Chapter 315: A Rapid Reversal (2/2)

Helios put himself back into the moment, ”I've yet to finish the later courses. The earlier ones are finished, however.”

I pointed at the top of Mt. Verner, ”You'll be giving me a two-hour lesson daily from here on out. Anyone interested in warping will be joining in, so get ready to give lectures and answer questions.”

Helios rubbed his temples, the guy getting a massive headache. I sent a message to Florence, letting him know to handle the marketing for the lesson. The chatty albony replied in an instant, letting me know it would be done. I took a breath, ”Ok. It's time to move everybody. Let's go.”

Everyone paced off, and I headed towards my golem production facility. We needed thousands and thousands of super golems to help stabilize Earth, especially long term. It was only a matter of time before Elysium figured out it was my home planet. To stop threats before they began, I wanted Elysium staring at a loaded gun when they uncovered Earth's significance to me.

Amassing that kind of army required me to build up and out, even keeping some golems in reserve. I paced into the glass-paneled area where I made golems. As I strode in, I raised my brow at a workshop area. The humming of machines and cascade of sparks gave life to a fresh, thriving industry here. They moved in while I was away.

Several people worked diligently, many of them emboldened by my legacy and the rings I gave to each guildmate. If I had my way, many would join our ranks soon along with them. I walked off past the engineers, my form a colossus beside them. One of the engineers scrambled up, his gaze high,

”We're...We're sorry, sir. We didn't know you'd return so soon. We wanted to take advantage of this space while you were gone, and-”

I gave him an approving nod, ”Keep up the great work. I'll be handling my golem creation over here. Keep some distance, or you'll ignite. I meant that seriously - you're blood will turn to vapor, and you'll explode.”

The engineer gave me a salute, ”Sir, yes, sir. We'll stay cautious.”

I headed over towards the edge of my factory floor before taking myself back through the motions of skin tearing. Well, arm and leg ripping at this point, but you get the picture. Violent ripping ensued, creating loud, booming echoes that quaked the nearby ground. I built heat over my skin, making it easier to rip off, the glowing, white-hot material sturdier than steel.

The entire building rumbled as I pooled a mass of my dimensional fabric. I spread out a portion of it, taking a moment to shield my allies from the rest of my industrial process. The blood in their bodies would evaporate otherwise, and their deaths would be on my hands. Once insulated, I continued without restrictions, putting my entire mind to work.

I channeled bits of mana into mental processing, speeding up each of my minds. I set the many psyche's to individual tasks, parsing myself apart as a team of skilled workers. Each piece of the golem's creations shifted and moved like a clockwork puzzle, ticking to the sound of seconds or the beat of drums.

As I had many times before, I lost myself in the crafting process. I imbued energy into my grimoire, constructing panel after panel and chunk after chunk of the golems. I kept a one to twenty ratios between assault golems and constructor golems. The reason I made so few fighters stemmed from the need for them.

There was none.

A single assault golem rivaled the power of a Breaker in Schema's system. It lacked the sheer explosivity of that class, but a fighter golem could outpace a Breaker's clear rate over time. In the truest sense of the word, an assault golem mirrored a mini Fringe Walker. Very few of them were needed for holding a territory down, especially on a fresher planet like Earth.

By comparison, the constructor golems required more time and effort to handle their responsibilities. They crafted buildings, roads, and swaths of territory over time, but they couldn't make a city overnight. One of them couldn't, at least. Many could. That kind of logic drove me forward as I worked through the night, the stars bathing Mt. Verner in their gentle light.

The sun rose over a distant horizon. As it changed, I remained constant, a single-minded drive. I toiled and worked and wrought. Over the next few days, I continued my relentless pursuit in a perpetual rush. I sent messages across all of my higher-ranking members to leave me undisturbed for a few days.

After all, it was about damn time I had a moment to myself to handle this. In many ways, creating hundreds of golems was a long time coming. I intended on crafting thousands, however. And I did. I unleashed my full, devastating potential, and that didn't mean preparing a dozen or even a few dozen golems. I made hundreds, and they'd darken the sky if they flew overhead.

I set aside a whole week to get the job done, and I generated as many as I physically could. I integrated new furnaces into the process, fueling the mana creation process. Each one acted as a bump in my mana production, a kind of leap forward for me. In those moments, my mana's sheer volume overwhelmed me.

Billions and billions of mana rippled out of my fingertips. The aura spread out thicker than water, like a congealed wave of pure energy. It boomed and writhed out an unquenchable, unshakeable presence. Its tangibility was undeniable. The sheer veracity consumed anything that dared come near it. The all-encompassing wave shivered the dimensional space around me, warping the space.

And yet, I contained it with my many minds.

I wielded many skills in a fluid construction. I kept them rolling forward, using Force of Nature, Apotheosis, and A Manifold Mind with clarity and precision. At times, I forgot that I made progress from a raw power perspective. As I created enough heat to mirror the surface of a star, my abilities sang out in a symphony of violence and heat.

It was a reminder of my potential. It would be a reminder to those around me as well.

By the time I finished the entire week, I had generated several hundred golems. I amassed a sort of velocity with my crafting, becoming a creature of creation. As I fell into my own world, a city of stone and rock unfolded around me. It wasn't as if I had the constructor golems standing there watching me toil. Oh no, they worked with engineers, ones I had Torix and Krog manage.

They oversaw the building of roads, a sort of planned layout sprawling out over the entire horizon while I kept my head down. I hustled day in and day out, but my guild did the same. We kept at it, taking no breaks and showcasing what high willpower and endurance could do.

People talked about moving mountains. When it came to my legion, we preferred actually moving them.

As I finished the task at hand, I wiped my brow, more out of habit than from actual sweat. Water long left my body. Letting my shoulders relax, I sighed with relief, glad to be finished with the work. I allowed myself to recuperate over the next ten minutes before hovering myself out of my golem factory. I carried bits of dirt and stone with me, the debris going unnoticed.

Peering down at my surroundings, I marveled at the enormous change one week of development wrought. A city formed over the side of Mt. Verner. The crowded population in the mountain dispersed, everyone happy to feel the sun and taste the wind once more. I smiled down at roads constructed from concrete. The engineers weaved ribbons of dark stone through the masses, giving them the appearance of rough marble.

Beyond the roads, a new infrastructure formed. Several constructor golems spaced out, providing the means to a power grid. They generated tiny, stable mana crystals within street lamps, giving an ambient light. That light ebbed from within buildings, civilization returning to Earth. Finally. Keeping a bright quintessence during the day, the lanterns radiated in a multifaceted fractal across the landscape, and I admired the geometric sheens.

The lighting framed a moving populace that bounded across the landscape. Guildmates ran across the streets, though no one really used cars. Instead, people jumped onto and over housing. No traffic existed in this post-system world, the systemization inspiring a different way of life. My legacy and rings delivered raw stats in spades as well, accentuating the difference.

It wasn't as if thousands moved out here already, but about a thousand had. They probably clung to the new housing in a desperate rush, eager to escape our subterranean lair. The rugged populace contrasted the architecture. Being brand new, no one stylized any of the buildings just yet, so it all carried an almost dystopian feel from how 'samey' it all was. Or maybe it was utopian? It was hard to say.

I hovered higher into the air, peering out towards the ruins of Springfield. The buildings carried scars from Yawm's landing and ensuing infestation. I winced at memories of the deformed mutants running through the streets there. My old hometown whistled with a quiet dread I almost despised, so I tackled that unease. I floated over. I found traces of my old school, my old boxing gym, even the apartment I used to call home. Taking a minute, I soaked in the corpse of my old home.

And I acted on a whim.

Springfield would be a corpse no longer.