by Neven Iliev
Or at least, that was how it should have been. No bothersome sensations to plague her troubled mind, that had been the goal… So then-
“How?”
Her tone had become several octaves deeper. She spoke with a heavy groan, as though her voice were being produced by two anvils grinding together. Disturbingly close to that, actually. One would think the newly-born golem would be surprised at the drastic change, but she had other, more important things to worry about.
“How come it itches?!” she screamed.
Fizzy clawed at her chest furiously, desperate to get rid of the incredibly bothersome sensation she no longer wanted. Her metal fingers grasped the chainmail shirt that had protected her body and ripped it apart as though it were made of paper. She clawed at her metal skin, but stopped a few moments later when she realised that she no longer felt the urge to do so.
Having watched the transformation in total silence, Kora, Valeria and Xera decided to weigh in.
“Well, it’s official. She’s finally gone fucking nuts.”
“Completely off her rocker.”
“Indeed. Her tiny mind no longer clings to sanity.”
Though seemingly full of pity at first, their voices suddenly turned joyful as they cheered her on.
“That’s the spirit! Congrats on finally growing a pair, pipsqueak!” the fiend whooped, giving Fizzy a quadruple thumbs-up.
“Here, here,” Xera chimed in smugly. “You’ve become a fine monster. I knew Master had made the right decision in sparing your life.”
“One less rival…” Valeria mumbled to herself. “I mean, you’ve made a wise decision this day, I’m sure of it!”
The sudden influx of compliments, sincere or otherwise, calmed the panicking golem down somewhat. She steadied her breathing and once again allowed the nothingness to wash over her. A feeling of absolute peace and spiritual bliss welled up in her soul. This was it, this was just how she’d imagined it. This new, unfeeling body wasn’t a prison – it was her sanctuary, her fortress. She realised with a sick sense of delight that she no longer needed to breathe, either. The only reason her small chest continued to move up and down was simply out of habit. That, and she still needed air to pass through her new voice box in order to speak.
“Uhm, Boxxy,” she spoke up. “Do you still have that ‘junk’ we picked up this morning?”
The Mimic snapped out of its inner thoughts, turning its attention back to its newly-refurbished servant.
“I do. Why?”
“Would you bring them out, please?”
The Mimic opened its maw and three large wooden crates emerged, landing on the ground between it and the golem with a series of soft thuds. These were Boxxy’s ‘bargain bins’ – containers filled to the brim with miscellaneous items that Boxxy had little to no use for, random stuff it had collected as time went on. It wasn’t as though it had a reason to hang onto all the borderline useless junk, but there was nothing to be gained by throwing it out, either. Other than Storage space, that was, but at present it had plenty of that left.
It was therefore unsurprising that the random un-shiny loot that the dungeon had given it was all here, which was precisely what Fizzy was after as she started rummaging through the mess. She briefly regretted that she’d never be able to taste that honeyed fruit she’d had her eye on, but found comfort in the knowledge that she’d never have to taste her own blood or mucus, either. Besides, preserved food wasn’t what she was after.
Her goal was the various clothing items that the dungeon had given Boxxy, much to its dismay. While part of her recognised that, as a golem, she no longer needed such silly things, she simply didn’t feel right without them. The sense of decency she had cultivated over the past two decades demanded that she cover her breasts, at the very least. It would also probably be a good idea to change the filthy underwear covering her naughty bits.
Wait, did she even still have naughty bits? Upon closer examination Fizzy confirmed that yes, yes she did. Come to think of it, the other golems she’d seen today had all been anatomically accurate, so it made sense that her genitals would still be there, even if they were no longer functional. The same went for her nipples, though the breasts they were attached to were quite different. They were rounder, perkier and noticeably bigger than they had been a few minutes ago. While she hadn’t exactly minded her old ones, just looking down at these new puppies filled her with confidence. Her hips, thighs and butt had also plumped up, making her much more attractive overall. It was the sort of sexy body that, in her honest opinion, deserved to be shown off.
With that in mind, she resumed her search for clothes to accentuate her new curves. She couldn’t get too crazy, though, as one of Boxxy’s goals was to infiltrate society without anyone realising that it was a monster. If Fizzy was to support the Mimic fully, then she had to blend in with the civilised world as best she could, which meant that clothing was an absolute must. That said, there really wasn’t much to work with in the pile of odds and ends, so she would have to get a bit creative.
She found a plain beige tunic that looked as though it would be a perfect fit. That usually meant that it had been made with a human child in mind, but Fizzy was beyond caring about such things. The plain garment was a promising start, but her rigid pigtails and the shield permanently attached to her left arm made it impossible to put on without ripping it to shreds. Deciding that she could make it work anyway, she reached for an old pair of scissors with the intent of making some alterations.
And then she felt it again – an itch. Not on her skin, exactly, but in the tool she was now holding. Letting go made the sensation go away, only for it to come back immediately once she put her hands on them again. It was an odd feeling, to say the least, and after staring intently at the scissors for a few moments she finally understood the cause – they were rusty. Not extremely so, just a few spots here and there along the edges, but that was without a doubt the cause of the uncomfortable sensation.
