Lyanna's steps were steady, but a sense of urgency hummed beneath her skin. The others followed closely behind her, the group moving quickly. Sunday was coming, and with it, the Master’s gathering. The quest to end Avaris had dragged on and Lyanna wanted to avoid delaying the Master’s demise.

  The quiet tension in the air settled between the party members. Grent was at her side, his large form a steady presence. She could feel Lagos’s eyes darting around, the usual mischievous martial artist now serious. The newest member of their party, Birdfolk Strix was behind, his footsteps tentative.

  Eti spoke first. "What about Shem and me?" he asked. "We’re only bronze. What are we really going to do here?"

  Lyanna’s gaze flickered briefly to her young ward. His shoulders were slightly slumped as he walked, trying to keep pace with the rest of them.

  “You’re here for support,” she said. “If we need to retreat or call for help, you’ll be there. But just stay outside the square for now.”

  Shem, walking beside him, gave Eti a sideways glance, his face neutral but his stance slightly more relaxed. Eti nodded, but his eyes betrayed him. A flicker of disappointment clouded his expression. He wanted to be more. He wanted to be the one fighting beside them, contributing.

  Grent gave a loud snort and slapped Eti on the back.

  “Don’t worry, lad,” Grent said with that deep, gravelly voice of his. “There’ll be plenty of Masters for you left. It’s just a matter of time before your turn comes.”

  It was meant as encouragement, but Eti’s face remained somewhat drawn, his uncertainty still hanging between them as they continued walking.

  Lyanna’s thoughts kept wandering, and soon she found herself staring at the blue walls that loomed before them. They shimmered with that eerie, almost unreal glow. Gold difficulty, the words on the walls spoke, and something in Lyanna stirred.

  It was the words she recalled from Terrance’s departure that tugged at her thoughts, like the whisper of an old riddle that wouldn’t leave her mind.

  To solve a problem, you must find the heart of the solution.

  Lyanna shook her head slightly. The advice was cryptic, uncharacteristically vague for Terrance, a man who had always been straightforward.

  She had considered it many times since his departure. What heart? What solution? And why had he said it like that? The more she pondered, the more it seemed like a puzzle she couldn’t quite unlock.

  Lyanna held her gold key up. This was the first part of the puzzle.

  The rest of the group stood at the threshold and Lyanna slid her gold key into the blue light. The light flickered, shifting from an ominous blue to a dangerous red.

  "No more distractions," she said.

  “That’s right,” Grent said, his words a promise. His key slid in just as easy as hers.

  One by one, Lagos and Strix followed, each of them stepping up to insert their keys. A single nod from Lyanna and the four of them stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the unknown.

  What lay beyond wasn’t anything like Lyanna had imagined.

  They stood at the edge of the Factory, a barren wasteland that stretched out. The air was thick with the scent of smoke, the trees all chopped and burned, their charred remains scattered across the ground in twisted heaps of blackened wood.

  And in the center of the square, the towering steel skull, once at the very top of Avaris's tower, lay broken and grounded.

  The skull was massive, looming like a nightmare awakened. Its dark, hollow gaze casting down upon them. The steel of the skull was cold, lifeless. There was a strange emptiness to this place, as though all life had been sucked from it.

  Then something moved.

  Golems began to rise, assembling themselves from dust and debris. They stood taller than Grent, their body made of thick plates of metal and steel with their blade-like arms.

  They were built for destruction, their sheer size enough to make even the bravest of warriors hesitate. But not Grent.

  Before she could say anything, Grent was already ahead, the sound of his greatsword scraping free from its sheath. The sword was huge, longer than she was tall and just as wide.

  Grent let out a roar, a barbarian shout that echoed across the battlefield and the veins on his arms and face bulged. The muscles in his body, already impressive, seemed to swell and grow under the sheer pressure of his rage, his frame nearly shaking with the intensity of it.

  Power, raw and untamed, surged through him.

  His greatsword was raised high before it came crashing down onto the golem in his path. The sound of metal against metal was deafening. The golem cracked under the force of Grent’s blow, its limbs buckling, the armor splitting under the sheer pressure. The steel body crumpled like a paper doll.

  A golem taken down with a single blow.

  Lyanna watched from a distance, in awe. It had been some time since they fought side by side. Her mind flashed back to the last battle she had fought with golems, her own sword barely scratching their hardened armor.

  Strength.

