To create something, you must know something. You must know its components, and how they connect with each other. To use the Lesser Crux to create, that knowledge had to go deeper, down to how the Mana flew together to create that type of matter. Following that reasoning, it was easier to create raw materials and then use them to assemble something complex, rather than go with the complex thing right away.

It still wasn’t easy, but Gorren wasn’t born for easy. Instead, he loved challenges, thrived on it.

Gorren had needed some experimenting, but eventually, he had managed to recreate some of the materials he was more familiar with: copper, iron, mercury, tin and silver. He had even managed to form them into particular shapes, in wires for the copper, in sheets for the iron and liquid mercury. Using those components, he had assembled a rudimental Mana Battery, a basic instrument for magic research that was used to store Mana in, that could then be used for a myriad of purposes.

After that, he summoned from the Crux sturdy plates of burnished steel, a tall pole of iron and thick boards of gold-laced lead. He used them to build a human-sized tower-like contraption that he then connected to the Battery through the copper wires.

The Sentry, that was the name of the tower contraption, would channel Mana from the Battery, and then unleash it as a bolt of lightning against any intruder. Gorren used a summoned piece of chalk to inscribe three sets of spells on it: one to regulate the channeling, the second to regulate the power and frequency of the releasing and the third to recognize aura mark that didn’t correspond to his own. In particular, he calibrated it to show maximum hostility toward beings with the same or similar Mana signatures of the creature of the library. If he couldn’t stand against it for some wizardry, then let’s see how that thing fared against a cold machine.

Unfortunately, there seemed to be a hard limit to what he could take out of the Crux for now. Summoning objects from it cost him a vast amount of Mana and between it and the memory-trance, he managed to build three Batteries and two Sentries and to connect them, before passing out by sheer exhaustion.

Thankfully, he didn’t dream, but when he woke up, many hours later, he didn’t feel as refreshed as he hoped. Using the memory-trance once again, he summoned food: some porridge, his favorite food back in the mortal world, and water.

It felt almost a waste, but after a few bites and gulps, he felt immediately re-energized. It seemed that even if it didn’t strictly need it, his body still took substantial strength from nourishment. Pah! And there he hoped to have finally got away from those distractions! The porridge tasted good though…

Next, while waiting to see if there were more reactions to the food, he took some time to analyze the magic binding his body. He couldn’t wait to get rid of it. Apart from being ridiculous, he looked like the ugly grandpa of an ugly goblin for goodness’ sake, the short limbs and little strength hindered his work.

No result there, though. The Crux holding the spell together was still too pure for him to act upon. He would need some time to work that out. Ack, curse that creature!

Fuming, he went back to work. At least the food seemed to have given him incredible energies. He deduced that his new body was able to draw much more nourishment from it than the old. That was a pleasant surprise. He had always hated interruptions. Like that, he could maximize efficiency instead.

He built two more Batteries, one more Sentry, and then summoned some alchemical equipment. As much as the Crux had made it obsolete, he still needed it. Using it would prove less energy-consuming and there were substances that sadly he couldn’t recall enough to summon them directly.

With the basics in place, he started to organize his things.

At the center of the room, he put a sturdy oak table. Upon it or close by, he put the alchemical equipment: stills, alembics, a medium-size cauldron, vials, flasks, bowls, a crucible, glass beakers, glass tubes, wooden frames, metal frames, mortar and pestle, retort and retort stand, a stove, a glass stirring rod, statuettes of Gods to ask blessings from, a barrel of purified water and various pouches with alchemical ingredients, from common ones like salt to rare like the bladder of Otyugh. That was to be his workspace.

To be honest, he probably went way overboard, to amass all those things he actually needed to space his efforts as not to fall unconscious again, but when he realized it was too late. He didn’t manage to wallow into shame for too much: those things gave him a scent of home.

The four Sentries he put at the four cardinal points, as to make a makeshift line of defense for the table between them. He had complete faith in Ur, but just for that he knew he couldn’t take anything for granted; as much as he knew, those beasts could enter in that safe space from any direction.

