Magus had always admired efficiency, and in this regard, Jorton never disappointed him. Early the next morning, just as sunlight pressed through the thin winter clouds, Jorton delivered the list of materials Magus had requested. With construction still underway and countless tasks demanding his attention, Magus wasted no time. He instructed the workers to transport the materials into the temporary laboratory erected beside the main construction zone. The modest structure—little more than reinforced walls and a sturdy roof—barely resembled a true mage's workshop, yet it served its purpose well enough for what Magus intended.
Today marked an important step: he would create his first Clay Golem Puppet in this life.
Clay Golems were among the simplest artificial constructs recorded within the ancient golemcrafting texts. Their primary material—unsurprisingly—was clay. Not the common, sandy mixture farmers dug up in the fields, but thick, smooth, highly cohesive clay rich in magical conductivity. Water did not seep through it easily, and its plasticity made it an excellent medium for shaping runic arrays.
Creating even the lowest tier of Clay Golems required nearly half a ton of this special clay. On top of that, small but essential amounts of silver, crystal fragments, brass dust, and a properly inscribed Soul Core were needed. The weakest grade of Soul Cores could be carved into gemstones, but Clay Golems empowered by such gems possessed laughably limited intelligence. They could perform only the simplest tasks—cleaning specific areas, carrying heavy loads, or engaging in basic physical labor such as smashing obstacles or defending a doorway. Even so, they remained invaluable in many places, especially in territories lacking manpower.
In his previous life, Magus had crafted countless Clay Golems. The process had once been second nature to him. As he dusted off old habits and gestures now, the familiarity returned with surprising ease. Within half an hour of patient molding and inscribing, a towering clay body—approximately two and a half meters tall—took shape upon the spacious workbench.
The creature's physique matched the traditional proportions of Clay Golems: a broad, square head with a simple, mask-like face; no neck to speak of; a massive chest built wide and sturdy; thick arms hanging down to its knees; and large, stubby fingers capable of powerful gripping motions. Its legs were disproportionately short—only about a third of its entire height—ending in wide, flat feet shaped to bear exceptional weight. Though crude in appearance, every feature reflected a functional purpose derived from generations of magical engineering.
The chest cavity of the Clay Golem remained open, revealing the complex network of carved runes and interwoven magical circuits. These channels would direct the flow of energy through the construct's body once it was brought to life.
Magus lifted the prepared gemstone—its surface covered in meticulously engraved runes—and gently inserted it into the heart of the cavity. He sealed the slot with clay, smoothing the edges with practiced ease. Then he inhaled deeply, positioned his fingers in the correct arcane posture, and began chanting the activation spell.
Animating a golem was the last and most crucial step. The chant did not simply awaken clay; it infused the construct with an imitation of vitality, a spark of movement that would bind the Soul Core to the runic matrix. As Magus spoke the ancient incantation, the air around him shifted in response. Energy particles vibrated with sudden excitement, drawn from all directions as though pulled by invisible threads. They converged eagerly on the unfinished Clay Golem.
At the same time, faint tremors rippled beneath the ground—the unmistakable response from the Earth Vein Node below the territory. Earth-aligned elemental power surged upward, linking with the ritual and flowing into the golem's clay body. The infusion caused its surface to pulse with a strange luminosity, neither light nor shadow but something in between. Inside the clay shell, a form of non-living vitality stirred, gradually strengthening.
The awakening ritual lasted more than ten minutes. Only when the last of the energy settled and the ambient particles returned to stillness did Magus lower his hands and exhale.
Suddenly—
Rustle.
The Clay Golem twitched. Its massive frame shifted, joints creaking like old tree trunks in the wind. Then it slowly sat upright. Its stiff, expressionless face turned toward Magus, empty eyes staring in silent acknowledgement.
"It's done," Magus murmured, satisfaction lighting his features.
Testing its obedience was the next step. He pointed to a large crate placed near the doorway.
"Move that box outside."
The Clay Golem responded with a dull yet unmistakable voice. "Yes, Master."
Its heavy body thudded against the floor as it stepped down from the workbench. Though its movements were initially rigid, the construct quickly adapted, adjusting its balance and posture. A few moments later, it lifted the large, heavy crate with ease—something that normally required four strong workers—and carried it outdoors without complaint.
Magus nodded, pleased. In truth, Clay Golems were exceptional laborers. Their greatest advantage lay in their low energy consumption. Once fully charged, a Clay Golem could perform strenuous physical labor uninterrupted for four to five days. When depleted, all it needed was to stand within the linking array of the Earth Vein Node to rapidly recharge.
They were, in Magus's opinion, the perfect combination of reliable strength and minimal upkeep—far superior to beasts of burden or hired laborers.
