WorldCrafter - Building My Underground Kingdom-Chapter 178 - The Destroyed City
178: The Destroyed City
178: The Destroyed City
The knight snorted.
“Overconfident will lead to someone demise.
This one’s got talent, but no discipline.
You can’t just brute-force your way through gods and monsters.”
Ben wiped sweat from his brow.
“Who’s over confidence?
I know I’m lacking.”
“Then shut up and swing,” the knight snapped.
“Lesson’s not over until you can beat me.”
Ben had tried sparring with the system countless times, and every single session ended the same way, him flat on his back, without landing a single blow.
It wasn’t because their strength was wildly different.
Technically, they drew from the same source, minus the relic boosts.
But skill?
That was the real gap.
It was like handing the same blade to a green recruit and a real master.
No contest.
Worse, Ben still hadn’t mastered the pickaxe’s active skills.
The issue always came down to the same thing, mana control.
He had the power, sure, but the second he tried to channel a skill, his mana scattered like a smoke.
Precision was the key, and unfortunately, brute force wasn’t enough.
To activate a skill, he had to thread the mana carefully, sustain it, guide it.
It was like trying to thread a needle while sprinting through a battlefield.
Three hours later, training finally ended.
Ben collapsed onto a bench, sweat-soaked and panting.
Elvira floated over behind him, her hands already starting to work the tension from his shoulders.
“My beloved, want something to drink?” she asked sweetly, offering him an ice-cold soda with a flick of her wrist.
“Yeah.
Thanks.”
He took the bottle and downed half in one gulp without asking where it came from.
He already knew, it was one of Elvira’s side projects.
She’d been quietly recreating small comforts from his old world.
Things like soda didn’t take much effort for her, but after their last conversation, he understood why she did it.
It wasn’t just for fun.
She wanted to make him feel at home.
This make Ben appreciate her further.
“By the way,” she said, still massaging his shoulders, “why do you always look so beat up after training with the system?”
“You don’t feel anything?”
She tilted her head.
“Feel what?”
Ben exhaled through his nose.
“Hmm.
So the system only affects me directly then…” He clicked his tongue in irritation.
“Every time we train, it’s like I’m under a gravity field cranked a hundred times.”
Elvira blinked, then nodded slowly.
“So that’s why you’re always so wrecked after sparring… I thought you were just bad at fighting.”
“Thanks,” Ben said dryly.
She chuckled and leaned closer.
“But that also means the system’s anchoring the pressure straight into your body.
No wonder I can’t sense it.
That kind of training… it’s insane.”
Ben grunted.
“Yeah.
But that’s probably why it works.”
She glanced back toward the training area, brows furrowed in thought.
‘To be able to do all that without me noticing…
even while I’m watching closely?
As expected from the system that can create artifact.’
It made her wonder again, just what was the system?
And who had created it?
Elvira leaned back, watching Ben silently.
She remembered what he had said once, about the system, how it supposedly came from the Templars, before they split.
But she had never truly believed that.
If the Templars could create something like the system, they would never have struggled so much against the Daemons.
They wouldn’t have been desperate enough to sacrifice entire worlds to delay their doom.
No, Elvira was convinced of one thing: the Templars didn’t create it.
They found something.
Modified it into this system they could barely control.
But its true origin?
She had no answer.
And that thought worried her more than she liked to admit.
Meanwhile, Ben remained completely oblivious to her thoughts.
His mind was too busy grinding through something else, how to properly use the pickaxe’s skills.
According to the system, if he wanted even a sliver of a chance against the Ashking, he’d need to master them all.
Of course, Ben had no plans to fight the Ashking in a head-on clash like some idiot hero.
No, he was already thinking of traps.
Some method to debuff the ashking, if possible even use poison.
Anything to stack the odds before a single blow was exchanged.
Draeven had promised he was preparing somethin.
But Ben didn’t trust that alone.
You never bet everything on one card, especially not against a monster that had survived countless wars and betrayals.
Even the Magus have so many thrump card, thinking about this made Ben’s mood sour.
He grimaced slightly.
The memories he had devoured still haunted him, not because of what he learned, like the shocking difference between the Magus’s mana control and his own.
No, what gnawed at him was something worse.
The life the Magus had left behind.
Someone waiting for him.
