"So you're saying, the fastest we can get it built is still twenty days?"
At the shipyard construction site, Chen Yu crouched on the railing, staring at the busy scene below. The massive skeleton of the fortress was reflected in his eyes.
Under the sun's rays, the skeleton's outline resembled a slumbering behemoth—quiet, yet brimming with power.
Anvil stood beside him, wiping sweat and grease from his forehead, his voice tinged with helplessness.
"Your Majesty, even if we work non-stop without rest, the fastest we can complete the basic structure is half a month. Then we still need to leave five days for debugging. The floating fortress has many intricate magic formations and alchemical instruments; they can't be tested in a short while."
"Our original plan was to use half a year for testing, but now... it seems we obviously don't have that much time to spare."
Chen Yu pondered.
The orc army's return from the Forge Region, the slime army's northward march from the Southern Territory—both required time. Coordinating all parties, devising tactics, assigning tasks—all that needed time too.
Even if everything went smoothly, the fastest they could advance on the royal capital was about ten days.
This ancient silver dragon told him that the conditions for the Trial of Kingship were numerous—it required a crown, territory, a church, knights, merchants, commoners... it required a complete, entire "kingdom" system.
The Trial of Kingship wasn't that simple.
But clearly, Casaric had already made quite a few preparations for this; even the church had been strategically placed.
Ten days. No more.
They had to assemble within ten days, then join forces with the orcs and the Third Prince to besiege the royal capital.
Yet the floating fortress's construction and deployment would take at least twenty days at the fastest.
Clearly, they couldn't wait that long.
Chen Yu hopped down from the railing, landing in front of Anvil. The dwarf artisan was a whole head taller than him, but at this moment, he hung his head low, like a child who had done something wrong.
"It's not your fault. Time is insufficient; no one can do anything about that." Chen Yu swayed his gel body reassuringly.
"The demons likely can't withstand a large army, but who knows what other schemes they have? Casaric himself also needs to be guarded against."
But he wasn't completely without a plan either.
He turned and left, muttering under his breath about "feeling pain," "Demon King's power," and other things Anvil couldn't understand.
Anvil stood where he was, watching that round, rolling slime float up into the air until it disappeared at the horizon, before finally snapping back to reality.
"Teacher, are you alright?" A young dwarf apprentice approached, holding a bundle of rivets.
Anvil took a deep breath and waved a big hand. "What could be wrong with me! Hurry up and work! Before the war arrives, we'll accomplish as much as we can!"
He took the rivets from the apprentice's hands, turned, walked toward the fortress skeleton, climbed the scaffolding, and continued working.
The sound of hammers striking metal echoed in the pit bottom, *clang clang clang*, like a battle hymn directed at the fortress.
An unknown amount of time passed.
The sky went from bright to dark. Within the shipyard construction site, the glow of Gray Gravel Crystals replaced the sunlight, illuminating the entire pit bottom as if it were daytime.
The artisans dared not rest. Selene, dwarves, humans—craftsmen of different races collaborated toward the same goal, striving with all their might to build this colossal object and make it fly.
Anvil stood on the platform at the top of the fortress, holding blueprints in his hand, directing artisans below as they installed magic formation guide rails.
"Left, a bit more to the left. No, that's too much, come back a little, good! Right there, secure it!"
A human artisan climbed up, carrying a water flask and bread.
"Master, you should rest a bit. It's time for shift change." The artisan's voice was full of concern.
Anvil took the flask, gulped down a large mouthful, then shoved it back, not even glancing at the bread.
"Can't rest." His eyes remained fixed on the construction below. "This project must be supervised. Only I and those sages fully understand these blueprints. I can't let you all mess around; I have to keep watch."
"But—"
"No buts." Anvil cut him off, his voice stern, but then softened again. "Go rest. Have the next shift come to relieve me. I... I'll keep watch a while longer."
The artisan wanted to say more, but seeing Anvil's stubborn gaze, he ultimately gave up. He sighed, climbed down the platform, and went to wake his resting companions.
With no one left to persuade him, Anvil once again devoted himself wholeheartedly to the work.
Hammer strikes, rivet fastening, guide rail calibration, rune inscription... every task required his personal inspection, his personal confirmation.
The floating fortress wasn't an ordinary building; it was a precise magical construct. Any single mistake in any link could lead to catastrophic consequences.
