That night, Colby dreamed of the expansion. He wandered around the perfect unification of cave and cellar, admiring the wheels of cheese being aged to delicious perfection.

  When he awoke, he slid out of bed quiet as a mouse, careful not to wake Brie then rushed down to the kitchen.

  His parents huddled around the pot of coffee on the countertop, quietly sipping away their fatigue.

  “So, how was it, Colby?” his dad asked, deep eye bags under his eyelids.

  “Yeah, Colby,” his mother added with a yawn. “Which one did you go for?”

  Not wanting to spur any more arguments or give them the chance to talk him out of it, Colby gave a simple answer. “It’s a secret.”

  “Got it, Colbs,” his dad yawned.

  “Do you have a clear image of the expansion?” his mother asked.

  “So clear, I was dreaming of it last night.”

  “That’s a good sign.”

  “And when do you plan to do it?”

  “Now, I suppose.”

  His parents shot awake, their eyes grew wider than the dishes they cleaned yesterday. They scrambled around the kitchen, his mother whipping out a frying pan and spatula from the cabinet before slamming them onto the stove with a loud clang. Flames burst from underneath as she twisted the dial with so much force, she almost tore it off. Butter, eggs, and most importantly cheese—a mix of shredded cheddar and gouda—hit the pan with a mouth-watering sizzle.

  His father ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs, loud thumping echoing from above, before he barreled in, clutching a soft, velvet pillow. He dragged out a chair, plonked it down, and patted it flat until it was perfectly fluffy.

  “Sit,” his father said.

  Colby nodded, moving towards the chair, his father helping to tuck it in. Then, he rushed over to the fridge, pouring a tall glass of water and milk.

  Soon after, a steaming plate of delicious scrambled cheese and eggs sat in front of him.

  “Eat,” his mother said. “You need the energy.”

  Colby nodded, inhaling the scrumptious breakfast that his mother had made with all of her love—and most importantly, extra cheese. He chugged down the cool glass of Daisy Cow milk before cleansing his palette with some water.

  Now all fueled up, he was ready to expand his Core.

  “Remember, Colby,” his father said. “It’s all about intent. You need a clear vision of what you want. Go slow. Don’t rush things. And some discomfort is normal, so don’t panic.

  “Got it.”

  “Good luck,” his mother said, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead.

  “Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad.”

  Colby closed his eyes and honed in on his Core.

  Inside, he cleared his throat, grabbing the attention of his Core Constructs as he addressed them.

  “Okay, guys. Today’s the day. Today we’re expanding the Core.”

  Noodle-like hands flailed about, while the doors and hatches snapped open and shut.

  “Settle down, guys. Settle down. I want everyone to be quiet. I need to focus.”

  They all stopped moving, becoming as still as a statue.

  Taking in a deep breath, he prepared to make the Core Construct: the Core Expander.

  Like pretty much everything involving the Core, creating Core Constructs was all about intent. It began by molding a piece of the Core itself, which then took on whatever shape best suited that purpose, though it was quite common to nudge the form towards something more specific.

  For example, when he had to make a Core Construct to cut stuff, it manifested as a large metallic blade with a wooden handle. It could’ve been a sword, or even a dagger, but he shaped it into a knife—the perfect tool for the job. And thus, Curd-Cutter was born.

  Right now, his intent was to expand his Core.

  Colby placed a hand on the bottom floor of his Core, focusing on the intent to expand it, allowing his intentions to take shape. The area around his palm shimmered, melting into a blob of pulsating, pearlescent goo. As he stood back up, the substance stretched like melted cheese before snapping to his hand.

  He could feel the Mana in his Core being sucked into it as it started to take its shape. Unlike his other Core Constructs, he resisted the urge to shape it to his will, letting it take whatever form came more naturally.

  The mass detached from his hand, hovering in place. It twisted and turned. It grew larger, only to shrink, then expand once more. He watched with bated breath, wondering what form his Core Expander would take.

  At last, it stilled, no longer changing shape every few seconds. The shape smoothed into a hovering sphere, almost like a pearl—minus the smell of the ocean. It slowly drifted back to the ground. When it touched down, the pearlescent shell broke apart, revealing the Core Expander.

  A wedge of cheese, holes and all. It was cheddar.

  That was not what he had expected, but then again, he wasn’t even expecting anything.

  This was his Core Expander, a Core Construct whose sole purpose was to expand his Core to the next Tier.

  Core Expander:

  A Core Construct to expand one’s Core to a higher Tier. Once expanded, or if the user cancels the operation, the construct will disappear.

  Does not take up Core Capacity.

  Just like most of his Core Constructs, the wedge of cheese possessed noodle-like limbs that it used to move and make hand gestures. It approached him, flailing its arms.

  He had spent enough time with his other Core Constructs to know what it was asking for. It was asking for the design of the expansion.

  Moving on instinct, Colby placed a hand on top of the wedge of cheese. He focused on the image seared straight into his brain to the point it permeated his dreams. The perfect fusion of cave and cellar made with a single goal in mind—to create the finest aged cheese in all the lands and seas.

