I spent the next four days holed up in my workshop, hands and tendrils in constant motion. Sleep wasn't necessary for me, which proved advantageous as I worked through the nights designing the workers that would replace the human slaves. The workshop floor gradually filled with discarded prototypes, each failed attempt littering the space around my workbench.

My initial plan seemed straightforward: create simple constructs powered through the Brace link, just like my other mechanical children. The math worked perfectly. Each construct would draw minimal power, and with proper efficiency algorithms, I could maintain hundreds simultaneously.

But on the second night, as I attached limbs to a torso frame, something stopped me. These creations would become my children in the eyes of the System. Did I truly wish to make my children slaves? The irony wasn't lost on me: replacing human slaves with enslaved constructs seemed to miss the point entirely.

No. I would find another way.

I set aside the half-finished frame and began sketching new designs. Using my limited Enchantment knowledge combined with extensive experience in Mana Manipulation, I developed a mana suction enchantment. It essentially performed the same function I did naturally: absorbing ambient mana from the air and storing it in an internal battery.

The battery design proved challenging. After twelve failed attempts, I settled on a core of auric steel, which was the only component of my workers that would require the precious alloy. The rest would be constructed from simple steel and brass, materials the enclave had in abundance.

"You've been working for seventy-two hours straight," Barkatus noted, leaning against the doorframe on the morning of the third day. "Even my extensive training doesn't push that hard."

I'm close to a breakthrough, I replied without looking up from the intricate runes I was etching into a brass plate.

"The slaves have been here for years. Another day won't matter."

I paused, tendrils hovering over the workbench. Every day matters to them.

He shrugged and left me to my work.

By the fourth day, I had finalized the physical design, borrowing heavily from my old combat frame: four arms for holding multiple tools simultaneously, digitigrade legs for superior balance and stability, and a compact torso housing all internal components. The worker design was tough, nimble, and strong, capable of performing any task currently assigned to human slaves.

The programming presented the greatest challenge. In my children, I had used simple gears, springs, and mana conduits to form basic minds. I theorized that this, coupled with my link through Brace, gave them their strange personalities. Since I didn't wish these workers to develop the same eccentric personas (imagining dozens of Rollys running amok through the enclave was both amusing and terrifying) I needed to create minds that were more rigid yet simultaneously more complex.

I crafted a series of brass plates and etched various enchantment runes into them, forming basic instructions the automatons could follow. This consumed an entire day as each plate required several hundred instructions: everything from complex directives like how to follow orders and navigate stairs to fundamental instructions for finger movement and walking. The programming had to be comprehensive yet flexible enough to handle unexpected situations.

When the final plate was installed, I activated the suction enchantment. The workshop fell silent as I watched the mana gauge slowly fill. It took approximately an hour for the battery to reach capacity, but once full, the automaton activated.

It rose stiffly from the workbench, standing on steady legs and awaiting instruction. Standing five foot three inches tall, it featured a stout torso with no head, four thin arms extending from its upper body, and long digitigrade legs. It resembled a more compact version of my old combat frame, though considerably less threatening without a weapon in each hand.

A system prompt suddenly appeared in my vision:

CONGRATULATIONS! You have become a parent! Please name your child.

I stared at the message with annoyance. I had specifically designed this construct so the System wouldn't count it as one of my children, but apparently the mere act of creating it made it my descendant. The System's classification algorithms were more comprehensive than I'd anticipated.

Worker Unit Number One, I decided after a moment's hesitation.

The prompt disappeared, replaced by a new notification:

Descendant "Worker Unit Number One" has been added to your Lineage.

The automaton stood motionless, awaiting commands. I instructed it to walk forward, lift a tool, and place it elsewhere. Each movement was precise, if somewhat mechanical. Unlike my other constructs, it showed no signs of personality or initiative, exactly as designed.

"You've done it," Yudron said from the doorway. I hadn't heard him enter.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

One prototype isn't enough, I replied. I'll need to build dozens, perhaps hundreds.

Yudron approached the automaton cautiously. "How many can you create in a week?"

With proper materials and assistance, perhaps twenty. More if I simplify certain components.

"And they'll perform any task? Mining? Farming? Construction?"

Yes. They require specific tool attachments for specialized tasks, but the basic framework remains consistent.

Yudron circled the construct, examining it from all angles. "It's remarkable. Truly the work of the Prophet's chosen."

I didn't correct his religious interpretation. I'll need additional workspace and materials. And access to all current slaves to begin negotiations for their release.

"The Council has approved your requests," Yudron said. "Elder Fargill is particularly eager to see these units in action."

I'm sure he is, I replied, imagining the kobold merchant calculating potential profits.

"What will you call them? As a whole, I mean."

I considered this as I watched Worker Unit Number One standing patiently in place. These weren't truly alive, not like my other constructs that had developed personalities. They were tools designed for a specific purpose: to end the practice of slavery in the enclave.

Call them what you like, I finally decided. They are just tools.

Yudron nodded, though his awed eyes still looked upon my creation with reverence.