He could not make a mistake.
Time ticked by, second by second.
The next morning, golden morning light spilled over the land.
When the relief shift artisans climbed onto the platform, they were shocked to find Anvil still standing there.
At this moment, apart from a few more bloodshot eyes, this dwarf artisan seemed fine mentally, still directing things methodically.
"Master, are you really not going to rest at all?" the newly arrived artisan asked.
"The project is still far behind. I can't rest now."
"But...."
Artisans gathered around, wanting to persuade him.
Anvil took a deep breath and patted his chest.
"That I, Anvil, can stand here like a true dwarf, engaged in the work I love, is entirely a gift from His Majesty."
"Now is a moment of crisis for the Kingdom's survival. I cannot rest. For the glory of the Copperfire Clan, even if I work myself to death, I will die on this treasure."
The artisans exchanged glances, but in the end, they could only shake their heads and work alongside him.
The third day.
Fatigue began to show on Anvil's face. Clearly, willpower alone couldn't offset physical exhaustion.
His movements began to slow, his reactions grew dull. Once, he even almost fell off the platform, saved only by an artisan nearby pulling him back.
This was starting to delay the project's progress. He originally intended to rest on the spot for an hour to recover, then continue working after waking up, but he still couldn't rest easy.
So around noon, he gathered several foremen to inquire about the progress of various tasks.
"Skeleton frame: ninety percent complete."
"Outer shell: seventy percent complete."
"Magic formation guide rail installation: sixty percent complete."
"Power chamber... fifty percent complete."
Listening to the reports, Anvil's heart sank bit by bit.
Even at the current speed, wanting to complete construction and activate this floating fortress would still take eighteen days.
Eighteen days.
And they might not even have ten days.
Not enough. Time was still not enough...
"Do we have any other help?" he asked.
A slime artisan hopped over, its body wriggling a few times, making a *squelch squelch* sound.
"Great Sage Selene says she can come early to begin debugging, but she needs to wait until they supervise the completion of the final magic formation guide rails."
Even if Selene started debugging early, that would still require thirteen days.
Thirteen days.
Still not enough.
"Not enough... not enough..." He muttered like a madman, turned, walked toward the workbench, picked up his hammer, and continued striking, completely forgetting his earlier intention to rest.
The hammer fell, rivets were secured. Every strike of his seemed to pound all his heart's blood, sweat, even his very life into this miracle.
Sweat gradually blurred his vision.
He didn't care. His world now held only the hammer, rivets, guide rails, and the fortress.
He needed more time.
To fight for more time.
Gradually, he felt his consciousness growing somewhat fuzzy, as if his very soul were merging into this magnificent fortress.
In his daze, he heard some sounds.
Like singing, yet also like whispers, pleasant and crisp.
He tried to listen clearly, but his consciousness was already fading.
Sleepiness surged up like a tide. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier, his arms grew heavier and heavier. The hammer slipped from his hand, fell onto the platform with a *clang*.
Then, he fell backward.
The world plunged into darkness.
......
Anvil jolted awake from a dream.
He sat up abruptly, finding himself lying on a bed.
The room wasn't large, but it was tidy. The walls were woven from mushroom mycelium, emitting a faint fluorescence. Beside the bed crouched a slime physician, round and rolling, its small eyes watching him with concern.
"Mmm!" The slime physician made a pleased sound upon seeing him awake.
But at this moment, Anvil had only one thought in his mind: the fortress.
"How long was I unconscious?" As soon as he spoke, he found his throat terribly hoarse.
The slime physician hopped once. "Half a day. It's noon of the second day now."
Anvil threw off the blanket, jumped out of bed, hastily drank a mouthful of water, then pushed open the door and rushed out.
"Master! You still can't—" The slime physician tried to stop him, but the dwarf was already far away.
Anvil rushed out of the mushroom house, sprinting wildly along the street.
His legs were still a bit weak, making his run unsteady, but he didn't care.
He had only one goal in his mind: the shipyard construction site.
But when he rushed out of the street and reached the edge of the construction site, he froze.
The scene before his eyes was completely different from before he fainted.
Selene had arrived.
This elven great sage stood beside the fortress skeleton, holding a glowing staff, inspecting the patterns of a magic formation. Several elven sages accompanied her; some were inscribing runes, others were adjusting instruments.
But that wasn't what shocked Anvil the most.