  That was what the fae was missing. They had relied on magic and their wings and their agility. But this time, it was the strength they needed.

  Grent was playing his part and she should play hers too. Her speed and Grent’s strength.

  Together, they were unstoppable.

  As the rest of the golems approached, Lyanna took a deep breath and noticed an odd golem in the back. A floating sphere, its form reminiscent of a single, giant eye, hovering in the air. But before she could fully focus on it, it vanished.

  Behind her, Lagos got into position. One foot forward, the other set wide, and his hand raised, palm open.

  This was the Grandmaster Style, the Way of Lagos.

  With a sudden burst of motion, Lagos launched himself forward. His Cheloran body, heavy and armored, moved with deceptive agility. His shell whipped through the air, its back slamming into the first golem.

  Lyanna heard the sound of metal cracking, followed by the heavy thud of the golem’s body collapsing into the ground. It was destroyed, it didn’t have a chance.

  Before Lyanna registered it, Lagos was already leaping again, his massive form soaring into the air with an almost unnatural grace. He landed on his back, his shell making contact with the earth with a bone-rattling shockwave that sent several more golems crashing to the ground.

  Lagos’s body was already in motion, turning to face the next wave of foes that moved toward him, but Strix, the Owl Birdfolk, wasn’t about to let him claim all the glory.

  Strix flapped his feathered wings, lifting off the ground in a swirl of wind and electric energy. His hands rose, fingers splayed wide, and the air around him began to hum with an otherworldly power. Lightning began to crackle at his fingertips, surging with raw energy as he gathered the forces of the storm.

  Lyanna recognized the spell at once. Storm Sphere—the very same spell that Oluru, her brother, had used to protect Highhaven.

  The sky above darkened, and the winds whipped around them, as the clouds gathered in a whirling vortex. Lightning surged, crackling and whipping into the sky before it collided with the atmosphere, forming a massive orb of energy. The orb expanded, trapping the golems that survived Grent and Lagos’s onslaught. One by one, their metal limbs locked up, their bodies falling apart from the storm.

  But golems kept coming. They poured from every corner, an unyielding mass of cogs and steel. They didn’t stop, didn’t falter.

  Despite the golem’s numbers, the party stood strong. Lagos with his martial arts, Grent cutting through their ranks with sheer power, and Strix, his Storm Sphere active.

  Lyanna’s eye saw something shift in the distance. Several goles began to reconfigure, their limbs shifting, locking together to form something else. Ballistas. Massive, dangerous and aimed at the wizard.

  She didn't wait to see what happened next. With a swift motion, Lyanna charged into the sky, her twin blades glowing with arcs of lightning. Crisscrossing her blades in a rapid, lightning-infused attack, she delivered the devastating strike that destroyed the first ballista.

  "Dewdrop Cascade!" she said.

  The ballista shattered under her assault, disintergrating into scrap parts. The remaining ballistae began to fire, but it was too late. Lyanna was upon them, her blades still crackling with lightning.

  The remaining golems surged forward and yet, the battle was drawing to a close. The golems began to fall, one by one, under the weight of the party’s combined strength.

  Grent, his body still covered in sweat, his veins bulging under the strain of his exertion, let out a heavy breath.

  “That’s it?” he grunted.

  Lyanna, her own breath heavy but controlled, shook her head and turned toward the center of the square. The steel skull still stood proudly in the distance. The Master wasn’t defeated.

  “He may have more tricks,” Lyanna said as she pointed the tip of her blade toward the towering skull. “We need to be ready.”

  Grent raised an eyebrow, his gaze following her blade as it pointed towards the skull. Then, Grent’s eyes flicked to Lagos, who was standing on a pile of golem parts, his body still. Grent grinned, a wild gleam in his eye.

  “Ly,” Grent said. “Lagos—like old times?”

  Like old times.

  Lyanna raised two fingers, the spark of lightning arcing onto Grent’s greatsword. The sword, already a beast of destruction, began to crackle with the power of a storm.

  Lagos stood behind Grent, his palm pressing firmly on his back in the familiar stance of the Bear Palm. The force of his technique sent a shockwave through Grent’s body, pushing him forward with incredible speed.

  Grent surged ahead, his greatsword humming in his grip, crackling with the lightning Lyanna had infused into it. The ground beneath them trembled as Grent leapt into the air, his greatsword raised high, his body burning with the force of the storm’s power.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Lyanna couldn’t help but smile as the scene unfolded before her, reminding her of the adventurers they had. The monsters and Masters killed by their techniques.