After a week of relentless work, my workshop transformed into an assembly line. I barely rested, pushing Assembly to its limits while creating twenty identical worker units. The final unit activated just before dawn on the seventh day, standing in perfect formation with its nineteen siblings.

Today we test your capabilities, I told them.

The units didn't respond with the enthusiasm my other constructs might have shown; no excited whirring from Rolly or curious chirps from the scout spiders. These worker units simply stood, awaiting instruction. Their silence felt almost eerie after growing accustomed to my other children's personalities.

Elder Fargill had suggested testing them at a nearby mushroom farm, which provided most of the enclave's food. The kobold merchant's interest wasn't surprising; if my units performed well, he stood to profit enormously.

I led my silent procession through the enclave streets, drawing stares from everyone we passed. Children pointed excitedly while adults whispered among themselves. Some appeared frightened, others fascinated. The worker units followed in perfect unison, their digitigrade legs clicking rhythmically against the stone streets.

The entire Elder Council awaited us at the designated farm, which was located inside a vast cavern where bioluminescent mushrooms grew in neat rows under the careful tending of goblin and orc farmers. Warm, humid air filled the space, heavy with the earthy scent of fungi and rich soil.

Morrg folded his massive arms across his chest, his bull-like face twisted in a scowl. "These are what will replace our slaves? They look weak."

Appearances can be deceiving, I replied. They're stronger than they look.

Fargill rubbed his scaled hands together eagerly. "Let's see them work."

I called to a nearby mushroom farmer, a goblin who approached nervously, eyeing my silent creations with trepidation.

Don't worry, I assured him. They follow instructions precisely.

"What you want me to do?" he asked, fidgeting with his harvesting tools.

I gestured toward the worker units. Treat them as you would any new farmhand. Show them how to tend the crops.

The goblin nodded and turned to address my constructs. His voice trembled at first as he explained the delicate process of mushroom cultivation: how to check moisture levels, identify ripe caps ready for harvesting, and trim back invasive fungi.

When he finished his instructions, the twenty units jerked into motion simultaneously. They spread throughout the field in a coordinated pattern, each taking a section of the farm. Their four arms moved with precise efficiency, checking, harvesting, and tending the mushrooms exactly as instructed.

The regular farm workers stopped to watch, their eyes wide with wonder. Even Morrg's scowl softened slightly as he observed the machines' flawless execution.

"I could make a killing with these," Fargill muttered, not bothering to hide his excitement. "How much to produce a hundred?"

Akassi, the goblin elder, grunted skeptically. "You claimed these machines are more efficient than our current workers. Is that true?"

This test will demonstrate that, I replied. Watch.

Hours passed as we observed the worker units alongside their monster counterparts. The regular laborers took breaks, drank water, rested their tired limbs. My constructs continued without pause, their movements never slowing, their precision never wavering.

"They're tireless," one of the goblin farmers whispered in awe.

Morrg and Sathrak eventually departed. The minotaur left from boredom, the lizardman exited to attend to security duties. The remaining elders watched the demonstration with increasing interest as the day progressed.

Ten hours after we began, Yudron finally called an end to the test. The regular workers had cycled through shifts twice, while my constructs had worked continuously.

"Remarkable," Yudron said. "Truly remarkable. I believe we can call this test an unqualified success."

Fargill nodded enthusiastically. "These machines will revolutionize everything! Our production will double, perhaps triple!"

Akassi seemed less convinced. "We may be moving too quickly. Such change brings consequences we cannot foresee."

"Bah!" Fargill waved away her concerns. "Progress waits for no one. How soon can you have more units ready for distribution?" he asked me.

I can produce one hundred within a month, provided I have the necessary materials.

The kobold's eyes gleamed with naked greed. "Excellent! I'll ensure you have everything you need."

And the human slaves? I pressed.

Yudron stepped forward. "The Council will honor our agreement. Once your creations are ready to assume their duties, the human slaves will be set free."

I nodded, satisfied with this answer. Then I should return to my workshop. There's much to do.

"What about these units?" Fargill asked, gesturing to the twenty worker constructs still tending mushrooms.

They're yours now, I replied. Do with them as you please.

The kobold merchant laughed, a high-pitched sound of pure delight. He rushed over to the nearest unit and barked an order to harvest a specific patch. The machine immediately complied, turning from its current task to fulfill Fargill's command.

I watched for a moment longer as Fargill continued testing the units' responsiveness, his excitement growing with each successful instruction. These weren't my children; not like Rolly or my scout spiders. They were tools created for a specific purpose: freeing the enclave's slaves.

As I turned to leave, I felt a strange emptiness. These constructs bore my maker's mark, yet I felt no connection to them. They would serve their purpose without complaint, without joy, without the quirky personalities my other creations developed.

I'm doing good here, I reminded myself. The slaves would soon be free. That was what mattered.

With that thought firmly in mind, I left my creations behind and headed back to my workshop. I had many more units to build, and time was of the essence.

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