Camilla sat huddled in the corner where two ancient walls met, knees drawn tightly to her chest, her small frame almost swallowed by the shadows. She hadn't moved or spoken since Rate finished healing Bulk. Her eyes, distant and glassy, stared at nothing in particular.
Quinn stood a few paces away, quietly flexing his shoulders and rolling his neck, testing the limits of his battered physique. He kept casting occasional glances toward Camilla, his jaw tight.
Rate remained motionless at the threshold of the next entrance, hands clasped behind his back in that signature gentlemanly posture, shadow energy faintly curling at the edges of his long coat like restless smoke. He hadn't said a word since declaring the brief rest.
Bulk sat heavily on the cold flagstones, his massive back leaning against the wall. The huge support box rested In front of him, its contents unscratched as he worked with single-minded focus. His face was still streaked with dried blood and tears, but his hands moved with surprising steadiness. The dark, ominous stitches left by Rate's shadow magic crisscrossed his torso, shoulders, and what remained of his right leg like grotesque black veins.
Several minutes passed in heavy silence.
With grim determination, Bulk pieced together a makeshift prosthetic from available metal from the edges of the box, spare power cells, reinforced rods, and emergency clamps. It wasn't elegant. The pole-like limb was noticeably shorter than his original leg, forcing him to walk with a permanent crouch if he wanted to use it. He positioned the top of the crude prosthetic against the stump just below his knee, then tore long strips from his already tattered combat pants. Using the blood-stained fabric as makeshift straps, he cinched the contraption tightly into place, grimacing as the rough bindings bit into raw, newly healed flesh.
He tested it.
Pushing himself up with a low grunt, Bulk transferred weight onto the prosthetic. The joint held, but it was crude and unstable. Every shift sent jolts of pain up through the dark-stitched stump. He could manage short, awkward hops and lunges, but proper pacing or running was out of the question. The limb felt alien, unbalanced like dragging a dead weight that could betray him at any second.
Bulk stared down at the crude metal pole replacing half his leg, chest tightening with a wave of grief he couldn't quite suppress. A heavy sigh escaped him, shoulders slumping.
If they move too fast… I'll be left behind again.
The thought tasted like ash. He had barely survived the fifth wave. Being abandoned in this nightmare would be a slower, crueler death.
A sharp voice cut through the silence.
"Rest is over," Rate announced calmly, without turning around. "We are moving."
Bulk quickly packed the remaining tools back into the huge support box, sealed it, and hoisted the heavy load onto his back with a pained groan. The straps dug into his freshly healed shoulders. Camilla rose slowly from her corner, brushing dust from her clothes with norm movements. Quinn walked over to join Rate at the entrance. The hovering light orb drifted forward obediently, casting its soft golden glow ahead of them.
Rate stepped into the dark corridor first, followed closely by Quinn. Camilla fell in behind them, and Bulk brought up the rear, moving with an awkward, loping gait half hop, half painful lunge as he favored the crude prosthetic. Each step sent dull throbs of pain radiating through the black-stitched stump, but he clenched his jaw and kept moving.
The corridor sloped downward into a wide stone stairway that spiraled deeper into the ancient structure. The hovering orb provided the only reliable light, its radiance reflecting off damp walls carved with faded, unreadable runes. The air grew cooler and heavier the further they descended.
Quinn, walking just behind Rate, finally broke the silence, his voice low enough that only the captain could hear.
"Captain… permit me to speak."
Rate didn't slow down. "What seems to be the problem, Quinn?"
Quinn hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Camilla's… strangeness has been bothering me. Not that I'm worried about it. Who am I to complain?"
Rate's tone remained even. "Your awareness is strong. It means the two of you share a strong bond."
"That's quite the opposite," Quinn replied, a touch sharper than intended. "There's nothing that ties us together."
"You showed concern," Rate observed coolly. "And now you're being defensive about it."
Quinn's jaw tightened. After a few more steps, he continued, "After the end of this mission, I need your assistance in relaying a request to the Authority."
Rate's head tilted slightly. "Because of her?"
"I have my reasons," Quinn said. "I just think one needs to be in their right mind to be assigned to a mission like this."
Rate was quiet for several heartbeats. The only sounds were their footsteps and Bulk's uneven, metallic clanks echoing behind them.