Thinking back on her chainmail, she realised that she had worn it for nearly a month straight with no maintenance whatsoever. Muck, water and blood had splashed it regularly, so it was only natural that it would be covered in rust. Looking through the bargain bin’s contents, Fizzy spotted a heavily corroded pipe of some sort and grabbed hold of it with her other hand. Sure enough, the rusty parts started itching immediately – or at least, that was how her brain interpreted the bizarre tingle.
There was more to it than that, though. The longer she held onto the piece of junk, the more it began to feel like a part of her. Focusing her attention on it, she discovered that she could accurately gauge just how deep the corrosion had spread. Not only that, but she felt like she could determine the metal from which the thing had been made just by holding it.
It was iron, as expected, but inlaid with a thin coat of silver.
[Proficiency level increased. Metallopathy is now Level 2. INT +2. WIS +2.]
*TONK*
Fizzy slapped her forehead as the realisation struck. Of course – her transformation into a metal golem came with a new Job, a new Skill, and a new Perk! She really should have confirmed what those did before getting sidetracked. Well, better than late than never!
[Metallopathy]
All golems share a unique link with compatible materials.
Requirements: Metal Golem variant
Type: Passive
Range: Touch
[Effects]
Allows the exchange of sensory data with any metal object through skin contact.
Increases the variety and amount of sensory input that can be processed with every Level of this Skill.
So that’s what this was. The sensations were the ‘feelings’ of the metal rod in her hand. Actually, wouldn’t this be extremely useful to an Artificer like her? Wait, hold on! Would she even be capable of handling that Job anymore? That aspect of her life was something that had completely slipped her mind. Fizzy let go of the objects she was holding and carefully inspected he
r open-palmed hands and fingers. And the longer she stared, the more hopeful she felt.
No matter how good an Artificer was, no matter how much DEX or experience they had, it was an inevitable fact of life that their hands would shake ever so slightly. It was intrinsic to all living beings. The act of breathing and the pulsing of the heart both meant that a living body could never be completely still. Those tiny involuntary movements were one of the main causes of defects in an artisan or artist’s work, the one thing that made perfection so agonisingly hard to achieve.
Unless one happened to be a golem. Fizzy’s limbs may have been heavier than ever, but they were completely and utterly still. Even statues would be jealous if they saw how magnificently her polished digits remained in place without moving a single millimetre out of position. Emboldened by her newfound advantage, Fizzy wiggled her fingers and wrists around in the motions that she had performed thousands if not tens of thousands of times before. The movements had been so deeply ingrained into her throughout her life as an Artificer that she could have done them in her sleep.
Unfortunately, her new hands were too bulky and clumsy. She was unused to the new strength and weight of her limbs, and her joints felt stiff and unresponsive. Not by much, but enough to potentially ruin an electrical circuit or trigger wire. She didn’t lose heart though, if she even still had one of those. After all, those stone soldiers had looked every bit as clumsy as she did, but they’d moved with a grace one would never expect from a living statue. And stone was inferior to steel, so there would surely be some Skill or another that could give her the sort of precise motor control she needed. Combined with her new stability and this Metallopathy thing, this could pave the way towards her becoming the greatest Artificer alive. Perhaps even the greatest Artificer who had ever lived. That ever would live!
Fizzy tightened her fists with newfound determination. The ‘curse’ had given her so much more than she could ever have dreamed. It was well beyond a blessing in disguise at this point. Speaking of blessings, there was also the matter of the Perk that she’d gained.
[Divine Beast]
A title formally given to creatures that have sworn themselves in service to the gods.
Requirements: Become a Paladin, Priest or Monk as a non-enlightened species.
[Effects]
Gain an additional +1 FTH every time a Monster Job increases in Level.
So, she was a Divine Beast of Chaos, was she? She liked the sound of that. The order of acquisition was a bit out of whack, but she couldn’t really care about that. All that mattered was that she had it, and it was a very good thing that she did. Even if it wasn’t much, the Faith (FTH) she would gain from this trait would be of great use to a Paladin like her, especially if she were to ever go head-to-head against a certain undead whore. To put it in simpler terms, the Perk was quite tasty.
Having finished her introspection, Fizzy turned her attention back to the junk piles.
“Hey, Boxxy!” she called out. “I can use anything in this crate, right?!”
The Mimic was fairly certain that there was nothing of actual value in there, so if the gnome- Wait, was she even still one of those?
“Fizzy, are you still a gnome?”
“Not anymore!” she declared triumphantly. “I am now a full-bodied steel golem!”
“Ah, I see.”
“So… I can have some of this stuff, or what?”
“Oh. Sure, I don’t mind.”
Frankly speaking, if Fizzy could make any use of that trash then she was welcome to it. Not to mention that she needed her own equipment if she was going to be a proper minion and not just an unwilling battle slave. Provided that it didn’t cost too much, of course.
“Sweet! Thanks!”
