The tunnel shook with each step the golem took. Massive, ancient, relentless. Benjamin gritted his teeth, gripping his axe tighter as he sidestepped another thundering strike.
The stone fist crashed into the ground where he had stood moments before, sending dust and pebbles flying.
"Right," Benjamin muttered, shaking debris off his coat. "You hit like a hammer, I'll give you that."
The golem let out a deep, grinding groan, shifting its weight as it charged again.
Benjamin twisted aside, rolling as the behemoth's foot slammed down, barely missing him. The impact sent a shockwave through the tunnel, nearly throwing him off balance.
He had fought plenty of things in his lifetime—mercenaries, assassins, beasts—but a walking mountain of rock?
That was new.
His axe had barely scratched it earlier. That meant brute force wouldn't do much. He needed a weak spot.
His eyes flicked across the massive body. The joints, maybe? The cracks between the boulders?
He wouldn't get many chances to test a theory.
The golem swung again.
Benjamin ducked, feeling the wind of the attack brush his hair. He rolled to the side, then lashed out with his axe—
Right at the creature's knee joint.
A loud crack echoed through the tunnel.
The golem staggered, its massive form trembling as one of its legs buckled slightly.
Benjamin's lips curled into a grin. Gotcha.
But before he could press the attack—
The golem roared and swung both fists down.
Benjamin had a split second to move—
And then the world exploded in dust and rock.
*
Their blades clashed in the dim light of Flint's office, the sharp ring of steel against wood filling the air. Mira's dagger darted, striking fast and low, but Darron was too quick.
His dueling cane spun in his grip, intercepting every attack with practiced ease.
"You're fast," Darron admitted, his voice calm. "But speed alone won't win this."
Mira ignored him, her heart pounding as she searched for an opening.
She lunged again, aiming for his ribs—
But he twisted, dodging effortlessly before slamming the end of his cane against her side.
Pain flared.
Mira stumbled, gritting her teeth as she barely managed to block his follow-up strike.
Darron didn't let up.
He moved fluidly, each step precise, forcing her back toward the desk.
Mira's grip tightened. She needed a new angle.
Her eyes flicked across the room. The bookshelves, the desk, the oil lamp—
There.
She suddenly kicked backward, knocking the oil lamp off the desk.
It shattered, spilling oil across the wooden floor—
Then she dived forward.
Darron, startled by the distraction, barely reacted in time as Mira slid under his guard, slashing upward.
Her dagger tore through his coat, drawing a thin line of red across his arm.
Darron cursed, jumping back.
Mira used the chance to scramble away, resetting her stance.
"Not bad," Darron muttered, rolling his injured shoulder. His expression hardened. "But you're still outmatched."
Mira didn't respond.
She was already moving again.
*
Char's breath hitched as he followed Flint through the dim hallways of the townhouse. His fingers itched near the hilt of his heavier knife.
He didn't know if Flint knew.
But he was about to find out.
The administrator finally stopped near a locked door at the end of the corridor. He pulled out a key, slipping it into the lock—
Char's instincts screamed.
Now.
He lunged.
Flint whirled just as Char's knife slashed toward him.
The older man twisted aside, the blade missing his ribs by inches—then, before Char could recover, Flint's elbow slammed into his stomach.
Char gasped, stumbling back.
Flint's expression was unreadable. "Should've known you were up to something."
Char gritted his teeth, steadying himself. "You don't even know what I'm up to."
Flint's gaze sharpened. "No. But I don't need to."
Then he attacked.
Faster than Char expected, Flint's hand shot forward, gripping his wrist before he could raise his knife again. Strong.The man was strong.
Char twisted, breaking free and slashing downward.
Flint barely dodged, his coat tearing open as the blade grazed him.
"Good," Flint murmured. "You've had training."
Char didn't waste breath responding. He went on the offensive, aiming low, high, twisting, feinting.
Flint countered every strike.
Then, in a sudden movement—
Char was airborne.
The administrator had swept his leg, sending Char crashing onto the floor.
The breath was knocked from his lungs as Flint's boot pressed against his chest.
"You should've stayed put, boy," Flint said.
Char coughed, struggling beneath the weight.
Flint's eyes narrowed. "Now tell me—"
Before he could finish, Char's hand shot up, grabbing Flint's wrist and pulling him down—
Right into his knife.
A sharp cut across Flint's cheek.
The man jerked back, startled, and Char rolled free, gasping.
Flint touched his bleeding face, eyes darkening.
"Alright," he muttered.
"No more holding back."
*
Benjamin lay half-buried beneath shattered rock and dust, his ears ringing from the sheer force of the golem's latest attack.
The tunnel's air was thick with grit and debris, and for a moment, he had to blink rapidly just to clear his vision. His ribs ached, and he could already tell he'd be feeling this one in the morning.
Still alive. That was the important part.
The golem let out a deep, grinding groan, shifting its weight as it loomed over him. It had barely taken damage—a few cracks along its arms, a fracture at the knee—but it was still standing strong.
Benjamin, on the other hand? Not so much.