"This isn't your first mission with her, is it?" Rate asked.
"No. Not likely so."
The temperature in Rate's voice dropped several degrees. "Listen well for this is your final warning regarding what you said earlier. You do as you're told. Keep your opinions to yourself. I get to decide whether you're worth keeping… or disposing of. I do not want to hear this from you ever again. If you keep this act up and cross the line in the future…. they will blow you out like a candle."
Quinn straightened instantly, shoulders rigid. The silence that followed stretched uncomfortably, thick and oppressive. Only the sound of their boots and Bulk's labored prosthetic scraping against stone filled the void.
Rate let the threat hang in the air a moment longer before adding, almost as an afterthought:
"And Camilla wasn't born that way. She was made."
The words landed heavily. Quinn didn't respond. He simply stared ahead, jaw locked, as the group continued down the long stairway.
As they approached the end of the descent, a dull, steady light began filtering up from below. Unlike the oppressive darkness of the previous floors, this glow was artificial and consistent. They emerged from the stairwell into an entirely different world.
For the first time since entering this nightmare, the fourth floor wasn't shrouded in darkness.
It was vast.
The chamber stretched out before them like the interiors colossal scale. The ceiling soared impossibly high, heights that even the floodlights couldn't fully reach. Along the upper edges where the walls met the ceiling, rows of powerful mounted floodlights blazed with harsh, unwavering brilliance, bathing the entire space in cold, clinical white light. The contrast was jarring after so many floors of gloom and ambush.
The floor itself was smooth, polished stone that stretched endlessly forward. The walls, carved with intricate geometric patterns, extended into the distance until they blurred. There was a strange, almost sterile quality to the space no traps visible at first glance, no immediate sense of dread. Just overwhelming and disorienting size.
And at the very center of this enormous chamber stood two colossal figures.
Earth Golems.
The air itself felt heavier here, charged with latent power. A low, subsonic hum vibrated through the floor, resonating in Bulk's prosthetic and Quinn's cracked armor.
Rate came to a slow stop at the edge of the open space, studying the two titans with calm, calculating eyes. Quinn halted beside him, Camilla stopped a few steps behind, her expression unreadable. Bulk finally caught up, breathing hard, the crude prosthetic scraping loudly against the stone as he planted it firmly and tried to steady himself.
No one spoke for a long moment.
The two golems remained motionless, yet their presence alone radiated raw, ancient threat. Their glowing eyes seemed to track the group's every subtle movement.
Rate's lips curved into the faintest trace of a smile cold, intrigued, and utterly unafraid.
Twenty feet tall, the two presences stood ahead, massive enough to bend attention around themselves. Towering, top-heavy, and brutally muscular in silhouette, they possessed broad shoulders, thick barrel torsos, and oversized fists the size of cargo crates. Their entire bodies were composed of jagged, weathered gray stones and boulders fitted together like a nightmarish natural jigsaw puzzle. Cracks between the rocks glowed with faint, dormant earthen energy, and patches of ancient moss clung to their shoulders like old scars. They looked as though the chamber itself had birthed them primordial guardians carved from the bones of the structure.
The moment the intruders fully stepped into the floodlit expanse, they triggered the ancient system.
The golems woke.
Their sunken eye sockets bloomed with vicious green energy, twin emeralds of malevolent light that cut through the sterile white glare of the floodlights. A deep, grinding rumble rolled through the chamber as tons of living rock shifted and locked into place. Dust cascaded from their joints. Then, with terrifying synchrony, both colossi began marching forward.
Each step shook the ground. The polished stone floor trembled violently under their weight, sending visible ripples through the air and forcing the team to brace. The rhythmic BOOM… BOOM… BOOM of stone feet striking stone echoed like war drums, growing louder and closer with every second.
"Is that what I think it is?" Quinn muttered. "How the hell did it get inside here?"
"It was built in here," Bulk answered grimly, adjusting the massive support box on his back while balancing on his crude prosthetic. "It's not possible to bring something that size in from the outside. These things were part of the defense from the beginning."
They all stared as the golems advanced, their movements deliberate and unstoppable. Rate stood perfectly still for a moment, hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable. Internally, his mind raced:
Golems. I never expected to see even one, let alone two, from everything we've encountered so far. Their size proves this isn't like breaking a stick. These are siege construct given souls.
