As the group dispersed from the gateway chamber, Doc stopped and looked back for a moment, watching the shimmering portal cast its blue light across the ancient stone. His prosthetic fingers flexed unconsciously as he replayed the fight with the Watcher construct, the crushing weight of bronze and basalt, conventional arms would likely prove ineffective against that plating.

  The plasma gun would have punched through, he thought, touching the weapon at his hip. But if another one gets that close again...

  Analysis confirms your assessment, Lux's voice cut through his thoughts with clinical precision. Close-quarters engagement with similar constructs will require alternative weaponry. Normal conventional weapons will prove insufficient against it's densely-woven magical alloys.

  Doc started walking again, following the others toward the main corridors. Suggestions?

  Blunt force trauma. The construct's armor plating showed stress fractures after your prosthetic impact. Kinetic energy transfer appears more effective than thermal or cutting implements.

  Makes sense. What do you have in mind?

  Several options available through fabrication blueprints. Gravity hammer—variable-mass head with gravitometric field manipulation. Impact force scales exponentially with proximity to target mass.

  Doc raised an eyebrow as he navigated around a group of children heading toward the courtyard. Bit advanced for local tech integration, don't you think?

  Point taken. Alternative: Electromagnetic disruption mace. Crystalline head designed to generate localized EMP bursts through harmonic oscillation. Could destabilize construct power matrices.

  Still complex. Keep it simple.

  Kinetic amplifier baton. Based on standard impact weapon design from our archives. Heavy-duty construction, energy-redirection core, concussive discharge on contact. Proven effective against hardened targets.

  Doc paused, considering. The baton design felt right—straightforward, reliable, something that he had formal training on how to use. That works. Can we build it with available materials?

  Uncertain. Carl's expertise would provide valuable assessment.

  Okay. Let's see what the boys think.

  Doc picked up his pace, weaving through the temple's corridors toward the workshop.

  He caught sight of Carl and Calen ahead, their voices animated as they discussed yesterday's fabrication projects. Calen gestured wildly with his hands while Carl nodded along, his round glasses catching the torchlight.

  They're probably already planning modifications to the Fixer, Lux observed. Carl's Cross-Construct Insight skill continues to evolve. His pattern recognition for hybrid technologies now exceeds baseline parameters.

  Doc smiled slightly. Kid's got natural instincts. Both of them do.

  The workshop entrance came into view, warm light spilling from within along with the familiar hum of the fabrication unit. Carl and Calen disappeared inside, their conversation shifting to something about energy matrices and core stabilization.

  Doc reached the doorway and stepped inside, nodding to both young men as they looked up from a workbench cluttered with crystal fragments and wiring.

  "Morning, you two," Doc said, his tone casual despite the weight of the morning's decisions. "Mind if I interrupt? I've got a project that might interest you."

  Carl looked up from the workbench, his round glasses reflecting the workshop's light. "A project? What kind of project?"

  Calen straightened from where he'd been examining a crystal fragment, curiosity replacing his usual wariness. "Something dangerous?"

  Doc stepped further into the workshop, noting the organized chaos of their recent experiments. Crystal shards arranged in neat rows, copper wire spooled precisely, and the Fixer sitting in place of honor on the central bench.

  "Remember that construct I fought yesterday? The bronze guardian in the cave?"

  "Yeah, Maz told us about it, the one that nearly crushed you?" Carl's voice carried a mix of fascination and concern.

  "That's the one." Doc moved toward the fabrication unit, its black surface gleaming under the workshop lights. "I got lucky with the prosthetic, but if we encounter another one, or something similar, I need better options for close combat."

  Calen frowned. " Is your magic weapon not good enough?"

  "It should work fine, but these things get close fast. Once they're in melee range, a ranged weapon like my plasma gun becomes a liability." Doc activated the fabricator's interface, holographic menus blooming to life above the build platform. "I need something designed for that kind of fight."

  Carl practically bounced on his feet. "You're going to use the fabricator? Yourself?"

