Infinite Mana - Chapter 191: A Different Breed (Thank you for your support, ToadSage!) (Patreon)

The changes became obvious almost as soon as they reached the sixth floor. Sieghart noticed it first in the walls, where dull mineral bands interrupted the gray stone and reflected their lantern light in uneven metallic streaks.

The first golem emerged from a side passage with the same broad shoulders and oversized fists as the constructs above. Its body, however, looked less like assembled rock and more like a collection of unprocessed ore forced into a human shape. Dark, heavy plates overlapped across its chest. Rust-colored seams divided the arms, and pale crystalline flecks glittered around the joints whenever it moved. The amber light beneath its brow looked smaller against material that reflected everything around it.

One of the leading soldiers stepped forward to draw its attention. His partner circled toward the exposed knee, repeating the same coordinated maneuver they had used successfully throughout the upper levels. This time, the hammer rebounded with a sharp metallic crack. A shallow dent marked the joint, but the golem remained upright and swung before the soldier recovered his weapon.

The man turned enough to avoid taking the blow directly across his chest. His shoulder received it instead, and the impact drove him into the wall hard enough to scatter chips of stone around his helmet.

“Back. Second pair, take it.”

Aldren’s orders arrived before the injured soldier finished sliding down. Two companions moved between him and the golem while Sieghart approached, already preparing First Aid beneath the hand he extended toward the damaged shoulder. The armor had survived better than the joint underneath it. Sieghart guided the spell through the injury while the next pair attacked more cautiously, testing the heavier construct instead of assuming familiar weaknesses would break just as easily.

“It didn’t crack,” the soldier muttered.

“I noticed.”

Sieghart waited until the man could move his fingers properly before removing his hand. Ahead, repeated hammer blows finally damaged the golem’s knee enough to bring it down, though its arms kept sweeping through anything within reach. Disabling those took several more strikes. By the time Aldren stepped forward to retrieve the central core, the soldiers had spent noticeably more effort than they would have used dismantling an ordinary stone construct.

Sieghart expected the captain to collect a substantial amount of ore. The torso alone appeared large enough to fill several mining carts, and the exposed fractures showed metal-bearing material extending far beneath its outer surface. Instead, the body began shrinking the moment its core came free. Sieghart stopped closing his notebook and watched the broad chest contract around the empty cavity, its heavy plates sliding inward without the grinding resistance he expected.

The arms followed. Thick forearms narrowed, enormous fists curled into compact lumps, and the legs shortened until a body that had blocked most of the passage occupied surprisingly little space across its center. Loose pieces contracted too. A fragment broken from one shoulder trembled near Sieghart’s boot, losing most of its volume before settling into a dark nugget no larger than his thumb.

For several seconds, Sieghart stared at the remains while Magic Vision revealed mana draining from the compacting material. The faint network that had supported the larger shape unraveled, leaving only scattered mineral fragments beneath fading traces of energy.

“That’s all?”

Aldren knelt beside the compacted torso and selected several pieces from the rubble, turning each under the lantern light before deciding which belonged inside his backpack and which could remain.

“Worth taking.”

The fragments disappeared into his peculiar backpack, leaving Sieghart looking between the small pile and the marks the golem had left across the floor. Whatever the construct had been before death, its weight certainly had not felt imaginary. He picked up the nugget beside his boot and turned it between his fingers. Perhaps the dungeon expanded the material, using mana to maintain a much larger structure than the original quantity should have supported.

That would explain why the body collapsed inward rather than simply crumbling. It did not explain everything else, including how the expanded ore remained strong enough to rebound hammers and break bones before returning to such an unimpressive size. Sieghart had no idea whether the process resembled spatial manipulation or something entirely different. The distinction mattered, but either possibility sounded considerably more interesting than watching ordinary stone reconnect at damaged joints.

Could a core teach him that? The golems had offered experience and nothing more, but these constructs clearly relied upon another property he had not observed in their simpler relatives. Expanding material would have countless applications. A small stone becoming a large projectile was obvious, while carrying compact supplies and restoring their size later could solve problems his carriage kept reminding him existed.

