Chapter 426: Change

Molten lines of power flowed and bubbled like lava running through cracks in the golem’s battered body. An unfamiliar mana drove into Alex’s senses and Claygon’s massive form seemed to ripple.

As he watched helplessly, old memories came drifting across time, seeming to echo through his mind. They rose even above sounds of battle and clay cracking, running through his golem in fissures.

Bits of a conversation he’d had long ago returned.

Some golems can even change on their own if they encounter the right mana, magical effects, or spells, Sim Shale had said, on the day he and Theresa first toured the workshop. ‘Golem Evolution’ we call that, but it takes a core made with materials that can generate a lot of mana and that are able to produce a variety of effects naturally. Chaos Essence is a good example, with its ability to mutate monsters.

That was the day he’d connected the similarities between golem cores and dungeon cores. The day he’d first learned of golem evolution, the mysterious process that couldn’t be predicted.

A deeper voice; measured, stronger, ancient, reawakened a memory buried in his mind.

With golems made from chaos essence, their triggers for evolution vary as much as…well, the roiling bed of chaos itself, Baelin had said. However, while the dungeon core’s substance shares a lot of similarity in composition to chaos essence, it is a different material, after all. I suspect that the trigger for Claygon’s evolution will likely come from other dungeon cores, their monsters, or this Ravener.”

And so, he was provided with a clue: Claygon’s evolution might be tied to the origins of his golem core. They had fought in dungeons together, been bathed in chaos essence and dungeon core energies in an explosion, felt the Ravener’s mana.

Claygon had encountered strange magics from masses of Ravener-spawn, even going back to the time of the clawed ones at Patrizia dePaola’s ball. And yet nothing. Not even the slightest change.

But today, the unique power from this unseen Ravener-spawn had turned clay golems, elementals, and mortals to stone.

It had washed over Claygon and his exposed core, and combined with the mana pulsing inside. A new power exploded; sparking, spreading as the enormous pool of mana within his core soared. It slipped through his mana pathways, and in heartbeats, cracks closed, knitting together like they never were.

Energy flooded the pathways, burning with incandescent light.

The light seared Alex’s eyes and—as it faded—Claygon transformed.

Gone was the grey clay that he and his sister had used to mould him. In its place was white stone—like marble—gleaming in the fading grey light of the enemy’s power.

Alex’s eyes stung, powerless to shed tears that longed to run free: his golem was alright. He was alright.

He’d evolved from clay to stone with a new and staggering power radiating from deep inside his core.

For a breath, Clyagon’s entire form flashed—hovering between solid matter and pure power—his mana pathways blazed bright, visible to even Alex’s frozen sight. They seemed infinite, teeming through his body like schools of tiny fish, connections between his fire-gems and core widened.

His core sparkled like crystals.

A breath later, his frame settled, white stone gleamed in snow swirling to the ground, and for an instant, the courtyard stilled. Monsters and defenders paused on the battlefield, looking up at what looked like a second sun briefly hovering above.

Even the invisible monster that once moved so quickly—killing with abandon—seemed rooted in place, its beams still holding Alex in paralysis.

Now.

The spawn was distracted.

This was their chance.

‘Claygon!’ Alex thought. ‘Hit it with everything you’ve got! All three fire-beams! And your war-spear!’

The golem’s arms snapped up.

Whooooom!

Alex’s mind raced, the beams would take time to charge, but Claygon could throw his spear and force the Ravener-spawn to scatter—

Whooooosh!

Before he could finish the thought, three beams like flame shot out, shocking him with the speed of their response. The rays holding the young wizard in suspension released the instant Claygon’s beams fired.

An inferno, followed abruptly by a concussion of sound, ripped the air. Something immense hit the ground, a feeble voice called from a mound of snow.

The paralysing effect fled, and Alex inhaled a precious breath of cold air that filled his spirit with relief, and every fibre of his being with life. Muscles he didn’t know he had ached from straining against the monster's magic, but they would have to wait.

He stared down—wrath filled—at black blood staining the snow where their invisible enemy lay.

“You’re dead,” he promised, pulling a pair of mana-soothing potions from his bag. “You’re absolutely dead.”

‘Claygon, get it!’

The stone golem gripped his spear and charged from the sky, unleashing beams of flame that streaked toward the target with the same swiftness as the enemy’s.

They struck, lancing through snow—melting it into geysers of boiling liquid— herding the invisible menace. Another grey beam launched, travelling sluggishly across the sky. Its beams would never again touch Claygon’s creator, the golem would see to that.

Without waiting for Alex’s direction, he flew into the beam's path, his stone body absorbing its magic. A smile crossed the Thameish wizard’s face. Claygon was immune to the petrifying beam.

He was safe.

And that meant he could shield others.

“Claygon!” Alex flew by his golem’s side, tossing the mana soothing potions to his Wizard’s Hands. “We’re going to dance! Let’s get this bastard!”

The stone construct immediately snapped to attention. He and Alex fell into the first position of the Spear-and-Oar dance, and together, they headed for the Ravener-spawn.

They danced for all to see, distracting, drawing attention away from Alex’s Wizard’s Hands as they dimmed to a muted crimson glow, nearly disappearing in the sheeting snow.

Wizard and golem moved as a mirror of each other, whirling and exchanging positions in the sky. Claygon fired beam after beam of raging flame at the unseen foe, heating the ground, melting snow, turning it to a boiling pool. The monster was trying to fight back, but its petrifying beams could only labour through the air while Alex and Claygon whirled in tandem. Feeble beams of deadly magic passed lightly over his stone form as he shielded his creator.

The enemy was struggling, stoking morale and fire in the defenders. Most shouted Watcher Shaw’s name in tribute, slashing every foe in sight, giving the invisible creature more than Claygon’s fire-beams to consider. A barrage of spells and blows came in a ferocious attack from every wizard, warrior and summoned in the courtyard.