"Finally," Quinn growled, a savage grin splitting his face as he flexed his shoulders and rolled his neck, "something I can lay my hands on." He jammed he's gauntlet against the other, "This will be interesting. Let's see how much it can take!"
He stepped forward aggressively, but Rate's arm shot out like a barrier, blocking him firmly across the chest.
"Don't get irrational now," Rate said coolly, his voice carrying that dangerous mildness. "Taking the environment into account is also a priority. Who knows what else might come up once the real chaos begins."
Quinn exhaled sharply but nodded. "Understood. I'll be cautious, as you said."
"No," Rate corrected, his tone shifting. "We need to speed up the pace. We cannot afford to stall here." He turned slightly, addressing the group with calm authority. "So you three get to handle this."
"Us three?" Quinn murmured, surprise flashing across his face.
"Camilla!" Rate called out.
At the sound of her name, Camilla's head snapped up. Her previously glassy, distant eyes ignited with sudden, feral focus.
"At ease," Rate commanded.
A wild, almost unhinged smile bloomed across Camilla's face, stretching her lips in a way that sent a chill through the others. The shift was instantaneous and disturbing.
"Bulk, you provide support," Rate continued without pause. "Quinn, you will lead the charge. Camilla will follow suit."
Camilla began hopping in place with manic excitement, the strange clinking of metal coming from beneath her cloak as her heavy boots stomped against the stone. "I'm ready! I'm ready!" she repeated in a sing-song voice that didn't match the brutality of the approaching threats.
Quinn turned uncomfortably from the unleashed Camilla back to Rate. "No, no, no, Captain please take back your words." His thoughts raced:
I never knew the Captain was the reason why Camilla didn't seem to be herself. Well, that makes sense… since he's capable of it.
He pressed on aloud, "Bulk is good, but I don't see why you had to let her loosen up. She could still perform if she was kept quiet."
"That is futile," Rate replied flatly. "Camilla can't fully function if restrained mentally. If she is, she's going to break sooner or later. She's needed to wrap this up quickly. I won't get involved. This is something you all can handle together."
Quinn stared at him for a beat, then nodded reluctantly. He turned toward the advancing golems, cracking his neck one last time. "Good enough. Let's show those things what we're made of!"
"Alright!" Camilla cheered, her voice bright and giddy. "Let's go bash some stones!"
She pulled off her cloak in one smooth, fluid motion, letting it fall dramatically to the ground. The fabric pooled at her feet like discarded shadow.
"There goes my peaceful time," Quinn muttered, he's right hand pressed against his visor, shaking his head in sober resignation.
Her attire was finally revealed in the harsh floodlight: a black armored off-shoulder crop top in a gothic style, featuring a halter neckline and a corset-inspired bodice that hugged her frame with aggressive elegance. Lace sleeves ran from her biceps down to her gloved hands, ending in delicate yet deadly glovelettes. Tight utility cargo pants completed the combat-ready look, practical yet menacing.
Covering her legs from the knees down were her true weapons,
Infernal War Greaves; An artifact
Heavy armored boots forged from the black ores, gleamed with glowing orange cores that pulsed like living embers. They rose to knee length and were bulky, imposing. Jagged, wing-like plates flared along the shins, while the toes ended in cruel claws. Molten embers and thin trails of smoke constantly swirled around the greaves, giving off waves of heat. Loose accessory buckles and chains dangled from the sides, producing that constant, ominous clinking sound whenever she moved amplified now by the force with which she had discarded her cloak.
Camilla dropped into a low, aggressive front stance, knees bent, claws scraping lightly against the stone floor. A mischievous, predatory grin split her face as she prepared to dash forward without waiting for any further command. Her eyes burned with unrestrained glee, the "made" weapon finally let off her leash.
The two golems continued their relentless approach, each footfall sending tremors through the vast chamber. Green energy flared brighter in their eyes as they locked onto the three combatants. The air grew thick with the scent of ozone and disturbed earth. Dust continued to rain from the ceiling high above, stirred by the giants' movement.
Camilla let out a soft, excited laugh that echoed strangely in the enormous space. The orange cores in her Infernal War Greaves flared brighter, molten embers swirling faster around her clawed toes.