Then he imagined enlarging one of his Mana Swords after it passed an enemy’s guard. Sieghart set that thought aside before it became another distraction, although the idea refused to disappear completely. The cores belonged to the group, however. Taking one simply because Aldren’s backpack seemed capable of concealing an entire quarry would be a poor way to maintain their working arrangement.

He could ask to purchase one afterward, or return once he had seen enough of the deeper floors. Neither option required stealing, and both sounded far less troublesome than explaining why the hired healer had started consuming their earnings.

“You can keep that piece,” Aldren said.

Sieghart looked down at the nugget still resting in his palm. Apparently, staring at unfamiliar minerals made his intentions somewhat easier to read than he preferred. He pocketed it before following the formation. The next encounters proved the first mineral golem was not an exception. Their shapes varied, but the denser bodies resisted impacts that had shattered stone above, forcing the soldiers to strike repeatedly before creating useful openings.

One construct carried pale, glassy ridges across its shoulders. Another had dark metallic bands around both legs, forcing the front pair to abandon their usual knee attacks and concentrate on its less protected elbows instead. That change cost them time and energy. Hammers caught awkwardly against uneven surfaces, recovering weapons took longer, and heavy arms kept moving after blows that should have interrupted an ordinary golem.

Sieghart’s healing tally grew accordingly. A strained wrist became a fractured forearm during the next exchange, while another soldier took a glancing strike across his thigh that left him unable to put weight on the leg. He repaired what he could without rushing, checking each injury before casting. The captain rotated men away from the front whenever necessary, but the number of soldiers moving comfortably continued decreasing as the descent went on.

Sieghart noticed the difference in their Aura use as well. The bursts lasted longer now, and the disturbances around their bodies intensified whenever ordinary reinforcement failed to deliver enough force through their weapons. Aldren corrected their positioning more often, occasionally stepping forward to deflect a blow himself. He never remained at the front long enough to finish the encounter, leaving the next opening for his men to exploit.

Sieghart understood the purpose, although he suspected the soldiers would have preferred their captain demonstrating slightly less restraint. Several looked toward him whenever another hammer strike produced little more than a shallow dent.

Meanwhile, every defeated construct left the same disappointing aftermath. A body large enough to justify several miners became a scattered collection of ore, its magically sustained bulk contracting once the central core stopped controlling it. By the time they reached the next descending passage, Sieghart was paying nearly as much attention to that collapse as to the battles preceding it. Each time, he caught another glimpse of mana withdrawing through the contracting structure.

He wanted a quiet room, an intact core, and enough time to examine what remained inside it. Even the possibility of receiving nothing but experience failed to make the experiment less tempting. Then the dungeon shook beneath them, interrupting that thought completely. The tremor traveled through the floor before reaching the walls, dislodging a thin stream of dust from a seam directly above the formation.

Everyone stopped. One soldier lifted his hammer, while another looked toward the ceiling as grit pattered against his helmet. The vibration continued for several seconds before fading into a low grinding sound farther below. Sieghart activated Magic Vision more strongly. The stone ahead concealed anything distinct, but the ambient currents shifted in a broad ripple that looked different from the narrow disturbances produced by individual walking golems.

A second tremor followed, heavier than the first. Dust slid from the upper steps and collected around their boots while the captain moved forward far enough to examine the descending passage.

“Looks like we’re getting close to the first guardian.”

Sieghart glanced toward the men around him. Several had already needed repeated healing against ordinary mineral constructs, and one soldier was flexing his recently repaired hand as though checking whether it would survive gripping a hammer again. A guardian would presumably be worse. Larger was possible, faster was likely, and a body that resisted their weapons even more effectively would make this endurance exercise considerably less comfortable.

Could they handle it? Sieghart did not know. Aldren had not appeared especially strained yet, but the captain’s confidence could mean anything from genuine preparation to an unfortunate habit of expecting too much from exhausted men.

