Chapter 112: Catacomb Redux, Part 5.

The golem, was fast. Rather, saying it was fast was a severe understatement. It lacked human physicality. No tendons, no musculature, and no reliance on joints. The entire thing was propelled forward by magic knit through its frame. In no way did it move like a proper living thing.

It was like a puppet, being flailed around.

At first, the golem was slow, lumbering. Every strike was swift, decisive, and lacked any hint of hesitation or thought. This was perhaps, the hardest phase to deal with. If only because, the golem was entirely beholden to the will of its master. A master, who simply considered us bugs, lessers whose sole existence was to provide entertainment.

Then came the second phase.

The golem began to move with proper direction. With purpose, and not with disinterest. A purpose to hem me in, to play with me, like a cat would a mouse. To bat me around, until I fell from exhaustion. Used, up until the point where I would no longer provide amusement. A toy.

Now? Now, was something else entirely. Madness, was all I could call it. Thrashing of a wild beast, whose eyes were focused solely on me. In its final moments, I could easily imagine that the skeleton mage had done something. Sent a final destructive command out, ordering the golem to go berserk, to kill all in sight.

Even then, the golem’s actions were empty, hollow. It lacked something integral with every strike and blow.

Maybe that was why?

Why I was still alive.

The seconds stretched, above, Talia had the cane in hand and was trying to do something. Likely looking for a failsafe, or a means to shut the golem off. Surely, she’d noticed what I had. After all, the golem was merely that, a tool.

Meanwhile, I was fighting for my life. The golem’s movements, I could barely see them. Rather, even with the ice, I could only just make out its silhouette between moves.

There was no way I should have survived this long. As the storm continued, my own mind fled away, my body working away. It was a bit funny, watching from the outside, from under the ice. Like watching two puppets dance.

And dance they did.

I could feel it. The arena, the attention of the golem, of something else. A kind of presence pressing down on me, of countless eyes. The stands remained empty, yet, we were not alone. Mere actors on a stage. And at this moment, I was the lead.

That I still survived was a testament to my ability, and also, something else. Spears would jut out of the ground or wall when needed, granting me options to grasp for. My knights avoided the literal storm of flailing limbs as they moved around the periphery. Moving in to provide support in any way possible, usually in the form of a helping hand, or a platform for a leap.

In a way, everything worked like clockwork. Like a clock, or metronome ticking away with perfect precision. Like a play, that had been rehearsed to perfection, only to now be performed at a level unseen.

Even then, it was not bloodless. Every dodge was rewarded with a cut or slice. Cutting up my uniform, leaving bloodless gashes over my otherwise pristine form. Their number growing at an alarming rate.

My own magic, was already at the limit. Bolstering it earlier with the soul stone gave me enough to juice to clear the field once. The following volleys, and the final clearing had near bottomed me out.

No, it had.

I was more like a car, whose empty light had long lit up. The needle, firmly past the line of no return. Yet, miraculously, somehow, the car kept going. Cylinders fired, wheels turned, all fed by mere fumes.

That was where I was. Like I was drawing out every ounce of potential. A thin line, that had been drawn taut, to its very limit. Any change, would cause it to snap and break. There was no babying the peddle of the proverbial car. There was no making it, just… winging it on a wish and a prayer.

Riding that line, came with a slow, flow of heat. Not unlike a bed of coals, still burning for hours on end, well after the fire had died.

It was a precipice, between life and death. Surviving drip by drip. With little to no recourse.

I should be panicking. Like, waking up in the night to sleep paralysis. The feeling of not being able to breathe, of something on your chest, weighing down like a millstone had been placed there.

Instead, I felt an odd clarity. Not unlike a lucid dream. Every move the golem and I made. The rhythm, the beat. Like a blossoming choir. The sounds, the instruments playing a storm, that built and built towards the inevitable climax.

It wasn’t just one sided either. With its attention solely on me, it made it easy to play the golem. As it went on for longer, I began to counterattack. Bullets, were out of the question. Taking the time to reload or even reach into my pouch would be lethal. Nor did I have the magic to sustain such a tactic.

The bayonet though, fit the bill. Whenever it was up, I’d find an opening and strike. The silver blade, broke and broke. Over and over. Each time, it felt like the blade grew stronger, sharper, by the smallest of margins. Not that it mattered, as my own strength grew in greater margins with each passing moment.

Rabbits thrive in these moments. Being hunted, chased until the very end. It made me think of my last life, condensing, distilling all of my trials and tribulations into this moment, or so it felt. And not just that, but I could feel myself growing, adapting.

That soaring orchestra I heard was dampened. Almost as if I were outside the concert hall, my ear pressed against the door. Struggling to listen, to feel the music through the thick, padded door.

I felt small. So very small. Compared to that grand stage. The colors, the music, all of which I could just envision as I shut my eyes. Whereas out here, it was so cold, so dark, and that door oh so sturdy.

