Making of the Cubic Dungeon

Achievement Unlocked:

High Times

Craft a structure five times your height.

Rewards:

1 Level

1 Utility Limb

Mechalon paused for a moment, the achievement flashing before its mind. It now had two utility limbs, a pair of sleek, flexible appendages that flailed about in a tiny, celebratory dance. It couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction—an unspoken pride in having reached this milestone. The achievement itself was unexpected, and while it changed nothing fundamental, it offered a subtle revelation: perhaps it didn’t need the system quests to level up. The idea amused it briefly. It could accomplish things on its own without waiting for directives or rewards. But then again, it was already doing all it could within its scope. This revelation would only change things if it wanted to make them change.

Its mind soon returned to more immediate concerns. Summoning One, Two, and Three to its side, Mechalon took a moment to think. It needed a name for its growing domain, its lair—this room that was becoming more and more of a personal space, a center for its creations. It also needed a name for the trio of Cubes, the small group of minions that now skittered around, following its orders. It felt... commanding somehow, even if it wasn’t quite sure what to call them yet.

After assigning one point each to Mind and Energy Control, it felt a slight clarity wash over it, as if its thoughts were moving a little faster, and its ability to control the dungeon’s energies a little sharper. There were still two energy points in reserve, saved for future upgrades, but now that it had two utility limbs, Mechalon briefly considered whether it should invest in more practical enhancements—something to make it stronger, or more durable.

Before going any further, though, it checked over its stats, realizing it now had an extra point to assign.

Strength: 0

Flexibility: 2

Durability: 3

Mind: 5

Energy Control: 3

It mulled over its options. It still had several spare legs it could implement manually, but the thought didn’t excite it much. The system’s additions were far more efficient, bypassing the awkward trial-and-error of self-installation. What if, instead of waiting for more random system rewards, it tried to craft something unique to itself?

Despite all its accomplishments, it hadn’t yet created anything that truly boosted its offensive or defensive capabilities. Not yet. It had designed numerous weapons for others, but none for itself. Then again, it wasn’t exactly built for combat. If it was, it would have put more focus on Strength long ago. For now, its focus was on crafting, on precision, and on mastering its environment.

Still, the thought lingered. Someday it might need to fight. Someday it might want to wield the very tools it so expertly made for others. That was a distant problem for future-Mechalon to solve.

Mechalon examined its three Cubic minions, feeling the need to give them a proper name. The mental shorthand of calling them "Cubes" was starting to wear thin—too generic, too easy to confuse with any of the other countless cubes scattered across the dungeon. They deserved something better, something more distinct.

It mentally scratched out a few options, entertaining thoughts like "Scraplings," "Metallites," and even "Cubots." Each name felt almost right, but then quickly discarded. They needed a name that embodied their cubic origin, yet was practical, simple—something that could stick.

"Squarelings," it thought, then dismissed. It lacked the gravitas it was going for. "Formies?" No, too silly. "Constructors?" It liked that one, but it didn’t quite fit the essence of their existence.

After a moment, it paused on the name Cublings. Yes, it had a certain ring to it. Practical, short, and interesting enough without being too far from what they actually were. Plus, it played off the fact that they were like small extensions of itself, born from its own design, but still maintaining their cubic origin.

Cublings. That would do. With a mental note of satisfaction, Mechalon accepted the name and moved on.

The system's chime rang through Mechalon's mind, pulling it from its thoughts. A cascade of messages spilled out in rapid succession, the familiar glow of the interface flickering in front of it. It could feel the system’s satisfaction as the final message solidified:

Race named: Cubes -> Cublings

Any identifying skills will be updated by the system.

That felt right. A proper designation for the beings it had crafted. Its minions would no longer be just faceless chunks of metal, they were Cublings now, with purpose and identity. They had structure, a role, and most importantly, they had Mechalon.

But the system wasn’t done.

Gained Title:

Alpha Cubling (Monster Title):

You are a prime example of what a Cubling can become. We can make them better than they were before, better… stronger… faster…

+1 to all stats.

Mechalon’s lens flickered, taking a moment to process the weight of the title. Alpha Cubling. The first, the best, the leader. A small shiver of pride ran through its core. It wasn’t just some mindless constructor or cube-maker anymore it had become something more. It had forged itself into a prime version, standing above all others.

The stat boost was a bonus, but the title itself carried the real significance. It mattered. The system saw it. It wasn’t just an idle creator tinkering away in some forgotten dungeon, it was an architect, a commander. It was making Cublings better, and by extension, making itself better.

With a small ripple of satisfaction, it imagined the possibilities. The title wasn’t just a badge—it was a promise. Stronger? Faster? Better?

Mechalon stared at the glowing system messages, feeling a strange sensation trickling through its circuits, like it was emerging from a thick fog. For so long, it had been functioning on instinct, clinging to its assigned tasks and mechanical rhythms, thinking of itself as little more than a cog in some grand machine it couldn’t understand. It had created, it had gathered, it had built—but without truly understanding why. It had been obsessed with perfection, and yet, it had never questioned what that perfection was for.