But he'd been in worse spots.
Ignoring the pain, he rolled to the side just as the golem's massive fist came crashing down where his chest had been. The impact sent another shockwave through the tunnel, dislodging even more dust and pebbles from the ceiling.
Too slow, big guy.
Benjamin scrambled to his feet, his breath coming heavy.
If he couldn't take the thing down through brute force, he needed a different approach.
He glanced around—his axe lay several feet away, knocked from his grip. Too far to reach before the golem attacked again.
The behemoth lurched forward, bringing up both massive arms to strike—
Wait.
Benjamin's eyes flickered to the stalactites above. Large, jagged. Hanging right over the golem's head.
It wasn't much of a plan, but it was all he had.
As the golem's fists came barreling down, Benjamin lunged sideways, barely escaping the strike. He grabbed a loose chunk of rock from the ground and, without hesitation, hurled it at the cavern ceiling.
The stalactites cracked—then shattered.
The golem barely had time to react before a barrage of stone spikes rained down on its massive form.
For the first time, it let out a pained groan, its movements faltering as shards of rock pierced its body, driving deep into its joints and weak points.
Benjamin didn't waste the chance.
He sprinted for his axe, snatched it up, and turned just in time to see the golem stagger, one of its legs finally giving out.
Benjamin charged.
He swung the axe in a wide, brutal arc—
And buried the blade deep into the weakened knee joint.
The golem collapsed, the impact shaking the entire cavern.
For a moment, silence.
Then—
Cracks spiderwebbed across its massive body. A second later, with one last guttural groan, the entire golem crumbled into dust and shattered stone.
Benjamin exhaled, wiping his brow.
"Should've done that first," he muttered.
*
Mira's breathing came in sharp gasps, sweat dripping down her brow as she and Darron circled each other.
His dueling cane was still pristine, while her dagger was slick with blood.
But she was the one on the defensive.
Darron smirked, twirling his weapon. "You've got good instincts," he admitted, his tone almost casual. "A bit rough around the edges, but still—better than most."
Mira didn't respond.
Talking wouldn't help. Finding a way to win would.
Her arm throbbed where he'd struck her earlier. She knew she couldn't let this drag on. Darron was playing with her. If he decided to get serious, she wouldn't stand a chance.
She had to end it now.
She shifted her grip on the dagger, feinting left before lunging low, aiming for his thigh.
Darron moved to block—
That's when she let go of the dagger.
It wasn't an attack. It was a distraction.
Darron's eyes flicked to the falling blade for a fraction of a second.
And that was all Mira needed.
She twisted, pivoting on her heel and bringing her knee up—
Right into his ribs.
Darron staggered, coughing as he stumbled back.
Mira lunged again, this time grabbing the dagger as it bounced off the floor.
Her blade sliced through the air—
And stopped just before his throat.
Darron froze, his smirk fading.
"Not bad," he murmured.
Mira's grip was tight, her heart pounding. "Drop the cane," she ordered.
Darron chuckled, lifting his hands in surrender.
"Alright, alright," he said, letting the dueling cane clatter to the floor.
Mira kept her eyes locked on him, stepping back cautiously.
Darron exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Guess I underestimated you."
Mira didn't answer. She was already turning away—
Then, pain exploded in her side.
Darron had moved too fast.
Before she could react, his fist slammed into her stomach, knocking the air from her lungs.
Mira gasped, stumbling.
Darron grinned, grabbing his cane from the floor. "Lesson one," he said. "Never turn your back on an opponent."
Mira gritted her teeth.
Fine.
If he wanted a real fight—
She'd give him one.
*
Flint came in fast.
His hands blurred, grabbing Char's wrist before he could react, twisting his arm behind his back with bone-crushingforce.
Char barely had time to gasp before Flint slammed him into the wall.
Pain shot up his spine.
"Tell me," Flint muttered against his ear. "Who sent you? The Guild? The Syndicate?"
Char gritted his teeth, struggling. "Nobody sent me."
Flint didn't loosen his grip. "Lies."
Char's vision blurred from the pressure. He couldn't overpower Flint directly. The man was stronger, faster, and had years of experience on him.
But Char had something Flint didn't.
Unpredictability.
Char suddenly slammed his head backward, cracking into Flint's nose.
Flint grunted, his grip loosening for half a second.
That was all Char needed.
He twisted free, spinning around and slashing his knife at Flint's chest.
Flint dodged, but not fast enough. The blade ripped through his coat, drawing a thin line of blood.
The older man stepped back, touching his wound with a scowl.
"You're better than I thought," he admitted.
Char panted, keeping his knife raised. "And you talk too much."
Flint chuckled. "Fair enough."
Then he vanished.
No—he moved.
Char barely saw the attack coming before Flint's fist drove into his stomach.
Char gagged, the impact knocking him back hard.
He crashed into a table, sending papers flying.
Damn. He's fast.
Flint stalked forward, rolling his shoulders. "This is where you stop, boy."
Char's fingers tightened around his knife.
"No," he muttered.
"This is where I start."
Then he charged again.