Chapter 24: Boney Ambitions (2)

Karl then decided to visit each station, to check on their progress personally.

His first stop was the Metallurgy Center. He wanted to check the progress of mass-producing Damascus steel. Even though Karl only had a rough idea of how others on Earth produced it, relying on fragmented memories of historical documentaries and engineering texts, he was surprised by the blacksmiths' rapid success in producing the first iteration.

They hadn't just produced steel; they were already experimenting with different kinds, meticulously varying the carbon percentage and attempting to categorize their results using an improvised AISI numbering system, a system Karl himself had only vaguely considered. He realized this rapid, almost intuitive progress was his 'fault.'

His mind was connected to the skeleton network link, not as a simple hivemind where he controlled every action, but as a decentralized network. Each skeleton was capable of independent thinking, processing, and analyzing information, forming a kind of networked artificial intelligence. A shiver, cold and alien, ran through his non-existent spine.

The implications were vast, unsettling. He had created not just workers, but thinkers, a network of nascent artificial intelligences. The thought of losing absolute control, of these extensions of his will developing their own agendas, was a chilling prospect. Yet, he couldn't deny the intoxicating efficiency it brought, the sheer, cold power of it. He recognized the shift within himself. He was once a human executive, who once grappled with moral dilemmas and corporate ethics, was slowly being subsumed by the Arch Lich, a being consumed by ambition and detached efficiency. The transformation was unsettling, a subtle erosion of his former self, yet he couldn't deny the thrill of it, the cold, calculating satisfaction of seeing his will manifest into such intelligent, productive power.

Karl exited the Metallurgy Center, the rhythmic clang of hammers fading behind him. He then walked towards the famed Artisan Center, in the next room, where the Tannery and Workshop were housed. The air here was different, less metallic, more earthy, carrying the faint scent of cured leather and freshly carved wood. The soft tap-tap-tap of chisels against timber replaced the roar of the forge.

He found the Artisan, the skeleton impatiently instructing a group of other skeletons. Its bony fingers, usually so precise, twitched with a visible frustration as it corrected a trainee's clumsy cut. "No, no, you bone-headed imbecile! The angle! The angle! Do you wish to ruin the very essence of the wood?!" It snatched the chisel, demonstrating with a swift, elegant stroke that left a perfect curve. The Artisan was clearly teaching others, freeing itself from mundane tasks so it could busy itself with grander projects.

Karl's gaze drifted to the corner of the workshop. There, bathed in the soft glow of a perpetually burning torch, stood a life-sized statue. It depicted a figure of immense power, clad in intricate, ancient-looking armor, its face a skeletal visage. It was Trazyn, the Infinite, a character from an old Earth fiction, but the Artisan had clearly imbued it with a sense of Karl's own imposing presence.

The other skeletons in the workshop stood around it, motionless, their empty eye sockets fixed on the statue. A faint, almost reverent hum emanated from them. They would bow, a silent, unified gesture of awe, whenever the Artisan passed by it. It was a step below towards making a religion, Karl realized, a chilling thought. Worse, the other skeletons were at awe when they saw it, a silent, almost worshipful reverence.

The Artisan Center was a different bunch of fanatics compared to the Metallurgy Center. The blacksmiths were interested in the works and mechanisms of Karl's mind, the modern technology, dissecting his thoughts like scientific puzzles. In short, they were like dwarves, obsessed with the raw power and innovation of his designs. These Artisan and Metallurgy factions, Karl noted, didn't go well with each other, each believing their own craft was the superior path to gaining their lord's compliment. Karl shook his head, a dry, amused rattle, as he saw the absurdity of the skeletons praising a statue of Trazyn, depicted as him. The thought of a cult forming around a fictional character, unknowingly infused with his own image, was both bizarre and darkly amusing.

Next, Karl went to the Slaughterhouse. A faint clench in his non-existent gut accompanied his approach. He hadn't visited this place in a while, deliberately avoiding it since he found the raw, wet work of butchering… distasteful. The air grew heavy with the metallic tang of fresh blood and the musky scent of animal hides. Inside, the sounds were wet, visceral: the rhythmic thud of cleavers, the squelch of flesh, and the low, guttural grunts of satisfaction.

He was met by a bunch of psychos. Skeletons, their bony frames splattered with dark, glistening stains, worked with an almost gleeful efficiency. Their movements were precise, their empty eye sockets seeming to gleam with a strange, dark enjoyment as they butchered the game. The hunters, their bony hands still gripping their bows, stood nearby, having just returned with a fresh haul.

Then, Karl's gaze landed on a pile of weird-looking stones, tucked away in a corner, almost forgotten. They pulsed with a faint, internal light, a subtle, ethereal glow. He approached, curiosity overriding his aversion to the gore. He picked one up. It felt cool, smooth, yet vibrated with a strange energy.

"What are these?" Karl asked the nearest butcher, holding up the stone.

The skeleton butcher, its cleaver still, turned to him, its synthesized voice respectful. "My lord, those are what Misha called 'magic stones.' They were found inside the animals they caught. We didn't know what to do with them, so we just put them in the corner."

Magic stone? Karl's internal voice echoed the question.

As the butcher finished speaking, a System notification flared, bright and sudden:

[ You have found F-rank Magic stone ]

[ Unlocking Magic Powered structures… ]

Karl's empty eye sockets widened, a triumphant smile spreading across his skull. So, there was this kind of magic stone thing! This is a game-changer! He spotted one of the skeleton haulers, a particularly robust model, running with its push wagon, moving with the speed and efficiency of a "fucking Amazon one-day delivery driver." He mentally called it over and tasked it to haul all of these magic stones to the Research Lab for testing and experimentation. The hauler, without a pause, nodded its skull and quickly got to work, its wagon already clattering towards the pile.

Karl's smile widened further, a cold, predatory glee settling over him. This unlocked a major portion of my future industry! Magic-powered structures! The possibilities are endless!

He threw back his skull, "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" a booming, maniacal laugh echoing through the slaughterhouse, vibrating through the very bones of the butchering skeletons. The skeletons around him trembled, their movements faltering, instinctively sensing that their lord's laughter meant something was already going down, something grand and terrifying, one of his evil plans. Through the Lich-Network Uplink, they caught a fleeting, terrifying drift of Karl's thoughts and vision: a nuclear holocaust, a world consumed by fire and ash, reshaped by his will. Their fear, a cold, primal tremor, was a testament to the chilling scale of his ambition.