Chapter 11: Chapter 11: Cracked Asphalt and the Glitched Toll Keeper

The forest, which had seemed endless, finally began to show signs of surrender. The giant trees with twisting roots gave way to thinner, sparser vegetation. Sunlight, which previously had to fight to the death to penetrate the canopy, now spilled generously, warming their skin.

Dayat dragged his feet. His legs felt like they were filled with lead. The manifested Grappling Gun hung crookedly at his waist, tied with a plant root because he hadn’t had the time (or was too lazy) to manifest a proper holster. The tool was dented at the barrel from the impact in the ravine, looking pathetic yet still emitting faint remnants of purple Mana aura.

“Dol…” Dayat complained, wiping the sweat soaking his neck. “Are you sure this is the way out? It feels like we took a wrong turn into a landfill.”

Dola walked two steps ahead of Dayat. Her posture was still perfectly upright, as if she had just walked out of a salon, not a death ravine. She brushed aside thorny twigs with the back of her hand, which was now smooth again.

“Topographical analysis valid,” Dola replied without turning. “We are entering the Buffer Zone. Vegetation here grows slower because the soil is contaminated with ancient Alchemistry residue.”

“Alchemistry? You mean Chemistry?”

“Alchemistry. A fusion of Alchemy and Industrial Chemistry. Do not ask for details; the data on the Sector Delta pillar was corrupted in that section.”

Dayat was about to protest again, but his foot suddenly tripped over something hard. Not a rubbery tree root, not a round river stone. But something flat, hard, and jagged.

“Ouch! My toe!” Dayat hopped on one foot.

He looked down to see what tripped him. He expected a tombstone or something similar. But when he brushed away the layer of soil and dead leaves with the tip of his shoe, he fell silent.

The color was grayish-black. The texture was rough but flat. There was a faded white line, almost erased by time, running down the middle.

“Is this…” Dayat knelt, touching the object’s surface. The sun’s heat made it warm. “Is this asphalt?”

Dola turned around. She scanned the ground surface with her blue eyes.

“Affirmative. Material: Bitumen Composite and Magic Polymer. This is the remnant of Class-A Highway Infrastructure.”

Dayat stood up slowly, his eyes following the buried asphalt path. The path stretched straight ahead, cutting through the thinning forest, toward the horizon.

“A highway…” Dayat whispered. “That means there used to be cars? Motorcycles? Tanker trucks?”

“Most likely Mana or Steam-powered vehicles,” Dola corrected. “This road leads directly to our destination city coordinates: Bakasa.”

Dayat laughed in relief. “Finally! Asphalt road! No more climbing tree roots! We just follow this road to the city, right? Easy!”

Dayat stepped with renewed vigor onto the middle of the ancient highway. It felt nostalgic, like walking on the badly damaged Pantura (North Coast) road back home, but at least this was man-made (or intelligent-being-made).

However, Dola didn’t share his laughter. Instead, she stopped at the roadside, her eyes scanning the horizon with high intensity. The indicator lights on her bodysuit shifted from calm blue to warning yellow.

“Master Dayat, tactical suggestion: Do not walk in the middle of the open road.”

“Why? Afraid of a hit-and-run? There are no vehicles left, Dol.”

“In the forest, threats come from biology hiding in the shadows. On the ancient highway, threats come from mechanisms left behind. Furthermore…” Dola pointed ahead. “We are exposed. There is no cover.”

KRRRRGGGHHH…

As if answering Dola’s concern, the ground in the middle of the highway—about fifty meters in front of Dayat—began to vibrate.

The cracked asphalt exploded upwards.

No, not exploded. Something was rising from beneath the asphalt.

At first, it looked like a pile of metal scrap. There were pieces of rusty guardrails, chunks of concrete, petrified rubber tires, and bent traffic signs. But then, the trash coalesced. Orange runes glowed in the gaps of the scrap metal, acting as magnetic glue.

The scrap pile stood three meters tall. It had two long arms made of broken utility poles, and one large “eye” in the center of its chest, which was an ancient street lamp flickering red.

“INTRUDER…”

The voice came out of a broken speaker embedded in the creature’s body. The voice was heavy, distorted, and full of static.

“TOLL… UNPAID. VIOLATION… CODE… 404.”

Dayat stepped back slowly, his jaw dropping. “What is that, Dol? A scrap metal Transformer?”

“Object Identified: Road Warden Construct – Type Mk. IV,” Dola reported quickly. She ran to Dayat, positioning herself between him and the monster. “Its original duty was road maintenance and traffic control. But this unit… has severe glitches. Its logic is corrupted by age.”

“ELIMINATE… TAX… EVADERS!” the Golem roared.

The creature raised its hand—a massive concrete pillar—and slammed it onto the asphalt.

BOOM!

Stone shards flew like bullets. Dayat and Dola jumped in opposite directions to dodge.

“Dol! It wants to kill us over an unpaid toll?!” Dayat shouted while rolling on the hot asphalt. “Tell him we don’t have small change!”

“Negotiation is useless, Master! Its language module is corrupt! We must forcibly deactivate it!”

The Golem rotated its upper body 360 degrees with the ear-piercing sound of rusty hinges. Its red eye locked onto Dayat.

“TARGET… LOCKED. MODE… LETHAL… CITATION.”

