The Hundred Reigns 276: King of Spiders (18) (Patreon)

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They teleported to safety mere seconds before the whole tower self-destructed.

Simon didn’t see the event himself, but several of his minions posted around the perimeter informed him that explosions shook the entire building before it collapsed. The blasts and quakes that followed reached all the way to the capital. The Ravenous and Vouivre had attempted to scavenge what they could before Muse’s airship fleet arrived, but the Musan Sniper had apparently survived the tower’s collapse and remained dedicated to protecting its ruins. These forces had been forced to depart with little to show for it. 

Simon wondered what that Sniper was made of to be so resilient, but he would find out the answer to that question soon enough. 

Thankfully for Muse, it appeared the Earth Megalith’s basement had been specifically designed to withstand that kind of destruction without compromising the nation’s energy supply, so the ancient crystal remained safe. The attack was nonetheless a national shock and probably the biggest act of terrorism on the Republic’s soil since its inception. The newspapers released on the day after the collapse put forward multiple possibilities, from an experiment gone wrong to an Endymian operation. 

Whatever the case, the Republic had lost its precious Noble Crestone, its main industrial base, and its Crafter in short order. It would take them days to figure out what happened, and then they would deploy all resources towards finding those responsible, likely with the Oracle’s assistance. Simon and his allies would have to lay low for a while. 

Still, such a victory deserved a celebration, and Simon decided to throw a well-earned feast and ball for the occasion. 

His Weavers and retainers gathered in Bert’s former manor in the evening of the day after the Mechanical Tower’s collapse, where they were greeted by turks, mephisgoat guards, and high-class pleasure demons specifically summoned and branded for the occasion. The Cobweb’s wealth purchased the most exquisite food, the most potent drugs, and the best wine money could buy under a single roof, all so that his minions would find no pleasure forbidden to them. 

“I will be disappointed if the party doesn’t end in a riot of decadence and debauchery,” Elsa commented while trying on dresses for the party in their shared bedroom. Her choker helped hide the strangulation bruises from their latest round of lovemaking; Simon was beginning to realize she liked playing with his emotions to make it all the more intense. “You know how a good drug dealer shouldn’t get high on his own supply?”

“Why do I always see you with a dreamshade pipe, then?” Simon teased her as he studied the Crestone in his hand.

“I’m not a dealer, I’m a thief.” Elsa peered over her shoulder after putting on a corset. “Are you going to wear it tonight as a show of dominance?”

“No, I think I’ll consume it now. It keeps trying to roll away whenever I open my Inventory or stop holding it.” It always moved in Lampwick’s direction too. Simon had a pretty good idea of who would inherit the Crafter Crestone if it had its way. “I have the same issue with the Merchant.”

Elsa’s expression turned downcast all of a sudden. “I’ve heard Odette had a son?”

“Benjamin.” Simon sighed. “I don’t know what to do with him. His father is alive, but wholly unsuited to raise him. Perhaps I could entrust him to a trusted retainer like Cassandra…”

“Or we could adopt him ourselves,” Elsa suggested, much to Simon’s surprise. “I wouldn’t mind taking care of him off the clock.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Velvet donated much of her spoils to orphanages, while Silk couldn’t care less.” Elsa put on a black dress with a web-like pattern, a sorrowful look on her face. “I don’t want that boy to suffer through what I did.”

“I see… that’s very kind of you.” Simon wasn’t sure the Overlord and Rogue were the best people to raise a child, especially with the Zodiac Parade on the horizon, but the idea appealed to him a bit. He owed Odette that much for her faithful service, and he had toyed with the idea of starting a family with Anna in the past… “I’ll think about it.”

For now, he focused on the matter at hand and activated the Crafter Crestone. The Class outfit took the shape of a black tunic merged with a colorful leather apron strapped with pockets full of tools ranging from a painter’s brush to pincers, a metal top and gauntlets, heavy-duty boots, and a mechanical welding mask. The Crafter outfit embraced elements from artisans all over the world, from smiths to shoemakers, and it barely itched on his skin.  

The Crafter: The inventor of tomorrow, the artisan of dreams, the smith of wonders, who turns imagination into reality. 

Strength B, Vitality C, Agility C, Perception C, Magic C, Intelligence S, Charisma D, Luck B. 

Artisan of Wonders (Passive): You instinctually know how to build any functional non-organic item that has ever been created; this covers everything from weapons, equipment, Artificial constructs, machines, and most goods outside of potions, medicine, and chemicals. You have intuitive mastery of all these items’ blueprints, components, the scientific principles behind them, and all the steps needed to ensure their construction. 

Instant Crafting (Active): You can instantly build any item covered by Artisan of Wonders, skipping all the intermediary steps, so long as you have the required materials on hand. This also allows you to instantly repair damaged items. 

Refine (Active): You can refine any item you touch to remove its flaws and greatly enhance its base characteristics. 

Disassemble (Active): You can disassemble any item you touch into its base components. 

Technopathy I (Active): You can telepathically connect to any Artificial creatures, such as golems and machines. Mindless constructs never attack you unless compelled, and you telepathically take control of them with a sufficiently high Charisma score. 

While abilities like Improved Process appeared to require higher levels to unlock, Simon only had to take a look at the innate Perks to realize why the Crafter could become such a terrifying force with the right resources. They were so simple and yet so utterly efficient.

All of them tempted him. It said something that Disassemble’s ability to instantly break down any item—which could potentially include things as powerful as the Musan Champions or the Mana Sword—was probably the weakest on the list, and limited only by its situational usefulness.  

Refine’s ability to improve any item would be a great pick. Enhancing the likes of his rings or his weaponry at the start of each reign would heavily bolster his combat capabilities. However, he could achieve the same result with normal crafting anyway. 

Instant Crafting was exceptionally good. He had witnessed its power for himself when the Crafter created a colossal Champion to oppose him in seconds and constantly repaired it faster than Simon could damage it. It would let him mass-produce any complex device without wasting months on building them. 

However, ascending to the Crimson Throne would give him all the resources and pairs of hands he would need to quickly build anything he wanted, and he would still be limited by the need to keep materials at hand anyway. The Mechanical Tower could cheat that requirement by holding components within its rooms, but Simon was a mere human. He wouldn’t be able to replicate this trick unless he somehow merged with Frightwall. 

No, only one Perk stood above them all. Gargauth believed consuming the Crafter Crestone would let him build anything he desired when combined with Devil Forgemaster, and Simon could see why. 

He had all the time in the world, but the Crafter offered more knowledge than he could acquire in seventy lifetimes. 

“Consume Crestone,” Simon said as he held his prize. “Artisan of Wonders.”

He feasted on the Noble Crestone, and then he understood. 

The wealth of the Crafter’s body of knowledge opened his mind and unlocked the Worldsoul’s library of information. A door had opened in the back of his brain, setting his mind alight with visions of previous holders. He gazed at mechanical bowels through glass eyes spread across his body of steel, and then at a vat holding a young Jym Coil through his father’s cold, apathetic gaze. He saw himself painting doors to private worlds, sculpting statues feeding on the awe of men, and designing ships capable of taking to the sky.

A vision cut sharper than any other, brought to him by the will of the Crafter Crestone itself. He saw himself carving a life-sized manticore made of wood, with bones of steel and springs for muscles. His pale hands pressed a button hidden in its colorful mane, and caused the puppet-beast to roar on its own. 

“I’m almost done,” he said with lips that weren’t his own, while a hooded figure watched. “It’ll be finished in time for the birth, Lord Magnos.”

“Excellent work, Otto. You honor yourself and your predecessor.” The Librarian stepped forward to study the device, a smile on his lips. “Lady Lysandra said the manticore was too ruthless and vicious an animal for a family crest, but I always found them alluring. A lion’s might with a scorpion’s cunning.”

“I’m content with my own portrait of Lady Leanan,” the Crafter of the era, ‘Otto,’ replied. “I can add a signature on the flank, if you want. A message for your child, since…” His voice died in his throat. “I…”

“You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me, Otto. I know my Destined Death is coming.” Elios Magnos’ face remained hidden beneath his hood, but the way he bent slightly revealed his unease. “A message… yes, it’s not a bad idea.”

“Does something come to mind? Anything the boy could read when he comes of age?”

“Yes. ‘I wish you the world.’” Elios Magnos cleared his throat. “‘To my son, Endymion.’”

Simon was flung back to reality, his mind heavy with swirling thoughts.

His thoughts wandered back to that ancient reign when he first read his father’s notes on House Magnos’ genealogy. He hadn’t really paid much attention to it back then, but now he recalled that one of his ancestors indeed bore the name of Endymion. Simon hadn’t thought much of it then, since it wouldn’t have been unusual for someone to be called after the country they lived in. 

But what if… what if it had been the other way around? 

Father told Lauriane that Endymion had been named after House Magnos, and Mardok was a demon with no family name. Had he decided to honor his greatest ally by claiming his son’s name as his own? 

