Chapter 37

There’s a loud explosion as the Glass Golem crumbles on itself, its core critically damaged.

I’m running low on Mana, I need to kill them as fast as I can

.

Architect’s Insight leveled up to level sixty, but the real Skill that’s doing the damage, even more than Hell’s Sword, is another one.

Hellspire (Active)

Conjure a spiraling lance of compressed fire and drive it into a target zone. The flame doesn’t explode immediately—instead, it anchors like a spike and builds pressure. After a short delay, the lance erupts from the inside out. The longer it’s left embedded, the more destructive the release.

The Grimoire shows me where the next Glass Golem’s weakness is.

Left part of the back, right below the shoulder

, I mutter.

Architect’s Insight can’t pinpoint a flaw like this. But once the Grimoire tells me where it is, I can zoom in and I get a very good feeling of how to exploit it. Hell’s Sword, by the way, is very powerful, but it doesn’t have that

explosive

power that Hellspire has.

I hear some notifications of the levelups from my first kill, but I can’t be distracted now.

I summon another Hellspire in my hand, materializing a red, blazing spear made of fire.

I use Fire Walk to skate behind the golem. The creature is already swivelling on its legs to land a devastating punch on me, but I’ve just turned on Echo Pulse. I can see every finite movement for a few seconds, as if I got an overlay of the monster, giving me hints of where the blow is going to land.

I go counterclockwise to the punch and, right when it jerks, trying to turn back, I drive the Hellspire into its weak point and skate away. I watch the Hellspire lance bury itself deep in the glass just under the golem’s shoulder.

The monster tries reaching for it, but it can’t. It doesn’t have good mobility.

I pull back at the last instant, using Fire Walk to jet away before the retaliation can even start. The golem’s punch slices through empty air. Its arm shears the mist with a whistling crash, shards of superheated vapor rolling away from the impact.

A second ticks by. The spiraling flames inside the monster start to pulse. The glass around the spear’s entry point warps and glows with a vicious orange-red, spiderwebbing outward in fast-growing cracks.

I don’t slow down. I skate around, watching for the other golems, because they’re converging now—four of them at my flanks, one behind, all lumbering faster than before. Each step rattles my bones. I risk a glance behind me just as the Hellspire detonates.

The blast isn’t just sound and fury. It rips from the inside out, forcing molten glass and a plume of white-hot energy to explode from the golem’s back. Chunks of reinforced plating fly in every direction. The core inside flashes once and then dims, and the giant creature stutters in place, its arm half-raised, before it collapses in a pile of cooling slag.

Levelups tick up at the corner of my vision. I ignore the rush of notifications, because every extra second I take is another chance for the next golem to corner me.

There’s no time to rest, no chance to breathe. The next monster slams down its fists, glass ringing from wall to wall. Its core flickers as the Grimoire’s overlay pops up again.

Right side of the abdomen, two centimeters below the seam—primary fracture line runs horizontal, just above the lower joint. Exploit with delayed detonation for maximum pressure.

I conjure another Hellspire, shaping the flames into a tighter spiral, and I let Architect’s Insight guide my hand. This time, I don’t hesitate. I dash straight for the golem’s right side, timing my movement with the stagger in its step. Echo Pulse shows me the arc of its counterattack, and I duck low, avoiding the crushing sweep by centimeters.

I plant the lance in the weak spot and ignite the tip with all the mana I can muster.

Fire Walk gets me clear, just as the third golem’s punch slams down where I stood. I almost wipe out—my boot skids over a patch of molten glass—but I keep my balance and watch the second explosion rip through the monster.

The core shatters, glass fragments raining down, heat gusting across the chamber. The light in its chest flickers and dies.

* * *

The entire Guild falls into a tense hush as the halo above the main floor flickers. Where a cluster of red dots once stalked the single green dot, now one is just gone—grey, blank, erased in an instant. People barely have time to react before a second red dot blinks out, then a third, both vanishing with barely a pause between them.

Stolen novel; please report.

A low sound moves through the hall—half disbelief, half awe. The clerk at the betting table sits bolt upright, fingers hovering over his book. His pen falls and rolls off the edge.

“What’s happening?” someone asks, voice cracking. “He’s… he’s clearing them. That’s not possible.”

A woman who claimed, minutes ago, that no Bronze could survive here, swears and shoves her chair back, face pale.

Sir Greyson doesn’t blink, eyes tracking the halo, lips tight with the hint of a smile. Felisia just presses closer, staring straight up as if she expects the dots to reappear.

The older Gold Rank who boasted about his sword breaking on regular Glass Golems shakes his head. “He’s doing it. I don’t even know how. Those golems are supposed to be virtually immune to someone his level. What Skill is he using?”