The Golem lunged forward. Despite its bulky body made of trash, its movements were surprisingly fast thanks to the magic runes strengthening its legs.

“Dayat! Use the Grappling Gun!” Dola ordered.

Dayat drew the weapon from his waist. “It’s bent, Dol! The barrel is crooked!”

“Do not shoot it! Use it as a weighted whip! Wrap its legs!”

Dayat understood. He couldn’t shoot straight, but he could throw the hook manually or let it “spit” at close range.

The Golem was close, its concrete fist ready to crush Dayat’s head.

“Now!”

Dayat pulled the trigger, but this time he held the barrel back. The tungsten hook slid out with a pathetic PFFT sound, not straight, but curving wildly like a drunk snake.

But that was exactly what was needed.

The steel cable wrapped around the Golem’s left leg, which was made of remnant guardrails. Dayat immediately ran around a dead tree on the roadside, pulling the rope with all his might.

“Eat this rope!” Dayat growled.

The wire went taut. The sprinting Golem’s leg was snagged. The laws of physics came into play again.

CRASH!

The giant scrap iron giant fell face-first, its face (the street lamp) slamming onto the asphalt so hard that sparks flew everywhere.

“ERROR! ERROR! BALANCE… LOST. REQUESTING… TOW… TRUCK…” the Golem babbled, trying to get up in panic.

“Dola! Your turn!” Dayat shouted, his hands stinging from holding the tension of the wire pulled by the one-ton monster.

Dola was already moving before Dayat shouted. She leaped onto the Golem’s back with feline agility. Her eyes scanned the trash pile that was the monster’s body, looking for one thing: The Processor Core.

“Scanning internal schematics…” Dola murmured. Her hands moved fast, dismantling a rusty iron plate on the Golem’s back. “Found it. Master Control Rune.”

Behind the iron plate, there was a cracked orange crystal, pulsing unstably.

Dola didn’t punch it. She pressed her palm against the crystal.

“Executing System Override. Injecting Cancellation Code.”

Dola’s blue eyes shone very brightly, almost blinding. She was “speaking” directly to the ancient machine in a language only understood by fellow artificial constructs: Data.

Dayat saw a strange sight. Dola wasn’t using explosive magic. She was using… hacking. Blue light traveled from Dola’s hand, entering the Golem’s orange crystal, and slowly changing the crystal’s color to calm blue.

“SYSTEM… REBOOT… INITIATING… SLEEP… MODE…” the Golem’s voice slowed down, getting heavier, lower. “SAFE… TRIP… DRIVE… CAREFULLY…”

The red light on its head went out. The giant body stopped thrashing, collapsing into a pile of dead trash in the middle of the road.

Dola jumped down, landing smoothly on the asphalt. She dusted off her hands as if she had just touched something dirty.

“Threat neutralized,” Dola reported. “Golem Unit restored to factory settings: Passive Standby Mode.”

Dayat released the wire, panting. He walked up to the machine carcass and kicked it lightly.

“Crazy… Lethal Citation, it said. Sleeping policemen (speed bumps) here really put you to sleep forever.”

Dayat looked at Dola in awe. “What did you just do? Did you hack him?”

“I accessed its ancient firmware and forced a Shutdown command,” Dola explained. “Its security system was very weak. Low-level encryption from 300 years ago. Easy to breach.”

“Encryption…” Dayat shook his head. “What kind of fantasy world has encryption?”

Suddenly, something fell from the Golem’s body. Cling.

A small metal object rolled to Dayat’s feet.

Dayat picked it up. It was a ring. But not a gold ring with gems. It was a ring made of jet-black metal, with geometric engravings glowing dimly.

“Loot drop!” Dayat exclaimed happily. “What is this, Dol? The Golem’s wedding ring?”

Dola scanned the ring.

“Object: Low Authority Access Ring,” Dola read. “It is a kind of master key for public facilities of this ancient civilization. It might open certain gates or doors in Bakasa City later.”

“Not bad,” Dayat smirked, then tried to slide the ring onto his ring finger. It fit.

“Fits perfectly,” Dayat said, showing off his hand to Dola. “How is it? Cool?”

Dola stared at the ring on Dayat’s left ring finger.

[System Log: Ring Object attached to Left Ring Finger. Human Symbolism: Marriage/Engagement.]

[User Dayat Status: Single (Initial Data).]

[Status Correction: Ring Bound (Visual).]

There was a momentary pause in Dola’s processor.

“Aesthetically… adequate,” Dola replied stiffly. “However, I suggest Master does not carelessly wear magic artifacts without a full scan. What if it is a cursed ring that renders Master sterile?”

Dayat’s eyes popped out and he immediately tried to yank the ring off. “Huh?! Seriously?!”

“Sarcasm,” Dola said flatly, then turned to walk ahead.

Dayat froze for a moment, then laughed out loud. “Damn! You’re getting good at joking now! Wait up!”

Dayat ran to catch up with Dola. In front of them, the damaged asphalt road stretched straight. And far at the end, faintly covered by heat haze, the silhouette of high walls and stone towers was visible.

Bakasa City. Civilization. Other humans.

“We’re almost there, Dol,” Dayat said, his spirit burning.

“Correct, Master,” Dola replied softly. “And that is where the real test begins.”

They stepped together on the hot asphalt, leaving the forest and the scrap Golem behind, heading toward a new world more complicated than just surviving horned rabbits.

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