Adom watched Cass's face carefully. No screaming. No gasping. No demands for immediate explanations. Just a calm, measured assessment of the armored golem now standing in her hospital room.
This wasn't how he'd expected this to go. People usually reacted more dramatically when they discovered his secrets. In his experience, even the most composed individuals tended to lose their cool when confronted with the impossible.
But not Cass. She hadn't even blinked.
"I know how this looks," he began, "and I—"
"I would have done the same," Cass interrupted.
Adom stopped mid-sentence. "Pardon me?"
Cass adjusted herself against the pillows, wincing slightly as she moved her bandaged head. "I saw John fight in the dungeon. This is by far the most advanced golem I've ever seen. Enough to not have anyone think it's a golem. It can even use Fluid. A war golem."
She gestured toward John with a small wave. The golem remained motionless.
"So I understand," she continued. "I would have hidden it from everyone too, until a moment like this when I'd have no choice but to trust someone enough to reveal it." She shrugged. "Logical progression."
Adom stood there for a moment, his prepared explanation dying on his lips. He'd spent two hours rehearsing this moment while waiting for her to wake up. He'd anticipated shock, anger, perhaps even fear. He'd prepared counterarguments and reassurances.
But not for this. Never for this.
"That was... easier than I thought it would be," he admitted.
"I don't like drama," Cass said flatly. "It's time-consuming."
Adom laughed, a loud laugh that surprised even him. "You know, Cass, I'm very happy I met you and not another. You're simple to talk to."
"I would have said the same about you a few hours ago if I hadn't just almost been killed," Cass replied in a deadpan, serious tone. She adjusted her bandage slightly. "But I do share the sentiment."
This set Adom laughing again. It wasn't particularly funny, but the tension of the past day needed some release. Maybe he was more rattled by the bombing than he wanted to admit.
He finally composed himself, straightening in his chair. "Let's cut to the chase. Are you ready to listen to my plan?"
Cass smiled back at him. It wasn't her usual businesslike smile—this one had an edge to it, like a merchant who'd just spotted a weakness in a negotiation.
"I'm all ears," she said. "Tell me everything."
*****
The stone snake didn't answer.
It was normal. It was a stone snake.
Adom found relief in that lack of response. He hadn't expected one, but in this place, you never knew. Stone snakes that swallowed people whole existed, after all.
He stepped through the portal.
Instantly, he found himself in the familiar chamber where he'd first met Bob. Same high ceiling. Same strange markings on the walls. Same slightly musty smell of ancient stone.
Speaking of Bob, Adom wondered how the leprechaun was doing. He'd been avoiding using the whistle unless absolutely necessary—no sense bothering the little man for trivial matters—but he was starting to miss him. The rock Bob had perched on during their first meeting was still there, worn smooth in the exact spot where the leprechaun had sat.
Behind Adom, the portal remained open—another difference from his first visit. Back then, he'd been trapped with no visible exit.
He turned toward the entrance of the Trial of Courage, a simple archway carved into the far wall. Last time, it had led him into pitch darkness and a series of nightmarish scenarios designed to test his mettle.
"Please," he muttered to no one in particular, "no surprises this time."
The moment he stepped through the archway, lights flared to life along the walls—glowing crystals embedded in the stone that illuminated the passage ahead.
Another thing that hadn't happened last time.
Adom paused, looking back over his shoulder at the portal that still swirled invitingly behind him. He could leave now if he wanted. Return to the main cave. Go back to the academy.
Or he could continue forward.
He took a deep breath and stepped deeper into the passage.
Solidified Sphinx Blood.
"Huh."
He looked at the sphinx's face. Its eyes were still open, frozen in that moment of disbelief when it realized its riddle-game had backfired catastrophically.
"You had it coming for you though," Adom told it conversationally.
No response, of course.
Turning his attention to its forepaws, Adom examined the curved, gleaming claws. Each was easily the length of his forearm and sharp enough to slice through armor.
He straightened, calling upon his mana. The air around his hands shimmered as he wove a powerful [Wind] spell. With surgical precision, he sent the concentrated blade of air sweeping across the sphinx's paws, severing the claws cleanly from the flesh.
The claws and blood shards disappeared with a soft blue glow as he stored them in his inventory.
"Sphinxes are rare enough to grant alchemical curiosity," he muttered to himself. "Might get something useful out of studying these."
He straightened, dusting off his hands, and continued toward the chamber ahead—the room of the Trial of Strength. The reason of his visit.
*****
Adom circled the golem, examining it from all angles. Unlike John, this one was clearly from an earlier generation. The runes on its armor were primarily stability-focused, with some ancient variations of enhancement patterns woven throughout.
With no effort at all, Adom began removing its armor plating, piece by piece. The material was surprisingly light for something that looked like stone.