  Mana from his Core poured into the wedge, allowing his intentions to take shape.

  What Colby didn’t realize was how much Mana it would use. He never had the issue of running out of Mana; his Core Constructs didn’t require that much Mana to make cheese. Only Stove used the most with his defiant bursts of flames, but that was easily replenished over time.

  All of the Mana in his Core rushed into the Core Expander.

  One by one, his other Core Constructs slumped lifeless in place. Not even the faintest spark of Mana remained.

  Colby panicked. This had never happened before.

  He panicked even more.

  What if all of the ingredients in The Cheestastic Fridge went bad?

  But what could he even do? Every bit of Mana had gone into the Core Expander, and whatever little crumbs of Mana that naturally replenished were instantly funneled into it.

  He forced himself to breathe. This wasn’t the time to panic—but he still did.

  Instead of worrying about the contents of The Cheesetastic Fridge, he opted to focus on the Core Expander. Ingredients could always be replaced—not like he would be happy about it—but this expansion was crucial.

  With his hand still on that wedge of cheese, Colby once again focused. A mixture of cave and cellar. A place where his cheese could be aged to perfection. Every other thought could be discarded. Right now, his focus was on his future. And he was going to make sure that it was an extremely cheesy one.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Beneath him, the floor of his Core began to blur. It became translucent, but still very much solid. Faint lines were being drawn, sketching a rough outline of what his expanded Core would look like.

  Yes! It was working!

  The lines wavered, becoming distorted.

  No! He was distracted!

  Bad thoughts go away. Shoo! Shoo!

  He built a dam around his brain, cutting off the flow of useless thought. Refocusing, he called up the mental image that he had created—an agglomeration of cellars and caves picked apart for their best attributes.

  The lines stopped shaking, and they continued to trace the outline. Rows upon rows of empty shelves filling up a vast underground cellar constructed out of natural cave-stone bricks. Jagged stalactites hung from above, and stalagmites erupted from below.

  It blended the best aspects of both spaces: the untamed flavors of the wild and the ability to control humidity and temperature that only mankind could develop.

  The lines stilled, the blueprint had been completed. Every detail, every line, every contour, was exactly as he had envisioned.

  The Core Expander stopped absorbing Mana, and Colby drew his hand back from the wedge of cheese.

  Mana started to permeate his Core once more. One by one, his Core Constructs awoke. They looked around the Core, trying to piece together what had just happened. When they looked down, spotting the outline of his cave-cellar, they freaked—those with limbs anyway. They waved their noodle arms around in glee and excitement, hugging, cheering, and celebrating with one another.

  A single metallic clang silenced everyone. It was Smart Waiter, his smartest Core Construct—evident by his name.

  Despite only being able to communicate via hatch, Colby understood what it had said and agreed with him.

  This was no time to be celebrating.

  Why was the expansion a see-through layer beneath his Core? He couldn’t access it unless he found a way to phase through solid objects—even then, it’s not like he could make cheese within a solid chunk of Core.

  He was starting to panic once more. Did he mess up the expansion? Had he been rushing through things? Was a day’s worth of studying not enough to build a clear enough picture of his Core’s expansion?

  Curds! What could he do?

  Core Expander poked a cheesy hand against his leg. Looking down, Colby found it swirling its arms about, telling him to relax. It pointed at itself, gesturing for Colby to pick it up.

  After picking the wedge of cheese up, it started to point down at the ground. Did it want to be placed back down again?

  What a waste of time—time that he could’ve spent panicking.

  Actually, wait. At a closer glance, the gesture was more on the lines of ‘push me through the ground’ rather than ‘place me on the ground.’

  Double wait. Core Expander was still here. That meant the expansion process wasn’t over yet. He hadn’t screwed up—for now, at least.

  Well, his parents did say that everyone’s Core Expander manifested in different ways, and the expansion process was just as unique.

  He listened to the wedge of cheese. Bending down, he pressed it against the floor of his Core. The moment the Core Expander made contact, a chunk of Core in the shape of a wedge of cheese disappeared. Colby winced. That hurt.

  So, this was how he had to expand his Core. He had to physically dig it up using a wedge of cheese.

  Colby sighed. This was going to be a long and painful process.

  He got to work, driving the cheese down into the floor and removing a chunk one wedge at a time. Each disappearing piece of his Core was accompanied by a small, involuntary yelp.

  Next came a second problem. In his designs, there was a ladder for him to climb up and down. He had cleared away the Core around it, but right now that ladder was just a blank outline that he couldn’t physically grab onto. Yes, he tried. When he reached out, his fingers passed straight through it.

  Going down would be easy. Going up? Not so much. So how was he supposed to go up and down without a ladder?

  If the Core Expander taketh, then it giveth. That was not at all the saying, but what other option did he have?

  He stabbed the outline with the wedge of cheese. His Core shook, and another yelp escaped his lips. When he pulled the cheese back, another wedge of cheese was in its place, completely ignoring the ladder’s shape and spilling right over the line.

  What?