  "Been meaning to. Just got caught up in translation work." Doc's fingers moved through the holographic interface with practiced ease, navigating deeper into the blueprint archives. "You two have been doing excellent work with it, so I didn't have a issue with you two using it."

  Baton schematic located, Lux reported. Standard issue impact amplifier, modified for high-resistance targets.

  Doc paused at a particular blueprint, studying the rotating 3D model that appeared. The weapon looked deceptively simple—a heavy cylinder with a grip section, slightly thicker at the impact end.

  "Mind if we watch?" Calen asked, moving closer. "I've never seen you work the interface directly."

  "Course not. Might learn something useful." Doc highlighted the baton design, watching as the fabricator's analysis systems began calculating material requirements. "This is called a kinetic amplifier baton. Designed for armored targets that conventional weapons can't penetrate."

  Carl leaned over Doc's shoulder, studying the holographic display. "It doesn't look very complicated."

  "Best designs rarely do." Doc confirmed the material selection, ship alloy for the core structure, with space for local modifications. "The complexity is internal. See these channels running through the impact head?"

  Both young men nodded.

  "Energy redirection system. Absorbs kinetic force from the swing, then releases it all at once on contact. Amplifies the strike by a factor of three to five, depending on conditions."

  The fabricator hummed to life, its build platform descending as hard-light scaffolding began taking shape. Layer by layer, the baton's structure emerged from the molecular printers, dense metallic alloy forming the core, precision channels carved with microscopic accuracy.

  "Will it work with monster cores?" Calen asked, watching the fabrication process with rapt attention.

  Doc glanced at him. "That's where you two come in. This design expects a specific power cell type we don't have here. But if we can adapt it to accept core fragments..."

  "We can make it better," Carl finished, his Cross-Construct Insight skill clearly already working on the problem. "The local energy matrices might actually be more efficient than whatever it was originally designed for."

  The fabricator continued its work, building upward with mechanical precision. What had started as light scaffolding now resembled the weapon's basic structure, solid metal taking shape within the translucent framework.

  "How long until it's finished?" Calen asked.

  "Twenty minutes for the base structure," Doc replied. "Then we can modify it"

  Doc stepped back from the console as the baton continued to take shape. "I’ll let you two handle the tuning. You’ve got a better feel for how things flow around here."

  Carl lifted the finished baton from the fabricator plate, turning it over in his hands. The weight felt perfect—dense but balanced—with clean lines running along its surface where energy should flow. The alloy gleamed under the workshop lights, every joint seamless, every channel precisely machined.

  "It's beautiful work," he murmured, running his fingers along the grip. "But—"

  "Built to spec... but without a power source, it’s just a stick," Carl muttered.

  Perfect craftsmanship meant nothing if the thing couldn’t actually amplify anything.

  He traced the internal pathways with his fingertip, feeling for the subtle grooves the fabricator had carved. Cross-Construct Insight flared to life, overlaying his vision with ghostlike patterns. Not electrical circuits—he could read those easily now—but something deeper. Energy channels designed for a kind of power this world didn’t quite use.

  "Calen, look at this." Carl held the baton toward the light, angling it so the internal structure caught the glow. "See these channels? They're not just hollow. They're shaped."

  Calen leaned in. "Shaped how?"

  "Like... like a riverbed. But for energy instead of water." Carl’s excitement grew with each connection. The grooves weren’t random—they curved and branched in precise patterns meant to guide magical flow, redirect it, compress it. "Doc’s people must’ve had some kind of structured energy—magic that moved in predictable ways."

  He set the baton on the workbench and pulled out a core fragment, rolling it between his fingers. It flickered faintly, catching the workshop light.

  "The question is, can we convince our kind of magic to flow the same way theirs did?"

  "You think it'll work?"

  Carl studied the convergence point near the striking end, a hollow chamber where all the channels met. Designed to store energy. Release it on impact. His thoughts raced: core fragments to provide power, crystal matrices to guide the flow, maybe even a feedback loop to build charge with each swing.