"The most expensive component is the Soul Core gem," Magus mused aloud. "The clay, crystals, silver, and brass together cost very little. One Clay Golem comes to only a dozen gold coins. Long-term, they are more economical and efficient than employing workers."
With this realization, Magus made a firm decision: within the next two days, he would craft at least ten more Clay Golems. Once deployed, they could accelerate the construction of the entire base within the Iron Throne Territory.
Steel Golems, however, were another matter entirely. Unlike their clay counterparts, metal-based constructs required advanced tools and specialized equipment—things he would only have once the Puppet Factory was operational. For now, Clay Golems would suffice.
Time passed quickly. Before long, the Month of Resurrection arrived. Snow melted into glistening rivulets, fields awoke with the first hints of spring, and the Iron Throne Territory breathed with renewed vitality.
With ten Clay Golems added to the construction workforce, progress skyrocketed. Stone slabs that once demanded teams of workers to lift could now be handled by a single golem. Ordinary workers stood dumbfounded as they watched these towering constructs carry out tasks that would have exhausted ten men.
Rune visited the site several times during this period. Whenever he watched the Clay Golems at work, his eyes gleamed like a man who had stumbled upon a treasure trove of military innovation.
"These things," Rune exclaimed during one visit, "are natural-born quartermasters!"
He immediately proposed forming a Clay Golem Quartermaster Corps. The idea consumed him with excitement. Even after learning that each Clay Golem cost more than ten gold coins, he remained undeterred.
"Even at that price," Rune insisted, "they cost far less than maintaining a single Black Rock Cavalry Regiment soldier, yet the improvement they bring to wartime logistics is revolutionary. If we field a dedicated quartermaster corps composed of Clay Golems, our supply lines will stabilize even under extreme pressure."
Unable to withstand Rune's persistent enthusiasm, Magus relented, agreeing to provide a batch for military use once the territory's construction demands were satisfied.
Meanwhile, the Iron Throne Territory itself transformed rapidly after its reclamation. Increased regional income allowed Rune to suspend all external sales of black stone iron. From now on, the ore extracted from the Black Stone Mining Area would be reserved exclusively for internal military development—particularly for expanding the Black Rock Cavalry Regiment.
Strengthening the military remained Rune's highest priority. After all, the Gold Rock Marquis still cast a greedy eye toward their lands.
Yet expansion faced a serious obstacle—the supply of Sub-Dragon Blood Potion was insufficient. The territory possessed only sixty to seventy captive Black Scale Lizardmen, and the blood drawn from them every month barely sufficed to maintain existing forces. Producing enough potion to support large-scale cavalry expansion was simply impossible.
Rune fretted endlessly about the issue, consulting Magus several times. Magus had explored one potential solution: extracting blood from Hidden Dragon. Its bloodline purity far surpassed that of the Black Scale Lizardmen, and a single individual could provide more raw potion material than all the captives combined.
But after long contemplation, Magus dismissed the idea. Repeated blood extraction would slow the growth of Hidden Dragon's bloodline concentration—a trade-off Magus refused to accept. Strengthening the territory was important, but not at the cost of hindering his own growth.
Hodge's appearance had reminded him that even though the Starlight Continent existed in a weakened Elemental Desert Age, many hidden powerhouses remained dormant in its corners. Hodge—a mere one-ring Legendary Knight—had forced Magus to expend almost thirty Rune Gems to subdue. If a stronger foe appeared, Magus might not escape with his life.
For his own safety, continuous self-improvement was not negotiable.
After wrestling with the problem for weeks, Magus finally conceived a workable approach—a substitute for the Sub-Dragon Blood Potion.
Given that the Black Rock Cavalry Regiment would inevitably expand further, this substitute needed to be inexpensive and easily mass-produced. Potions were immediately ruled out. Instead, Magus focused on magic plants.
Although he could not recall any existing magic plants with the required properties, that hardly mattered. If none existed, he would cultivate one. With the Synthesis Cube, his ability to experiment surpassed what any ordinary Wizard Apprentice could achieve.
"I already have several ideas," Magus told Rune. "Give me some time. I will find a solution."
Rune trusted his younger brother completely. Hearing Magus speak with such confidence eased much of his tension.
Then Rune suddenly recalled something. "You mentioned recruiting apprentices from the territory earlier. What was that about?"
"Once the base is complete," Magus explained, "many facilities will require routine maintenance. I plan to train specialized personnel myself—and if I can uncover a few potential Wizard Apprentices while doing so, all the better."
Rune's excitement surged. The Iron Throne Territory had only reclaimed its former glory thanks to Magus—a single Wizard Apprentice had changed the fate of an entire land. If the territory could nurture more apprentices, the benefits would be unimaginable.
With enthusiasm bubbling through him, Rune slapped his chest and vowed to handle the recruitment personally—and perfectly.
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