A loud crack, followed by a squelch, echoed through the dungeon, the rest having fallen silent.

just shy of 2 cycles had passed since Allen had reawakened after his pylon-stunt.

‘’You know… this could have been solved differently…’’

‘’Mhm…’’A group of figures stared down at a broken and bloodied one.

Turok glanced at one of the golems, its pillar-like club covered in the crimson color of blood as the constructs would march back to their positions.

‘’Master, perhaps you should make sure the guardians are less… ‘smash happy…’

Allen gave a musing sound, as Turok could almost feel the mental shrug passing over the link.

‘’Well, the, what was it, Direwolf or something? Is still mostly intact. Besides, I just need a small patch of fur, maybe finally dress you up instead of being a Cyborc tarzan-wannabe.’’

The Orcborg in question didn’t even bother questioning who, or what a ‘Tarzan’ was, somewhat annoyed on having a prospective new companion literally smashed to the ground.

However… the idea of wearing a nice chieftain coat did appeal to him…

Turok lifted up the body, taking it over to his personal quarters and set to work in skinning the animal. Allen had requested him to try and separate as many intact parts as he could.

The attention of his master however, had been taken by a particular Golem.

While at first, Allen had planned to continue expanding the areas below even his R&D room and hopefully find some raw materials to work with, would he instead notice a faulty in the golems patrol-routes. Prototype-1 was not at the place he was suppose to be at this time of day.

Prototype-1, the construct with 2 giant spheres instead of hands, stood at the entrance of the dungeon, staring out at the area beyond, the blue-colored lines on its body fading and reappearing in a strange pattern. Following it’s… sight? At least it was the direction the head-sphere and eye-indents were vaguely pointing in, would the Dungeon core see yet another sunset.

Allen paused briefly, taking in the sight he had now seen quite a few times before, yet it never seemed to be less satisfying, before glancing back into the blue-tinted dungeon, caused by a few chandelier additions.

It seemed that the same went for the construct, as it suddenly, without a change in orders, which reminded Allen that he hadn’t even given one for it to stand there in the first place, marched off, straight to one of the Guardian-constructs, raising the sphere-shaped fists on the ends of the constructs arms.

Guardian-1 barely managed to raise its shield in time, magical programming recognizing the danger posed to it, even if from a supposed-ally.

Metal crashed into metal with a loud bang, the Orcborg flinching inside his own room, half a mind set on checking out whatever the sound was as the other relaxed on the fact Allen had yet to call him.

Allen knew he could make Prototype-1 stop, yet did not wish so.

Besides the obvious fact that for whatever reason, Prototype-1 had created its own orders, earlier experiences had shown that for a creature to ‘evolve’, stress and certain conditions had to be met.

Because the constructs were unliving, perhaps all they needed to do was absorb enough mana, or materials before such a requirement was met?

It was that, or because the core of Prototype-1 actually used a soul instead of a copy.

Guardian-1 raised its shield, pushing it forwards, slightly to the side, to deflect one of the incoming spheres, allowing its ‘blunt’ weapon free range, swinging it down in a overhead strike.

The prototype-golem gave a soft grunt, which sounded more like pieces of metal being dragged over one another… which if one thought about it, was somewhat accurate, as the club dragged across its body after the strike.

The next blow was from the challenger, the sphere clipping the edge of the shield, bashing through the thinner edge and striking straight in the middle of Guardian-1’s chest.

With the gong of metal striking one another, came inspiration to the Dungeon, stopping both constructs. For a moment could Allen almost feel the mental-huff of Prototype one. Trying his best to squiggle and squirm through the mana, would Allen try and send a muddled idea towards his construct, deciding that it would probably be best to treat it semi-sentient for now.

The construct relented, programming reestablishing itself as both the Guardian- and Prototype-1 would return to their points, ‘limbs’ resting as they slowly returned to being ominous-looking statues.

Inside a separated room, yet right next to the previous Orc-refuge would a strange, several square contraption began to form, complete with pipes exiting and entering inbetween them.

The dungeon core looked at his newest creation, recognizing it as a miscarriage of a traditional and modern blast furnace.

‘’This…!’’

‘’Is not going to work…’’

The miscarriage was scrapped, vanished into wherever it had come from.

With a sigh, would Allen clear his mind of nearly all ideas, most of which based upon his own knowledge and with less gambles. ‘’I swear once I find some dwarves…’’

So in its place, came a simple, albeit large rectangle, funneled into a circle-shaped end on top.

Both at the bottom and top lay a set of pipes respectively, yet not connected to anything except one pipe on top that would disappear inside the wall.

In the front, slightly raised from the floor and adapted from the portcullis design, was a smooth door, sculpted with detail to perfectly fit and seal of whatever was inside, the steel-like wire created by the resident spider being attached to a simple crank, design mixed with stone and rusted iron.

‘’Better.’’

The inside of the rectangle held two raised platform, designed to look more like a stone-mesh then solid and held up by 4 pillars on top each other in a pyramid-like shape.

Perfect for storing both fuel and whatever it was that had to get into this thing in the first place.

As Turok finished cleaning the last intact pieces of the wolf-like creature, would he feel his master ‘coming into the room’, the wall opening up to reveal a ‘small’, atleast compared to the rest of the room, hallway.

‘’I need you to make me a fire.’’

The Cyborc raised a eyebrow in response