Chapter 3: Automaton production factory

Jess paced back and forth, feeling the village chief's concerned gaze on her. The man sighed and took out a jug of golden clear liquid, he poured the liquid into two mugs.

"Sit down, will you? Worrying nonstop won't help you any better. Drink some mead to calm your nerves," he said, shoving the mug closer to her.

Reluctantly, she sat down in front of the chief and downed the entire mug before he even took a sip of his drink. She then slammed the mug and poured herself another one.

He let her vent her stress away. It hadn't been an easy couple of months for anyone in the village. Just a few months ago, a group of their hunters had been nearly wiped out, with only one survivor returning as a bloody mess. He had reported a large group of hobgoblins ambushing them. While normal goblins would be manageable, the presence of hobgoblins indicated a goblin horde in their territory.

He immediately sent a group of their best hunters with their only four horses to the nearest town, governed by the lord of the lands, for military assistance or aid from adventurers. Since they were the farthest village from their territory, it would take the messengers a month to return. However, it had been two months with no word or sign of them.

He feared the messengers had upset the lord and were thrown in prison, or worse, they had encountered trouble and were killed. In those two months, ragtag groups of goblins with hobgoblins had harassed the village. Thankfully, Jess, the black-haired beauty in front of him, had retired from adventuring two years ago and decided to settle in this small village.

He later learned that she retired early due to losing her fiancée during her last job. Jess became the village's main protector, teaching many of the villagers how to survive and fight in the wilderness. He owed a great deal to her. If it weren't for her presence, the village would have been destroyed long ago.

"You know, before I became this village's youngest chief, my father told me, 'Son, things will always go bad, but you have to make sure to keep your head held high and your heart strong. Things will always get better,'" Jason said, drinking the mead and looking directly at Jess. "He would be ashamed of me for allowing this to happen to the village."

Jess, seeing tears welling up in his eyes, put her hand on top of his.

"Your father was a great man, but he would never hold this over your head, Jason. Bigger towns, thirty times the size of this village, have fallen to goblin hordes. The fact that we are still alive means that your leadership has not been the cause of its downfall." She said in a supportive warm tone.

Jason lifted his head and looked her in the eyes before nodding and wiping the tears away. Just as he was about to pour another drink, the door to his home slammed open. A man in his mid-thirties, wearing worn-out leather armor and looking sleep-deprived, rushed up to them.

"The messengers! They're back..." he said, breathless.

Jess and Jason ran out of the home, crossing the small clearing in the middle of the town where the water well was located. They arrived at the large wooden gate of the village and noticed only two of the hunters they sent, along with a group of armored people on horses behind them. They didn't look like soldiers of the fiefdom, so Jess knew they might be adventurers or mercenaries.

The hunters approached the pair, heads hung low in shame.

"Marc, what happened? Why did you all take so long to come back?" questioned Jason.

The hunters looked at each other, and Marc stepped up.

"We lost Scott and Lia. We tried clearing the forest before we could set up camp the first day, but we couldn't. While we were sleeping, the goblins attacked. We lost them the first day, and things didn't get better from there," he explained, stopping to collect himself.

"We met up with the lord of Roriksten. After granting us an audience following a week of waiting, he told us he didn't have any troops to send out and deal with the goblin horde because of a war with the neighboring kingdom. His majesty needed troops from every land. After we pleaded, he got angry at us and locked us up for a month for talking back to him. He confiscated our gold as a form of compensation. After we were released, we were desperate for money to get some adventurers, so..." Marc was interrupted when a large armored man pushed him aside and walked up to Jason.

"I'll take it from here, don't worry. Hello, village chief. The name is Carl, and my mercenary company here has offered to help your small village with your goblin trouble. In exchange, your village will now offer fifty percent of your yearly gold revenue. The villagers will become our servants, and this will be our base of operations as well," said the imposing man, towering over Jason.

Jason looked shocked at the man's proclamation, and before he could respond, the large man took out a piece of paper and handed it to him. Jess knew what it was: a binding contract. Whoever signed it would be magically bound to follow the terms; breaking it meant certain death. It was an illegal contract, one that people only signed when desperate or forced to. To her surprise, Marc's name was on it. Since Jason had essentially given him authority to do whatever was necessary to save the village, he couldn't tell the man on what he was thinking after signing something like that.

"As long as you help protect the village, I am willing to go along with this," said Jason through gritted teeth.

Jess was about to retort, but Jason gave her a look, signaling her not to intervene. She knew that this mercenary group was their last hope in saving themselves from the goblins. Jason just hoped he wouldn't regret this decision later on.

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Deep in the forest, Vulcan ran at superhuman speed, testing the limits of his body. He felt wonderful; if he could smile, he would be grinning from ear to ear like a young kid. In his self-enjoyment, he closed his eyes and didn't notice the rock wall in his way.

"Holy shit!" He opened them and yelled out as he tried to stop himself but had too much momentum.

Like in a cartoon, his body left a silhouette imprint on the hard surface. He pulled himself off the rock and checked his body for damage. A few scratches, but overall, he wasn't badly hurt. Looking up, he noticed the rock wall continued up to a cliff. He had another great idea upon seeing his imprint on the rock wall.

He power gripped the rock wall, easily crushing it like clay under his powerful grip. He climbed the cliff, making his own holds to climb. It was so fun that he soon realized he was already at the top. Standing up, he saw tall mountain ranges piercing the clouds ahead. He ran towards them, paying attention this time, and noticed an immense rift along the base of the mountain. He looked down, unable to see the bottom, even with his enhanced sight. Then, he felt a weird tingling sense slightly below the rift.

Following the feeling, he noticed a rock ledge leading into a cave. With anticipation, he climbed down and landed on the ledge shortly. Surprisingly, he could also see in the dark, which was pretty neat. Excitedly, he walked into the abyss as the tingling feeling grew stronger. He took out his spear in case of trouble, but he came to a dead end sooner than he thought.

Curiously, he started carving the rock wall, and his hand hit something hard. It was reddish-orange, iron. He had found an iron vein, and he knew exactly what to do. He retrieved a small glowing cube from his Spatial storage with intricate writing on its body. It was the Automaton production factory. A prompt popped up, asking if he wished to place the factory on top of the iron vein, so he mentally selected 'YES'.

A large flash of light emanated from the cube, and before he could regain his sight, he stood before a control room. He instinctively knew how to use them as the information downloaded into his head. Knowing it was a small production factory, he could create 100 Automatons a day from reinforced iron and 2 Automatons made of steel, which were much stronger and durable. He chose to create 1 steel Automaton and 50 Reinforced Iron ones. After inputting information into the controls, he watched as the factory machinery and conveyor belts moved in perfect synchronization through a clear window in front of him.

It was so cool that he couldn't stop staring, and soon the first Automaton was made and placed in an open area, looking exactly like him. He could already imagine it: an immortal army of Automatons. They didn't tire or need food. At least, that's what he thought; food or sleep hadn't been on his mind yet..