Chapter 0010: The New Function of the Chip

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"Puppeteers, constructs, created by powerful sorcery, are elemental automatons. Forged from rare, mystical materials and tempered with demon-repelling steel from the material plane, their greatest attribute is resistance to elemental forces."
—Lilo Ai
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Constructs are typically artifices or animated objects brought to life by a wizard's power. Among them, puppet creatures are considered one of the most formidable works. Their greatest trait is their resistance to elemental forces—in other words, only those with damage reduction against elemental attacks can be called puppet creatures. It is precisely because of the wizard's terrifying might that this trait is so significant.

However, having elemental resistance does not make puppet creatures mage killers. Their resistance only negates spells directed at them personally. For example, collapsing a ceiling with a fireball or trapping them in an acid swamp will still effectively harm them. Moreover, puppet creatures possess low mental faculties, capable only of following simple commands, which makes them vulnerable against intelligent opponents.

Another crucial point is that puppet creatures are not utterly immune to all elemental magic; specific spells can exploit their particular weaknesses, making them easier to defeat if those vulnerabilities are well-used.

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Puppet creatures are powerful, magically animated constructs. They differ from other constructs in that they possess a vibrant energy—a magical spark derived from elemental souls, typically an earth elemental. The creation process binds this soul to an artificial body, merging it with the specially prepared vessel and compelling it to obey its creator's will.

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Puppet creatures have no minds of their own; unless commanded by their creator, they do nothing. They follow simple, explicit instructions and cannot comprehend complex tactics or strategies. The creator can command a puppet creature as long as he is within sixty feet and within its sight and hearing. Without instructions, the creature will continue executing the last command to the best of its ability, retaliating only if attacked.

When the creator departs, he can assign a simple directive to manage the puppet's behavior or have it obey another person's commands. However, the creator always retains the authority to override all others and reclaim control.

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For some reason, the moment Grimm laid hands on this book, he became instantly engrossed, unable to tear himself away until he had devoured it cover to cover in a single sitting.

Puppet creatures truly are marvelous!

Not to mention the high-tier iron golems—even the most basic clay golems possess a challenge rating equal to that of an advanced apprentice. In other words, only a well-organized party composed entirely of experienced combat professionals could hope to defeat a clay golem.

As personal bodyguards, puppets and constructs are not only more reliable but also far more loyal than hired swords. Yet, this reliability comes with a staggering price tag.

Take the lowest-tier clay golem, for example: without any magical enhancements, it weighs around six hundred pounds and stands eight feet tall, its entire form sculpted from soft clay. Such a golem is impervious to bladed weapons; only heavy armaments can inflict meaningful damage. The base price for such a clay golem is twenty-one thousand gold coins. Stone golems, slightly higher in rank, cost fifty-five thousand, while iron golems fetch a base price of eighty thousand gold.

And these are only the production costs, not accounting for market demand. In times of war—when these slaughter-machines are in highest demand—their prices can easily double without scaring off buyers. A minor lord who manages to acquire three to five clay golems and incorporate them into his forces would enjoy an overwhelming advantage over neighboring rivals.

Thus, if Grimm could become a golem-maker, money would no longer be a concern!

Unfortunately, crafting golems not only demands vast quantities of rare materials, but also highly sophisticated artifact-forging skills and the ability to create soul vessels. If Grimm had an affinity for shadow elements, he might be able to extract humanoid souls and easily produce soul vessels that grant basic intelligence to his constructs. But, as fate would have it, his elemental alignment was fire, closing off this shortcut.

For now, Grimm could only command the chip to record the entire contents of the "Puppet Creature Construction Manual" for later study. He turned his attention to exploring the chip's new functions.

As the slow, arcane syllables of a spell rolled from his lips, Grimm's outstretched right hand suddenly burst into brilliant magical flames, enveloping his palm and part of his wrist.

Watching the fire calmly burn upon his hand, the chip's mechanical voice sounded in his mind:

"Zzz... Detected a complete mental model. Please confirm: solidify this model? Note: This process will consume 2 points of mental energy and 50 experience points!"

A similar prompt had appeared during his last excursion outside the tower, but the dangers of that moment had made him ignore it. Today, however, he decided to see for himself what this "solidification" truly meant.

"Confirm," Grimm replied.

"Beep. Solidification process initiated... Estimated completion time: twelve hours, twenty-seven minutes, and thirteen seconds..."

As the chip's notification sounded, Grimm's mind trembled; he could feel a portion of his mental energy vanishing. A quick self-inspection showed his experience points had dropped from 614/1000 to 564/1000.

Ah... those 614 points were the total fruits of Grimm's six years—years of grueling meditation, countless failed casting exercises, endless hours deciphering and copying arcane tomes by candlelight, and countless dangerous magical experiments he had barely survived...

It had to be said, Grimm's past achievements were meager. Even after six years as an apprentice wizard, he had barely accumulated half the experience required to advance to intermediate apprentice. For survival, he had mastered only a single spell: Burning Hands. The second spell, "Flame Arrow," was still in its infancy; he had only just collected the prerequisite knowledge, and actual casting was still a distant prospect.

From this data, it was clear that his body's innate talents placed him among the lesser students in the tower. No wonder six long years had brought him no further.

But that was Grimm's past!

Now, with the chip's assistance, it was as if he had been reborn—no challenge would remain insurmountable.

The process of solidifying the mental model for Burning Hands demanded nearly all of Grimm's focus, leaving him mentally fatigued. In such a state, further spell practice or study was out of the question. Grimm simply lay down on his bed and began a deep meditation.

As he meditated, his mind gradually calmed, his breathing growing slow and even, until his entire consciousness was immersed in a strange, wondrous world.

The room, already silent as a tomb, grew even quieter—as if the world itself was holding its breath. The sensations of his body faded, as though he were sinking into a vast cloud of cotton candy, and all physical awareness drifted further and further away.

At last, freed from the confines of flesh, his consciousness plunged into a strange and alien realm.

It was a world of light.

All around him, countless motes of brilliant color danced and floated, filling every inch of space he could perceive.

His arrival seemed to disturb these drifting, unconscious lights, and the entire world shifted in response.

Grimm's soul, carrying his consciousness, wandered aimlessly through this sea of floating lights. Wherever he went, the motes responded as though possessed of their own will.

Some faintly red motes seemed to welcome him, flocking to his spiritual body like chicks returning to the nest, bringing with them warmth and comfort. Cooler-toned motes—blue, gray, black, white—shrank away, keeping their distance.

Those of neutral hues—purple, green, ochre—neither welcomed nor fled, only merging slowly into his soul when touched. The whole process was serene and harmonious, with nothing unnatural about it.

Thus Grimm's soul wandered through the endless sea of lights, passively absorbing those that joined him. Out of curiosity, he directed his spiritual form toward a cluster of white motes. His approach incited a frenzy: the white motes that had drifted idly moments before now scrambled to flee.

Unable to resist, Grimm, under the force of his will, extended a tentacle of spiritual energy from his translucent soul, piercing a larger white mote.

It exploded, dissolving into a torrent of energy that surged into Grimm's soul. Unlike the gentle warmth of the red motes, this pallid light brought a chill and a sense of lifelessness.

It was as if he had gulped down icy water in the dead of night, his whole being shivering involuntarily. Beyond the cold, he felt a faint numbness and the sting of corrosion. It seemed that, besides a measure of spiritual nourishment, the white mote had also brought certain harm.