Re:Crafting in Another World
Chapter 98: Arrival of Danger

Chapter 98: Arrival of Danger

Cassandra moved down the stone corridor, her every step slow and deliberate. The flickering sunlight seeped through the windows danced on the walls, casting shadows that seemed to reach for her as if whispering secrets from the dark. Her gloved hand hovered near the guest chamber’s ornate door handle, but she did not yet touch it. She already felt the presence within. Heavy, unmistakable, almost regal in its quiet weight. She knew exactly who it was. Everyone in Sturgon did.

"Of course it would be him..." she muttered under her breath, brushing a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear.

The hallway outside the guest chambers had transformed. The knights of the Order One were stationed like statues, their polished silver-and-crimson armor gleaming. Their hands rested on the hilts of their swords, though none made a move. Their presence was suffocating.

"Order One was the most prestigious order in Strugon, possessing enough power to influence even the decisions of the throne. In a way, among all thirteen orders, Order One was the only one that held true power.

Are they here for me? Cassandra wondered, though she quickly brushed the thought away. No. This was standard. The Order never left their lord unguarded. Especially not this one.

One of the knights noticed her approach and gave a subtle nod. Without a word, he turned and gently opened the door.

A warm, herbal fragrance wafted from within.

Inside, a man sat comfortably on one of the velvet-cushioned chairs near the hearth, legs crossed with practiced elegance. His hair shimmered with a golden hue, though it leaned more toward a pale blonde under the firelight. His every movement was deliberate, refined — the sort of grace that could only be born of noble blood and battlefield command.

Cassandra composed herself quickly, stepping forward and bowing lightly.

"Lord Juno Marciel," she said, offering a smile both polite and cautious. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence in my humble barony?"

Juno raised his gaze from the teacup in his hand and offered a thin, appreciative smile.

"Cassandra," he said, his voice smooth, low, and calm. "Always a delight to be received by such grace. Your maid has excellent taste. This tea is... remarkable."

"I’m glad it suits your palate," Cassandra replied, seating herself across from him. "It’s a local blend from the Lirien groves. We’ve been cultivating it for years."

"A fine achievement," Juno mused, swirling the liquid in his cup thoughtfully. "It’s rare to find such care in the little things. Most barons are more concerned with coin and cattle than comfort."

Cassandra chuckled softly. "We do what we can. Comfort, after all, brings loyalty."

Juno’s eyes sparkled faintly at her answer. Then, the air shifted. The relaxed mask did not fall, but Cassandra could sense the weight behind his next words.

"Comfort. Loyalty. Wise words. And yet... I fear my visit cannot remain entirely pleasant."

She sat straighter. "I expected as much."

He set his cup down on the small lacquered table between them. "I’ve come under orders from the throne. There are rumors — no, more than that — reports of a dungeon that’s appeared within the bounds of your territory."

Cassandra’s smile froze just slightly at the corners. "Ah, yes. That."

Juno leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers steepled. "The throne has deemed it necessary that I assess the dungeon personally. If it proves to be dangerous, I am to neutralize it. If it proves valuable... it will be claimed as state property."

The words fell like stones into her stomach. She kept her expression even, though her fingers curled slightly around the hem of her dress.

"I understand the concern," she said smoothly. "But I do believe the adventurers may have exaggerated their experiences. You know how they are — spinning tales of doom and glory over a pint."

"Indeed," Juno said, his lips curling into a half-smile. "But not all tales are false. The Order doesn’t mobilize over tavern gossip."

Cassandra crossed her legs, careful to seem relaxed. "The dungeon seems typical, truly. No different than any of the lesser rifts that appear now and then. Dangerous, yes — but manageable. The local guild has already begun organizing clean-up teams."

"Hmm," Juno hummed, as if weighing her words. "Even so, I will have to inspect it. I trust you don’t object?"

Her heart skipped a beat. She wanted to object. Desperately. But this wasn’t a man one could refuse.

"Of course not," she said, voice light. "You’re more than welcome. We’ll make the necessary preparations for your team."

Juno stood, brushing a hand over his tunic to straighten it. "I appreciate your cooperation. I know this sort of disruption can be... inconvenient."

"You’re just doing your duty," she replied with a nod.

He paused at the doorway, glancing back at her with a thoughtful expression. "Ah, one more thing."

Cassandra’s heart beat faster. "Yes?"

"Baron Jamie Percival. I was hoping to have a word with him while I’m here. I’ve heard little from his estate lately."

Cassandra blinked once, slowly, then forced a small, practiced smile.

"Baron Percival is... unwell," she said, carefully choosing each word. "He hasn’t been receiving visitors. A lingering fever, I believe."

Juno tilted his head slightly. "Is that so?"

He held her gaze for a moment longer, and in that silence, Cassandra felt the tension thicken like smoke. Then, just as suddenly, the moment passed.

"Well, I won’t press. I hope he recovers quickly."

Juno moved toward the door, his knights parting silently to let him pass. Before exiting, he turned once more and offered a charming, almost boyish smile.

"I will be remaining in your barony for a time while the investigation is underway. I look forward to working with pleasant people like yourself."

Cassandra rose from her chair, offering a graceful bow. "And I, with you. It’s an honor, Lord Juno."