I lacked even a basic tool. Like a prisoner without even a spoon to dig my way out. Forced to use my nails and teeth, like some beast. Wearing away at the divide between me and freedom.

Chipped, broken, bleeding. It mattered little. My very body was being torn to shreds as I banged on that door. Yet, I knew definitively, without a shred of doubt, that I wouldn’t be breaching that door today. Or tomorrow, or the day after. Perhaps if I used a silver coin, two, three? A dozen? I wasn’t sure about that, but there was something about that journey that I lusted after.

That feeling of being pressed against the wall. Of struggling at the door of life and death. That made me feel so, very, alive.

Like a rabbit cornered, forced to bear its fangs. With nothing left to lose, throwing it all in a single gambit. A cry, a charge, a final leap. How terrifying was a cornered rabbit? A rabbit with nothing left to lose? More so, how terrifying was a rabbit that had learned to fight back? To bare their teeth at every opportunity.

I couldn’t help but smile, to laugh, even as my body faltered, even as I felt the strings guiding me grow taut and snap. Even buoyed by the cold, my limbs faltered, my uniform, slowly, but surely disintegrating before my eyes into glittering motes of light.

In this moment, I think I understood myself, or rather, why I was chosen. Why Usagi chose me. I had inklings before, an idea, but now, it was concrete.

Compared to me, Talia was sure and steady. Moving forward a step at a time. Her eyes set forward, dutiful, committed, just like a dog. Faced now, with impending doom and crisis, her eyes gleamed and watched, her body tensed after finding no easy solution, simply waiting for a chance, an opportunity.

As for Shi? When she was human, she was something else. Cunning, sure of herself, and yet, when put on the back-end, on the wrong foot, how exactly was she supposed to make a comeback? Overwhelming force only worked so well when put into a corner, and only so much.

What of Sheep?

What of Tigers?

I wasn’t sure, and a sample size of one wasn’t exactly enough to make a judgement on all of foxes, but dogs? I think I understood them. Loyal to a fault. Loyal to themselves, their ideals. The fabled workhorse, someone that would keep plugging on, well beyond the point of reason, merely because they could.

Yet, why were they chosen? The world was filled with dogs. People willing to go through with their ideals to the very end. But what made people like Éclair, or Grim special? What was it that defined them as such.

Did it matter?

At the moment, no…

But it was better than focusing on this instant. The silver blades at my feet broke to pieces, my legs just barely keeping me upright, my feet struggling to find good ground as the golem shot forward.

Uncaring for the tempo, for me slowing. Uncaring, like a guillotine hurtling towards my neck. Like a force of nature.

The music hit a crescendo that I could feel in my bones. The end, foretold…

Then the tone shifted, no… The ever-rising music, had plateaued. Out of nowhere, a new sound. A blaring noise that drowned out the rest of the music came like thunder. A resounding crash and break, that shattered what was ordained.

From above, Fathom had come. Wounded, at the very brink. His body only just healed, his soul alight. He leapt from the stands, uncaring of his own state. Like the final call, a final trumpet, he came.

The golem faltered, if only just. Its Unmitigated hatred for me, faltering as a new object of ire made itself known.

I wanted to cry out, shout, move. The memory of Cobalt, his own song rising to disrupt the song of my own end, mirrored in Fathom’s own sacrifice. Then, the lone trumpet was joined by another, a different sound. Like the thumping of drums, Shi, using every ounce of what she had left, was summoning spears en masse.

Most broke on contact, but some jutted out from under the golem’s foot, hoping to throw it off balance, but it wasn’t quite enough. Then my knights came forward, their own thin frames offered little help. Like the lightest wind instruments adding to the growing, opposing symphony. One trying to stop the song of my end.

Their blades thickened and smashed into the golem’s leg. The limb shuddered, the countless gashes and cuts I made, quaked, the limb shifted. Something nearly gave.

Yet still, it was not enough.

Another song came. A horn, a bellow, perhaps a trombone, or the beat of drums. A shout, a roar, she came from above in a long leap. Talia leapt from the viewing platform, her axe held in both hands and cracked down into the golems skull. Again, it shuddered, it stalled. All throughout its body, I heard, felt something shudder give.

It was almost too much. The moment I heard her arrival, my feet moved. Not out of a conscious decision, but out of a desire, a need to make my own sound known in this growing movement. Every step, was light. Like the flits of a flute. Growing, in number, and power as I built up steam. My uniform, rapidly disintegrating, but still there, emboldened me, ushered me on as the instruments grew louder, almost shrill and loud, like I was in the midst of a blizzard.

I reared back my rifle, my bayonet wouldn’t answer my call, it couldn’t. I had too little magic, all I had, was my rifle. The moment I closed, I mustered all I had and then some. A final jolting heat ran through me, like a molten rod rammed through my spine and nerves. The butt of my rifle hummed and sang, a final, dull song, and with a crack, it slammed right into the golem’s leg.

