“Cover him!” Rathen barked.

Arslan was already ahead of them, his Overdrive igniting in a flash of faint golden light that rippled across his sword. He covered the distance in a heartbeat, his boots grinding against wet stone as he closed in.

The golem’s head snapped toward him with mechanical precision, its inner gears whirring sharply. Then its right arm twitched, and the spear it held began to spin.

The movement was unnatural. The entire forearm rotated, faster and faster, until the spear blurred into a drilling vortex of metal and mana.

Ludger’s eyes widened. That’s not a thrust, it’s a high-frequency drive.

“Dad—!” he shouted, but it was too late.

The golem lunged.

The spear stabbed forward, not once, but in a flurry of precision thrusts. Dozens of strikes, each one perfectly aligned, each one hitting with mechanical rhythm. The weapon moved faster than most eyes could follow, the sound echoing through the flooded corridor like the rattle of a machine gun.

Arslan barely managed to meet the first strike, his sword clashing against the spearhead with a spray of mana sparks. The impact drove him half a step back, boots scraping against the slick stone. Then came the next—then the next.

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clangclclclcl—!

The flurry didn’t stop. Every blow landed at head height, the pressure unrelenting, the speed impossible. Arslan’s arms locked tight as he braced behind his blade, muscles straining, every tendon in his forearms burning as the weapon hammered against his guard like a piston.

He couldn’t counter. Couldn’t move. He was pinned—held in place by sheer mechanical precision.

The others watched, stunned by the display. Even Kharnek hesitated for a split second before roaring and rushing forward, axe raised to intercept.

But Ludger saw it—the faint shimmer of energy pulsing through the golem’s joints, the predictable rhythm of its motion, the calculated cycle of its weapon.

And for the first time, he understood:This wasn’t just a golem.  It was a machine built for war.

Before Kharnek or Rathen could close the distance, Ludger raised his hand. The air around him thickened—vibrating with the low, steady hum of earth-aspected mana.

Earthen Surge!

The word echoed through the flooded hall like a pulse. A deep brown-gold radiance flared around Ludger’s boots, rippling outward in concentric waves that spread through the water, along the walls, and into the stone itself.

The entire corridor responded. The carvings on the pillars shimmered faintly as the mana passed through them, and for a brief, breathtaking moment, it was as if the whole labyrinth was breathing with him.

Everyone in range, every ally, felt it.

Their limbs grew heavier at first, then solid, like the ground beneath them was lending them its stability. Muscles steadied, grips tightened, fatigue faded from trembling fingers. The Earthen Surge spread through the expedition force like the pulse of the world itself, bolstering their endurance and anchoring their strength.

Arslan felt it first. His knees stopped trembling under the golem’s relentless spear flurry. The weight pressing him down seemed to lift slightly, and his arms, burning from the constant shock of impact, found just enough strength to push back.

For a heartbeat, he held.

He grit his teeth and twisted his blade, deflecting the next thrust just enough to make the golem reset its stance. “That’s more like it!” he growled through clenched teeth.

But Ludger frowned. The mana coursing through his veins felt… thin. The surge wasn’t hitting as hard as it should. The amplification was there, but spread too wide, too shallow.

He clenched his jaw, focusing, trying to pour more energy into it. The labyrinth itself seemed to resist him, the mana he fed into the ground scattering in too many directions.

Gaius, standing just behind the midline, saw the confusion in Ludger’s expression and called out without looking away from the fight. “Don’t push it, boy!”

Ludger turned slightly, his brow furrowed. “The effect’s too weak, it’s not stabilizing properly.”

“That’s because you’re feeding too many at once!” Gaius barked, his deep voice cutting through the clash of steel and water. “Earthen Surge isn’t a focused buff—it spreads through every living thing in range. The more bodies there are, the thinner the mana gets divided!”

Ludger blinked, the realization snapping into place. “So that’s why—”

“Exactly,” Gaius said sharply. “You’re splitting the power between nearly twenty people. It’s meant for a small unit, not an army. You’ll burn yourself out before it even peaks!”

Ludger gritted his teeth, grounding his boots against the slick floor as he focused on maintaining the flow. “Then I’ll narrow the field.”

He lowered one hand, forcing the mana to contract inward, tightening the radius. The earthen energy receded from the rear line and the Ironhand soldiers, concentrating instead on the front six, where the vanguard was locked in combat. That was only possible thanks to his sage skills.

Immediately, the effect intensified. The floor rumbled faintly beneath their boots, the air turning heavier, more stable.

Arslan’s movements grew sharper, the tremor in his guard vanishing.

Kharnek’s axe cleaved through the water faster, the swing cutting a wide arc.

Rathen’s stance solidified, shield and spear braced as if fused to the earth itself.

“That’s it,” Gaius muttered, watching with a small, approving nod. “Now you’re learning to aim your mana like a craftsman, not a cannon.”

Ludger didn’t answer, his eyes still locked on the golem. The beast had stopped attacking for a moment, its faceless head turning slightly as if analyzing the sudden spike of mana in the room.

The light on its chest brightened—cold, deliberate, mechanical. It was adapting again.

Ludger took a slow breath and steadied his hands. “Then let’s see which of us burns out first.”

The golem’s head tilted, gears inside its neck clicking as it readjusted its stance.

Steam vented from its shoulder joints, and its chest core began to glow again, brighter this time, like it had recalibrated for a second round.

Arslan didn’t give it the chance. He darted forward, boots splashing through the knee-deep water. The moment the golem’s spear arm twitched, his sword was already in motion, angled low, intercepting the first strike with a ringing clang!

The impact sent a shockwave through the corridor. Water erupted in a misty spray as the two weapons met, but Arslan’s stance held. He let the blow slide down his blade, deflecting it to the side before twisting his wrist to meet the next.