  "I see what you all are doing," Strix said, his sharp eyes following Grent’s path through the air. "Enlarge."

  The words were barely spoken before the magic took hold. Grent’s form expanded, his body growing large. His greatsword now twice the size, crackling with the force of thunder.

  With a roar, Grent crashed down.

  Meteor Strike.

  The impact shook the earth, a wave of shock blasting outward as Grent’s greatsword came crashing down onto the steel skull of Avaris’s fortress. The sound of steel splintering rang through the air, debris raining down as the skull was crushed. The terrifying skull that attacked Highhaven was reduced to nothing but ruins and twisted metal.

  Lyanna shielded her face from the blast, feeling the heat and the pressure of the explosion around her, but she didn’t flinch. She knew Grent. She knew how much power lay behind every strike he made, and this one was no different.

  From the wreckage, Grent emerged, standing tall, his greatsword still in hand. He shook his head, a grin spreading across his face, despite the destruction around him.

  “It’s empty,” he said.

  Lyanna’s eyes scanned the ruined remains of the skull. Something in the wreckage caught Lyanna’s eye. The floor beneath the fallen skull was broken, but there was more beneath it. Stairs, hidden within the remains, leading downward.

  "There’s something down there," Lyanna said. "Let’s go."

  She turned on her heel, her body moving cautiously as she strode toward the stairs. Behind, she could feel Grent’s steps, the rhythmic clink of his sword dragging behind him.

  The moment they reached the bottom, a steel hallway stretched out before them. Strix’s voice broke the silence, his tone wary.

  “Trap?” he asked. The tight narrow space kept the Birdfolk uncomfortable.

  “Definitely,” Lagos replied. He'd seen this before.

  It was silent. There were no traps yet but the steel walls felt like an ambush.

  As they continued down the path, the steel hallway began to feel more like a labyrinth, with every corner leading them deeper into its twists and turns. And then, as if the walls themselves had a mind of their own, they came to a fork in the road.

  Lyanna’s eyes narrowed, her instincts kicking in as she quickly assessed their options. She didn’t hesitate.

  “Maze,” she said. “Keep to the left.”

  As soon as they turned the corner, a panel in the steel hallway shifted and groaned. A spider golem emerged from the panel, its movements jerky. Its legs clattered against the floor as it advanced with an unsettling clicking sound.

  Without hesitation, Lyanna’s lightning-charged swords flashed to life in her hands. Sparks jumped between the blades as she struck, lightning crackling through the golem’s body. In an instant, the spider golem was reduced to a smoking wreck, its limbs twitching for a final moment before it collapsed into a pile of ruined metal.

  They continued through the steel hallway, following the left wall for what seemed to be hours. Finally, they emerged back at the entrance, the place they had just come from.

  “Odd,” Grent said. “Going left always works.”

  “Not if the walls move,” Lyanna said. The walls, the hallways. They were moving, constantly changing so they can’t escape.

  “We’ve got to map it out,” she said, her mind working through the possibilities. “All the combinations, then we can exit.”

  “I’ll draw the map,” Lagos said.

  Strix spoke up, his voice cutting through the tension. “If the maze doesn’t change... we can just exit.”

  "How do you stop it from moving?" Grent asked.

  A sharp blue glow began to build in Strix’s palm. He spoke no words, just gathered the energy until a swirling sphere of white formed at his hands. With a swift gesture, Strix blew the energy outward.

  The maze shuddered. The walls froze. The cold energy radiated out, and the maze began to solidify, the shifting patterns of the walls grinding to a halt.

  Grent looked at Strix, wide-eyed, his mouth falling open for a moment. “We should have gotten a caster on our party long ago,” he said.

  “Let’s go,” Lyanna said, her only focus on Avaris.

  The ice on the walls of the maze creaked and groaned behind them as the party moved forward. Lyanna glanced over her shoulder as they left the maze. The floating eyeball-shaped golem, hovering for just a moment, before disappearing. They were being watched.

  But she said nothing, turning her focus back to what lay ahead.

  They continued until they reached a new section of the factory: a spiral staircase, the steel steps leading downward into an uncertain darkness.

  “Urgh, trap stairs,” Lyanna said.

  “How could you tell?” Strix asked.

  Lyanna didn’t answer at first. She stepped forward, her fingers brushing against the ceiling of the stairway. Then, she bent downward and lightly ran her fingers along the steps as she carefully explained her reasoning.