Once he had the chest plate off, he located the access panel—positioned differently than John's, and far less elegant in design.
"Let's see what makes you tick," he muttered, prying it open.
Inside was a core that was functional, but relatively primitive compared to John's advanced system. Where John had a sophisticated fluid-producing core, this one had a simpler crystalline structure. Still leagues ahead of what modern artificers could produce, though.
"Interesting," Adom whispered, carefully extracting it.
He set the core aside and pulled out his rune crafting tools from his inventory. He began modifying the foundational runes, carefully integrating his mana signature into the core's matrix.
It was delicate work. One wrong stroke and the core could destabilize—or worse, explode.
Two days had passed since he and Cass had escaped the warehouse attempt. She was scheduled to be released from the healer's house today. He'd stationed John with her as a precaution and given her a transport crystal that would take her to a safe location within the Academy grounds if needed.
He finished with the first golem and moved to the second, then the third, fourth... The work was repetitive but required intense concentration. By the fifth hour, his fingers were cramping, but he pressed on.
He'd aimed to modify at least 300 of them today. Ambitious, but necessary.
As he worked, his mind wandered to the applications of his growing golem army. His first instinct had been military—who wouldn't want a personal force of indestructible soldiers? But the more he thought about it, the more that seemed like a terrible idea.
If these golems were captured during a conflict and studied, they could be replicated. Technology like this hitting the market would drastically change the balance of power—not just in the empire, but across the whole world.
These golems hadn't appeared even in his past life. He couldn't imagine how differently things might have played out if they had.
No, a private army wasn't his problem. His current problem was manpower—reliable manpower.
The warehouse incident had proven just how dirty this business war was going to get. Bombs, hired killers, and that was just the opening move. The merchants guild played for keeps, and he couldn't trust just anyone to stand guard or handle sensitive operations.
Regular people could be bribed, threatened, or replaced with shapeshifters. Information could leak. Loyalties could shift.
But golems? Golems followed orders exactly as given. They couldn't be bribed or threatened. They had no families to use as leverage. They didn't talk, didn't sleep, didn't need food or payment.
And most importantly, with his modifications, they would respond only to his mana signature. No one else could command them.
Adom reinstalled the modified core into the sixth golem and began reassembling its chest plate.
To start his commercial war, he needed to introduce a revolutionary product into the market. Communication crystals would be that product—devices that could transmit messages instantly across vast distances. Nothing like them existed in this world yet. They would change everything.
But there was a problem: Adom was the only one who knew how to make them.
Hiring people would mean sharing the manufacturing process, risking leaks to competitors. And while his enemies might not immediately replicate his work, it would accelerate their progress toward becoming real competition. If he wanted a monopoly on such a life-changing device, he needed to keep its secrets.
Again. Golems didn't leak information. Golems didn't sleep. Golems could work continuously without breaks, complaints, or divided loyalties. These traits made them a game changer for one reason:
Mass production.
With 300 golems as a start, all working under his command after being instructed in the methods he would show them, he could establish a production line unlike anything this world had ever seen. The golems would create the devices, and he would introduce them to the market, controlling both supply and pricing.
Hours passed as Adom worked on golem after golem. The cave's magical lighting shifted subtly as the day outside progressed, though here, it was impossible to tell the exact time. His back ached from hunching over the delicate cores, and his fingers were stiff from the precise runic adjustments each one required.
Finally, he closed the access panel on the three-hundredth golem and secured its chest plate.
"That's it," he sighed, his voice rough from disuse.
Adom stood slowly, stretching his cramped muscles. His knees popped and his back protested after hours of crouching and kneeling. He rolled his shoulders and neck, working out the kinks.
He stepped back to survey his work. Three hundred golems, modified and ready for his command, stood in neat rows before him. The rest remained in their original state, a resource for another day.
Things were really changing now. He was being proactive in a way he'd never managed in his previous life, taking control instead of just reacting to catastrophes as they happened. It was exhilarating, but also terrifying. Each decision to alter the timeline meant he had less ability to predict what would come next.
The future was becoming as unknown to him as it was to everyone else.
But then again, that was exactly why he'd come back in the first place. He wanted a peaceful life to savor—to explore the world on his own terms. For that to happen, he needed to ensure there was a world left to explore. The memories of what had happened—what would happen—without his intervention were still too vivid.
Adom took a deep breath and addressed the golems he had modified.
"Arise," he commanded, his voice echoing in the chamber.
In perfect unison, three hundred pairs of eyes flickered to life, glowing a soft blue that illuminated the cavernous space with an eerie light. Three hundred stone bodies straightened slightly, awaiting further instructions.
Adom looked for a while, face impassive. Was this how his father felt at the command of his men? Very ego inflating. He couldn't help but smile.
"Hehe, nice."