  "It'll work," he said, grinning. "Just not the way Doc intended."

  He tapped the baton’s head lightly. "We're going to make it better."

  Carl set the baton on the bench beside one of his old core battery prototypes. He studied both devices, his mind already drawing connections.

  He tapped the baton's hollow core port with his fingertip, then the battery's containment chamber. The dimensions were different, but the principle was the same. Both required shaped energy, not raw magical chaos.

  "We already solved this problem once," he said to Calen, a grin tugging at his mouth. "When we built the battery."

  The baton's fabricated channels were precise, carved with mathematical perfection to guide energy flow. But they expected a specific kind of input—structured, regulated, predictable. Just like the cold box had.

  Carl activated his Tinker Instinct, studying the convergence point where all the weapon's energy channels met. A hollow chamber, perfectly sized to house a power source. But not just any power source, one that could feed energy slowly and steadily into those carved pathways.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  "Right," he muttered, pulling materials from his inventory. "Modular socket. Keep it simple."

  He started with copper-steel alloy, the same blend that had worked for the battery housing. His hands moved with practiced confidence, shaping a cylindrical socket that would fit snugly into the baton's impact head.

  Calen handed him a broken monster core before Carl even asked for it. "This one's from a Gloomclaw Panther Kesh hunted awhile ago," the young bandit said quietly. "Still has charge."

  Carl nodded, suspending the core fragment inside the socket with twisted wire supports. The core flickered weakly as he worked, its violet light casting shadows across the workbench.

  "Crystal slivers for stability," Carl murmured, lining the socket's interior with thin fragments. "Just like the battery, but smaller scale."

  His fingers worked quickly, threading copper wire in tight spirals around the core housing. The slow conduction matrix, that was the key. Too fast, and the baton would overload. Too slow, and it wouldn't build enough charge to amplify anything.

  "What's that for?" Calen asked, watching Carl wind the copper spirals.

  "Energy regulation. The core wants to dump everything at once, but the baton needs steady flow." Carl held up the completed socket, examining his work. "This makes the magic play nice with the Batons channels."

  He fitted the socket into the baton's head, the alloy sliding into place with a satisfying click. The fabricated grooves aligned perfectly with his modifications, creating an unbroken pathway from core to striking surface.

  As Carl tightened the final connection, something shifted. The baton began to hum, not loudly, but with a deep, subtle vibration that traveled through the metal into his hands.

  The copper rings around the socket grew subtly warm. The embedded core flickered once, then settled into a steady pulse, its violet light now contained and focused.

  Carl watched in fascination as the engraved channels along the baton's head began to light up in sequence—starting from the socket and spreading outward like a circuit coming online. The glow was faint but unmistakable, energy flowing exactly where the fabricator had intended it to go.

  "Did it work?" Calen asked, leaning closer.

  "Looks like it did," he said, grinning. "Now we test it."

  Carl hefted the completed baton, marveling at how the steady thrum traveled through the metal into his palms. The weapon felt alive in his hands, each pulse synchronized with the embedded core's rhythm.

  "Well," Doc said, examining the glowing channels along the weapon's surface, "since you built it, you should be the one to test it."

  Carl's grin widened. He'd helped create something that merged two completely different approaches to energy, Doc's precise engineering and ambient magic. The anticipation of seeing his work in action made his fingers tingle.

  "Right then." Carl looked around the workshop for a suitable target. "We'll start small. Controlled test."

  Calen pointed toward a thick stone block near the far wall, a chunk of granite Dulric used as an anvil base when the main forge wasn't built yet. "That thing's solid. Took a few hammer blows from Dulric when we first moved in."

  Perfect. Heavy, sturdy, and far enough from the delicate equipment to avoid collateral damage.

  Carl approached the stone with scientific focus, the way he'd seen Doc analyze problems. Steady stance, measured grip, moderate swing. The baton hummed quietly in his hands, its violet core pulsing with contained energy.

  Just a tap, he told himself. See if the amplification works at all.