“He must’ve found their weak points,” the scribe murmurs. “There’s no way he’s just smashing them. He’s picking them apart one by one.”

Dorn doesn’t speak. His mouth is open, but nothing comes out. The silence from his end is louder than any shout.

The green dot moves again. It circles, then rams the next red dot. Another blinks out, turning grey.

A rush of voices fills the Guild—some shouting, some laughing, some cursing. Coins clatter onto the counter as bets are called off, retracted, and doubled in panic.

The scribe leans closer to Dorn. “Sir, at this rate, he’s going to clear the entire floor before the end of the night. That’s four down already.”

Felisia doesn’t look away.

“He’s still moving. He’s not even slowing down.”

The red dots dwindle, one by one.

Grey replaces red at staggering speed.

* * *

My chest is burning. Sweat stings my eyes. I drag another Hellspire into existence, but my hand shakes so badly I almost fumble the conjure.

My mana bar flashes in my mind, nearly empty, the world tilting at the edges from fatigue.

Every time I kill one of these monsters, a jolt of mana and stamina floods through me with the level-up, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

The surges feel like splashes in a drought, gone before I can steady myself.

I stumble as I skate, nearly faceplanting on a patch of melted glass. I choke down the urge to puke. My hands tremble, but I force another pulse of Echo Pulse out, because if I miss the next attack window, I’m dead. The world overlays itself in jagged lines, everything stuttering with static because my mana can barely feed the Skill.

My vision narrows to a single red node flickering in the haze—the last golem, moving in on me, arms high, core pulsing like a furnace.

[Glass Golem (Empowered) – Level 35]

This one is bigger than the rest—almost twelve feet tall, built like a cathedral spire, joints reinforced with thick bands of smoky glass. Every step shakes the floor, sending spiderweb cracks across the cooling slag. Its eyes burn hotter.

It towers above everything, a glass colossus half-shrouded in vapor, shoulders brushing the ceiling with every step.

The mist parts around its bulk in boiling sheets, rolling down its legs like floodwater off stone.

Every step forces the glassy floor to bend and pop beneath it, sending up fresh bursts of white steam that swirl around its core like a storm.

Its silhouette blurs, fractured by heat and the shifting fog, so every movement seems twice as fast and twice as heavy as the golems before.

The resonance from its core thrums in my bones. The weak points are nearly gone.

I force Echo Pulse to overlay the structure again and I finally see it: the flaw is tiny, barely the size of a fingernail, hidden at the base of the right knee joint.

[Weak point: Microfracture, right knee, posterior aspect. Reinforcement: triple. Success window: 0.3 seconds per stride.]

I can barely think. My lungs feel like sandpaper, and my mouth tastes like blood. The golem charges, swinging a fist that could take my head off. I throw myself sideways, skidding across razor dust. I have to get up—there’s no time for pain. My last Hellspire is flickering, already guttering out.

I skate hard, pulling everything left in my core to fuel Fire Walk. My mana is almost gone, the Skill straining, but I pour it into speed. The giant’s leg comes down. I see the seam flash open for a split second—just long enough. I lunge. The Hellspire shrieks in my hand, fire running wild along my arm.

I drive the lance straight into the weak point. The tip catches, the flames coil, and I feel the mana snap—

For a second, nothing happens. The golem starts to lift its foot. The flaw holds.

Then Hellspire detonates, ripping straight through the knee joint. A shockwave punches up my arm and through my chest, almost knocking me down. Glass explodes in a cloud of molten shards.

The golem buckles, tries to balance on one ruined leg, and its upper body twists in my direction, arms flailing in a wide arc.

I can barely stand. The mana surge from the kill tries to hit me, but I’m so far gone it feels like a single gasp of cool air in a furnace. I push forward anyway. I slam Hell’s Sword into the cracked joint, teeth gritted, vision tunneling. The blade sinks deep, prying open the break, and with one last burst of energy I force Hell’s Sword to blaze right through the wound.

The core finally shatters.

The giant slumps, glass collapsing in a spray of heat and steam, arms dragging furrows through the floor as it crashes.

I stagger away, legs numb, arms shaking so badly I nearly drop the sword.

I can’t feel my fingers. My thoughts blur, every muscle twitching with fatigue.

My mana pool is bone dry. Every breath burns.

I look at the corpse of the last golem and realize I’m still alive.

Barely.

Before I can even pay attention to the cascade of notifications that accumulated throughout the fight, the mist clears and the center of the floor starts bubbling.

Those are not runes,

I think to myself, seeing the shimmering of Skill Crystals,

plural

, emerging from the floor.