Holls returned to his blacksmith shop and began packing whatever he could still call his own.
Thanks to Steve's "help," that wasn't much. Most of his valuable metals and tools had already found their way into the golem's bottomless inventory. What remained were essentials for survival—some tongs, a hammer, a few spare chisels, and the furnace bellows Steve hadn't bothered taking.
He'd seen his own anvil sitting proudly in Steve's new home, right beside the golem's furnace.
If Steve was willing, Holls could still forge as usual—the only difference was that his workshop had moved from the town… to the cube lord's village.
He tied his oil barrel tight and began to load his cart.
"Mr. Holls, what's all this?" his neighbor called out curiously from across the street.
Holls smiled. "I'm moving to Moonlight Village."
Moonlight Village—the place where Steve now lived.
The neighbor's face drained of color. He lowered his voice immediately. "You mean that thing lives there? The golem? Someone recognized villagers from that place walking the same road it took! You shouldn't go near it, Holls. Isn't it safer and easier staying here in town?"
Holls understood his fear. Even those who knew Steve was just a puppet couldn't shake the unease that came from its lifeless gaze and mechanical movements.
"Don't worry about me," he reassured, brushing it off with a laugh. After a few more calming words, he hitched up his pack and started toward the horizon.
He'd planned to hire a carriage, but for some reason, no driver was willing to travel that route. Everyone seemed strangely afraid of the road to Moonlight Village. So, he walked.
By the time he reached the village outskirts, dusk had settled—a bruised purple sky, faint mist curling over the fields.
And far behind him, back in town, a different story began to unfold.
...
A heavy knock echoed against the now-empty blacksmith's door.
Standing outside was a broad-shouldered man clad in white armor, his chest engraved with the golden insignia of the Holy Cross Church. A longsword hung at his waist, partly hidden under a white cloak.
Even under the dim light, the man seemed to emit his own glow, his presence noble yet oppressive.
"Is the blacksmith here?" he asked, voice calm but commanding.
No answer.
The neighbor peeked out his window again. "Who's asking?"
"I came to have a weapon repaired," the man said, polite but unwavering. His tone carried the kind of righteousness that allowed no deceit.
"Oh, bad timing," the neighbor replied. "Mr. Holls moved out this morning—to Moonlight Village."
"Moonlight Village? Where is that?"
"That way," the neighbor pointed vaguely, frowning. "But you're wasting your time. He moved on a whim—probably doesn't even have his tools set up yet."
The man gave a courteous nod, thanked him, and walked away.
The neighbor blinked after him, scratching his head. "Strange fella."
...
The knight weaved through the backstreets until he reached a secluded field, where a fine carriage stood waiting—polished wood reinforced with steel plating. Beside it stood another armored man holding the reins of a snow-white horse.
This was no ordinary carriage. Even without its banners, the craftsmanship screamed of nobility and protection.
The driver's posture was disciplined, eyes sharp as a hawk's, scanning every shadow.
Inside the carriage, a soft golden light flickered. The silhouette of a young woman appeared behind the curtained window.
"Lady Saint," the knight said, bowing low, "the town's blacksmith has moved to Moonlight Village. But I've heard troubling rumors—strange happenings, dangerous creatures."
"Moved?" A sigh. "How inconvenient…"
The knight cleared his throat. "My lady, I suggest we rest tonight and head for Whitecloud City at dawn. The city lord there is a devoted follower of the Church and would surely assist with your—"
"Not going," the girl interrupted sharply. "I don't want anyone knowing what I'm doing!"
The knight hesitated. "But—"
"You're not allowed to tell anyone either," she warned, her tone suddenly cold. "You both swore an oath."
At that, both men fell silent.
As Oathbound Knights of the Church, even the smallest vow was sacred. Breaking one would mean losing the Church's divine protection—and possibly their lives.
The knight exhaled quietly. Maybe someone from town will notice, he thought. My armor still bears the sigil—they'll recognize it and report back.
He'd even lingered in the Adventurers' Guild earlier, just to make himself memorable. Surely someone had seen him.
"Then we're going to Moonlight Village," the Saint declared.
The knight frowned. "My lady, that place is unsafe. There was a beast attack not long ago—and rumors of a mysterious mage commanding an unnatural puppet."
She smiled sweetly. "But you can protect me, can't you?"
The knight's jaw tightened. "…Of course."
"Then it's settled! Let's go!" she chirped, clapping her hands.
The driver coughed politely. "My lady, you haven't eaten—and your evening prayer remains undone."
"Ah—forget the prayer. But yes, I am hungry."
The knight seized the opportunity. "Allow me to fetch food from town, then. We can depart at dawn."
"Fine, fine," she sighed. "We'll camp here tonight."
The knight bowed and left, pulling back his cloak as he walked. The holy sigil gleamed proudly on his chestplate.
Someone has to notice me, he thought grimly. They have to.
...
Far below the surface, Steve's torchlight flickered against damp stone.
He had slipped into an underground lake, climbed out onto solid ground, and found himself in a vast cavern glittering with ghostly white stalactites and pillars of rock.
The air smelled of minerals and echo.
He wasn't worried about danger. Whatever world this was, it had its spawn rate for natural monsters dialed way down. No skeletons lurking in the shadows to snipe him.
Probably.
Still, other mods might be active, so he kept his guard up.
He mined a few stalactites, checking their recipes. They looked different from the ones he knew, but they functioned just like vanilla dripstones—same mechanics, same uses.
He smiled faintly. "Good for lava duplication, then."
Torch by torch, he followed the tunnel downward. The path sloped naturally, leading him deeper into the earth.
And soon, his eyes widened.
The walls were veined with gems—blue, red, green, purple—glimmering faintly like stars trapped in stone.
Everywhere he looked, crystal.
It reminded him of the Amethyst Geodes from his old world.
But these weren't amethysts… and they weren't emeralds either. When he tested them with a stone pickaxe, they shattered instantly into glittering dust.
The air filled with sparkling motes, bursting like tiny fireworks before fading away.
He switched to his iron pickaxe and struck again. This time, the crystal came loose cleanly.
He examined it.
[Mana Crystal]
Found within crystal veins. Contains dense magical energy. Primary component for crafting enchanted tools and constructs.
Magic?
He scrolled through the JEI list, curiosity sparking.
Dozens of new items lit up.
There were Mana Picks, Arcane Greatswords—even Mana Leather, made by combining the crystals with hide to forge lightweight armor equal in defense to iron, but with innate resistance to magic.
You could even sprinkle powdered mana crystals like redstone to draw glowing magic circles on the ground.
And that wasn't all. There were recipes for enchanted circuits, mystical lamps, even runic reactors.
Steve's square face might not show emotion—but his eyes, if he had any, would have been shining.
"Good stuff," he muttered.
Very good stuff.