“Nooo!” Bones wailed, clutching his head in disbelief. His experience—stolen! And by none other than a mindless, inanimate construct.

  He swore revenge. The brass golem became his sole focus. Bones wanted—no, needed—to see what lay beneath the “hood,” to uncover what made it tick. Yet no matter how many attacks rained down on it, not a single strike pierced its plated exterior.

  “H-how can this be?” Bones stammered as another of his Lance-a-lot lances bounced harmlessly off the golem’s body. “What is it made of? Why won’t you fall?!” he cried out as the brass behemoth slowly turned to face him.

  Identify yielded nothing—just a string of question marks. No level. No name. Nothing. Bones clenched his jaw. He couldn’t gauge its strength. Its body was beyond sturdy, and judging by the deep craters left behind by its heavy strikes, he suspected it was third tier—level seventy-five or higher.

  Instinct kicked in. Bones took a cautious step back just as the brass golem took one forward. Luckily, it wasn’t hard to bait. A well-placed arrow struck its red crystal eye, bouncing off harmlessly, but the distraction worked—it shifted its focus from Bones to Harmony.

  “Forget this,” Bones muttered, retreating. There was no point in pressing on. He commanded Skully—the most agile of the three—to keep the brass behemoth occupied while instructing the others to fall back. He would find another way.

  But just as he turned to leave—Clank. Clank. Clank.

  The unmistakable sound of heavy metal striking stone echoed through the corridor.

  More footsteps.

  Another brass golem was coming.

  As if being flanked by brass golems on both sides wasn’t enough, Bones heard a distant howl, followed by frantic shouting. The raiders had caught up—at least one of them was a werewolf—and they were already engaging the incoming golem. That meant a fight had broken out behind them, cutting off any chance of retreat. Bones’ gaze flicked toward Skully, who was weaving between the brass golem’s attacks with remarkable agility, narrowly avoiding each crushing blow.

  “No other choice, then.” Bones glanced past Skully and the golem, eyeing the corridor stretching beyond the range of his senses. It had to lead somewhere. And if it was wide enough for them to fight, it was wide enough for him to slip through.

  His body snapped into motion. Sprinting forward, he conjured two skull bombs, one in each hand. Bones waited for the brass golem to notice him, and the moment its gleaming red eyes locked onto his approach, he came to an abrupt stop just a few meters from the towering, dull-gold construct. With a sharp motion, he wound his arm back and hurled the first skull straight at its head.

  The golem, having learned from previous encounters, raised its massive fist and smashed straight through the incoming projectile, detonating it before impact. A shockwave rippled through its arm, causing it to vibrate slightly—but that was all. It remained standing, unfazed.

  The second skull bomb, however, arced through the air unnoticed. The golem followed its trajectory just in time to see Skully leap, snatch it mid-flight, and slam it point-blank into its face.

  A deafening explosion followed. The force sent Skully hurtling backward, his body spinning as he crashed against the stone floor and skidded to a stop. Meanwhile, the golem reeled from the impact, its head jerking back as cracks spread across its faceplate. One of its red, crystallized eyes shattered entirely, fragments of gleaming crystal cascading to the ground. It staggered, struggling to maintain balance.

  Bones didn’t waste the opportunity. He dashed forward, brushing past the golem as it struggled to steady itself. Murdok and Harmony followed closely behind as he raced toward Skully.

  Bones reached out, grabbed Skully’s arm, and hauled him up. His chest was caved in, his teeth shattered, and a jagged fissure ran from his jaw, across his cheekbone, and up to his eye socket.

  There was no time to assess the damage. The brass golem was already recovering, its remaining eye locking onto them as it turned with a heavy metallic groan.

  “Let’s go,” Bones said, quickening his pace. Mana crystals flickered in a blur as he tore down the corridor, until he reached a set of heavy doors. They were slightly ajar, a scrap of metal wedged between them and the floor, preventing them from shutting completely. The gap was narrow, barely wide enough for him to squeeze through.

  With a sharp flick of his wrist, Bones dismissed his golems, storing their cores. Then, turning sideways, he forced himself through the narrow opening, his bones scraping against the cold metal —just as the thunderous clanking of the golem’s footsteps grew louder. It was coming.

  Bones' body jerked as he stumbled through the gap, landing hard on the other side. He quickly scrambled to his feet, his head swiveling as he took in his surroundings. It was another hall—perhaps a study, judging by the scattered parchments littering the floor and the rows of documents lining the shelves and overturned tables.

  His gaze snapped to the far end of the room, where the exit lay partially blocked by a hulking, motionless figure—a brass golem.

  Bones took an instinctive step back, his fingers twitching as he resummoned his golems. Cores clattered against the stone floor, bouncing once before Skully, Murdok, and Harmony materialized, weapons drawn and poised for battle. But Bones held up a hand, signaling them to wait.

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  The brass golem wasn’t moving.

  His shoulders eased slightly, but just as he began to relax, an ear-splitting metallic clang shattered the momentary silence.

  Bones spun toward the sound. Behind him, the brass golem from the previous corridor had reached the doors, its thick fingers curling around the edges as it tried to force them open. A surge of panic shot through Bones as he staggered back, colliding with a shelf before regaining his footing.

  He turned, hurrying toward the fallen golem. Up close, he took in the sight of its hulking, headless body sprawled across the floor, its massive head lying detached beside it. Deep dents and cracks marred its metallic faceplate. Bones briefly recalled the last skull bomb hitting its mark. If anything, this confirmed his suspicion—the head was the weakest part, its most vulnerable point.