Another disturbing possibility came to mind, but Simon didn’t even want to consider it. It would carry heavy implications about where his darkblood ancestry came from, and he didn’t want to entertain that thought without proof. 

Simon looked around, and new information flowed into his brain the moment he caught sight of Elsa. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked him with a slight hint of concern upon seeing the unsettling focus in his eyes. “Are you well?”

“Your robe was crafted with satin… the strands taken from spiders’ silk to perfectly mimic a true web’s pattern…” He touched its fabric and sensed the supple flesh beneath it. “Tainted black with snail dye…” 

His eyes moved up to the ceiling, which he knew hid gears and pistons capable of rearranging the clockwork manor’s layout. His new Perk immediately provided intel on how to improve the design, and his Pranked Title immediately filled in holes with new suggestions of sinister death traps. 

“I understand… and I comprehend.” Yes, yes, now he saw all the wonderful possibilities he had missed before. Walls that closed on intruders. Hidden mouths spreading odorless gas into chambers. Doors with teeth. “I can build… anything.” 

An overwhelming flow of information entered his mind, as Artisan of Wonders and Devil Forgemaster worked together to inspire him like never before. The two Perks fed on each other like how miasma and mana created a whole greater than the sum of its parts. 

“Champions, golems, weapons, airships, pictoboxes, flying pyramids… anything.” The secrets of science and magic revealed themselves to him with a mere thought. “I can bind the power of the Megaliths through mana reactors, bending the elements to my will! I can raise machines that will trample castles, and replace perishable flesh with unyielding metal! I shall enslave lightning with one hand, and build pathways to infinity with the other!”

Machines fueled by miasmic mutagens, Overbots capable of mimicking him better than Hector, cannons fueled by Frightwall’s miasma… In his head now lay the power to reshape the world, nay, the future to all his desires. 

“Too much…” Simon muttered as he tried to focus. His Class provided too much information all at once. “Too many possibilities… it’s overwhelming.”

“Shush…” Elsa grabbed his cheeks and forced him to look upon her face. “I know something that can help.”

“A kiss?”

Elsa smiled as she whispered in his ear. “A bigger Crestone.”

The audacious absurdity of her answer somehow cut through all the information overload, and caused him to burst out laughing. “You know, you are a bad influence on me,” he said, his arms wrapping around her waist. “You’re bringing out instincts I’m trying to grow out of, and yet I keep finding myself drawn to you for some reason.”

“Simon, we are just getting started.” Elsa looked into his eyes. “I’m serious though. Can you consume more Crestones?”

“Probably. I unlock one spot every ten levels or so, so I might have two left.” Simon shook his head. “But considering how much experience it takes to level up nowadays, it might take a while.”

“Tell me about it. I barely got a single level out of yesterday’s heist.” Elsa took it in stride. “Oh well, we can rob Vouivre next. I’m sure we’ll find good gizmos for your new Perk to work on in her daddy’s chest.”

“It’s not a bad idea.” The thought of Gargauth’s spirit fuming as his killer’s son completed what he couldn’t appealed to Simon. It would serve the reptile right for attacking him during their time as the Wicked God. “But let’s not tarry long. Our guests will wonder what we’re doing, and I want to visit my sister right after.”

The party was well underway when they arrived to find their guests waiting for them in the manor’s marble ballroom. Most guests were engaged in chatter or drinking from their cups. Mephisgoats dressed in tasteful Endymian—and form-fitting—maid uniforms lit up the place with ghostfire chandeliers and bleated to announce their arrival. 

Simon oversaw the crowd. Granny Radhag had arrived in her elven form with her arm wrapped around Duchar’s, while Cassandra and Pallian had put on modest—if formal—clothes. Shabram was as splendid as ever, Bert wore a fresh new skin based on his own murdered father, and Voltobauta stole the show by wearing an elaborate hat adorned with illusory flames. Only Chrom Cruak and Renal hadn’t bothered putting on good clothes, but those two were beyond saving when it came to taste anyway. Even Borsh had made a token effort by putting on a bow tie, which just looked ridiculous on a giant werewolf. Hector alone had declined to attend to better look after Lauriane, which was for the best. Simon intended to visit them right after ensuring everyone had a good time. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming today,” Simon said upon greeting his guests, one of his mephisgoat maids handing him a glass of wine. “I would like to raise a toast to the successful heist of the century!”

A round of applause and raised glasses answered his declaration, with his brave cattle warriors clapping louder than anyone else. How could he have lived without them? 

“My predecessor Gargauth sought the Crafter Crestone all of his life.” Or should I say, all of his lives. “My father never managed to obtain it, in spite of his many, many attempts… and yet we succeeded where they all failed, and I couldn’t have done it without you all.“ Simon raised a toast to his guests. “Revel to your heart’s content! The night is on me!”

