With the Swamp Stalker essence safely stored, the team pushed deeper into the sunken city. The silence between buildings was broken only by the soft dip of their paddles and the occasional, distant cry of some unseen creature.

The energy signature of the geode was getting stronger, a faint, rhythmic pulse that Jonah could feel humming at the edge of his senses. But navigating the maze of flooded streets and collapsed structures was a nightmare.

“We’re moving too slow,” Seraph said, her gaze sweeping over the rooftops. “And we’re too exposed down here.”

“I have an idea,” Jonah said. He dismissed Nyx and summoned his Echo-Shell Guardian. Shard appeared on the raft with a soft thud, its crystalline shell gleaming in the dim light. The soldiers tensed, but Seraph held up a hand.

Jonah focused. ‘Shard, send out a pulse. Find the source of the energy. Find the most solid structure.’

Shard’s insectoid antennae twitched. It tapped one of its six legs on the raft’s floor, and a low, inaudible pulse of sonar energy radiated outwards.

For Jonah, the world lit up.

An invisible wave washed through the city, and the echoes that returned painted a three-dimensional map in his mind. He saw the crumbling skeletons of buildings, the hollow shells of rusted vehicles underwater, and the deep, watery chasms of flooded avenues.

But one building stood out.

It was in the heart of the central district, just as the Headmaster’s intel had suggested. While everything around it was broken and decaying, this structure was… whole. The sonar waves bounced off its walls revealing a massive completely sealed building. And from deep within its core, the rhythmic pulse of the geode throbbed like a sleeping heart.

“There,” Jonah said, pointing. “North-east. A large, intact structure. That’s where it is.”

Seraph checked his direction against her map. “That’s our target. Let’s move.”

It took them another thirty minutes of tense paddling to reach it. The building was tall and made of smooth black stone. Unlike everything else, it was clean – no vines, no moss, no sign of age. Like the city had decayed around it. It looked less like a skyscraper and more like a temple, its architecture ancient and imposing. There were no windows, and the main entrance was a set of colossal stone doors, sealed tight.

Sitting before the doors was a throne of carved rock. And on the throne sat a guardian.

It was a ten foot tall Golem, constructed from the same dark stone as the building. Patches of glowing, silver moss grew in the joints of its armor-like plating. Its massive head was tilted down, its eyes dormant, giving it the appearance of a statue that had been sleeping for a thousand years.

The team brought their rafts to a stop, hiding behind a half-submerged bus.

“What is that thing?” one of the soldiers whispered, his pulse rifle raised.

“A Golem. Old world magic,” Seraph answered, her voice low. “It’s a construct. Don’t assume it’s just stone. Be ready.”

Slowly, they moved onto a wide, stone plaza that sloped up from the water, their boots splashing quietly. They approached the Golem cautiously, weapons ready.

They were twenty feet away when the Golem’s eyes flared to life. They weren’t lights; they were like two pools of molten silver, swirling with ancient power.

The soldiers froze. Jonah’s blood turned to ice.

But the Golem didn’t move. It didn’t stand. It didn’t attack.

Instead, a voice echoed directly inside their minds. It wasn’t a sound that came through their ears. It was a deep, rumbling vibration, like the grinding of mountains and the flow of lava, and it resonated in the very center of their skulls.

FREEZE

The single word was an absolute command, stopping them dead in their tracks.

This place is a workshop of the old world. Its tools are not for warriors or thieves.

The soldiers looked at each other, their professional training giving them no answer for this. How do you fight a monster that won’t move, that speaks inside your head?

“What are your orders, Sergeant?” the rifleman asked Seraph, his voice a tense whisper.

“Hold your fire,” she ordered.

The Golem’s voice rumbled through their thoughts again.

Only a fellow Creator, one who understands the art of making life from the inanimate, may enter.

A Creator? The soldiers were stumped. They were warriors. Killers. Not creators.

Seraph stared at the Golem, her expression unreadable. Then, her gaze slowly shifted, landing on Jonah. A look of dawning, incredible understanding spread across her face.

She didn’t have to say a word. Jonah knew.

His heart pounded against his ribs like a trapped bird. Every instinct screamed at him to run, to hide behind the soldiers and their big guns. But he knew, with a certainty that terrified him, that their guns were useless here. This wasn’t a problem you could shoot.

Taking a shaky breath, Jonah stepped forward from behind the line of soldiers.

“Jonah, no!” one of the soldiers whispered harshly.

But Seraph just watched, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

Jonah walked slowly toward the motionless giant, feeling its heavy, silver gaze settle on him. It was a gaze that didn’t just see his body; it seemed to pierce right through him, seeing the dark workshop of his Beast Space, the sleeping forms of his Progeny, the swirling, contained essences he held. It saw what he was.

The Golem’s mental voice came again, but this time it was different. Softer. Tinged with something that felt like… surprise.

A new hand. A young voice. A Weaver of flesh in a world once ruled by metal and stone…

The molten silver eyes seemed to soften, the ancient, crushing pressure of its presence lessening slightly. Jonah felt a wave of recognition from the Golem, a kinship that spanned epochs. He wasn’t a warrior. He wasn’t a thief. He was a Creator.

You may enter.

The Golem’s voice finished, but it added one final, chilling thought.

But be warned, the workshop’s other guardians are not so discerning.

With a deep, grinding groan that shook the very stone beneath Jonah’s feet, the massive, sealed doors behind the Golem’s throne began to slide apart, revealing a dark passage that smelled of dust and dormant power.

He had been recognized. And the path was now open.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep