RISING OF THE GOLEM KING FROM ZERO TO HERO, Volume 1, Part One by H. L. Watson - HTML preview

Chapter 18

An hour later, our group set out northward along the dust-laden road that stretched like a pale ribbon through the countryside. The twin suns of Iriddoria cast overlapping shadows beneath our wagons, creating strange, elongated patterns that shifted with the movement of our caravan. Before departing the city gates, I had gathered everyone to explain my intentions regarding our route.

"We'll be taking a slight detour toward the mountains," I announced, indicating the distant peaks visible on the horizon, their snow-capped summits gleaming in the morning light. "It will lead us away from the main road temporarily."

The mercenaries stood in a loose semicircle, their weathered faces betraying neither approval nor disapproval. The tallest among them—a broad-shouldered man with a scar that bisected his left eyebrow—merely shrugged, his leather armor creaking with the movement. "I understand this may cause some delay," I continued, "and I'll compensate everyone accordingly when we reach our destination."

Amy lingered at the edge of the group, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Since our disagreement at the stables, she had maintained a pointed silence toward me, her blue eyes deliberately avoiding mine whenever our paths crossed. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a practical braid that emphasized the stubborn set of her jaw.

Eira stepped forward, the movement causing the fabric of her blue-trimmed white robe to ripple like water. The morning light caught in her honey-brown hair, highlighting golden undertones that hadn't been visible in the stable's dim interior.

"How long will this detour add to our journey?" she inquired, her violet eyes meeting mine directly. Unlike Amy's hostile avoidance, Eira's gaze was steady and evaluative. "No more than a few weeks," I assured her, watching her expression carefully for signs of objection.

Eira considered this, then nodded, a small smile softening her features. "That should not cause us significant problems, provided we encounter no major obstacles along the way." With that understanding established, we ventured north. The first day's travel proceeded without incident, the rhythm of the journey establishing itself naturally. The mercenaries positioned themselves strategically around our small caravan—two ahead scouting the path, one behind guarding our rear. Eira and her companions maintained a respectful distance while remaining close enough for protection if needed.

The landscape gradually transformed as we traveled, the cultivated fields surrounding Azure Reach giving way to rolling meadows dotted with wildflowers in vibrant purples and yellows. The air carried the scent of sun-warmed grass and the occasional sweet fragrance of nectar-heavy blossoms. Birds with brilliantly colored plumage unfamiliar to my Earth-trained eyes darted between the tall grasses, their calls creating a melodic backdrop to our progress. By late afternoon, the shadows had lengthened considerably, and I signaled for us to make camp in a small clearing sheltered by a copse of silver-barked trees. Their leaves rustled in the gentle evening breeze, creating a soothing whisper overhead. A small stream curved around the clearing's edge, providing fresh water for both people and animals. The practiced efficiency of our companions became evident as camp took shape. The mercenaries secured the perimeter, their movements economical and coordinated despite having never worked together before. Eira's group established their camp on the clearing's eastern edge, true to their promise of maintaining independence while remaining close enough for mutual protection.

My first priority was erecting my large camping tent—a marvel of design that Teacher Eldon had commissioned specifically for traveling Tinkerers. The canvas exterior, treated with water-repellent alchemical solutions, shimmered faintly in the evening light. Its frame, composed of lightweight yet sturdy metal alloys, expanded into a surprisingly spacious interior, tall enough for me to stand upright without stooping.

Inside, I arranged my mobile workstation, a compact version of the workbenches found in stationary Tinkerer workshops. The portable setup included scaled-down versions of essential equipment: a mini foundry for melting metals and glass, precision tools for engraving and shaping, and specialized apparatus for working with magical components. The familiar scents of metal, oil, and arcane reagents soon filled the space, creating a comforting sense of continuity despite our nomadic circumstances.

During my training with Teacher Eldon, I had observed the fascinating parallel between devices in this world and those from Earth. The aesthetic here leaned heavily toward what my world would term "steampunk"—brass fittings, visible mechanical components, and an organic integration of technology with artisanal craftsmanship. The significant difference, of course, was the power source. Where Earth technology relied on electricity, Iriddoria's devices drew energy from crystals.

