Making of the Cubic Dungeon

“Error: You’ve gained a level without choosing a name.”

The golem figuratively blinked its single, glassy eye. A name? It hadn't thought about needing one. But if the system required it, then it would come up with one. After all, how hard could it be?

“Cube,” it thought confidently.

“Name denied.”

The golem frowned—well, as much as it could. Cube was a perfectly good name, wasn’t it?

“Square.”

“Name denied.”

Irritation crept in. How could these names not be acceptable? They were simple, to the point. It pondered for a moment, trying out various combinations of words that echoed the shapes and forms it found most pleasing.

“Block.”

“Name denied.”

“Hexa.”

“Name denied.”

On and on it went, throwing out idea after idea. With each rejection, the frustration grew, though it never gave up. Naming itself seemed to be a much more complex task than expected, especially for a creature so fixated on the perfect shapes and forms.

It wasn’t until after the twentieth attempt that inspiration finally struck. The golem’s mind clicked as if aligning with a missing piece.

“Mechalon.”

The system paused for a moment, a soft chime sounding in its core.

“Name accepted.”

Mechalon gave a little excited shuffle on its spider-like legs, feeling a surge of energy and pride after its newly accepted name. Its mechanical limbs twitched in a kind of awkward, triumphant dance.

Then, another chime echoed through its core.

"New Mission: Create a statue of the Dungeon Master."

The words flickered before its single eye, and Mechalon froze. A statue? Of the Dungeon Master? A new wave of uncertainty crept in—it had never seen the Dungeon Master. What did they even look like? The question loomed large in its mind.

But then, a thought sparked—a clear, undeniable truth. The perfect form. Of course. The Dungeon Master must embody perfection, right? And there was only one perfect form, one shape that surpassed all others in elegance and simplicity.

The cube.

Yes! Mechalon's mind buzzed with excitement at the realization. The Dungeon Master must be the perfect form, and the perfect form was a cube! It would create the best cube imaginable, one that would truly capture the essence of perfection, of the Dungeon Master's true nature.

Without hesitation, it scurried to the center of the room, setting up its workspace. Its welding gun hummed to life, and Mechalon set to work, the image of a flawless, gleaming cube taking shape in its mind. This would be its masterpiece, the greatest creation it had ever made.

Of course, the Dungeon Master couldn’t allow something as lowly as roaches to crawl on its perfect form. That would be unacceptable. Mechalon's eye flicked over the scattered scrap pieces in the dungeon. The statue of perfection needed a stand—something to elevate the cube high above the filth and the strange creatures that roamed the dungeon floors.

Its mind churned as it imagined a base worthy of such a creation, something that could defend against the crawling nuisances. Yes, it needed spikes. And razors. Mechalon knew just where to find those—it had seen scrap pieces scattered throughout the dungeon, jagged shards of metal that bristled with sharp edges.

Scurrying across the room, it gathered the scrap with mechanical precision, selecting only the pieces that met its exacting standards. The spiked metal scraps would serve as guardians for the cube, a fortress surrounding the perfect form.

With the welding gun activated, Mechalon took its time, carefully piecing the structure together. Every weld was deliberate, each connection strong and sharp, creating a stand that bristled with defenses.

Mechalon gazed upon the statue, its mind buzzing with a mixture of awe and satisfaction. The cube itself was a marvel, its surface impossibly smooth, with sharp, clean edges that gleamed in the dim dungeon light. Every facet of it reflected a flawless symmetry, catching the faint glow of the metal walls like a beacon of precision. To Mechalon, this wasn’t just a representation of the Dungeon Master—it was the embodiment of perfection, a geometric masterpiece that stood above all else in form and beauty.

But it wasn’t the cube alone that demanded attention. No, the base beneath it—the stand—was something far more deadly. It was a fortress of jagged metal, each piece welded with painstaking care to ensure no imperfection would mar its design. Spikes of varying lengths jutted out from every angle, some slender and needle-sharp, others thicker, bristling with razor edges that glinted menacingly in the shadows. The entire structure was a maze of sharpness, a deadly deterrent to any creature foolish enough to approach.

The spiked stand twisted upwards, curling around the base of the cube like the gnarled roots of some ancient, mechanical tree, each spike angled with deadly intent. Some spiraled up like cruel talons, while others spread outward, forming a barrier that seemed to grow more intimidating the longer one stared at it. Between the spikes, shards of jagged metal intertwined, creating a lattice that looked almost beautiful in its deadly complexity.

The overall effect was striking. The perfect cube sat atop a throne of pure menace, suspended above the chaotic dungeon floor like a monarch protected by a legion of iron guardians. It was a balance of elegance and destruction—beauty and brutality, form and function.

The sight of it sent a thrill through Mechalon. This statue wasn’t just a tribute—it was a declaration of mastery. The Dungeon Master, it decided, would surely approve of this flawless creation, elevated high and shielded from the disorder that plagued the dungeon. It was both a symbol of ultimate control and a weapon in itself, a masterpiece that dared anyone to challenge its perfection.

Mechalon paced nervously on its spider-like legs, the tension growing with each passing second. It had finished the statue, a perfect cube atop a fortress of deadly spikes, and now there was only silence. No familiar chime, no notification—just the eerie stillness of the dungeon. Did I make a mistake? it wondered, its singular eye flicking back to its creation. Surely this was perfection. But doubt crept in like the scuttling roaches it despised.