  “It’s simple,” she said. “These stairs are too well-kept. They look like they’ve been preserved for a reason. No dirt, no oils, no marks from wear. It’s as if they were designed to trap someone. The steps will likely give way halfway down, plunging the unsuspecting down. Lava, acid, or whatever the Master wants—there’s always something deadly waiting beneath. But since we’re in the faelands, there’s a more specific trick in play.”

  Lyanna’s gaze flickered toward the ceiling. “The Master would make sure to trap flying fae, using the top of the stairs. It’s always the simplest way. A ceiling that drops down with crushing force, and anyone who tries to fly up would be crushed.”

  Strix looked impressed, his feathers rustling slightly as he nodded. “Well, that’s a fine bit of reasoning.”

  Grent stepped forward. He wasn’t one to second-guess what Lyanna had deduced; he just wanted to get things moving. With a grunt, he swung his greatsword, its massive blade biting into the ceiling. The sheer power of the strike caused the ceiling to crack. It was slow at first, but Grent’s raw strength was enough to pry loose several large cogs embedded in the ceiling’s structure.

  “You guys have much adventuring experience, huh?” Strix said, watching Grent work.

  “We’ve had our share,” Lagos chimed in.

  The stairs groaned underfoot as the party descended, the steel shifting and creaking with every step they took. The trap had been disabled, but the dreadful sound of the mechanism trying to reset itself echoed around them.

  They hadn’t truly escaped yet, Lyanna could feel the tension begin to ease, just slightly. They had made it past the first three challenges.

  “Minions at the ground level,” Grent grunted.

  “Time-wasting maze on the second,” Lagos added.

  “And death trap on the third,” Lyanna finished the thought aloud.

  “What would come up next?” Strix asked.

  “Either another trap to trick you, since you think you escaped the last one…” Lyanna said.

  “Or a crap ton of minions,” Grent said, finishing the sentence.

  And just as Grent finished speaking, they rounded a corner into another long, narrow hallway.

  Large figures loomed in the hallway, proving Grent right.

  They were huge, more like statues than golems. Armored, each golem was a tower of cogs, gears and steel, with their great weapons—massive axes, spiked maces, and heavy shields—in hand. They looked like the elite of Avaris’s arsenal.

  Each of them was vast, their bodies twice the size of a man, their movements slow but deliberate. Their gears shifted, with an unsettling lack of emotion. There was something deadly about their silence, a waiting stillness.

  The first giant golem moved.

  Lyanna glanced over at Grent, his greatsword held firmly in his hands.

  He smiled.

  "Let's make this quick," he said.

  The golems rushed forward, their massive forms hurtling down the long hallway with an unsettling precision, each step shaking the ground beneath them. Their great weapons were raised, their eyes glowing with a cold, mechanical intensity. There was no hesitation in their movements. They were perfectly programmed to destroy.

  But Grent had no patience for that.

  Grent’s greatsword was already in motion before the first golem even had a chance to react. The blade, massive and heavy, scrapped the floor as Grent charged forward, his muscles bulging. Then the sword rose sharply, cutting upward with tremendous force, a clean, powerful slice.

  Rising Blade.

  The golem’s metallic body cracked under the weight of the blow, its body lifting off the ground, crashing violently into the ceiling. As the golem tumbled back down, Grent casually swung his greatsword again. The falling machine rolled to the side. It landed in a heap, motionless, its massive form rendered useless.

  Strix, standing to the side, lifted his hand, fingers twitching as he began to gather electricity in his palm. With a swift motion, Strix thrust his hands forward, sending the burst of lightning streaking through the air. The bolt collided with one of the golems, the crackling energy surging through its metal body. The electricity bounced from golem to golem in a chaotic arc, six of them caught in the chain reaction.

  Chain Lightning.

  The golems fell one by one, their bodies twitching and sparking before they broke down into various parts.

  "Seriously," Lagos said. "Why didn’t we get a mage before?"

  Before they could celebrate, the fallen golem parts began to stir, each piece reassembling itself. Smaller golems began to form, their arm blades raised menacingly.

  Lagos was already charging. With a grunt, he launched himself forward, his large shell spinning out in front of him as he became a blur of motion. Like a top, he spun into the group of golems. His hard shell slammed into the golems sending them flying into the air.

  Way of Lagos. Spinning Top.

