Orion released his grip on the aiming levers, breathing deeply through his nose as he dismissed the spatial grid from his vision. The blue wireframes faded, replaced by the unfiltered view of the battered cliff face and the wrecked dreadnought spilling oil into the surf below.
The Wraithgem was cool against his chest, barely disturbed by the frantic work he’d put it through.
If that wasn’t a baptism by fire, I don’t know what is. Yeah, it’s going to work.
As the adrenaline receded, he allowed the familiar interface of the System to bloom into view.
System Notification!
You have participated in the destruction of [Amphibious Dreadnought (Silence-Alloy Variant) — Lv 153]
You have conceptualized and forged a new weapon class: [Gamma Cannon].
You have bridged Earth-physics paradigms with local runecraft.
+8,301,300 Exp
Level up!
Level up!
ORION A. VOIDWALKER
Class: [Archrelativist] [A-rank]
Level: 109
Mind: 757
Attunement: 749
Body: 110
Traits: Mana Manipulation [A-rank]; [Holographic Containment] [A-rank]; [Falsifiability Criterion] [A-rank]; [Alter Genesis] [A-rank]
Any lingering muscle fatigue evaporated with the tidal wave of stat points, replaced by crisp mental clarity. His Mind and Attunement stats were becoming ludicrous, expanding his cognitive bandwidth to perfectly match the new Wraithgem's four-dimensional processing power. It wouldn’t be long before he was a match for even veteran Tier-three mages.
With a satisfied smile, he closed the interface and turned away from the barrel.
The artificers stood in a loose semicircle around the platform, their tools at their sides, staring at the cannon’s glowing lenses.
There was no cheering. The Forgelands’ respect was quiet and practical. One by one, the master cutters and runic welders met Orion’s gaze and nodded respectfully, tapping the hafts of their tools against their chests, a gesture reserved for acknowledging a master smith.
Daelin was by the collector lens, staring at a System prompt of his own. He blinked and shook his head, trying to dispel his awe.
“I got three levels," he murmured, a strained laugh escaping his throat. “Hundreds of thousands of experience points just for holding the quartz steady and fusing the mounts. This was insane.”
“That’s what happens when you participate in the creation of a true Masterwork, my Prince,” one of the craftsmen said with a thin smile, drawing nods all around.
“I doubt any of us will go through something like that again in our lifetimes. It was like a Forge Frenzy, but somehow everyone kept their minds,” another muttered.
A quelling look from the eldest of the lot shut him up, but Orion filed the strange term away.
It wasn’t long before their quiet contemplation of the beast they’d brought to life ended, as footsteps echoed up the stairs and soldiers streamed in, forming two lines so King Korvan could stride onto the battery.
The monarch of the Adamantine Ranges dripped with seawater, dark machine oil, and foul-smelling embalming fluids used to preserve the brains that served as the Iron State's logic cores. His black iron warhammer hung at his side, seemingly untouched by the work of dismantling a hundred-foot warship.
Orion had to admit he cut an intimidating figure, especially with all his soldiers standing at attention. For a moment, he almost feared he was here to renege on his deal, but he caught a small smile that eased his worry.
Korvan walked straight to the edge of the platform, looking down at the dreadnought’s ruined shell resting in the shallows. He stood there for a long moment, watching the tide wash over the shattered gray plating.
Then the King turned, his dark eyes locking onto the Gamma Cannon. “I have to admit, it surprised me. Even with confirmation from the Gem-master General, I couldn’t quite grasp what it would do.”
“It’s a beauty,” Orion agreed, earning an approving hum from the King, who slowly approached the weapon, running a gauntleted hand over the cooling mithril casing. He inspected the complex focal array, seemingly grasping the sheer mathematical precision required to contain the beam.
“This is, indeed, a fine contribution," Korvan pronounced, looking at Orion. All hostility was gone, replaced by respect, but the Wraithgem pinged him, and he had to agree. There was a hidden wariness, which wasn’t so surprising when he realized he’d just demonstrated the ability to craft a weapon far superior to what the dwarves had.
Or, well, anything they could move around and bring to bear in any meaningful way. I’ve seen some of their automatons protecting the First Forge, and they are not to be underestimated; I’m sure their vaults hold even more secrets. But given that they barely iterated on the Slag-Spitters I made for them, it is a very noticeable jump.
"I will honor the pact,” the King continued.
At his gesture, Princess Kaelia stepped onto the platform behind her father, giving everyone present a clear view of her.
Orion suspected she would have much preferred being down in the healing wards, caring for the dying and injured, but this was important. They were making their pact official, and certain steps had to be observed.
"Draft the orders," Korvan instructed his daughter. "Four artillery battalions will mobilize for the Ironwood Forest as soon as the transports are loaded.”
Though he could have kept quiet and run away with the loot, Orion knew he had to show some grace here to prevent any ill feeling from festering.
"You will need more than one Cannon, Your Majesty," he pointed out leadingly.
"Then you will build them," Korvan replied with an approving smile. “You'll have access to the foundries, the quartz, and my best artificers. Thraing will assist you personally. Show my people how to replicate this design. When we have gathered enough guns to break the stalemate, Vargus will march them north.”
And that was that. No need to sign lengthy treaties. The King had sworn before his people to send aid, and so he would. Sometimes Orion detested dwarven stubbornness, but at other times he really appreciated it, especially since he had a lot of work to do.
