"Ha! You should've seen the look on Nick Fury's face—it was priceless!" Tony Stark slapped his thigh as he burst into laughter. Ever since Solomon had dealt with that shapeshifting alien, Stark had been eagerly anticipating this moment. After Fury mysteriously disappeared for three days and reappeared at SHIELD headquarters with a half-baked excuse for Alexander Pierce, Stark wasted no time. He suited up in his Iron Man armor and confronted Fury, spilling the beans about the Skrull incident.
The brief flash of astonishment on Fury's face was enough for Stark to feel vindicated. Finally, he had outmaneuvered Fury in the realm of intelligence. Discovering Phase Two aboard the Helicarrier had been satisfying, but this—this was so much better. Jubilant, Stark rushed back to his mansion and immediately called Solomon to share the victory.
Even the neighborhood dogs had to know about this!
He'd already regaled Pepper Potts with the story. When Solomon stepped through a portal into Stark's home, Tony launched into the tale yet again. Pepper, seated nearby, wore a bemused smile. She had just returned after dealing with Stark Tower renovations, and this was the third time she'd heard the same story—first from Stark's bodyguard, Happy, then from Tony himself. For the sake of Stark's fragile ego, Pepper feigned mild astonishment to humor him.
As Solomon arrived, however, Tony's enthusiasm showed no signs of waning. Pepper, sensing an escape, stood up and smiled.
"I'll leave you boys to it," she said warmly.
Then, as she turned to leave, her smile vanished. In one swift motion, she snatched a throw pillow from the couch and hurled it into Tony's face.
"Women," Tony muttered in shock, pulling the pillow away and watching as Pepper clicked her heels up the stairs. "Why are they so impossible to understand? How have I never realized this before?"
"I'd say it's karma for your past escapades," Solomon quipped. "Women never forget. Just because they don't say it doesn't mean they don't remember."
"How do you know so much?" Stark asked, wide-eyed.
"Because…" Solomon paused, recalling last night's ordeal. After Jeanne had embarrassingly demanded a gift, her frustration had reached a breaking point, and she'd drawn her gun. The apartment's atmosphere had turned unbearably awkward. As usual, Jeanne's pride couldn't stand up to Bayonetta, who had stepped in and hugged her before things spiraled further. In that fleeting moment of solidarity, the witches united against a common target: Solomon. At Bayonetta's subtle urging, Solomon had played along, ensuring the witches calmed down.
Thus, Solomon had spent the night in his Kamar-Taj quarters, clutching Cheshire Cat and Phoenix for comfort. Who needed witches when Phoenix could sing?
"Let's skip this topic."
"Fine." Tony finally brought up business. "I finished machining the parts based on your schematics. Everything's in the basement." He glanced behind Solomon, disappointed not to see any new marvels. "You promised I'd witness the birth of a magical robot. But ever since you took that metal skeleton home, I haven't seen it. Why not bring it back? Instead, you've had me crafting weird gears and levers. What gives?"
"That alchemical skeleton needs an alchemical soul—a true artificial intelligence. Ever heard of a homunculus? That's my creation, an alchemical construct imbued with a fragment of my own life force. It's my assistant in alchemy. Unlike the purely flesh-and-blood homunculi from lore, mine are made of magical materials." Solomon's explanation left Stark on the edge of his seat, eager to see the fabled mechanical maid.
But Solomon's next words dashed his hopes. "Now it's time to place the alchemical skeleton in the incubation chamber. You won't be seeing it. And, by the way, I'll need you to help design its wardrobe—like in the blueprints. Keep this under wraps, or you'll never meet my maid! Damn it, even Romanoff seems to know too much about my little hobbies."
"I won't comment on your preferences," Tony said with a raised eyebrow. "But fine, I swear—unless a spy leaks those files, no one else will know. So, why are you here? Those parts don't look like they could assemble into a humanoid machine. Are you planning to use magic to make them work?"
"You guessed right." Solomon stood up. "Constructs serve to protect me, while offensive roles require different designs. I can't always rely on weapons or fists to fight—that's too far removed from my expertise. By the way, I hope you didn't pre-assemble the parts. If you did, I'll have to disassemble and start over."
"Can I watch?" Tony asked, shrugging. "At the very least, I want to see you wind these robots up."
"The proper term is 'construct,'" Solomon corrected as he headed toward the basement. Construct assembly was far cheaper than creating golems. Though less powerful than flesh golems (Challenge Rating 2) and far less intelligent than his alchemical mechanical maid, these constructs were cost-effective, obedient, and quick to assemble during short or long rests. With the parts ready, Solomon planned to complete two or three constructs today. Once his alchemical soul was ready and installed in the maid, the constructs would serve as her army, allowing Solomon to focus on spellcasting from the safety of the rear.
"I didn't peg you as a steampunk enthusiast," Stark remarked, watching Solomon assemble the brass-colored components. As Solomon worked, he chanted incantations, slotting gears and levers into place. When he finished, Tony noticed that Solomon hadn't installed any power source. Yet the 2.5-meter-tall construct, its exposed gears glinting, stood upright and moved to the side on Solomon's command.
The construct was unique—it lacked arms, replaced instead by two long, sharp blades where hands would typically be. Even its legs ended in cutting edges. For simplicity, Solomon had foregone intricate facial details, opting to affix a high-intensity lightbulb from Stark's stockpile to its cylindrical head. A circular glass cover added a rudimentary touch.
Even though JARVIS had recorded Solomon's incantations, Stark found himself unable to replicate them. Every time he tried speaking the words aloud, they stuck in his throat. "What gives?" he asked. "Why can't I say the incantations? And how do these robots move?"
"Because I infused them with magic during assembly," Solomon replied without looking up, swiftly moving on to the second construct. His speed was honed from assembling countless Bandai Gundams. "Magic isn't just about chanting words. Without understanding it, reciting spells can cause a backlash. You're lucky you don't have magic—your recklessness would've turned you into mincemeat."
"Alright, fine," Tony muttered, suspicious but lacking evidence to argue. "One more thing: do these robots run on electricity? I doubt magic alone powers those lightbulbs. Damn it, can you make it stop staring at me? Shut the light off!"
"Of course they use electricity—though not the kind you're thinking of." Solomon ordered the construct to dim its light and opened its chest cavity. "Here's the power source."
"What's that?" Stark asked, pointing to the small wooden stick positioned between two electrode-like structures. "Is this some sort of wooden battery?"
"This is a Lightning Bolt Wand (3rd level)," Solomon explained. "It recharges itself daily by absorbing magical energy. These constructs can do more than just melee combat."
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