“Ancient One, the storage devices have been filled once again.”

The Other, wearing a mask and protective clothing while working on a peculiar enchantment to be ensconced within a wall, does not seem to react to the golem standing behind him. Several minutes pass, wherein the enchantment briefly flares to life then fades into the dark rock.

“Thank you, The’vrin,” the Other responds, turning to look at one of the earliest golems in his employ, created prior to the Church of Death’s agreements. Not that those agreements would be concerned with an elf from parts unknown anyway, or that following them actually mattered.

“This was the last enchantment for this staircase between this level and the previous. How are things progressing?”

“Floor area is now at approximately 85%, ventilation drones continue to have trouble with pockets of instability between levels and remain at 45% between these levels. The floors closest to the surface remain at 65% ventilation.”

With a humph, the Other, as he’s want to do every century or so, crosses his arms and furrows his brow.

“So be it, it’s a long term project anyway, though perhaps we should work on some purification enchantments as well. More or better. Have the golems rest in the charging circle while I drop off the next mountain of refuse above. And see if someone can design an enchantment like that, just remember it needs to filter gases that will kill living beings.”

With a slight bow, The’vrin turns around to meet up with nearly thirty other golems, already standing or sitting within a glowing circle. Unlike the newer models, these golems fit the world’s typical perspective on what they should look like, somewhat more blocky and without any clothing.

The Other moves back to the area he was working on and feeds a small amount of mana into the now functionally invisible enchantment. A black haze quickly engulfs him, and 76 levels above in one of a hundred alcoves, a blue light winks and pops into existence, depositing the Other safely on his own two feet. Waving at the newly created automaton in the alcove halfway up the wall, it pulls a lever and drops the shield in front of the alcove. Encased in numerous magic shields powered by crystals and recharged with miasma, this non-sentient golem has few commands programed, the among the foremost is “Flip the corresponding switch if there are no monsters within the alcove after transport.”

Several golems are working on the aesthetics of the large room, including the enchanted bronze circle around the gatekeeper’s encampment. It is a warning to those who discover this place in the future. “Hail the Gatekeeper, for he is the first guardian of the children of the gods. But woe upon those showing enmity to him, for they will be sent to the deepest depths of hell.” One golem is working on the metal, another on the stone mural depicting scenes and possibilities of what happens within the alcoves, and another working on individual overrides for each alcove as a failsafe, assuming this place becomes regulated by sentients in the future and they would rather fight any tag-alongs.

‘Annoying that I’ve constrained myself to only a hundred souls working with me on this, but I suppose it can’t be helped. And why am I feeling rushed? If anyone should be accepting of the length of time that could possibly be used to create something, it should be me. Bah, whatever.’

‘Now, the important question, is where to fix the landscape next? Or perhaps I should start working on the rivers? That sounds like a change of pace. First the one through town.’

The Other proceeds to magically dig a meandering trench through ‘town’ leading away and out to the valley. This town, in the loosest of terms, is a very wide, flat patch of ground covered in loose gravel that spans about two-thirds of the valley’s width. Once the trench, soon to be river, has been dug, the Other dumps out mound upon mound of rocks from the bags. Crushing stones to gravel, he covers the entire length and width of the river bottom to half his height, a paltry amount considering the size of things.

Further destruction of stones leads to a layering of pebbles, about a hands-breath worth, on top of the gravel. Random large boulders are placed randomly throughout the river, and five sets of rapids are placed between the ‘top’ and ‘bottom’ of town. The remaining rocks he processes in a particular manner to create something resembling dirt, though lacking the vitality of it, and spreads it to his own height and half again, all along the banks of the river, all the way to where it will meet up with other tributaries not affected by the explosion.

While large in scale, the magic is ‘simple’ enough that the Other finishes within a half hour, all 94 kilometers of the main river with its winding. He leaves the small hill’s worth of stone left and heads back to the depths of the dungeon.

When the Other arrives on the 77th floor, half the golems are present near the circle working in a small stone box of sand. Noticing him, they stand and bow briefly while The’vrin begins speaking.

“Welcome back, Ancient One. We believe we have a solution to the air problem if we are allowed to use logic gates similar to the ones in the teleportation room above. Would this be acceptable?”

The Other thinks for a moment while pulling out the storage bags and handing them over to The’vrin. As the golem passes them out to those remaining, the Other seems to come to a conclusion.

“For the short term, yes. However, we must accept the fact they will inevitably break and therefore we cannot rely on them. But to make this place initially habitable, yes, we can do so. Once we reach the bottom floor, you all may work on them until you reach the exit.”

“So it shall be,” The’vrin intones as he has for centuries. While the others are moving off, the Other continues speaking while he waits.

“I hope to be back in several hours,” the Other begins while forming an indent and partial thin walls, then hanging a door in the middle and forming the remainder of the frame around it, the stone forming the pins for the hinges. “I promised one of the descendants of your old boss some magic scrolls, so I’m going to deliver them. And I am going to skim another forrest for detritus to mix in with the fake soil above, scatter some seeds and whatnot.”

“So it shall be,” The’vrin says yet again. “Should we empty the storage bags in the Northwest quadrant should you become occupied that long?”

Pausing as he was about to reach the door handle, the Other thinks for a moment then shakes his head as if he decided against something. “That will be fine, though be careful so as not to bury yourselves.”

‘I told myself I wouldn’t lend out that storage dimension,’ the Other continues in his own mind. ‘I’m quite sure it was a fluke when we made it, but I cannot risk having it get lost or stolen.’

In Fluria, a heavily dressed hominoid wearing a mask appears to step out of a storage shed. Looking around and frightening the local wildlife, the Other takes off his mask and outer garments and begins moving across town at a leisurely pace.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Meanwhile, in the depths of the ‘dungeon’ in Meggido Valley, the golems pick up the pace.

The’vrin quickly blows out the sand box with some wind magic and connects the engraving buried underneath the sand to the recharging circle. A somewhat complex enchantment that enhances the range of power to the entire floor, up the stairs and part of the one above.

Noticing the passive charging has been activated, the golems excavating let out some hearty, gravely yells and begin working with vigor. The’vrin on the other hand moves to a particular point about 100 meters away from the staircase, traces out a magic circle and activates it. Soon it reveals a shaft located ten meters deep to the wall, which leads directly to the surface. He spends the next five minutes working on an enchantment and is interrupted just as he finishes it.

“Done already Batu?” The’vrin asks, knowing the answer.

“Of course,” is the reply. “We don’t have the same limits as when we were alive so I really don’t understand why he doesn’t push us harder.”

“Well,” The’vrin says while grabbing the bags, “some of it is due to the engravings he is putting in everywhere. I’ll lay out the transport line on the way back so we don’t actually have to keep this up while he’s gone.”

The’vrin moves back over to the concealed teleportation engraving and is soon at the reception hall. Waiting but a brief moment for the shield to drop, he moves quickly outside to begin the mountain of rubble. After dumping about a quarter of the rubble, he casts a spell to form it into a decent sized spire, he goes to the two meter wide platform at the top and dumps out the rest.

Finishing the job, he take out a massive spool of enchanted cable lays out eight strands of that around the top of the spire, then uses earth magic to bury them all about a half meter deep (with a centimeter surrounding it) while slowly sliding down the slope. Continuing back to the entrance of the cave while burying it, he goes inside, turns right, then left, then right again. Going to what seems to be an empty wall near the end of the corridor, he activates a magic circle identical to the one he traced out below.

Proceeding to the shaft from the new entrance, he takes out a small pebble and tosses it down the shaft. After about 3 seconds he sees magic flare briefly, then again after another 3-4 seconds. Satisfied the dampeners are working, he grabs the spool again and jumps in.

When he finally arrives with a dull thud 76 floors below, he walks out and places the spool in an area marked out by Batu. Grabbing the other end of cable still on the spool, he plugs it into a mithril box about the size of a normal sheep. The front of the box has been folded down, with eight mithril nets, each being about a handbreadth wide and twenty meters long, rolled out somewhat close to each other but inlaid in the stone so that one could brush their hands seamlessly over the stone and nets without noticing a change in height.

The’vrin throws half the bags over to Batu and walks off in the opposite direction. Soon, a steady stream of golems can be seen walking to and from the mithril box and nets to dump out their bags of rubble. The nets create a small field that transports whatever is loose and within range along one of the cables, until it dumps it out over the edges of the spire.

After approximately an hour, the stream of golems slows and eventually stops, allowing The’vrin to drop the remainder of the rubble and retrieve the equipment and cables. When he finally arrives back at the charging circle, which is back to the way it was when the Other was with them, the group is in a heated debate.

“What are we discussing now?” The’vrin asks the group.

“Pohon, tell him what we’re thinking, it was your idea after all,” declares one of the golems.

“The’vrin, I think we need to talk to him about a slight change in plans for the valley above. It would be far easier to care for and accelerate the growth of the loam by planting a single tree and growing it large, cycling it’s growth to drop leaves. It doesn’t even have to be entirely organic with the amount of stone we have above. And we could claim it as a type of Arbor Mundi, a Fusang, a Moria, a Gaokarena,3 whatever we call it.”

“I see,” The’vrin says, with a pause. “But I’m assuming the heights you speak of are far greater than what is possible with traditional growth. The physicists struggled with their water experiments when they knew trees grew higher than their 10 meters showed until they discovered the evaporation solution within the leaves. Even then, the predicted maximum height is less than 150 meters, and so far that has played out even in the oldest forests.”

“Granted,” Pohon replies, “but what if it is a magical tree? You know of the duck he helped, why not do something similar here? If we put together most of the plan and structure, there would be little reason for to find fault in the plan. And it’s not like we can do much besides with the extra time we have.”

The’vrin and Batu exchange a brief look, as far as looks between golems go. The’vrin breaks the brief silence by saying, “Yes, but what reason can we give to make it a great plan, one that gives him a reason to be emotionally invested in this gaokarena you speak of.”

[3] Arbor Mundi - Slavic; Fusang - Chinese; Moria - Greek; Gaokarena - Zorastrian