are within the Fey System.

  You have demonstrated your ability to add to the crafting of the Twin Prince. A new joint quest is extended to you, which you will share with him.

  New Quest Offered: Forge and Enchant an Infinity Key. This item will allow the Ways to grow and the Fey System to fulfill its purpose.

  You have an understanding of basic crafting outside of the Fey System and you possess the key ingredient required for an Infinity Key, namely a Remnant of Eternity.

  Do not attempt to remove the Remnant from storage. Even looking at it can be dangerous, as there is no telling how it will affect you. More importantly, it may draw unwanted attention. Not all systems are as benevolent as the Fey System.

  This quest will not conflict with the offer made to you by the Ways. Nor will it conflict with the quest given to you by Queen Simari.

  Reward: Upgrades to the offered Fey System class, even if the three queens can’t agree. You will also receive a bonus trait, which is otherwise reserved for royal fey.

  Will you accept this quest?

  I hated when a quest tried to make it seem like it was doing me a favor, but I wanted to help Tad. Besides, the possibility of forging something called an ‘Infinity Key’ had me thinking of mad titans and their bejeweled gauntlets.

  I went with my instinct and accepted.

  First stage: Gather the essence of an ascendant of the Fey System.

  When I finished reviewing the quest, I looked at Tad. We both had received rewards and had been told what the other got, but I filled him in on my new quest.

  “You didn’t have to accept that, and for that alone, I thank you. When I first got the quest, it wasn’t optional. I’m certain the system wants to use me, but that doesn’t seem strange to me. It’s pretty much been my existence since I got kidnapped. Heck, even me being a foundling may have been someone I don’t know using me in a way that I don’t understand.”

  “I get it. That’s my life, too, but don’t worry. Shared experiences create friends, and while I’ve only known you for a few days, we’ve already shared a lot. For now, I think I’ve got another golem to forge, and you’ve got some enchanting to do.”

  I nodded to him and rolled my shoulders once, the satisfaction from the first success already giving way to the familiar itch to do it again, only better. The second pile of iron waited nearby, stacked neatly where Oliver’s spatial containment had released it, ingots dull and inert until I touched them. This time there was no hesitation or second-guessing the process. I knew the shape now. I knew the balance. Most importantly, I knew how the dungeon would respond when I called to it.

  I started the same way, fire and hammer, not because I needed them but because the ritual mattered. As Samvek had taught me, never waste a chance to improve a skill. The forge roared back to life as Spot fed it heat, the iron glowing a deep orange as I began fusing pieces together. My hands moved with confidence, lifting and placing mass as easily as a mortal might move clay. Each strike was deliberate, reminding the iron of what it was meant to be. The first golem had taught me the rhythm. This one danced along willingly.