  What was the point of all those outlines if the Core Expander was just going to ignore them? Also, why cheese? Shouldn’t ladders be made out of wood?

  Colby lifted the Core Expander to his face. “C’mon. Help me out here.”

  It waved its arms around, explaining, “I am just a wedge.”

  “Of course you are. You’re a wedge of cheese. Why not a wedge of wood?”

  The Core Expander in his hand morphed. It lost the yummy, vibrant hue of perfectly aged cheddar and instead became a generic piece of brown wood.

  Oh. Was that really the answer?

  The Core Expander was just that—a wedge. However, he had subconsciously filled in the blanks, turning the wedge into a wedge of cheese.

  So, this was how he was supposed to expand his Core. It was a very tedious game of fill-in-the-blank.

  And if the wedge giveth, the wedge taketh. Aiming the Core Expander at the floating piece of cheese, he drove the wedge of wood into it, destroying the product. In its place was the wedge of wood. And like the cheese, it was way outside of the outline.

  Colby groaned.

  Why couldn’t things just magically fill in themselves?

  He paused, hoping for a lightbulb moment, but nothing came.

  Instead, he just resorted to what he had been doing for the past how-many-minutes he had been in his Core. Angling the wedge, he chipped away the excess wood from the ladder until only the portion within the outline remained.

  Colby sighed again. This was going to be a long and very painful expansion.

  He slotted the wedge again, feeling his Core vibrate as a new part was added. Instead of going one at a time, he opted to fill out the whole outline with wood before coming back and chipping away the excess.

  Was it faster? Barely.

  And he did not have fun climbing up wedge-shaped prongs.

  Now that he had successfully built the ladder, it was time for everything else.

  Colby moved toward the center of the new room, noting the outlines for all of the shelves. Just as he was about to start filling them in, a thought graced his mind.

  What kind of wood was he even working with?

  He held it up to his face, inspecting the grain.

  Yeah, he wasn’t a timbermancer, so he had no idea what he was working with.

  The reason he asked such a question was because, believe it or not, the type of wood used actually played a part in aging. The wrong kind would stain the cheese and impart weird flavors. The right kind would, most importantly, not waste months or even years of your time.

  He looked at Core Expander, speaking to it. “You’re now a wedge of ash wood, perfect for aging cheese.”

  The Core Expander in his hand shifted, going from a wedge of brown wood to a wedge of slightly lighter brown wood.

  Yeah, really no idea what he was doing.

  But if he said it was ash wood, then it should be ash wood. Maybe.

  He started filling in the shelves using the same method as the ladder. For every shelf, he switched the type of wood: bamboo, cedar, oak, and even beech. Each time, the Core Expander would take on a slightly different shade of brown.

  Once the shelves were finished, he moved on to the rest of the cave-cellar mix.

  The Core Expander had become a wedge of natural cave stone. Using the same method as before, he filled in the bricks that encompassed the room, then carved out the natural formations—the jagged stalagmites and uneven stone textures that gave the space its character, and was not at all an excuse for being bad at art.

  Once that was done, all he had to do was create the roof. He climbed back up the ladder, filling in the floor with two layers. A stone layer below, and the natural Core flooring that he had stupidly ripped out.

  Lastly, a hatch to separate the two spaces. A quick game of fill-in-the-blank, accompanied by a shaking Core and little squeaks from his mouth, later and it was constructed. A hatch made out of the same material as his Core, covered the hole. No one would ever know there was a secret cave-cellar underneath it, unless they spotted the little nub on the floor and pulled up the hatch to peer inside.

  And that was it. He had successfully expanded his Core.

  Right?

  Looking down at the Core Expander, he asked, “Now what?”

  Waving its hands, the Core Expander asked, “Are you satisfied with your expansion?”

  “Yes.”

  The Core Expander vanished.

  His Core shook like he was stuck in an earthquake. There was a soft glow emanating from below, and Colby scrambled down the ladder. His Core Constructs—the mobile ones—hurried after him, trying to figure out what was going on.

  Everything that he had filled in started to shine. There was a massive burst of light and then silence.

  Congratulations. You have successfully expanded from a Tier 0 Core to a Tier 1 Core.

  Details of expansion:

  The current room was created based on the principle of cheese aging, made with a blend of both natural and man-made environments. Aged cheese produced here will take on the qualities of both natural and man-made environments. However, if handled improperly, the aged cheese produced will inherit negative traits rather than the positives of both methods.

  Huh. He did not factor that into his calculations. He had only thought about the good and not the bad. Problem for future him.

  He now had a Tier 1 Core!

  That meant more room for Core Constructs and a higher Mana capacity—not like making cheese was Mana hungry, it was more milk hungry. And it also allowed him to finally upgrade his Core Constructs once they hit Level 10. And there just so happened to be a Level 10 Core Construct here.

  “You guys go ahead and explore the new place,” he said to his Core Constructs—mainly Cheese Bowl, Cheese-lander, Curd-Cutter, Pottingham, and Temp-tation. “I’ve got something I want to do with Smart Waiter.”