These crystals functioned similarly to batteries, positioned onto carefully engraved symbols that activated specific types of magic. For example, a device requiring heat would include an engraved symbol for fire magic, drawing power from a crystal orb containing that particular magical energy. The precision of the engraving determined the efficiency and effectiveness of the magical transfer, with subtle variations producing dramatically different results. When I first discovered this system, my mind raced with potential applications, seeing connections between this world's magical engineering and the electronic principles I understood from Earth. The possibilities seemed endless, limited only by imagination and skill in implementation.

With my workspace established, I turned my attention to Dahlia's accommodation. Her tent, smaller but no less comfortable, stood a respectful distance from mine—close enough for convenience yet separate enough for privacy. The pink-haired young woman watched with fascination as I assembled the frame and secured the canvas, her blue eyes wide with wonder at the transformation of simple components into functional shelter. "Have you ever slept in a tent before?" I asked, securing the final guy rope with a taut-line hitch. Dahlia shook her head, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her traveling dress. "No, I've never been outside the city before yesterday." Her voice carried both excitement and uncertainty. "Will it be comfortable?"

"It's not a feather bed," I admitted, "but the bedrolls are padded, and you'll be protected from the elements." Stepping back to assess my work, I nodded with satisfaction. "Once you're settled, could you heat some provisions and bring me a plate? After you've completed your sorting and organizing, you're free to tend to your own needs."

Dahlia's face brightened, seemingly grateful for the structure of familiar tasks amid so much newness. "Yes, of course," she replied with an eager nod, her pink braid bouncing with the movement. "I'll take care of it right away."

With accommodations arranged, I retreated to my tent and immersed myself in my latest project. Though I referred to them as "inventions," they were primarily attempts to recreate technologies from my previous world using the magical principles available in Iriddoria. My current focus— perhaps the most personally significant—was creating an equivalent to an electric battery.

The motivation was simple yet profound: my smartphone, the last tangible connection to Earth, had long since died, its battery depleted with no means of recharging. While others might view the effort as frivolous or sentimental, I remained determined to bridge this gap between worlds, to make this small piece of home functional once more.

The components of my disassembled smartphone lay precisely arranged on my workspace, familiar circuitry contrasting sharply with the handcrafted magical tools surrounding them. Beside them sat a crystal I had painstakingly created from magical materials with properties closely aligned to conducting and storing lightning energy—the most logical analog to electricity in this world.

Previous attempts had encountered a significant hurdle: control. The crystal behaved more like a capacitor than a battery, discharging its entire store of energy in a sudden, destructive burst rather than providing the steady, regulated flow needed for delicate electronics. The challenge lay in finding a way to moderate this flow to usable levels. Reaching for one of the teaching orbs I had acquired before our departure, I cradled the smooth, cool sphere in my palms. The crystal's surface warmed gradually as I focused my concentration, accessing the knowledge stored within. The sensation was peculiar—not quite physical, not entirely mental. In my mind's eye, information manifested as a vast library of text, organized by arcane principles I was still learning to navigate.

For approximately thirty minutes, I searched methodically through this mental archive, seeking any information related to magical energy flow regulation. The process required intense concentration, the physical world fading to a dim awareness as I sifted through centuries of accumulated knowledge.

Finally, a relevant passage surfaced in my awareness. The solution, elegantly simple once recognized, was an oversight in my original design. I had failed to include a specific instruction within the arcane runic script engraved on the crystal—a component that would regulate output flow rather than allowing the uncontrolled discharge I had experienced. Sighing with a mixture of frustration and relief, I acknowledged that my first attempt had produced a wasted crystal. Fortunately, I had anticipated setbacks and prepared multiple versions. From my supplies, I retrieved another blank cylindrical glass object, its surface smooth and ready for inscription. The glass caught the light from my workspace lamp, casting prismatic patterns on the nearby table surface.