  Another thunderous impact against the doors made him wince. The golem outside wasn’t giving up. It couldn’t pry them open, so now it was trying to break them down. Could it even fit through? Bones wasn’t sure, but either way, his time was running out. As his gaze drifted, it caught on something nearby—a document lying open amidst the scattered parchments on the floor.

  It was an illustration—an exact depiction of the brass golem.

  His gaze dropped to the text beneath it. The words were faded, smudged with dust, but he could still make them out:

  Titan-Class Automaton: Model—Titanforged Sentinel

  A sharp crack echoed through the chamber as the doors shuddered under another blow. Bones gritted his teeth, tearing his eyes away from the document. He crouched beside the fallen golem, his fingers working swiftly as he inspected the head first. Gears and wires lay behind its ruby crystal eyes, but something was missing—there was no core.

  His attention shifted to the exposed cavity where the head had been torn away. The intricate mechanisms inside gleamed faintly under the dim mana light. Lowering himself onto all fours, he crammed his upper body inside, the scent of rust and old oil filling his senses as he examined the inner workings.

  What powered these things? A core? Mana circuits? His fingers hovered over the exposed parts, searching for anything that stood out. Then, deep within the golem’s chest cavity, he felt a familiar shape—a golem core.

  But unlike his own, this one wasn’t smooth. Its surface was marred by countless indentations, a network of intersecting engravings so precise that just thinking about the craftsmanship behind them sent a thrill through him. He reached in, fingers wrapping around the core, and gave it a sharp tug. It wouldn’t budge. The core was locked in place, fused into the golem’s framework.

  Another deafening crash. The doors buckled, a crack forming near the hinges. The golem outside was close to breaking through. Bones reflexively jerked his head up—smacking it against the plated exterior. He ignored the impact as the pressure weighed on him. He had two choices—run for the exit doors or take a gamble and give the core another pull.

  He made his choice.

  Yanking himself out of the golem, he knocked his skull against the plating again in his haste. He stepped back until he felt the cold surface of the exit doors against him, his gaze locked on the entrance, bracing for the final blow that would send the sentinel crashing inside.

  But it never came.

  The chamber hung in tense silence. The air felt thick, charged with anticipation. Bones narrowed his eyes. He could no longer sense the sentinel’s presence on the other side.

  “What’s going on? Where is it?” he murmured.

  The tension gnawed at him. Unable to bear it any longer, he crept toward the buckled doors, pressing his head between the warped metal. Faintly, through the gaps, he heard it—clanking footsteps, growing distant. The sentinel was leaving.

  Before he could question why, another sound reached him—voices. Human shouts interwoven with the rhythmic clanking of metal joints. Bones strained his vision through the gaps in the sentinel’s moving frame, catching fleeting shadows beneath the flickering light.

  Two figures.

  Blurry in the distance, but unmistakable. The hunched postures, elongated limbs, and fluid, predatory movements left no doubt—they were werewolves.

  They were deep in discussion, their gestures sharp and purposeful. Bones followed the direction of their pointing fingers—to the bodies of two dead werewolves sprawled on the ground, and then to the approaching sentinel. The massive golem was nearly upon them, its heavy frame winding up for an attack.

  They’re going to get themselves killed. What a waste.

  Yet, strangely, the two werewolves showed no fear. No urgency. They weren’t retreating, weren’t even bracing themselves.

  Bones watched, bewildered, as the sentinel’s colossal fist, capable of reducing walls to rubble, came crashing down. He expected them to dodge at the last moment, to scatter out of reach. Instead, one of them simply raised an arm.

  The impact sent the werewolf skidding back, claws raking against the stone, but he stopped himself with ease. The sentinel’s attack—one that could shatter stone—had been blocked.

  The werewolf barely looked fazed, rubbing the spot on his arm as if brushing off an inconvenience. Then, in a blur of motion, the two descended upon the sentinel with speed and strength that utterly dwarfed the golem’s.

  It was over in seconds.

  The second werewolf finished the fight. With a single decisive movement, he gathered his claws into a sharp point and drove his entire arm straight into the sentinel’s chest.

  The metal plating that had given Bones so much trouble caved like paper beneath the sheer force. The sentinel seized up, its entire frame convulsing as sparks erupted from within. Smoke curled from its joints. Then, with one last shudder, it collapsed in a heap, the impact sending vibrations rippling through the floor.

  Bones didn’t have to guess who they were.

  Only Garrik and Varek could do something like that. And if he had to wager, the one who blocked the attack was Garrik, while the one who tore the sentinel apart was Varek.

  “Monsters, the two of them,” Bones muttered under his breath.

  Neither seemed interested in the fallen golem. They turned back to the two dead werewolves, continuing their conversation. Bones couldn’t make out the words, but something in Garrik’s posture shifted—his head tilted slightly.

  Then, he turned. Right toward Bones’ hiding place.

  Bones pressed himself against the wall, unmoving. A few agonizing seconds passed. Then, cautiously, he peered through the gap.

  The two were parting ways. But the unease in his core didn’t fade. If anything, it worsened.

  Garrik was coming his way.

  Bones didn’t waste another second. He spun on his heel and bolted toward the exit, nearly tripping in his haste. His feet pounded against the stone as he leaped over the remains of the sentinel. His hands fumbled against the side of the door, searching frantically for the panel.

  There. He pressed it. Nothing happened.

  His fingers tensed. He pressed it again. And again. Desperation clawed at his mind as he slammed the button repeatedly, willing it to work.

  Then he froze, recalling the gears. The metal grinding. The hum through the walls. The slamming of doors.

  It clicked.

  The security measures had been triggered. The facility was on lockdown.