  Grent’s greatsword swung again, this time horizontal, the blade moving faster than the eye could follow. The momentum of the attack was unstoppable, a clean, devastating arc of steel that sliced through the mid-air golems. Explosions rang out along the line of Grent’s strike, shattering the golems like fragile glass.

  Demolition Swing.

  Lyanna hovered, her feet barely grazing the ground as she floated just out of reach of a giant golem’s attack. Her charged blades crackled with electricity as she swung them in quick, fluid arcs. The blade met the golem’s armored body with a resounding clash, cutting deep into its steel chest. The golem staggered back, but Lyanna wasn’t finished. She swung again, the lightning-infused blades tearing through the air, the hum of the storm surrounding her as she made the final strike that brought the machine to the ground.

  She didn’t have time to watch it fall. Lyanna’s sharp eyes were already scanning the battle. Her gaze shifted, locking on to something out of the corner of her vision. Spider golems.

  They were moving swiftly, creeping low to the ground, as they flanked Strix from behind. She saw the familiar gleam of their bladed limbs, deadly and sharp, as they closed in on the unaware Owl Birdfolk.

  "Strix!" Lyanna shouted, her voice cutting through the noise of battle. But it was too late. The golems were already on him, and there was no time to warn him.

  Her blade flew from her hand, cutting through the air in a wide arc towards Strix.

  “What—” Strix yelled.

  But Lyanna was already in motion, vanishing from sight and reappearing just as quickly, her hands wrapping around the blade she had thrown. She appeared mid-flight and swung both her blades at the spider golem.

  Dreamveil Slash.

  The spider golem didn’t even have time to react as the blades cleaved through its metallic body. The creature’s limbs disintegrated under the force, and with a final screech, it fell to the ground in a heap of scrap metal and broken cogs.

  Her eyes shifted to Strix, his feathers fluffed up in surprise.

  “Sorry,” Lyanna said. “We’re not used to having a backline, so we tend to just charge forward.”

  Strix blinked at her for a moment, still processing what had just happened. He stared at the spider golem’s crumpled form, then at her.

  “Thank you for saving me, Guardian,” the owl replied.

  Lyanna didn't reply. "Grent, make a path forward for us!" Lyanna shouted, her voice clear over the sound of battle.

  She could see the massive golems advancing with the smaller bladed golems at their side. Grent, his eyes already narrowed in fierce concentration, raised his greatsword. He was ready, as always.

  "Lagos, support him!" Lyanna yelled again. “I’ll look after the rear.”

  Her focus remained sharp, stopping the golems closing in behind them. Strix’s magic was powerful but it needed his concentration to use the powerful spells. That left him open to an ambush from the back.

  Lagos stepped forward, his movements precise, his hands steady as he prepared to strike. He quickly positioned himself beside Grent. With a single motion, he raised his hand and used his tiger claw technique, a slashing move that struck the nearest Sentinel golem. The creature fell, its armor sliced clean through with Lagos’s strike.

  As the golem collapsed, Lagos cast a quick glance at Grent, his lips curving into a small, mischievous smile. “Huh,” he said. “I thought you’re looking after Lyanna’s rear.”

  Grent didn’t even flinch as he swung his sword, another golem’s torso shattering beneath the weight of his strike. "Cheeky bugger," he said. "One of your Cheloran wisdoms, is it?"

  Before Lagos could respond, the ground beneath them trembled. A hammer, the size of a tree trunk, came crashing down between them with bone-shaking force, sending out a shockwave that rattled the ground. Both men barely flinched, sidestepping the attack with casual ease as if the golem’s strike were nothing more than an inconvenience.

  They continued the conversation as if nothing had happened, as if the earth-shaking force of the hammer was just another part of the battle.

  "Nah," Lagos replied, winking. "That’s a Lagos wisdom."

  The party pressed on, the golems falling beneath the combined strength of their efforts. With every strike from Grent’s greatsword, every calculated strike of Lagos’s limbs, and every bolt of lightning that crackled from Strix’s hands, the golems fell one by one.

  They continued to battle down the long hallway, until the last of the golems fell, revealing a large imposing set of doors.

  It was tall and metallic. There were no sound as they neared, no hint of what awaited them. But Lyanna could feel it.

  There was a quiet understanding that passed between them, wordlessly acknowledged. They all knew what was ahead. They didn’t need to speak it.

  The Master’s room.

  Avaris’s room.

  ******