Ben pushed the thought away.
‘It’s not my problem.’
He knew it sounded cruel.
But this was the truth of war.
Every enemy had a family.
Every battle left behind grieving souls.
If he let that guilt bury him, he’d be dead long before reaching the future he fought for.
Someday, maybe, when he was strong enough to protect everything without compromise…
Ben and Elvira left the security post, their steps echoing faintly through the mostly empty streets.
It didn’t take long for them to notice.
Everywhere they went, eyes peeked from windows, only to vanish the moment Ben’s gaze turned toward them.
Doors shut quietly.
Curtains dropped.
Conversations died in mid-sentence.
“Seem your fight from before has already spread.” Elvira said with a chuckle.
Ben replied with a nod, he doesn’t find it weird rumour spread fast, faster than fire.
The streets themselves were littered with trash, broken crates, tattered banners, half-rotted produce crushed underfoot.
The scent of dried blood still lingered faintly in the hot air, mixing with the sulfurous breath of the lava channels running around the city.
Ben clicked his tongue once.
“A city abandoned by its leaders.”
Elvira gave a small, humorless smile.
“It looks like a place waiting to die.”
They walked further, crossing a cracked stone bridge.
It brought them into a wider plaza, and there, the true remnant of the recent chaos showed themselves.
Entire blocks reduced to piles of shattered stone and blackened wood.
What few walls still stood were carved with deep gouges, the marks of heavy swords and brutal fighting.
Scorched ground spread out from the plaza’s center, and here and there were pits, collapsed tunnels, maybe where fire magic had been used, or worse.
Ben stood silently, taking it all in.
Elvira brushed her fingers against one of the shattered pillars, then pulled back, her touch coming away with soot.
“This is where it happened,” she murmured.
Ben’s eyes sharpened.
The way the damage spread told a story: barricades built and broken, last stands made and crushed.
One side had been slaughtered.
He crossed his arms slowly.
“How many you think resent the old reagent?”
Elvira stepped beside him.
“Probably everyone.
Or at least the majority, but in situation like this they will prioritize their own survival.”
Ben nodded to himself.
After chaos like this, people’s first thought wouldn’t be revenge.
It would be survival.
“How do we eat tomorrow?
That’s the real question,” he muttered.
He scanned the deserted streets again.
“Seems like the Nephirid who survived all this went out hunting.
Probably why we haven’t seen a single one wandering around, aside from Zarnak.”
Elvira brushed some dust from her cloak.
“Or maybe they left with the nobles.”
Ben shook his head lightly.
“I doubt it.
Not all of them, anyway.”
He looked up toward the broken skyline, voice steady.
“The Nephirid are warriors.
Prideful, stubborn.
Each one follows their own will more than their banners.
They won’t all just roll over and run because some rich cowards decided to flee.”
They kept walking, following the path that led into the heart of the elite district.
The difference was clear the moment they crossed the boundary.
The stonework was cleaner, the houses larger, adorned with ornamental carvings and obisidian gates, but now all of it sat abandoned.
Many of the doors had been forced open.
Looters, desperate or opportunistic, had already picked through the empty homes.
Windows were shattered.
Furniture was overturned.
A few half-burned banners still hung from broken walls, fluttering weakly in the heated breeze.
Elvira glanced at a group of rough-looking scavengers slipping out of a side gate with armfuls of goods.
“Are you going to stop them?” she asked casually.
Ben watched them for a moment, then shook his head.
“Let them be.
They need to eat.
And I doubt anything truly valuable was left behind anyway.”
He swept his gaze across the mansions.
“But the houses themselves… those will be useful.”
Before he even finished the thought, Elvira’s hand shot up, pointing eagerly at a three-story manor crowned with arched balconies and obsidian-tiled roofs.
“That one’s mine!” she declared with a grin.
Ben raised an eyebrow.
“What you need it for?”
Elvira gave a haughty sniff, folding her arms.
“Of course for my own private spot.
I need a place away from prying eyes, somewhere quiet… somewhere I do without any disguise.”
Her smile turned slightly mischievous.
“Besides, don’t you want me to make more ‘useful’ toys for you?
I can also use it as my personal lab”
Ben snorted, amused.
“Fine.
You can have it.
But you’re fixing it yoruself.”