Overnight, dozens of golems had appeared around the construction site.
Some were transporting materials, some were cutting metal, some were installing parts—their movements fluid, their efficiency astonishing.
The work speed of one golem matched that of five skilled artisans, and they weren't afraid of hardship or fatigue.
Besides that, many mage apprentices and farmers had also come to help with the work on the site.
And standing before the shipyard railing was a mage Anvil had never seen before.
His hair was sparse and graying, but his back was ramrod straight, his eyes bright and piercing. He wore a deep blue mage's robe embroidered with complex runes.
At this moment, he was looking up at the floating fortress before him, his gaze even more enthralled than Anvil's.
"Incredible..." the mage murmured, his voice full of awe. "Truly incredible..."
Only upon truly seeing this colossal object did Samuel finally understand why His Majesty had looked down on his own ideas.
To be honest, he looked down on them now too.
Anvil walked over. A slime artisan introduced him: "This is Master Samuel, a great mage from the Merchant Alliance. His Majesty invited him to help."
"Welcome here." Anvil greeted him amiably.
Hearing the voice, Samuel turned his head. Seeing Anvil, his eyes brightened slightly, and he proactively extended a hand.
"Not at all. You must be Master Anvil, right? Being able to participate in such a magical engineering project is truly an honor for me."
This didn't sound like mere politeness; it seemed more heartfelt.
Anvil was taken aback for a moment, his favorable impression of this mage who loved magical engineering greatly increasing.
"Welcome. With your help, progress should speed up considerably."
At that moment, Selene walked over.
"How are you feeling?"
"Won't die." Anvil waved his hand, eagerly asking, "What's the progress now? With these golems helping, how much earlier can we finish?"
Selene pondered for a few seconds.
"The golems' efficiency is very high. The apprentices this master brought are also very capable," she said. "If everything goes smoothly, we might have a chance to complete construction within ten days."
"Of course, we might also not make it. We can only pray everything goes smoothly."
Ten days.
Anvil breathed a sigh of relief.
Though still very tight, it was much better than the previous eighteen days.
He didn't waste time on chatting and quickly threw himself back into the work.
...
Time blinked past another two days.
During these two days, violent changes occurred within the Kingdom.
The Magical Creature Legion left the Dark Realm, and the Merchant Alliance army left Misty Bay Harbor. The two great armies converged in the south, then continued northward, heading to the predetermined assembly point for a second rendezvous with the Restoration Army, where they would await orders.
Simultaneously, the Extraordinary within the Kingdom also took action.
Due to Chen Yu's "mysterious disappearance," they currently obeyed the dispatches of the Kingdom's decision-making council.
Little Flower sat in the deputy seat, issuing commands in her soft, glutinous voice, while slime scholars recorded, conveyed, and executed them beside her.
Besides the many Extraordinary professionals, even the other two bishops of the Great Slime Religion, Lya and Rem, were dispatched to the front lines, preparing to cooperate with Casimir in launching a holy war.
Only a few believers remained behind in the Kingdom, responsible for comforting the populace and conducting prayers.
No one knew if the Slime God would respond, but at least it could bring some peace of mind.
Clearly, this time, the Slime Kingdom was exerting its utmost effort.
All forces that could be mobilized, all resources that could be used, all time that could be fought for—everything was staked on this war.
However, right at this critical juncture, bad news came from the shipyard construction site.
"BOOM—!"
An explosion sounded from within the fortress, shaking the entire construction site. Ash and smoke billowed out from the opening of the power chamber, like a wounded beast gasping for breath.
"Damn it!"
Anvil was the first to rush over.
When he charged into the chamber, he saw a scene of devastation. Mithril guide rails were twisted and deformed, crystal fragments were scattered everywhere, the walls were blackened with soot, and the air was filled with the smell of burning and leaking mana.
Fortunately, no one was killed or seriously injured.
When the explosion occurred, only one human artisan was inside the chamber debugging. He reacted quickly, escaped in time, and only suffered minor injuries.
But the chamber was ruined.
Anvil crouched in the wreckage, picking up a piece of twisted mithril.
The metal was still hot to the touch, but he only felt his heart turn cold, as if doused with a basin of ice water.
The mithril guide rails and crystals could be replaced, but repairing the destroyed chamber meant dismantling, clearing, rebuilding, reinstalling...
That required time.
And their time was already running out.