The next two days dissolved into a relentless cycle of building, math, and examining quartz.
Orion established a temporary headquarters in the inner sanctum of the Gem-master General, who proved to be an uncompromising collaborator, with an obsessive demand for perfection that matched Orion’s own rigor.
After he’d held a general lesson to explain what would be needed, since he couldn’t exactly direct every part of the construction at once, especially if they wanted to make more than one Cannon at a time, they set up an assembly line to retrofit the standard magma projectors.
The process required a delicate fusion of their approaches, and more than once they argued about the best way to proceed, but in the end they were able to establish a working assembly.
Orion himself stood at the center of the workshop most of the time, serving as the central compiler. The Wraithgem allowed him to monitor six workstations simultaneously, and he drafted the runic strings required to initiate the ionizing sequence, passing them to Thraing, who began the painstaking process of engraving them into the mithril.
It would have been much easier if he could simply have copied the formula he’d devised for the first iteration, but unfortunately, perfectly uniform crystal lenses were very hard to find, even when cut by true masters. The varying levels of purity and differing internal structures required him to adapt his work each time, even as he was getting the hang of it and working toward a more general formula that could be applied to any sort of lens.
It wouldn’t deliver exactly the same level of power, but that was fine. The most important thing about the Cannons was their radiation, which could penetrate the Silence-alloy. In fact, it was even preferable that they be slightly underpowered compared to the first one, since the dwarves were having trouble powering them up without dedicated Tier Three Gunners.
"The focal alignment is drifting on barrel three!" Thraing barked, slamming a meaty fist against an anvil. "Tighten the bracket tolerances, or the beam will scatter and cook the crew!”
"Adjusting the curvature coefficient now," Orion responded, effortlessly recalculating the refractive index of a slightly flawed quartz lens. He projected a corrected wireframe model over the workstation, guiding the master cutters to shave away the precise microscopic layer of crystal.
Daelin managed most of the rest, coordinating the welders and overseeing the mithril plating. He seemed to thrive in the chaotic environment, his royal title forgotten as he worked shoulder-to-shoulder with the smiths.
Team Obsidian, on the other hand, used the downtime to recover from the skirmish. Garrick and Prince Vargus pored over tactical maps of the northern border, adapting dwarven artillery doctrine to the dense terrain of the Ironwood Forest. Jordan spent his hours in the infirmary, using his light magic to assist Kaelia’s healers, earning the Princess's grudging respect. Esmeralda simply observed, her crimson eyes tracking the fortress's political currents to ensure the logistical promises made to the Magocracy were kept.
Erethemor, on the other hand, had made his home in the training fields, where he could be found battling several dwarven warriors at once.
Fortunately, there hadn’t been too many casualties from the failed raid, so every time he sent someone to the healing ward, it didn’t strain them, but it did make the Princess somewhat irritable.
By the evening of the second day, six new Gamma Cannons sat polished and finished on the armory floor.
Orion wiped a layer of sweat from his forehead. His stamina was drained, not by the constant calculations he had to run, since the Wraithgem handled the bulk of them, but by having to deal with so many big egos.
In the end, though, they’d proven they could replicate his feat, even though he handled only the enchantments.
Thraing inspected the final weapon, running his calloused thumb over the convex surface of the primary collector lens. He nodded once, a rare expression of satisfaction settling on his weathered face.
“If you can get us those general-purpose formulas, we’ll have everything we need,” he said, turning to Orion.
“As long as they do not deviate from the mithril shielding requirements again," Orion warned. "The radiation bleed is fatal, even for tier-three people.”
"We are dwarves, Voidwalker," Thraing scoffed. "We do not build leaky pipes.”
Though he was genuinely tired, Orion still spent a couple of hours completing his general formula and watching the dwarves produce another Cannon, this time without his help.
That he also got a decent chunk of exp helped, even if it wasn’t enough for another level.
When it began gathering light mana at Thraing’s command, a cheer went up.
Finally free of his obligations, Orion stepped away from the armory, intending to return to the barracks for a few hours of desperately needed sleep. Instead, he found Daelin waiting in the corridor, holding a sealed scroll tube stamped with the silver crest of the First Forge.
The Prince looked grim.
“This just arrived through the confidential tubes,” Daelin said, handing the tube to Orion. "It bears the seal of the Veil Priestess.”
Orion took a moment to inspect the seal before breaking it once he’d confirmed the mana within was his mother’s. He extracted a sheet of parchment. The handwriting was elegant and precise, though it lacked any pleasantries.
He is making moves. The Senate is fracturing. Return to the First Forge immediately. I will open the portal at dawn. Bring as much artillery as you can.
“What does it say?" Daelin asked, watching Orion’s posture shift.
“We are out of time," was all Orion said, even as the parchment vanished in a burst of flame. “Mother will open a spatial tear at the First Forge at first light tomorrow. We have to leave.”
“Even if we left now, we’d barely make it!” Daelin complained.
“Then we’d best hurry up.”
Fortunately, their duties were complete, and they could move quickly. Daelin secured a different transit carriage, a sleek, high-speed model designed purely for speed rather than for armor, which waited on the tracks.
Team Obsidian barely had time to speak before they were forced to pack up, especially when he insisted they take the original Gamma Cannon. Orion knew his teammates were burning with questions, but they’d have to wait until he could ensure they wouldn’t be overheard.
Not that I know all that much myself. We’ll just have to trust that Antares hasn’t wasted the warning we gave him.