Something gave. Two, somethings gave. First, the limb faltered. The accrued damage, finally adding up as the limb failed and the golem toppled over itself. A second give, was my rifle. I felt a snap and agony ran through my entire being. My attempt to step back, was aborted as the pain lanced through my deadened nerves, as it ripped me from the ice and into boiling water.

A scream built into my throat, only to be aborted as a wild limb cracked into my side. Something shattered, many somethings shattered. I felt the last vestiges of my uniform glow, absorbing the blow as I was sent hurtling into the arena wall. I felt something crack, my entire body numbed as I slumped to the ground. Unable to move a finger nor toe.

Panic did not overtake me as I gasped, not unlike a fish on land. As I felt something hot and cold threaten to flow into my lungs. Clearly, I was in shock. My vision, my eyes took in the sight before me, uncomprehending as I watch the maelstrom of sounds grow.

Talia was thrown from the golem and into the stands. I heard something crack, crackle from afar, and a wet, gurgling cough. All the while, Fathom pressed down on the thrashing golem, using its leverage to both pin it down and beat it with its cleaver.

At his sides, my knights worked to help pin limbs down. Shi, now exhausted, out of uniform once more, was assisting. The three, were just barely enough to help. Allowing Fathom to simply beat the golem, like a smith hammering iron on an anvil. Each strike caused the ground to quake. The chandelier above to shudder.

Each blow, resounded out. The cracks widened, the golem grew ever more frenzied, until, finally…

It stilled.

Nobody moved. Rather, everyone went still, silent, the moment the golem died. I felt Fathom enter slumber, my knights as well, even Shi stumbled to the ground.

Minutes must have passed. A near eternity as my magic trickled in. My body burned, every drop of magic in my veins felt like someone had injected me with razor blades.

When I had enough magic, I let it wash over my form, ice crackled into place. I felt something, a series of cracks and pops in my spine as Ice took hold. I still felt numb, like a puppet, a walking corpse. My feet shuffled forward, limbs awkwardly swayed.

Still, my heart, it beat. My lungs took in air, only, they were half filled with blood and ice. The crash into the wall must have damaged my spine, at least, that’s what an idle thought considered. Trying to straighten up sent jolts of pain up my back, but the pain felt secondary to the constant burn of something else.

A glance at my rifle told the truth, a hairline fracture along the stock. I could feel it healing, growing stronger, and it would heal faster when recalled, but I knew, that if I did, I wouldn’t be able to summon it again, not for some time.

I tested my body. Fits and bursts, like sparks ran along my spine. Fingers and toes twitched of their own volition.

Were the nerves repairing? It felt like they were healing, only slowly, and where flesh ought to be, ice was making itself home. It should hurt, but the pain of my damaged weapon took precedence, like a scar on my soul, a fracture in my mind.

Slowly, I could clasp my hands, and move my toes. The moment I could, I gathered myself up, and made my way into the stands. With the mage dead, and the golem down, there was nothing barring my way. I didn’t harvest the coins, not yet. My first goal was to head to the stands and check on Talia.

She was down, but not out. Her uniform was gone, an arm bent at an awkward angle, but she seemed fine for the most part. Every trickle of magic she recovered went into healing her wounds.

She eyed me, exhausted, tired, and… “We should have just left…” She muttered, annoyed and yet she gave me an odd look. Rather, “So that’s why rabbits are so important.” She finally said, eyeing me.

Talia shifted, her bent arm locking back into place. A sigh left her lips. “You’ve gotten stronger… you also look like hell.”

I worked my jaw. Something popped in the process. But nothing was forthcoming right away, instead, I plopped down at her side and looked at the arena floor. After a few more minutes, I felt a familiar warmth work into me. Talia, now somewhat well, had transitioned to fixing me up.

“You really are in bad shape…” She muttered. “You also seemed to have taken some soul damage.” A bit of disbelief in her voice. “How did you manage that?”

I showed her my rifle, ran my finger along the hairline crack.

She swore. “That’s not something you can just do…” She said. “My shield cracks and breaks, but that’s because it’s supposed too. As for my axe, well, the edge is supposed to splinter, but I’ve never had the body splinter… not even when I hit the golem.” She continued.

“And since weapons are linked to or souls, you must really have been on the brink, that or, the mascots must have given you a bad weapon… I’m not sure which would be more worrying.” She said with a final sigh and went quiet.

It was only after I felt able to move again, that I spoke. “Thanks for the assist.” I said, first and foremost.

“Not like I had a choice.” She said with a snort. “Just, next time, let’s not go so crazy, yeah?”

“I can’t make any promises.” I replied back.

She groaned, but didn’t argue back, if anything… “Well, I can’t promise I’ll always be able to pull you out when it gets bad.” She said, though, there was a smile on her face.

With that concluded, we gathered the loot.