He was half-way through those work that he hit the first problem.

“I need more space!”

Putting aside any more summoning, for now, he turned his attention to seek a solution. The room wasn’t big enough. Maybe he could somehow enlarge it? Forget the could, he had to.

Feeling that playing around with his only refuge was too risky, he decided instead to create another room, separated from the one he was in. The only problem was, he needed to understand how the walls were built.

The first time he tried, he almost fell on his backside. Those walls had a mad structure! Aside from the kaleidoscopic Mana structure, he saw that between each rock there were other, smaller rocks and between those pebbles, so that not even the smallest space was left. No mortar held the stones together, they were just embedded one into the other to form a single block.

Gorren felt dizzy. Was really that his only defense? Scratch that, he was still alive so it worked. Rather, how in the hell was he supposed to replicate it?

Those doubts lasted only for a moment before he shook them off like an angry dog with water. His God counted on him to prove himself! Was he to fall short at the first adversity? Never!

He angrily stomped back to the Crucible and started to work.

He needed time. In fact, he needed a lot of time. That and some efforts he’d like to forget. Turns out that walls don’t taste very well, even those heavily enchanted.

Eventually, panting and covered in sweat, he held the result of his work in his hands. The fragment was completely different from the walls. It wasn’t grey or rock-like. Instead, it was black, shiny, and smooth, almost like obsidian. Still, he couldn’t be mistaken. The Mana structure was the same tremendously dense alloy of feelings and powers of rejection, nullification and potential repelled. It was more than just death made into the material, it was the void, the death of light.

Gorren managed to watch the single, bite-sized shard he had spent all of his power to create just for a moment before falling unconscious.

When he woke up, the shard was gone, but not the perfect memory of it. It was embedded deeply into his brain like someone had branded it there with fire-heated iron. He could feel it pulse with dark power, like the smirk of night. With a shudder, he understood without nobody having to tell it to him: to create such a thing was barely shy of blasphemy, not by the laws of men but by those that even the Gods had to follow. Or else. Instinctively, he knew that he would have to keep the knowledge to create that thing, now burned into his mind, a secret and never abuse it. If he failed to do that…

He shuddered and got up.

He called the material Kor. It was more than pride to push him to call it with a name resembling his own. It was a threat. So he wouldn’t forget.

The accumulation of Kor cost him untold time and effort, but he didn’t relent until he had enough for his aims. Reached a satisfying quota, he faced the problem of how to build another room. He resolved it by opening, the most cautiously he could, a hole into the wall using the Kor itself as a chisel and then making it immediately fill it up. Thankfully, the strange material responded to his mental commands right away, moving where he commanded and changing shape when and how he wanted. Really, if he was some kind of power-hungry maniac, he could even get some strange ideas. Eheheh.

He swallowed. Yeah, no. He chose life. He was going to treasure this stuff.

He enlarged the hole until it was as wide as his own fist, then pushed the Kor forward. He didn’t need eyes to feel the roaring majesty of the Crux beyond. The Kor was almost like an extension of himself, he could feel the Crux’s chaotic touch as well as he was standing amidst it in the flesh. The name he chose for the material had been appropriate. The Kor belonged to him down to a visceral level. He suspected that was the reason why it was different from the material of the first chamber. That kind of extreme manifestation couldn’t happen without wildly varying from summoner to summoner.

Carefully, he pushed the Kor forward until he had a hollow, fist-sized tube roughly ten meters long. Then, he started to expand, pushing the Kor outward like a potter with a clay vase. As he did, he kept feeding Kor into the hole. It was a long process, but as he continued he found himself more and more at ease.

Eventually, he found himself with a far shorter tube connecting to a roughly circular space, with a diameter of ten meters. His dreams and sense of grandeur told him to keep going, but his supply of Kor was limited and he had much more to build so he grudgingly stopped there.

Now it came the tricky part.