Clang—clang—clang!

The golem stabbed again and again, its movements still mechanical, perfectly timed, but now Arslan was matching its rhythm. His sword blurred, each parry executed a fraction of a heartbeat before impact. Sparks scattered through the mist, lighting the dark like fireflies.

Behind him, Kharnek waded in, roaring like a thunderclap. His massive axe came down in a diagonal arc, striking the golem’s side with enough force to make the metal shriek. Shards of wet coral and steel splintered off, scattering across the flooded floor.

“Break, damn you!” Kharnek snarled, wrenching his weapon free.

The golem staggered but didn’t fall. Its arm spun again, spear driving toward Arslan’s chest in a blur. Arslan blocked, but barely, his boots sliding back several meters as the force rattled his arms to the bone.

He grit his teeth, locking the blade again and shouting, “Kharnek—now!”

The northerner didn’t hesitate. He pivoted, bringing his axe around in a brutal backhand swing that cracked through the golem’s shoulder plating. Metal warped and sparked, but before he could follow up, the monster’s left arm snapped up, palm opening.

The three circular holes along its hand lit bright blue.

“Another barrage incoming!” Lucius shouted from the back.

Rathen didn’t wait for an order. He stepped past Kharnek, raising his heavy tower shield just as the golem’s arm discharged.

A storm of mana bullets tore through the air, slamming into his barrier like a hail of molten iron. Each impact rattled the corridor with deafening bangs, the edges of the shield glowing red from the force.

Rathen braced, muscles straining. The weight behind the impacts was tremendous, like being hammered by siege bolts made of raw mana.

Then, a shadow flickered in his peripheral vision. Ludger.

The boy sprinted across the water, low and fast, his boots barely touching the surface before slamming a hand against Rathen’s backplate. Earthen Ward!

The spell flared instantly—an amber glow enveloping Rathen’s entire frame, runic lines crawling across his shield like molten veins.

The next volley hit—but the weight was almost gone.

The mana bolts still struck, still exploded, but the force that had threatened to break Rathen’s arms simply bled into the ward, absorbed by the reinforced flow of earth-attuned mana.

Rathen felt the difference immediately. His stance steadied; his legs no longer shook under the pressure. He grinned behind the shield. “Ha! That’s better!”

He slammed forward, bashing the shield directly into the golem’s torso with a roar. The impact echoed like thunder, sending the mechanical creature stumbling backward, gears screeching as it struggled to stabilize.

The moment its balance broke, Arslan saw the opening.

He shifted his weight, golden energy flickering up his sword as Overdrive surged through his veins. His aura flared like wildfire, bright and fierce, and his blade began to hum with a deep resonance.

“Lion Fang!”

He lunged, sword arcing upward in a single, perfect strike.

The golden blade cleaved through the golem’s head from chin to crown, splitting metal, coral, and core alike in a blinding burst of light. The mana inside the construct detonated in a compressed burst, steam and shards exploding outward in a hiss of blue vapor.

Arslan landed behind it, water splashing around his boots. He exhaled once, low and controlled, as the golem froze mid-motion, then slowly toppled forward with a heavy clang, its glowing chest core flickering out.

Silence followed. Steam drifted lazily from the corpse, the only sound the hiss of water evaporating against hot metal.

Rathen lowered his shield, shaking his arm out. “Remind me never to block one of those things without your tricks again,” he said toward Ludger.

Ludger gave a faint, exhausted smirk. “Noted.”

Kharnek grinned wide, hefting his axe onto his shoulder. “Good strike, Arslan! Didn’t even leave me a piece to finish off!”

Arslan exhaled, wiping the edge of his sword against his sleeve. “You’ll get the next one,” he said, though his tone was half amused, half wary.

Because even as the broken golem lay there, its body cooling and the water settling around it, Ludger’s gaze stayed fixed on its remains.

The faint blue light from its cracks hadn’t vanished completely. Something inside was still humming.

Rathen stared down at the smoldering wreckage of the golem, water hissing as it hit the still-hot metal. He let out a long breath, dragging the back of his wrist across his forehead before muttering, “Gods above… one of these things usually takes twenty of my guild to bring down.”

That got everyone’s attention. Even Kharnek glanced over. Rathen’s voice was matter-of-fact, but the weight behind it was unmistakable. “And that’s with siege-casters and rune-breakers backing them up. We win, sure, but we walk away half-dead every time.”

He crouched beside the fallen construct, tapping the side of its chest plate with the pommel of his sword. The hollow metallic echo rang through the corridor. “Let’s open it up. Carefully. I want to see what made this one move like that.”

At his signal, the Ironhand mercenaries moved in, pulling chisels, picks, and runic blades from their packs. The sound of scraping metal filled the flooded chamber as they pried open plates and twisted off fused bolts. Blue steam seeped from the cracks, and a faint hum of residual mana still thrummed beneath the armor.

They peeled back the plating on the creature’s torso, and a dim blue glow spilled out. Embedded inside the body, set into sockets and runic conduits, were mana cores. Dozens of them.

Ludger stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. The cores pulsed in uneven rhythm, still faintly alive even after the golem’s destruction. They weren’t arranged in a single core chamber like normal constructs—these were layered, interconnected through a lattice of runic wiring that spider-webbed through the entire frame.

“By the Flame,” Cor muttered. “No wonder it could keep firing that barrage.”

Rathen nodded grimly. “Makes sense now. This thing wasn’t running on a single heart. It had thirty of them.”

He picked one of the cracked cores out with a gloved hand, holding it up to the light. The faint glow flickered weakly against his palm. “Each of these could power a mage’s staff for a week,” he said quietly. “Whoever built this thing didn’t just want a guardian.”

He let the core drop into the water with a hiss.

“They wanted an army in a single body.”

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