Referring to my notebook, where I had documented the original runic script, I began to draft a revised version. This time, I incorporated a magic flow management segment, setting the output to the lowest possible level. While this might prove insufficient for proper charging, it would provide a baseline measurement from which I could calibrate subsequent attempts. After reviewing the revised script multiple times, checking each symbol against my references, I prepared my engraving tools. The delicate instruments, crafted specifically for runic work, included diamond-tipped styluses and magical compounds that would permanently bond the inscriptions to the crystal's structure. The process demanded absolute precision—a single misplaced line could render the entire circuit useless or potentially dangerous. Working methodically, I engraved the arcane script onto the glass cylinder. The process was meditative in its intensity, requiring complete focus as each symbol took shape under my careful guidance. The scent of the magical compounds—something like ozone mixed with cinnamon— filled the tent, so familiar now that it barely registered in my consciousness. An hour later, I straightened, rolling my shoulders to release the tension of prolonged concentration. Stepping back to examine my work, a movement at the tent entrance caught my peripheral vision. Dahlia knelt there, a plate balanced carefully on her lap, her blue eyes watching me with quiet patience.

Surprised by her presence, I asked, "How long have you been waiting there?"

"Not terribly long," she replied, though something in her expression suggested otherwise. "Here's your plate of food, as you instructed. I saw you working and didn't want to disturb you until you were finished."

Glancing at the timepiece on my workbench, I realized with a start that hours had passed since I'd requested the meal. The intricate work had consumed my awareness completely, time slipping away unnoticed amid the focused concentration of crafting. "I'm terribly sorry, Dahlia," I said, feeling heat rise to my cheeks in embarrassment. "I can't believe I forgot about our little arrangement."

She rose gracefully, bringing the plate forward. A smile played at the corners of her mouth, no reproach evident in her expression. "It's alright. Watching you work was a fascinating experience, even if it meant waiting a bit longer."

Her gaze drifted to my workbench, curiosity evident in the slight tilt of her head as she studied the array of tools and components scattered across its surface. "You Tinkerers have such a unique world," she observed thoughtfully. "But, to be honest, I can't fully grasp the appeal. It seems... well, a bit boring."

Her candid assessment startled a laugh from me. Most people in this world regarded Tinkerers with a mixture of awe and mystification, rarely expressing such straightforward opinions. "I can see why you'd think that," I acknowledged, picking up the small crystal power core I'd been working on. The faceted surface caught the lamplight, sending tiny rainbows dancing across Dahlia's curious face. "To an outsider, it might look like we're merely playing with bits and bobs, but there's a certain magic to it."

One pink eyebrow rose skeptically. "Magic? Really?" The challenge in her voice was playful rather than dismissive.

"Absolutely," I confirmed with a nod. "It's all about taking these seemingly random pieces and crafting them into something functional, something meaningful. But yes, it does require a lot of focus and, well, patience."

Dahlia's expression remained dubious, but she offered no further commentary on my chosen profession. Instead, she placed the plate on an empty corner of my workbench and momentarily disappeared from the tent, returning shortly with a small pitcher that contained what appeared to be red wine. The liquid caught the lamplight, its deep ruby color suggesting a rich, full-bodied vintage.

With a grace that seemed at odds with her former status as a household slave, she arranged these items neatly, then stepped back and offered a small bow. "Enjoy your meal," she said simply, before turning to leave.

Watching her depart, I marveled at how quickly she had adapted to her new role. The tentative, uncertain girl from Jiren's household was already transforming into a self-assured young woman. The structure of service seemed to provide her with comfort amid the chaos of her changed circumstances, a framework within which she could define herself beyond her past as a slave. As I ate, savoring the simple but satisfying meal of seasoned meat, root vegetables, and hearty bread, my thoughts turned to the learning orbs that had become essential tools in my work. Initially, I had mistakenly believed they functioned in the same manner as the technique used on me when I first arrived in this world—the painful but effective language implantation that had allowed me to communicate.

Teacher Eldon had corrected this misconception, explaining that learning orbs fell into two primary categories. The first, teaching orbs like the ones I currently used, functioned essentially as mystical reference books. They contained vast repositories of knowledge that users could access through concentration, but required reading and searching for specific information—a process that could prove time-consuming but was entirely safe. The second variety, absorption orbs, utilized the direct implantation method similar to what I had experienced with language. This approach allowed knowledge to be downloaded directly into the user's mind, bypassing conventional learning methods entirely. The significant drawback, however, was the risk of brain hemorrhage and other severe neurological complications. Due to these dangers, the absorption method was rarely employed except in circumstances of extreme necessity.