His mephisgoats responded with fireworks spells, and his demotaurs unbottled the wine until it flowed like waterfalls. The smell of dreamshade became overwhelming as incense bowls were lit up and turks played wonderful music… though Simon immediately thought about how he could tweak them to improve their performance.

He might need a little training to parse all these intrusive thoughts. 

“A beautiful speech,” Voltobauta commented once he approached the couple with his own cup of blood. Two vampiric maids escorted him. “I was touched.”

“Don’t tell me you regret what happened,” Simon replied. “You’ve seen the puppet infiltrators for yourself, and the things we saw inside that tower… it was a perversion.”

“I won’t lie, I’m not going to mourn anyone who kidnaps people to turn them into dolls, but I expected less… destruction.” Voltobauta squinted at him. “The Mechanical Tower’s collapse was hardly subtle. You understand that there will be consequences, yes?”

“I do, yes.” Simon would rather have avoided the tower’s destruction and stuck to absconding with the Crestone, while letting the authorities discover all the horrors inside. Still, one had to make do with the situation at hand. “Which is why I suggest you all lay low and keep to our divination-proofed safehouses for the near future.”

“Holing up in your Attic for the foreseeable future isn’t my idea of a high life,” Voltobauta complained with a sigh. “I suppose I can at least practice more necromancy spells. I do need new recruits after the losses we took from the heist, and I’ll have no shortage of recruits with the Endymian civil war.”

He was right, as much as it annoyed Simon. Now that he had obtained the Crafter Crestone, he should try to establish contact with Dassein to inform him about Lauriane’s survival, and maybe even secure his assistance to unlock Gargauth’s hoard. 

Elsa pulled at his sleeve and pointed at a corner. Simon spotted Bert and Chrom discussing a bit away from the rest of the guests, with the former looking rather downcast. 

“Doesn’t that make you curious?” Elsa asked. 

“It does,” Simon agreed as they walked towards the two, catching their attention. “You look uneasy, Bert. I thought you would be rather happy about finally slaying your creator.”

“I was,” the puppet admitted. “But now… now I wonder what to do.”

“Oh, I see the issue.” Elsa sipped from her glass. “You dedicated your entire life to revenge, and never thought of what you would do after you got it.”

Bert glared at her. “Don’t mock me, fleshbag.”

“I’m not. I’ve been there with Verney, so I sympathize.” Elsa chuckled. “Well, maybe not. I did have plans beyond his demise, though it did bring a smile to my face.” 

“I told him… there is a world beyond revenge…” Chrom rasped. 

Simon raised an eyebrow. “Do you have plans for what you’ll do after avenging yourself upon your Tribe?”

“Yes,” Chrom Cruak confirmed, much to Simon’s slight surprise. “I shall rebuild what I lost. My kingdom will be birthed anew… on ashen ground.”

“But what should I do?” Bert complained as he stared at his hands. “Art has lost its luster without a father to horrify.”

“You do the same thing you’ve always done,” Simon replied bluntly. “You serve me.”

Bert looked up at him for a moment, the new purpose of his miserable existence dawning upon him, and failing to provide him much joy. “Damn it.”

“Don’t you see what I can do for you?” Simon asked as he studied the puppet, imagining all the ways he could refine his limbs. “Your creator wasted you, Bert. Tossed you away and treated you as a failure, rather than the first step towards perfection. I see all the ways I can improve you, now. You can become more than you ever imagined.”

“Yes… yes, now I see what I should live for.” Bert glared at Simon with the same malice he once reserved for his creator. “Finding a way to undo your strings on my soul, and then kill you.”

Simon sighed in annoyance, having expected that answer. Such a lack of vision. “Well, it’s your life.”

“It’s a blessing in disguise,” Elsa mused. “The fear of treachery keeps the wits sharp.”

“This bickering is pointless,” Chrom Cruak said; a sentiment which Simon shared. “We can achieve many great things with both the Crafter and the Alchemist on our side. I have a…” His fist clenched. “Suggestion.”

“Suggestio—” Simon tensed up. “Mmm?”

Elsa’s eyes widened in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“Some of my imp spotters outside have just died.” A chill traveled down Simon’s spine as he sensed multiple presences popping up on his Dungeon’s perimeter all of a sudden. “Intruders—”

A manalith cannon shot echoed outside, and the entire manor shook like a bell.

Next chapter

A/N: yup, Simon is officially entering his Dr. Doom era ;)