After two hours of tinkering with various atomic nuclei, I eventually threw my metaphorical hands up in the air and tossed the idea of physical plausibility out completely. While I had hit upon the correct number of protons to make Uranium 233 almost immediately, juggling control rods, neutron moderators, and other such things turned out to be more trouble than I really wanted to deal with. It was a distinctly possible avenue that I might explore again later, but I had quickly hit upon a much more mechanically simple option for power generation.

Courtesy of the materials designer that I had access to as part of Clockwork Customization, I could in fact put together atomic nuclei with a completely arbitrary number of protons and neutrons, including configurations so unstable that they would fly apart into their component nucleides nigh instantly. In this case, I opted for an 'atom' composed of one thousand protons and precisely zero neutrons; pretty much the instant I conjured one of those things it would fly apart into a huge number of loose Hydrogen atoms. Summoning these so-called atoms into a large vat of water with a high content of dissolved Oxygen resulted in both said water getting very hot very quickly, the loose Hydrogen nuclei reacting with the dissolved Oxygen to form more water and neutralize the exhaust's acidity, and an utterly obscene amount of gamma rays going every which way.

This copious amount of steam was then easily shoved through a turbine to generate power, while one of the standard 'mana motors' from my clockwork design interface could be hooked up to act as a generator to convert this rotational kinetic energy into mana I could use. Yes, the design required the continuous conjuration of significant amounts of matter besides the fuel in order to keep the reactor properly cooled. It also produced easily visible exhaust in the form of a massive plume of steam, as constantly conjuring water inside the reactor without venting any would lead to it self-destructing from the pressure buildup. However, even with all of these factors taken into account, my 'proton pile' reactor was still mana-positive when it was running, with my first fully functioning prototype giving me ten mana per hour.

Blueprint Saved: Mark 1 Proton Pile Mana reactor

Thus, my cover was now completely blown if it wasn't already, as I was venting a massive plume of steam into the air over my present location. In exchange, my mana income had just increased by over twenty fold.

Immediately, I began to dig downwards with the aim of reinforcing my position against the interference that would doubtlessly be coming. The second floor almost immediately found itself playing host to a dozen of my current reactor design with the radiation shielding omitted; my constructs could be easily made immune to radiation, and I had precisely zero qualms if adventurers coming to ransack me ate a lethal dose of radiation to the everywhere.

Still, even with a fully functioning reactor design, the fact was that I was nowhere near the level of power output I would be needing to become independently mobile. I'd run the numbers on a massively scaled up Basic Clockwork sufficient to hold a moderately large dungeon inside its head and torso, and with all the compensators needed to deal with the frame's immense weight I'd be expending around 60,000 Mana per day just for basic movement. Needless to say, my current reactor design would be needing some serious overhauls.

Thus, now that I was pulling in a significant mana output, my next priorities were fortifications and intelligence gathering. The former would largely be based on an utterly absurd amount of guns and radioactive hazards, but the latter would be based on something quite straightforward. Namely, I was building Unmanned Aerial Vehicles equipped with camera turrets to survey the land beneath them, shoving a heavily miniaturized Proton Pile in the back for both power generation and thrust, and launching them into the skies to survey the region. The fact that it would be spewing gamma rays everywhere when in flight was fairly irrelevant; it would be flying high enough that nobody on the ground would really be affected, and anyone who tried to get into melee combat with that thing deserved what they got.

Anyway, I was already beginning on the construction of my main hull for when I would finally become independently mobile. Over the course of a day I managed to get the basic form of the head and torso completed thanks to the plentiful mana provided by my current seven Proton Pile reactors, and I fully expected my construction progress to only increase in speed the further along I got. Still, I was far from in the clear, even with the additional layers of defense I had put around my core.

I had just set up another pair of Proton Piles in the 'shoulders' so I could tinker with turbine and generator optimizations when I got the first intelligence report back from my aerial observer. What I learned wasn't exactly pretty, seeing as there was what looked like a small army marching straight towards my location.

Seth the shepherd and his wife had a very sensible arrangement when it came to money, and the spending thereof when alcohol was involved; seeing as the former was in perpetual short supply, and the latter could easily be exchanged for all of the former if one wasn't careful. Namely, only one of the household's adults could go out drinking at any given time, and that the one who stayed home would decide how much money the one going to the pub could bring with them. After his close call with the dungeon and the day it took him to prod his flock home, Seth had called for a turn at the pub tonight. Djain had then made some critical financial calculations before sending him off with exactly enough money for three mugs of beer, but no more.

Thus, after a half hour walk to cross the distance between his house and the pub, Seth set himself down on one of the bar stools and ordered. Then, someone who the hapless shepherd had hoped never to see again entered the pub. Seth didn't need to look up to see that it was Karyll Scaleridge, the second in command for the local branch of the Drake Guard. Also known as the Supreme Leader's personal band of heavily armed thugs. The simple feeling of menace she constantly exuded was more than enough to inform anyone in the vicinity exactly who they were dealing with.

As the bulky woman slammed the door shut hard enough to rattle the pub's foundation, she growled out "Alright you hicks! One of our scouts spotted what looks like smoke rising from the hills just outside town, and we're going to go investigate. That said, the others in the Drake Guard have raised the point that whoever's there might be hostile, and it'd be good to have some meat shields to hide behind. Guess who got lucky?"

There was a brief pause before Karyll grinned evilly (as if she needed the help), and added "That's right, it's you guys! Now get moving and I might not kill you where you stand!"

An hour later, Seth and almost a hundred of his fellow townsfolk found themselves being marched towards their presumed death at the point of the Drake Guard's enchanted weapons, only Seth noticing that they were being marched almost directly towards the Dungeon he had stumbled across a couple days ago. Silently, and to no god in particular as long as they weren't the Supreme Leader, Seth uttered a prayer that the Dungeon would recognize him and spare his life.