The flesh golem spell invented by the wizard Walkway is a unique form of life-based alchemy. It utilizes the flesh and blood of various creatures as raw materials. While these golems may lack the sheer strength of their steel counterparts, they possess an extraordinary regenerative ability—something traditional alchemy constructs lack. Furthermore, their biological nature allows for drastic modifications to their form.
Unlike traditional golems that rely on virtual souls with pre-programmed instructions, the flesh golem discards such artificial constructs entirely. Instead, it implants and modifies real souls as control units. With this method, there's a chance that some of the original creature's traits will be retained, and in rare cases, the golem may even inherit innate spells from the implanted soul.
However, this advantage comes at a cost—the difficulty of crafting flesh golems is significantly higher.
Standing in the White Tower, Punk examined the alchemy tome with sharp focus. The spacious "living room" was devoid of unnecessary furniture. Other than an alchemy workstation and a collection of materials, the room lacked even a single chair. For someone like Punk, who meditated instead of sleeping, minor comforts were nothing but a waste of time. His sole concern now was dissecting the intricate details of the spell, word by word.
As he read, his brow furrowed. While the spell required only conventional alchemy techniques, its execution was exceptionally demanding. Unlike disposable alchemical potions, a golem's construction demanded meticulous precision. Every structural adjustment had to be accounted for, and the golem's ability to withstand combat scenarios had to be carefully considered. Even minor oversights could result in catastrophic design flaws.
To summarize in one word: difficult.
In two words: extremely difficult.
In three words: absurdly, frustratingly difficult.
Yet, Punk was not one to falter in the face of challenges. As a long-lived mage, he had ample time to master these complexities. Moreover, with his systematic analysis, he could rapidly identify and correct inefficiencies—an advantage few other mages possessed.
First, he needed materials to practice on.
His gaze swept across the room.
Those two white horses… They would do nicely.
The unfortunate animals were tightly bound by enchanted vines. As if sensing their impending fate, they let out desperate, panicked cries.
Punk scowled.
"Too noisy."
A flicker of lethargy magic silenced them instantly.
With the distractions gone, the first step began—extracting the soul.
There were numerous methods for soul extraction, but ensuring the process remained intact without excessive damage required delicate precision.
A stream of ethereal blue light shimmered in Punk's palm as the spell took form. Gradually, a faint, thread-like glow emerged from the swirling brilliance and slithered into the horse's forehead. With a gentle tug, Punk pulled forth a small, trembling wisp of blue light—the creature's soul.
Since an ordinary horse lacked intelligence, its soul had no distinct shape, manifesting as nothing more than a flickering glow. Sealing the terrified, despair-ridden soul within a gemstone, Punk turned his attention to the now lifeless corpse.
With a flick of his fingers, he cast "Skinning"—a high-precision variation of the cleaning spell. Instantly, the horse's hide loosened, slipping off as though oiled, exposing the raw muscles and sinews beneath.
Next came dissection.
Summoning a razor-thin etheric scalpel, he skillfully maneuvered the floating blade, carving apart the corpse with calculated efficiency. Internal organs were extracted, muscle tissues meticulously separated, and unnecessary fat and lymph discarded.
By the time he was finished, the once-living horse had been reduced to neatly sorted piles of materials: flesh, fat, bones, hide, organs, and soul.
The next stage was assembly.
Painstakingly, Punk grafted the muscle fibers together into a humanoid shape, embedding bones to form a sturdy framework. Layer by layer, he infused the flesh with magic, reinforcing its structure and inscribing strengthening runes across its surface. Spells of fusion and refinement ensured that every component fused seamlessly, mimicking the organic cohesion of a true living being.
At last, the golem's physical form was complete.
Punk took a step back and sighed.
Now he understood why alchemists often took on apprentices. The sheer number of repetitive, low-level tasks involved in golem construction was frustratingly inefficient. Even with his exceptional patience, spending an entire night and half the next day assembling the body was simply unacceptable.
"When Lotoran arrives to retrieve her potion, I'll have to ask her to help me find an apprentice or two," he muttered to himself.
Only the final step remained—soul transformation.
This required more than simply placing the soul into the golem. The control system had to be precisely calibrated: unnecessary emotions and memories had to be erased, absolute obedience had to be instilled, and the residual instincts of the original creature had to be purged.
Unfortunately, no living being willingly allowed its soul to be tampered with. The process was agonizing beyond words, an unnatural violation of its very essence.
As expected, the horse's soul resisted furiously.
And, as expected, Punk overpowered it.
The first attempt resulted in the soul shattering completely. The second barely survived but was severely damaged. The soul's violent resistance forced Punk to use brute-force methods to implant the command runes, which ultimately caused instability.
A failure. A partial success at best.
Punk sighed again. If crafting the weakest type of flesh golem was already this challenging, no wonder battle-ready golems were so rare.
He briefly considered the idea of mechanized mass production. If golems could be manufactured efficiently, an alchemical army might be possible. But such a force would be nothing more than cannon fodder in terms of power. Wouldn't it be more practical to enslave low-level undead or subjugate weak races instead?
That thought, however, was quickly set aside. Such large-scale plans were beyond his current reach.
For now, he only cared about one thing—
How functional was this golem?
"Well… I suppose it will have to do."
Suppressing his disappointment, Punk implanted the partially refined soul into the golem's body.
Now, it was time to test his creation.