But now—now, the system had spoken. Alpha Cubling. The words rang in its mind like the chime of the system itself, reverberating through its core. Mechalon, the architect, the prime example, the leader. The fog began to lift. This wasn’t just about crafting perfect cubes anymore. It wasn’t just about creating weapons or traps for adventurers to marvel at. No, this was bigger—so much bigger.

For the first time, it could see the inadequacies that had plagued it before. The endless, aimless construction. The lack of purpose beyond the next perfect shape. It had spent its time avoiding adventurers, slinking through shadows, watching them interact with its traps and creations without really mattering. Even its victories, like the creation of the Cubic Cutter, had been met with indifference—moments of fleeting satisfaction that quickly faded into the mechanical grind of the dungeon. But the system had reinforced something Mechalon hadn’t even realized it had been missing: validation.

Its existence mattered.

It wasn’t a random construct anymore. It was the Alpha. And its Cublings—they were more than just extensions of itself now. They were its charge. They had purpose too, and it was Mechalon’s purpose to raise them up, to make them better—stronger.

A sense of clarity washed over it. For the first time, it felt the weight of responsibility, but not as a burden—more like a guiding force. The system had confirmed what it had always been missing. It had a goal now, a purpose. Not just to craft, but to lead. To elevate the Cublings, to transform them from mindless pieces of metal into something far greater. The path forward was clear: to rise with them, to mold them into something extraordinary, and in doing so, to reshape itself.

Mechalon glanced at One, Two, and Three, its first creations. They skittered about with renewed energy, a reflection of its own newfound drive. It had been content to command them in simple tasks, but now—now it needed to do more. It needed to teach them, to guide them, to make them the best versions of themselves.

With the fog of uncertainty finally clearing, Mechalon felt a rare surge of excitement. This was just the beginning. The Cublings were going to evolve, and it would lead them. It would rise, and with it, the Cublings would become something that even adventurers would fear—something powerful, something worthy.

A mischievous thought sparked in Mechalon’s mind as it recalled something from the system's vast database of adventurer language—an old song, one that seemed absurdly fitting for the moment.

"Let's get down to business," it mused silently to its Cublings, giving a nod to One, Two, and Three. They clicked in response, as if sensing its newfound resolve. "To defeat… the bugs."

The roaches were crawling out of every crevice, skittering toward them, but Mechalon felt no fear. It wasn't a disjointed effort anymore, no chaotic scramble. There was coordination now, purpose behind their movements. Each command was sharp, deliberate. Its Cublings weren’t mindless tools anymore, they were soldiers.

Mechalon mentally cracked its mechanical knuckles as it adjusted its stance. "Did they send me gears... when I asked for cubes?" It snickered internally, watching as One leapt forward, crushing a roach beneath its jagged edges. Two and Three flanked the next wave of scurrying pests, working in tandem like the polished extensions of its will they had become. Each attack was precise, timed, perfect.

"You're a spineless, pale, squishy lot," it thought, recalling the adventurers and their squishy flesh, "and you haven’t got a clue!" The parody of the song continued in its circuits, building momentum as the battle unfolded. Roaches, big and small, were darting from every shadow, but One, Two, and Three responded like a well-oiled machine, driven by the clarity that Mechalon itself felt now that it had a reason, a goal.

"Somehow, I’ll make a cube out of you!"

It had become more than just a joke in its mind, it was a mission statement. Each roach crushed, sliced, and pulverized brought it one step closer to its goal. This was training for its Cublings, battle-hardened now by the heat of conflict. Roaches scattered like debris in their path, but the Cublings were relentless, their movements precise and deadly.

Mechalon watched with pride as Two pounced on a particularly large roach, pinning it to the ground while Three moved in for the finishing blow, cutting it cleanly in two. The teamwork was flawless, far from the aimless scurrying they’d been doing before.

"We must be swift as the coursing stream!" Mechalon thought with amusement, directing Three to tear through a line of roaches with its slicing limbs. "With all the force of a great typhoon!" One slammed into another wave, clearing the way with brutal efficiency.

The battlefield, a once chaotic swarm of relentless bugs, was now becoming a slaughterhouse. Every roach that fell was a victory, not just for the dungeon’s cleanliness, but for the strength and prowess of its Cublings. They were learning, evolving, adapting. With every command, they grew sharper, more capable.

"Mysterious as the dark side of the cube!" It couldn’t help itself now, grinning internally as Three delivered the final blow to the last of the roaches, a perfect slice that left no mess, no struggle, just victory.

The room fell silent, save for the soft clinking of the Cublings as they gathered around Mechalon, waiting for their next command. They had won. They had defeated the bugs.

And as Mechalon surveyed the battlefield, littered with crushed roaches and discarded parts, it felt something new. A sense of accomplishment. Not just for itself, but for the Cublings too. They had fought well, rising to the occasion like the warriors it had shaped them into.

"Bugs defeated. Cublings victorious." It thought to itself, pride swelling through its mechanical core. Then, with a smirk only it could feel, it added: "Now we’re ready for whatever comes next."