As the door closed behind him and the muffled sounds of armored boots echoed down the corridor, Cassandra’s smile melted.

She exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging.

Damn it all...I should have expected his appearance.

***

A strange contraption—somewhere between a trolley and an alchemical gurney—squeaked as it rolled forward, metal scraping against uneven stone. Atop it lay Ukar, the massive orc’s unconscious body bound by glowing chains that pulsed faintly.

Ka’ra’s eyes narrowed, arms folded across her chest. "Shennong," she said flatly, "what is that... thing?"

Shennong pushed the device with visible effort, wiping sweat from his brow. "This," he said proudly, "is called leverage."

Yenissa tilted her head, clearly confused just as much as Ka’ra. "It looks like a trolley of humans."

"It is a trolley," Shennong agreed, tapping the side of the frame. "But enhanced with mana stone-forged wheels and frictionless bearings. I’ve used weight-distribution techniques, internal gyroscopic balance, and a core made from Lunamarite shards to reduce the effective mass. I can move a beast like Ukar with ease, see?"

Ka’ra looked at him like he’d just spoken a different language.

Yenissa blinked. "I understood maybe two of those words."

Shennong shrugged. "Just think of it as one of the wonders of the world."

Ka’ra quickly knew there was no point, so she quickly wanted to go back to the important subject.

Shennong guided the trolley to a resting platform, activating clamps that held Ukar in place. Above them, strange machinery whirred to life—coils, cables, tubes filled with glowing liquids, all converging into a pod-like structure shaped like a half-cocoon. In the center, another platform waited, clearly meant for someone else to step into it.

Yenissa stared at it for a long moment, then turned to Shennong. "Okay, what exactly is this ’Mutator’ thing supposed to do? I remember the blueprint from the Lunamarite Biome, but even with the data implanted in my head, I have no idea what this actually is."

Shennong grinned, a spark of childlike glee lighting his eyes. "The Mutator," he began, "is one of my greatest breakthroughs. It’s a biomechanical transfusion chamber. It extracts power—raw, unfiltered essence—from one creature, and bestows it onto another."

"Essence?" Ka’ra echoed. "You mean like... abilities?"

"Traits, powers, instincts, skills, even elemental affinity. Anything that defines a creature’s strength—its nature—can be copied and transferred." Shennong’s tone grew more serious. "It also works on materials. I can transfer the durability of dragonbone into iron. The regenerative properties of a jellyshroom into a cloak. But..."

"But?" Yenissa pressed.

Shennong exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "There are... complications."

Yenissa’s gaze sharpened. "Define complications."

"There’s a high risk of failure. The host—the one whose powers are taken—might die. And the receiver might suffer organ failure, mental collapse, or worse. It’s not exactly clear. This machine is a very new thing to me. I just know how to make it and I don’t know what kind of result it will give us."

Ka’ra frowned. "Then why—"

"That’s why," Shennong cut her off, turning to her, "I told you not to just find me some random orc you thought looked useful. Ukar isn’t just strong. He’s a perfect candidate. His physiology, his resilience, your hatred for him—they make him the ideal subject for extraction."

"So..." Yenissa glanced at the machine, then at Ukar’s unconscious form. "If Ukar is the host... who’s going to receive his power?"

Shennong smiled. "Who else? Me."

There was a moment of silence. Then Yenissa’s expression twisted into horror.

"Are you insane?!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the chamber like a lightning strike. "You just said this thing could kill the receiver, and now you’re volunteering yourself?! Have you listened to your own words?!"

Shennong chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Don’t worry. I’ve made some modifications. Besides, I’ve survived many dangers—"

"NO."

Yenissa’s voice cracked like a whip, filled with such force that even Ka’ra flinched.

Shennong blinked. "...Yenissa?"

She stepped toward him, her heels clicking against the stone floor. Her eyes blazed, and her energy flared with animosity so raw it sent a cold chill through the chamber. "You are not doing this. I’m telling you right now—if you even think about climbing into that machine, I will break it apart piece by piece. I don’t care how long it took you to build it."

Shennong winced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well... that would be inconvenient."

"Try me," she growled.

Ka’ra raised an eyebrow, surprised by Yenissa’s reaction. She was normally cold, calculating—but this was different. This was protective and suddenly her mind went back to a certain scene and got all hot, but she quickly reminded herself she was not in a situation to think about those kind of things.

Shennong sighed heavily. "Alright, alright. No need to go hard on me."

"Good," Yenissa snapped. "Now. Who do you actually think should go into that thing?"

Shennong folded his arms and leaned against a pillar. "Well, we could use a lower-tier candidate... but they’d need some level of attunement. Someone resilient enough to survive the transfer, but expendable enough that if they don’t, it doesn’t cripple us emotionally."

Yenissa tapped her chin. "Then maybe we find a random human. Someone who comes into the dungeon—adventurers, explorers. Test it on them first."

Shennong’s eyes lit up. "You know, that’s actually... a brilliant idea."

Ka’ra blinked. "Wait, really? I thought you’d be against that. You’re always going on about ’human potential’ and you’re a human yourself."

Shennong waved her concern off. "This is the so called ’human potential’. Someone who could survive will be my greatest achievement."

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