Minutes dragged on, each one heavier than the last. The absence of feedback gnawed at its mind, an uncomfortable sense of failure bubbling up inside. Mechalon shifted uneasily, its mechanical tentacle coiling and uncoiling in a nervous rhythm. Maybe the Dungeon Master doesn’t like cubes? Maybe I was wrong…

Just as the worry began to spiral into panic, a faint chime echoed through its thoughts, catching it off guard. The notification blinked into existence before its eye, but instead of the usual authoritative tone, the message felt... uncertain.

"Mission Complete?"

The question mark hung in the air, more of a tentative suggestion than a proclamation. Mechalon froze, unsure how to interpret it. Was it finished or not? The system wasn’t even sure!

But before it could dwell too long on the ambiguity, another line of text appeared, this time clearer, more direct:

"Reward Options: Fabrication Module."

Mechalon stared at the words, relief washing over its core. Despite the uncertainty, it had succeeded. The statue—its perfect cube and deadly spiked base—had been enough. And now, a reward awaited. The Fabrication Module... it didn’t know exactly what it would do yet, but the thrill of the unknown sent a spark of excitement through its metal frame.

Mechalon felt a subtle, internal shift, a faint hum resonating deep within its core. Something new had been added to its structure, integrated seamlessly into its form. It was strange—this wasn’t an appendage like the others, but something entirely different. Sections on both the front and back of its metal body clicked open, revealing intake and output ports.

Curiosity welled up within it, pushing aside hesitation. Slowly, it decided to test the new function. What could it fabricate? What was its true purpose now?

The answer came instinctively. With a soft, mechanical whirr, Mechalon intook a small chunk of scrap metal, feeling it flow through its body, reforming, reshaping. The process felt smooth, natural, as if this was what it was always meant to do. Moments later, a perfectly formed cube emerged from the back port, dropping onto the ground with a soft clink.

It stared at the cube for a long moment, admiring the precision of its edges, the flawless symmetry. Of course, it thought with a satisfied hum, I can make cubes with this? This is perfect.

“New Mission: Create a weapon to be handled by Adventurers, and place it in a container.”

The notification echoed in Mechalon’s mind, a new challenge unfurling before it. But what exactly was an Adventurer? It was a question that buzzed in its mind like a persistent roach, but there was little time to dwell on it. Mechalon knew one thing for certain—a weapon was like its welding gun, an instrument designed to inflict damage.

With this clarity, it turned its attention to the task at hand: turning a simple cube into a formidable weapon. Perhaps it was a sign of its singular focus, but who could blame it? The elegance of cubes had been its guiding light through the dungeon's shadows.

An idea flickered to life within its circuits—a weapon that would embody the beauty of both cubes and circles. It envisioned a sleek, cube-based weapon, a perfect blend of form and function. The base would be a polished, dark metal cube, gleaming with sharp edges that could easily pierce through armor and flesh.

To this cubic foundation, it would add a circular blade, a deadly ring forged from a radiant, shimmering metal that would spin with lethal grace when thrown or swung. The blade would be mounted at an angle, seamlessly integrating with the cube to create a weapon that was not only deadly but also aesthetically stunning—a marvel of engineering that any Adventurer would be proud to wield.

With a flurry of motion, Mechalon began its work, welding and assembling the components with careful precision. Sparks flew, illuminating the dim corners of the dungeon as it crafted the weapon with meticulous attention to detail. The cube's edges gleamed, while the circular blade glinted ominously, reflecting the flickering light.

As the final pieces came together, Mechalon stepped back to admire its creation. The weapon was a striking amalgamation of shapes: the solid cube at its core represented strength and durability, while the circular blade symbolized speed and agility. It was both a tool for destruction and a work of art, exuding a sense of danger and elegance.

Once satisfied, it knew the next step was crucial. It needed a container to house this weapon, something that would protect it while highlighting its exquisite design. Searching the area, Mechalon found a fragment of scrap metal, a flat sheet that could be folded into a protective case.

After shaping and welding the container to cradle its creation, it placed the weapon inside, securing it snugly. With the weapon complete, a surge of pride coursed through its being. Mechalon had successfully transformed a cube into a masterpiece of combat, ready to be embraced by the Adventurers it still knew little about.

“Created: Cubic Cutter

Crafted by Mechalon, this weapon features a core cube encased in a sharp, circular blade for precision and balance. The Cubic Cutter combines geometric elegance with lethal slicing power, making it a prized asset for any Adventurer.

+1 to Flexibility attacking

-1 to Armor for target”

Mechalon twirled in a joyful dance, its spider-like legs moving with newfound energy. It placed the container next to the magnificent statue of the dungeon master, anticipation bubbling within as it awaited a sign of appreciation.

Suddenly, a familiar chime resonated in the air, declaring, “Reward: Level Up!”

With excitement coursing through its core, Mechalon examined its stats once more, eager to assess its growth. Two assignable points gleamed before it, and it made a decisive choice to enhance its Mind. As it allocated the points, a wave of clarity washed over its thoughts, sharpening its awareness like the edge of the Cubic Cutter. New ideas flooded its mind—visions of improvements that could have elevated its creation even further.

Yet, despite the urge to tinker, Mechalon took pride in the fact that the Cubic Cutter was a remarkable achievement, the first of its kind crafted specifically for the adventurers of the dungeon.