Learning this had made me newly aware of the risk I had unwittingly faced during my initial language acquisition. The process had been painful but successful—I could have easily become one of the unfortunate statistics whose minds couldn't withstand the information transfer. The realization underscored how little I had understood about this world upon my arrival, and how much I still had to learn.

With my meal completed, I returned to my project with renewed focus. Clearing away the remnants of the engraving process, I began activating each arcane rune within the script I had created. The process required precise application of magical energy through focused concentration, similar to the method used to access teaching orbs but with much greater specificity.

After an hour of methodical work, I had successfully activated all the runes in sequence. Taking the glass crystal cylinder in hand, I concentrated deeply, channeling magical energy from my lightning affinity to charge the newly created device. The experience reminded me of the unusual advantage I possessed—affinities for all twelve known magical elements, a rare trait that provided significant flexibility in my work as a Tinkerer. These twelve elements—Ice, Light, Nature, Metal, Shadow, Arcane, Fire, Water, Earth, Air, and Lightning—represented the fundamental magical forces recognized in Iriddoria. Most people possessed affinities for only one or two elements, with strength rankings determining how effectively they could manipulate these forces. Though my rankings were all at the lowest level (R1), having access to the complete spectrum offered unique opportunities for experimentation and innovation.

After ten minutes of concentrated charging, the crystal emitted a subtle warmth against my palms, indicating successful energy storage. Setting it carefully on the workbench, I retrieved my makeshift testing apparatus—a rudimentary device designed to measure electrical output through a filament housed within a glass bulb. In previous attempts, this filament had burnt out almost instantly, indicating excessive power flow from the crystal storage. With cautious optimism, I connected the wire ends to my newly crafted crystal, deliberately leaving one connection incomplete to prevent a full circuit. The glass bulb containing the filament was securely attached to the opposite end, ready to indicate whether my modifications had succeeded in regulating the power flow.

Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I touched the remaining wire to the crystal, completing the circuit momentarily. A small, flickering light appeared within the bulb—much dimmer than in previous tests, but crucially, the filament remained intact. Encouraged, I repeated the process several times, extending the connection duration with each attempt. The light continued to glow steadily without burning out.

My excitement building, I maintained the connection for a full minute, watching intently for any signs of failure. The light remained constant, neither flickering nor intensifying beyond its initial brightness. Emboldened by this success, I extended the test to five minutes with the same stable result.

Confidence growing, I decided to attempt the true test—connecting my smartphone battery to the crystal. With careful precision, I attached the prongs to the battery terminals, then connected the assembly to the crystal. Five minutes passed, the setup remaining stable with no signs of overheating or other complications.

Heart pounding with anticipation, I disconnected the battery and reinstalled it in my smartphone. The device had lain dormant for months, its screen dark and unresponsive since the last of its original charge had depleted. With a mixture of hope and trepidation, I pressed the power button, holding my breath as I watched for any sign of life.

For several agonizing seconds, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, the screen illuminated with the familiar logo of my phone carrier. The startup sequence proceeded normally, each successful step increasing my growing sense of accomplishment. When the home screen finally appeared, I checked the battery indicator—3%, barely enough to keep the device running, but undeniable proof that my experiment had succeeded.

Silently celebrating this hard-won victory, I reconnected the battery to my makeshift charging setup, allowing it to replenish its energy more fully. This small success represented far more than just a recovered piece of technology—it was tangible evidence that bridges could be built between the science of my former world and the magic of my new one. Exhausted but deeply satisfied, I prepared for sleep, my mind still buzzing with excitement and potential. The breakthrough, though modest, opened a realm of possibilities I had only begun to explore. As I lay on my bedroll, listening to the night sounds filtering through the tent canvas— the chirping of unfamiliar insects, the occasional call of nocturnal birds, the soft murmur of voices from around the campfires—my thoughts raced with visions of what might now be possible.

This capacity to power electric devices in a world of magic could lead to innovations beyond what either realm had achieved independently. Sleep came slowly, my mind refusing to quiet as it generated one idea after another, each building on this fundamental proof of concept. The journey ahead promised challenges and discoveries in equal measure, but for now, I had reclaimed a small piece of home in this strange new world.