  He drew back the baton and struck the granite with what felt like gentle force, barely more than a firm tap.

  The impact sent a shockwave through his arms.

  The stone block didn't crack or chip. It exploded.

  Chunks of granite shot across the workshop like shrapnel, clattering off walls and bouncing across the floor. A dust cloud erupted from the impact site, filling the air with gritty particles. Tools rattled on their shelves, and one of Carl's half-finished battery prototypes toppled over with a metallic clang.

  Carl stood frozen, the baton still humming in his grip, his hands buzzing with residual energy. Through the settling dust, he could see the crater where the stone block used to be, a shallow depression in the workshop floor surrounded by granite fragments.

  Calen brushed dust from his hair, blinking in bewilderment. "That was... moderate force?"

  Doc stared at the destruction, his expression shifting from curiosity to surprise to something approaching awe. "The amplification power was higher than expected."

  Carl looked down at the weapon in his hands, still vibrating with barely contained power. The core's light hadn't dimmed, if anything, it seemed brighter now, as if the discharge had somehow energized it further.

  "Well," Carl said, his voice unnaturally calm. "It works."

  Footsteps pounded down the corridor. Tanna burst through the workshop entrance, her amber eyes wide with alarm. "What happened? That sounded like—" She stopped mid-sentence, taking in the granite debris and dust-covered workshop. "Oh."

  Mazoga appeared in the doorway behind her, arms crossed, surveying the chaos with the expression of someone who'd seen too many explosions. Her gaze moved from the crater to the baton in Carl's hands to the sheepish look on his face.

  Fish padded in last, completely unbothered by the destruction. She sniffed delicately at a chunk of granite, then looked up at Carl with what might have been approval.

  "I can explain," Carl said quickly, still gripping the humming weapon. "We were testing Doc's design. I built it for him, but we needed to verify the energy amplification worked properly, and—"

  "And you decided to test it indoors," Mazoga said flatly.

  "The targeting was precise," Carl protested. "We aimed for the anvil stone specifically. The blast radius was... larger than anticipated."

  Tanna stepped carefully around the granite fragments, her Beast Tamer instincts reading the room's tension. "Anyone hurt?"

  "Just my pride," Carl muttered, then brightened as an idea struck him. "Actually, this proves the concept works perfectly. The energy redirection, the core integration, the amplification matrix, all functioning beyond specifications."

  He turned toward Mazoga, excitement overriding embarrassment. "I could build you one. Something suited for your fighting style. Maybe with a broader impact radius, or a charge-building mechanism that gets stronger with consecutive hits. The possibilities are—"

  "Carl," Mazoga interrupted, her tone carrying the weight of authority, "maybe we discuss weapon upgrades after you clean up the rock pile."

  Carl looked down at the granite debris scattered across his workshop floor. The baton continued its quiet humming, the core's violet light reflecting off the dusty fragments like tiny stars.

  Doc stepped closer, examining the weapon with renewed interest. "Fascinating. The magical energy matrix created a feedback loop during discharge. Each impact appears to prime the system for greater amplification."

  "So it gets stronger the more you use it?" Calen asked.

  "Theoretically," Doc replied. "Though we should probably test that theory somewhere with fewer breakable objects."

  Carl hefted the baton again, feeling its eager vibration against his palms. Despite the mess, pride swelled in his chest. They'd built something remarkable—something that bridged the gap between Doc's advanced engineering and the world magical systems.

  Something that could probably level a building if he wasn't careful.

  "Right," he said, grinning despite Mazoga's disapproving stare. "Outdoor testing from now on."

  Doc picked up a particularly large chunk of granite, tossing it into the growing pile near the workshop’s entrance. “Well,” he said, brushing dust from his prosthetic arm, “at least the workshop’s still standing.”

  Carl paused mid-sweep, broom handle frozen in his grip. “That’s... reassuring?”

  Calen snorted, covering it with a cough as he gathered smaller fragments. Even Mazoga’s stern expression cracked slightly before she turned away.