Ever so cautiously, he thinned the plug keeping the hole shut. When it was barely a film, he stopped and took a deep breath. Then he ripped it open.

No maelstrom. No chaos. No explosion of infinite potentiality trying to tear his brain to shreds. Instead, to welcome his gaze there was a large chamber that seemed to have been carved out of volcanic rock, its surfaces uneven and even rough there and then.

Gorren pumped a fist into the air, letting out a mighty cry of exultation. Holy shit, he had done it! Ehm, he meant, of course, he had done, like there was even a doubt.

He had to cut a door into the wall, praying Ur for forgiveness all the way, to step into his new domain. Hugging the room - that he had built, out of the nether! - with a satisfied gaze, he took a moment to savor the moment, before stepping in.

And almost plummeted into the abyss of creation as the floor gave way under him.

After having recovered from the quasi-heart attack, thankfully the floor hadn’t broken as much as just gave way like an elastic mattress, he set to reinforce every surface. Testing and trying, he found that he could manipulate the density and resistance of the Kor also. There were limits: if he tried to push its properties too much, like trying to make it harder than diamond or thin to the point of invisibility, his head started to throb painfully or his nose to bleed, and he had to quickly back down to avoid damage. His human-like limitations once again, it seemed. It didn’t matter. He was still able to make floor, walls and ceiling as thick and sturdy as castle walls.

Finally, with some attention, he could step into the room and admire his work.

The room was just as large as he had imagined it, enough for a noble to use it as a ballroom or a sergeant to have a platoon take their rations in it. Every surface had a glass-like quality to it and a slight, dark shining. The perfectionist in Gorren rankled at the unevenness that appeared there and then, but for now, he would have to overlook the details. What it mattered was to have more space.

With it, he could continue with his project.

Summoning his reserve of Kor, he used it to reinforce the central five meters of the room. He thickened the ceiling and raised the floor into a pedestal, then raised four walls, forming a smaller room. He did so because, through his memory-trance, he had gathered enough information on the Crux creature to formulate some methods to counter it. It hadn’t been pleasant having to re-live those terrible moments again and again, but humiliation and anger had given him the drive for it.

He had studied the creature and now he saw that his first impression had been right; it resembled more of a Mana phenomenon than an actual living creature. It happened, back in the material realm, for the Mana in the ambient to gather from time to time, forming up into strange wonders. He remembered the terrible magical storms of the Garrudi Lands, the Mana reaching such density that it took physical form as it ravaged the landscape.

No mage had ever managed to counter such terrible power, but with the Kor he was sure to manage where nobody had. The creature could distort space, but even it would need time to pierce through the substance that could keep the Crux at bay.

So, Gorren built himself a refuge where to huddle in case one of those decided to appear. It rankled to his pride to cower, but there was nothing he could do about it, and he was nothing but a pragmatist. At least, he could satisfy himself with the knowledge of finally being able to do something against those irritating abominations.

Yes, he felt, almost to the point of certainty, that there was more than one.

He dispelled those doubts by focusing on the work.

Having set the framework of the central room, he cut a door on two sides, leaving the cut portions laid before it. He would need just a mental impulse to have them close the entrances, sealing the bunker. There was no need for holes. His body needed no air, he had checked, and he could perceive what happened outside through his mental senses.

Still, food had proved itself useful, so he put a coffer inside of the bunker and stocked it with non-perishable items: biscuits, hardtack and salted jerky. He also put two barrels filled with water in it. With those supplies, he was confident he could withstand a siege no problem. He needed nothing else, the path to knowledge was an ascetic one.

Done that, he formed four sconces at the four angles of the bunker and, through a long time of work, filled each with a Sentry and a Battery. He then covered them both with a layer of Kor, leaving uncovered only the pole that would discharge the blasts. He didn’t doubt those creatures would try to mess with them, but the specimen he had met had shown itself to be quite slow on the uptake, sometimes slower than animals. He hoped that the turrets would get enough hits in that whatever assailant there was could be discouraged by testing them further.