Watchers bellowed incantations and curses, raining down shards of icicles, lines of dark energy and explosive fireballs, striking swathes of terrain and the invisible creature. They were also corralling it, herding it with explosive magics, preventing its escape.

Claygon’s beam struck.

A fireball singed its hide.

A lance of force magic hit as Alex and his stone golem closed in, doing their aerial dance. The creature fired sputtering paralysing beams of energy, desperate to sweep the defenders with the petrifying ray, but its aim had grown clumsy, predictable.

The panic it had inflicted on its master’s enemies now fell on its own shoulders.

Black blood dripped from invisible wounds, marking the spot where it lay. Incrementally, its shape was exposed, and frenzied, it writhed through the snow.

Paralysing and petrifying bursts fired slowly, erratically, flying in all directions. Four paralysing rays hit Claygon, freezing him in mid-air. Alex soared behind him, shielded. Another petrifying beam raked the golem, to no effect.

‘Keep firing, Claygon!’ Alex thought. ‘Even if you can’t move, just bury that thing in power.’

Instantly, fire-beams fired from Claygon’s forehead and outstretched hands. Explosions boiled the snow, but it dragged itself away, trying to roll from their path. Claygon fired again, his beams still aiming at the spot he’d just targeted. They raced past the Ravener-spawn.

But, hitting it wasn’t the goal, holding its attention was.

Glowing Wizard’s Hands slipped through blowing snow, weaving through spells and raging fire-beams.

High winds meant Alex would only get a single chance to hit it with a potion.

He just needed the right moment.

And maybe some luck.

This was not going well.

The petrifier had been moving through the courtyard, beset on all sides by defenders and mortal mages. Burns marked its body, and it bled from a dozen cuts. That blast from the four-armed warrior’s rays had dealt it a terrible wound to its leg, robbing it of speed. Now, its movements were slowed, it was bleeding, leaving a blood trail that allowed the enemy to track it.

More and more, the threats closed in, and though it could watch them from all sides, it was now more difficult to monitor every direction at once.

And the greatest setback was that the usurper was still not dead.

He just would not die!

There he was, high above, hidden behind that infernal four-armed thing that also would not fall to its Ravener-granted magic. The petrifier screeched, shattering stone, kicking up waves of snow, desperate to break its strange new enemy.

To its frustration, the enemy endured, unharmed. It screeched louder, increasing the frequency of the sound, but nothing changed. No cracking, no fragmenting, no shattering.

Something unknown in past cycles was waking: the cold touch of fear. Fear of failure, fear that the usurper would live, and its master’s plan would be ruined. Below the surface, the dungeon cores struggled with that powerful entity who also would not die.

Its time was running short.

‘I must kill the usurper,’ it thought, calling out to its Hunters. ‘I must see him dead. In this, I cannot fail!’

Hunters were concealed throughout the courtyard, awaiting its call to act. They sprang from snow and rooftop, cutting the enemy down, driven by the need to serve their master. There.

The pressure had lessened.

Two free eyestalks pointed in all directions, primed to freeze every mortal they saw. Then, its petrifying beam could sweep the enemy formations, creating perfect statues to shatter in its own time.

A twitch of its legs carried it a hair’s breadth above the snow, propelling it forward. It directed its petrifying eye-stalk toward the nearest group of mortals.

Power built.

It adjusted its aim, preparing to fire.

Then…it tripped, tumbling to the earth, long legs in a tangle, grunting in surprise.

How—with all of its speed and meticulous agility—had it been clumsy enough to stumble? Its central eye looked for what was in its path, what had caused it to fall.

The only thing it found could never account for the mishap.

A root. A single tiny sapling root was barely visible in the snow, growing from a strange tree that glowed green in the centre of the courtyard. How could its feet find an obstruction, when its many eyes could not?

It was…puzzling. Perhaps a wizard’s sly deed.

When it had fallen, some of its eyes kept the four-armed enemy in sight.

Good. If that creature was able to—

A crunching noise above its head. Glass broke. Mist drifted—blowing into its mouth. What was this? Poison? Foolish mortals, its body was created to stand against a venom-walker, no poison could…

…what was this?

‘What disrupts my mana?’ It called upon its own power, but it was slowing, calming like a river freezing. The sensation was not unpleasant, but…

The power within its eye beams faltered, flickering off and on, power lessening, making it vulnerable.

The petrifier tried to leap away, but stumbled in its own pooling blood, splaying out in the blackening snow. And then…the fire-beams came; bringing fresh fear, lancing it in waves of agony. Its wounds seared. Two of its eyes turned to ash.

The pain—

A sharp object abruptly sliced it, tearing its attention away from eyes consumed by flame, to excruciating pain from an enormous spear protruding through its core. Blood poured freely, and weakness spread from the wound, slowing it further. The spear withered its lifeforce as the mist calmed its mana. It tried to scream, but it was weakening, drained, sapped of strength and mana.

Then spells struck from all sides.

Shards of slashing magic.

Roaring and bursting flame.

Ice.

Lightning hit—raking its armour—singeing its flesh. The mortal female who earlier fought at the usurper’s side was pouring lightning from her hands in waves.

Panic surged. The petrifier was being torn apart.

It was going to die. Worse, it was going to fail.

‘Only one thing to do before my full form is revealed in death,’ it thought. ‘May my master accept my sacrifice. May my sacrifice smite my enemies. May my return be greater than the last.’

It activated an organ within its core. An organ that would bring death. Its mana reacted slowly, sluggishly. What should have been an instantaneous explosion, was taking time to build. The detonation would be less powerful than planned, but it would be powerful enough.

It would die.

But it would not die alone.