The golem resumed her dumpster-diving with gusto, leaving Boxxy to try and piece together just what was going on. It would consult with Fizzy later to get the details on her new body, but right now it was far more concerned with something else. The Mimic had gotten a certain notification the instant the formerly-squishy thing had become significantly less squishy. A notification with some rather interesting implications.
[The flows of chaos have returned to their default, causal state.]
Based on the message, it would appear that the Agent of Chaos Skill had finally run its course. In other words, its effects had been active this whole time, ever since the gnome had been raped, which would indicate that that event had served as the trigger for this mind-boggling outcome. A curse transforming a gnome into a literal monster? Even Boxxy’s warped common sense thought that that was perhaps a wee bit extreme. It now understood why Charlie had wanted a Hero. It was because the Agent of Chaos Skill would make the otherwise-impossible into a reality, or at least a possibility. Which was precisely the sort of thing that the God of Unfortunate Circumstances loved.
That said, there was no guarantee that the outcome of the divine ability would be beneficial to its holder. Boxxy’s last conversation with Jeremy had made it abundantly clear that the bored deity cared only for unlikely events, regardless of what that actually meant for his Hero. Sure, this time around the Mimic had gained a more capable minion, but there was no telling what would happen next time. Unpredictable as it was, Agent of Chaos could potentially result in a catastrophic chain of events that would reduce its wielder to a smoldering corpse.
Or it could potentially shower it with so many tasty and shiny things that Boxxy wouldn’t even be able to hold them all. It all hinged on factors entirely beyond the Mimic’s perception or ability to control, which was how Walter seemed to define the concept of ‘luck.’ Which wasn’t particularly reassuring, as far as Boxxy was concerned. If it had learned anything from the Chaotic Disposition Skill, it was that Lady Luck was a shameless slut that swung both ways, though perhaps not in so many words.
“All done!” Fizzy declared, posing before Boxxy in her new outfit.
The only thing that remained of the ex-gnome’s former garments were her boots with the iron plates protecting the toes. She now wore a pair of baggy brown work pants that were a few sizes too big for her, so she’d wrapped a bandage-like cloth around her ankles to prevent them from flapping around too much. She’d secured them around her waist with an old belt, which rested low on her hips in a slightly askew manner that made it seem like it would slide right off if her new rear wasn’t in the way. It also put into question whether she was wearing any underwear underneath, the answer to which would be a firm ‘no.’
As if a golem needed such filthy things.
Her upper body was clad in that plain beige tunic, though she’d had to roughly cut away a lot of the garment’s left side in order to make it fit over her rigid hair and unremovable shield. This left the entire area around her left shoulder, collarbone and armpit exposed, but it did the job of covering her breasts. Well, mostly at least. The fabric was also thick enough to mask the two points of her perky domes, at least so long as Fizzy didn’t put any strain on it. It was also a bit on the short side, as it left the plating around her belly button quite visible.
The Fizzy of right now looked completely different to the one from half an hour ago. The shiny steel skin, metal hair and slightly provocative clothing were change enough, but her transformation went beyond simple appearance. The biggest difference was in her attitude. Her meek, subservient smile had become a wide, toothy grin, and the soft, frightened-rabbit look in her eyes had been permanently replaced by the manic glare she had shown only once or twice.
Though Boxxy certainly wasn’t a ‘people person,’ it did know about monsters, and the gnome-shaped golem in front of it was without a doubt one of them. Not a tortured creature desperately trying to stay alive in a harsh world, but a vicious predator that wouldn’t hesitate to rip the throat out of anything or anyone that stood in its way. At least, that was the impression the new Fizzy left on Boxxy’s instincts. The Mimic was honestly relieved that she had made her oath, as she certainly wasn’t an opponent it would wish to face in combat.
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“So, what do you think?” she asked expectantly.
“You look good. Strong and tough. Could be shinier, but a good start.”
“Hah! Just wait till I get me one of those Rank Ups, I’ll totally blow your mind! Now, where did I leave- Oh, there it is!”
The golem strutted over to where she’d left her wrench and picked it up one-handed, resting it against her shoulder as if it weighed nothing.
“Shall we go smash up some golems?” she suggested cheerfully. “There should be some of those guys left around, right?! It’s okay if I go smash them to bits, right? Fizzy has a brand-new Job to Level Up!”
It was then, at that very moment, that the story of Cornie Fizzlesprocket came to its inevitable sad conclusion, the gnome she had once been quietly passing away into obscurity.
It was also on this day, again at this very moment, that the golem that would go down in history as the Rustblood Juggernaut was unleashed into the world.
Chapter Three
Core Values
Part One
The ruins of the Spire of the Jade King continued to give birth to one golem after another, albeit at a slightly reduced rate. The removal of its core didn’t mean that the place would cease to exist, but there was no longer anything regulating what happened within. The golems which appeared were no longer compelled to remain and could potentially spread over the entire mountain. It would take years, possibly even decades, for a new core to appear, so the wandering golems would have plenty of time to reach civilisation, or perhaps destroy an ecosystem or two.
Assuming that they survived that long, that was.
“Haaaah!”
A mass of living steel barely a metre tall sped through the hedge maze, letting out a loud cry.