  The cleanup took twenty minutes of steady work. Doc found himself appreciating the methodical nature of it, cataloging debris patterns, estimating blast radius, noting how the fragments had distributed across the space. Carl's modification had exceeded all projections.

  Once the last granite chunk clinked into the pile, Doc picked up the baton. The weapon settled into his grip with surprising familiarity, balanced, purposeful, alive with contained energy. The core's violet light pulsed against his palm, and he could feel the harmonics running through the metal, a barely restrained symphony of force waiting for direction.

  "Weight distribution's perfect," he said, testing the balance.

  Carl wiped sweat from his forehead, leaving a streak of granite dust. "Keep your grip loose on the backswing. The amplification matrix feeds off motion, if you fight it, it fights back."

  Calen watched quietly as Doc adjusted his stance, fingers finding the natural grip points.

  "Let's test this properly," Doc said, heading for the workshop entrance.

  Outside, he selected a weathered tree stump near the eastern wall, far from any buildings or people. The afternoon sun caught the baton's surface as he raised it, muscle memory guiding his movements into a familiar pattern.

  Block high, pivot, strike through the target.

  Instructor Voss's voice echoed across decades: "Don't think about the impact, think about what comes after. Follow through, reset, adapt."

  Doc remembered the training circle on Nexus Prime, the hollow thunk of practice batons against padded targets in artificial gravity. How Voss had drilled them until the movements became instinct.

  He brought the baton down in a controlled arc.

  The stump split cleanly, the two halves toppling with barely a sound. No explosion, no crater, just efficient, directed force exactly where he'd aimed it.

  Energy pathways syncing, Lux reported through the neural link. Strike profile stabilized. Weapon integration optimal.

  Doc stared at the weapon as its humming faded to silence, the core's light dimming to a soft violet glow. The weight in his hands felt right.

  "Much better than my approach," Carl shouted from the workshop doorway, grinning.

  Doc allowed himself a small smile. "Practice makes permanent."

  The library had settled into evening quiet, lantern flames dancing across weathered stone walls. Doc sat hunched over an open tome. His prosthetic fingers traced runic symbols while his flesh hand scribbled notes in the margin.

  Productivity declining, Lux observed through the neural link. Pattern recognition efficiency down twelve percent from optimal.

  Doc rubbed his eyes, blinking away the strain of squinting at faded ink. The texts offered hints, mentions of "sealed vaults," "guardian protocols," "forge-heart chambers", but nothing concrete about what they might face.

  Soft footsteps echoed in the corridor. Doc glanced up as Ironha appeared in the doorway, carrying a steaming mug and a small oil lamp. Her travel-worn robes had replaced the healer's apron, and her silver hair caught the lamplight.

  "Why am I not surprised?" she said, her tone wry but fond.

  Doc managed a tired smile. "Just double-checking. Can't afford to miss something that prove useful for the expedition."

  Ironha set the mug down beside his scattered notes, something herbal, warm steam carrying the scent of chamomile and mint. She studied the organized chaos of maps and translations.

  "You know the others have been preparing too," she said quietly. "Kesh and Dulric spent the afternoon selecting climbing gear, rope, marking chalk. Tools for navigating tight spaces."

  Doc nodded, still focused on a passage about "resonance locks."

  "Marron and Edda worked out rations and wayfinding supplies. Enough for three days if we need to camp inside the colony." Ironha's voice remained steady, matter-of-fact. "Mazoga's been drafting tactical approaches. She'll present options in the morning."

  The detailed planning should have reassured him. Instead, Doc found himself reaching for another scroll, needing to verify one more detail, cross-reference one more potential threat.

  Ironha stepped forward, her hand settling gently on the table's edge near his notes.

  "That's enough for tonight," she said gently but firmly. "They need you rested."

  Doc looked up, meeting her calm gaze. No judgment there, just the quiet certainty of someone who understood the weight of responsibility.

  "Come on," she said, retrieving her lamp. "I'll walk you to your room."

