So a new temple?
I raised my brows.
Beside the first stone temple—now half hidden beneath climbing vines and moss—a second, larger one was rising. Its smooth, carefully fitted stone walls already stretched higher than the weathered original, casting it into shadow.
At least twenty Scalaris worked in unison—carrying heavy blocks, smoothing mortar, carving runes into the foundation.
Their rhythm was steady, almost ceremonial—until a sudden call cut through the air.
"Village Chief!"
The workers froze. Tools lowered. Every head turned toward a figure approaching from the far side of the square.
She was young—smaller than the rest—but there was weight in the way she walked: shoulders squared, eyes sharp as polished obsidian.
Her scales shimmered in the light, a deep mix of rainbow hues, like sunlight breaking through rain.
One of the workers, still slick with sweat, jogged forward and bowed his head, wiping his brow with a cloth. "Chief! The western wall is nearly done, just as you commanded. But the stones… they crack if we rush them. We'll need more time."
The young woman placed her hands on her hips, scanning the growing temple.
"Then don't rush them," she said simply. Her voice was calm, yet carried enough firmness to make the others nod without protest. "This temple isn't just for us. It will stand for generations—we will not build it weak."
Her words struck like hammers against stone. As she turned and continued walking, the workers silently returned to their rhythm.
I hovered in the middle of the road, unseen, and followed her hurried steps behind the old temple, where one—no, several—graves were neatly arranged.
Flying closer, I heard the girl mumble something as she laid her hand on a stone carved with a flame inside a circle.
"How are you, Phillip?" I heard her quiet voice. "We have a new priest. He came from further inside the dungeon… it seems." She gulped and looked up at the sky.
"…you were right. The dungeon isn't against us—the Reditus Diluvii just scattered our people across the land."
The village chief then pulled a few flowers from her clothes and went to fetch some water before sitting in front of the grave again. Her tone softened.
"They said they met him and others on their journey. Maybe I can finally get rid of this position and follow him…" She shook her head. "Maybe I could form a team, travel through the Dungeon in search of others—and build a land for him to return to?"
I continued listening for a while as she spoke about the last few years, but at some point, I decided to give her privacy. I flew away, leaving the town by the bay behind me.
Following the mountains in the far distance, I crossed the landscape, actually spotting other groups of people. In a forest far away, I even saw a small town with a wall—humans and Scalaris working side by side.
"I didn't see the cool Scalaris boy with the pigment problem…" I muttered, opening the map of the first floor. "What was his name again? Hmmm…?"
"Ah! Larry Potter!"
A few quick clicks later, I found him—his dot far from his hometown by the bay, close to reaching the river.
"Oho! A traveler, I see!" And with that, I teleported to him.
I found him forcing his tall body through grass that reached his torso. On his back, a small bundle wiggled with each step. His eyes were hard, and a scar ran from his left ear down, vanishing beneath his leather armor.
"Oh! Is he traveling alone?"
That's crazy! But I shrugged my shoulders—then heard a cry that sounded like a baby. An angry beast leapt out of the tall grass, only to be beheaded by a green flame before I could even blink.
"Wow…"
After finishing my little floor tour—one day in control room time—I returned to the control room. The rhythmic beating of metal echoed through the garden, and I saw Gaia watching our icy giant at work on a sword.
"Ah, Isaac!"
She turned toward me, and so did the big man, stopping his work and lowering his head.
"No pressure! You can keep working, Stenvar. I just want to speak with Gaia real quick!"
She raised her brows but stood up and followed me to the terrace, where I asked if he was ready to have two underlings.
"Hm, I think so! He doesn't speak much, but he's smart—and he already memorized the notebook you made for him!"
I nodded. "That's good. He'll find his way through the labyrinth. And are you ready too?"
"Hehe! Of course!"
Smiling, I agreed and walked back toward Stenvar, creating a lump of adamantite along the way. Holding it toward him, I explained, "Here, look! This metal is special. It's created by magic, and you have to forge it with magical smithing skills. This is your last test!"
I held out the dull, silvery chunk. Even unworked, the adamantite pulsed faintly with mana, like a stone that remembered fire.
Stenvar set the half-finished sword aside and reached out. His hands—massive and already scarred from his craft—closed around the metal carefully, as though afraid it might shatter.
"It isn't like the metals you've worked with so far," I told him. "Not like ice or iron. You can't force it into shape. If you strike it too hard, it'll reject you. If you strike without intent—it will remain dead."
His glacier-blue eyes lifted to mine. A rumble left his chest—not quite words, but thought given shape—and his big head nodded.
"Thank you…"
I patted his leg—the shoulder was out of reach—and let him continue working with the metal as he wished. Then I turned to Gaia, who stood at my side, and gave her a thumbs-up.
"Ready for your kind?"
"Eh?" She jolted, smoothing her hair and dusting off her clothes. "I thought Stenvar was going to be first?"
I shook my head with a grin. "Hahaha, no! I changed my plan! Get ready!"