Sieghart would at least learn something either way. Watching them succeed would show him useful methods; watching them struggle would provide examples of what not to do when he eventually returned alone. That sounded cold when phrased so simply. He reminded himself that observing their mistakes did not require allowing them to die, especially when keeping them alive was the service he had agreed to provide.

He checked the width of the passage and considered where Mana Barrier would fit. If a retreat became necessary, forcing a larger construct to break successive boundaries could buy enough time to move the injured. Aldren signaled the front pair to proceed carefully, then returned to his position beside Sieghart. Neither spoke until they had crossed another stretch of passage and the immediate tremors failed to repeat.

“Have you been trading long?”

Sieghart looked toward him, uncertain why his business experience had suddenly become interesting with a guardian somewhere ahead. The captain’s expression remained casual, although his eyes continued checking the formation as he walked.

“Not particularly.”

“You make equipment, heal fractures. You watch a golem fall apart like you’re already considering how to build one.”

“I sell things. Knowing how they work helps.”

“Certainly. That’s still quite a collection of skills for someone your age.”

Sieghart had heard enough observations about his age recently to find another one irritating. He was considering the guardian, the cores, and whether his new defense would last against either, rather than preparing a careful answer.

“You certainly pay attention to other people for an Aura user.”

The words sounded worse once spoken. Sieghart noticed that before the nearest soldier turned his head, his gaze narrowing through the opening beneath his helmet. Another man glanced back as well, followed by a third whose forearm Sieghart had healed less than half an hour earlier. None said anything, but their expressions made further explanation seem unlikely to improve the moment.

Sieghart closed his mouth. He had managed several hours of reasonably tolerable cooperation before casually insulting the profession shared by everyone accompanying him. Ronan would probably find that timing generous. Aldren looked at him for a moment, then returned his attention to the passage. There was no sudden pressure, wounded dignity, or demand that the young merchant remember whom he was speaking to.

“My family didn’t have Aura users.”

Sieghart’s irritation faltered. He had associated the captain’s armor, command, and polished manners with a background similar to the households he knew, apparently without noticing how little evidence supported the assumption.

“I wasn’t raised to think anyone without it mattered less,” Aldren continued. “Being able to use it didn’t give me much reason to change my mind. Some call me impure thanks to that, but it doesn’t matter, with that power and my hard work, I reached my current position.”

The nearest soldier faced forward again. Another adjusted his grip on his hammer, and the formation kept moving without the argument Sieghart had almost invited. Sieghart said nothing. Somehow, the captain’s explanation brought his mother to mind more quickly than an offended response would have, and he immediately resented the direction his thoughts had taken.

Blond hair, blue eyes, a controlled expression. Details that had once grown distant were annoyingly clear again after meeting Lucélia, especially the shape of the mouth she had inherited and the familiar tilt of her face. His mother had judged him by the future she believed his body could provide. Aldren had just described growing up among people who possessed no Aura at all, without treating that absence as something requiring an apology.

Different lives, different families. Sieghart knew the comparison was unfairly simple, but the ease with which the captain separated strength from personal worth irritated something he had never managed to settle.

He did not need Aldren to resemble his parents. Apparently, discovering someone who did not resemble them could produce exactly the same unpleasant tightness beneath his ribs. Worse, the captain had given him no convenient excuse to dismiss what he said. There had been no lecture, no attempt to shame him, and no suggestion that gratitude for healing should excuse the insult.

Sieghart had been the one speaking carelessly. Recognizing that did not improve his mood, particularly when he had spent years resenting people who decided what someone was like before giving them a chance to demonstrate it.

Ahead, another vibration passed through the stairs. The soldiers tightened their formation, and Aldren lifted one hand, bringing their attention toward the passage rather than the uncomfortable conversation behind them.

Sieghart welcomed the interruption and resumed watching the mana shifting through the stone, choosing a problem he could actually examine instead of another memory he could not change.

The first guardian waited somewhere below, surrounded by stronger constructs and cores he still wanted to study. Sieghart followed the others in silence, considerably less interested in speaking before he thought this time.