Done all of that, he stood a moment admiring his newly-made refuge.

It wasn’t the best, looking more like an overgrown box someone had cut out of coal than anything else, but what the hell, appearances were secondary to the thing actually working. He was going to take a look at that later, though…

He disliked not having his refuge close to the Crucible, but he wasn’t going to mess around with those walls anymore. They were somewhat of a sacred relic for him, and who knew what other kinds of secrets they could yield?

The better solution he could think of was to wrap the chamber of the Crucible in Kor as a first step, and then work from there until it was encased between other rooms and protected by walls. Problem was, he lacked the resources to do that. All of his supply had been necessary to complete the bunker.

Well, not like that wasn’t important, his personal security was his primary concern, but to have the gift of Ur without adequate protection…

He snorted. No point in fussing over what he couldn’t have. He really had to get that lesson in his thick skull one day.

He returned to the Crucible and started to work with the alchemical ingredients and equipment he had summoned. Truth to be told, he lacked the expertise to build weapons; back in the material realm, the university had always directed the efforts of the associates mainly toward peaceful aims. Truvia was a peaceful nation, grown rich over the bounty of careful use of magic, high culture and wise government. It didn’t need warmages as much as experts into agriculture and urban planning.

His own research never went toward such brutish things as cutting things apart. He had studied the nature of Mana, how it flowed into the material realm, the structure of reality and dimensions and their interactions with each other. His results were so far away from the mundane that, he had to admit to his chagrin, lacked an actual use when it came to basic things like self-protection. To him, his findings on how the Skalac Medusa’s seemingly unlimited ability to recycle Mana for its own use actually had a limit were fundamental, since they proved that Mana didn’t contain a limitless potential, or how the destruction of Mana by the extremely rare Grey of Kyriosa, if put under extreme stress conditions, proved that the energy flowed from another dimension; but to a farmer, even if he could understand them, those discoveries would be worthy squat for his everyday needs.

He was loath to it, but he had to admit it. His research had led him far away from the basic necessities.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t start now.

Normal mages needed to use incantations, formulas, ingredients and specifics forma mentis to interact with Mana and cast spells. They couldn’t comprehend it enough and so had to use props and medium. Instead, his insight and experience allowed him to interact with it at a closer level. He didn’t need to chant some gibberish or set a stick of incense alight to cast a spell; he just had to set the Mana into certain patterns and launch certain feelings and images into it. That made his casting much quicker and much less focus-intensive, even if not necessarily more powerful. It was a question of instinct, intuition and habit more than reason, Mana couldn’t be entirely comprehended by the human mind, but that mattered little.

What it mattered was that he knew the basics, the hidden rules behind the system. With time and effort, he was confident he could master any form of magic. If he applied his knowledge to weapon research, he could manufacture some pretty interesting things fast enough, he was sure of it. In fact, he already had some ideas in mind…

Problem was, had he the time?

He couldn’t know when one of those creatures would strike again. Would he be ready when it happened?

He took his head between his hands, swaying a little. Here he went again, concerns over the future. He had to focus on the here and now instead, on what he could do, not what could happen. Especially if he was as exhausted as he felt at that moment. He had rushed the construction of the refuge, pushing himself just in fear of a possible attack, and now he was spent.

He had to rest.

With a sigh, he left some substances bubbling into the laboratory and retreated into the other room. After sealing himself inside of the bunker, gaze taken by featureless, slightly uneven black walls, he was unpleasantly reminded of a sealed coffin. It lasted just for a moment. He had always liked isolation, with people even calling him a misanthrope. Call him an old hermit, but that kind of den suited him quite fine.

He slumped on the hard floor, the nimble body easily finding a comfy position. He remembered that he was supposed to have made some clothes to put on. And a bed wouldn’t have been wrong either.

He drifted to sleep a moment later. Despite all of his concerns, he slept well and soundly, feeling truly secure for the first time from the beginning of that crazy adventure.