  Doc gathered his notes, stacking them in careful piles. The baton rested against the table leg where he'd leaned it after the afternoon's testing. He picked it up, feeling its balanced weight, the core's faint warmth through the metal housing.

  They walked through the temple's quiet corridors, their shared lamplight casting long shadows on stone walls. Past the dormitory wing where soft breathing and occasional snores drifted from sleeping quarters. Past an alcove where Fish lay curled in a patch of moonlight, one amber eye tracking their movement before closing again.

  Ironha didn't fill the silence with unnecessary words. She simply walked beside him, her presence steady and grounding in the lamplight.

  At his door, she paused. "You don't always have to carry the whole plan, you know. Some of us are good at what we do."

  Doc studied her face in the flickering light. Six months ago, she'd been a village healer working with herbs and intuition. Now she was an Analytical Healer who'd helped cure a fungal plague and evolved her entire understanding of medicine. The transformation hadn't diminished her, it had revealed what was always there.

  "I know," he said softly.

  She nodded, satisfied. "Sleep."

  Doc watched her retreating figure until the lamplight faded around the corridor's bend. He stood in the darkness, baton in hand, thinking of his first mission deployment on Nexus Prime. How it had felt to trust the briefing, follow protocols written by others, know his role without needing to understand every variable.

  When had he stopped trusting other people to be ready without his oversight?

  Doc shook his head and settled into his bed, Fish materializing from the shadows to curl up at his feet. The familiar weight of her presence grounded him as he stared at the stone ceiling, mind still turning over tomorrow's preparations.

  Six months in the Hollow Vale. Six months of survival, discovery, and accidentally becoming something he'd never intended to be, a leader people looked to for answers. Tomorrow they'd finally step beyond the sanctuary's boundaries, into whatever lay past the gateway.

  The missing shuttle pulled at his thoughts like a persistent ache. Somewhere out there, his ship sat in a dragon's hoard, filled with equipment he desperately needed. Navigation charts, long-range communications, high tech weapons that he desperately needed.

  He glanced around the small stone chamber that had become more familiar than his apartment on Nexus Prime. Strange how a place could feel like home when filled with the right people.

  "Lux," he subvocalized into the neural link. "Assessment of tomorrow's mission parameters."

  Probability matrices remain inconclusive, Lux replied with characteristic precision. Unknown variables exceed acceptable calculation thresholds. Historical data on dwarven security protocols is insufficient. Recommended approach: adaptive tactical response with emphasis on information gathering over objective completion.

  Doc smiled in the darkness. "So you're saying we have no idea what we're walking into."

  Correct. However, statistical analysis indicates our survival probability has improved significantly since initial planetfall. Team competency levels have risen by an average of forty-seven percent. Equipment quality has increased by thirty-two percent. Strategic planning has evolved from 'desperate improvisation' to 'calculated risk assessment with multiple contingencies.'

  "You've been tracking our competency levels?"

  Standard protocol. Your leadership efficiency has improved by sixty-three percent, though you still exhibit suboptimal rest patterns and excessive responsibility assumption.

  Doc chuckled softly, careful not to wake Fish. "Excessive responsibility assumption?"

  You attempt to solve problems that others are demonstrably capable of handling independently. This creates unnecessary stress and reduces overall team effectiveness.

  "Are you psychoanalyzing me, Lux?"

  I am providing operational feedback based on observed behavioral patterns.

  The dry response drew another quiet laugh from Doc. Same Lux—eternally logical, completely missing the emotional subtext, somehow endearing in his mechanical certainty.

  Tomorrow they'd walk through that gateway into unknown territory. But tonight, surrounded by sleeping friends in a sanctuary they'd built together, Doc felt something he had been experienced since arriving in this world.

  Not just survival. Not just hope.

  Peace.

  "Goodnight, Lux."

  Rest cycle initiated. Sweet dreams, Doc.

  Doc's smile widened as sleep finally claimed him. Even Lux was learning.

  Chapter 35 drops next Tuesday