An ink-black flurry rippled through the dim chamber, whispering across the stone like spilled oil. From its shifting veil of darkness, a pale hand thrust out—dagger in grip, its red blade gleaming faintly. The shadow surged, leaping onto a turret fused to the cavern wall. The blade drove clean into the glowing core nestled in its head. A dull crack resounded, light sputtered, and the turret stilled.
The hand withdrew, trailing shadow-murk that clung to the stone like tar before receding, vanishing as swiftly as it came.
Nira sank back into the Realm of Shadows.
It was nothing here—only void, black waters stretching without sky or ground. She floated weightless, idling for a moment as she flicked her wrist and checked the thin silver watch strapped there. The glass ticked faintly with ghostlight.
"Two minutes…" she muttered, her purple eyes narrowing. Her voice seemed to echo too far, as if swallowed by the void. "Three turrets down. Quiet. Clean. Not enough."
She tilted her head back. Through the gossamer-thin membrane above—like a ceiling of warped glass—she could glimpse the real chamber, her next prey etched high into the cavern wall. Its eyes glowed faintly, sweeping, waiting.
Nira exhaled, the corner of her lips twitching. "Alright then… one more. Just one quick kill. Then back to cover before this clock runs dry."
She flicked her dagger in her grip, then swam through the dark as though cutting across still water, her feet fluttering, her shadow trailing like silk behind her.
Meanwhile, in the real world.
The Idle Golem loomed like a statue that had long forgotten how to breathe. Its head ground faintly, eyes sweeping thin white beams across the cavern, but otherwise it did not move. Moss carpeted its stone ankles, green and damp against ancient cracks.
Crouched low behind the jagged wall, Trevus and Lotha flanked Ashe, his shimmering Tenfold Veil still humming faintly around them. The illusion rippled like heat-haze, blurring their edges, keeping them little more than ghosts in the giant's sight.
Trevus glanced sideways at Ashe. "How long can you keep this up?"
Ashe kept his posture rigid, voice a low murmur through clenched teeth.
"Indefinitely, technically. As long as my mana holds… and provided nobody sneezes too hard." His gloved fingers twitched, weaving subtle adjustments into the veil.
"Good enough," Trevus muttered, gaze fixed on the golem's frame.
Lotha leaned slightly, observing the moss at its feet, the way it rooted into stone. "It's been standing like this for years. Maybe longer. Watching, waiting… as if this chamber built itself around it."
"Doesn't matter how long it's been idle," Trevus said flatly. His twin sabres glimmered faintly at his sides. "It falls today."
They ducked lower, whispering their plan.
"The first strike goes for its legs," Trevus decided. His eyes narrowed, mapping the giant. "One of its cores is in the right calf. Take that out, and it stumbles."
He tapped the hilt of his sabre. "I can cut through a meter of stone if I put enough force behind it. You," he nodded at Lotha, "can crush the rest with your mace. Between us, the ankles won't last long."
Lotha gave a curt nod, steel glinting in her gaze. "Crush stone? That, I can do."
Ashe arched a brow, still steadying the veil. "Even if you crack its legs, the thing isn't going to die from tripping over. What if it calls for aid?"
Trevus's jaw tightened. "That's the gamble."
He glanced again at the glowing white eyes sweeping the chamber. "These Sentries are lesser. They don't report in words—they can't. No telepathic dictation, no Computare relays. They only input what they see. Vision alone. So as long as we don't get caught in their eyes, there's no alarm."
Lotha smirked faintly. "So you're saying if it loses its ankles, it won't shout 'oh no, someone cut me down.'"
"Exactly," Trevus said. "It'll only react. Instinct. A golem can't lie. It only acts on what its eyes show it."
He looked between the two, his expression hard. "So the rule is simple. Don't get seen. Not once. We strike the leg first. Then the chest. Then the shoulder. Fast, brutal, quiet."
The Idle Golem groaned faintly, its head grinding as light swept their wall. The three froze as the beam washed over them, illuminating the veil. For a breath, it lingered.
Then the golem turned away.
Ashe exhaled, his lips curling into the faintest grin. "I told you. Illusionist."
Trevus's hands tightened on his blades. His pulse quickened, not from fear—but readiness.
______________________________
Monster - Sentry Golems
Classification: Dungeon ConstructThreat Level: ★★★★☆ (A-Rank)Associated Entity:Computare
Overview
Among the most feared guardians of Sentry-Type Dungeons, the Sentry Golem stands as both sentinel and executioner. Unlike natural golems, born of wild mana crystallizing into stone, or summoned golems, shaped by human craft, the Sentry Golem is bound directly to the Computare—a sentient machine that governs its dungeon.
The Computare itself is harmless, inert without its constructs. Yet its arsenal is the dungeon entire: shifting chambers, etched turrets, and a legion of stone soldiers. At the pinnacle of this arsenal stands the Sentry Golem, towering 5 to 7 meters in height, its form reshaping the deeper an adventurer dares to tread.
Variants by Depth
Outer Chambers - Composed of rough stone and granite, crudely hewn but animated with crushing strength.
Tactics are simple: patrol and pulverize. Their glowing eyes serve as searchlights, feeding visual data directly to the Computare.
Though devoid of exotic weapons, their sheer weight and durability make them capable of flattening even veteran parties.
Inner Chambers - Here, the Sentry Golem evolves. Stone gives way to sleeker metallic shells, armor-plated with alloys unknown.
Integrated with ancient Strygan weaponry—arm blades, beam-projectors, and flamethrower conduits.
These constructs do not merely guard; they hunt, sweep, and annihilate intruders with systematic efficiency.
Combat Notes
Cores: Unlike natural golems with a single heartstone, Sentry Golems often carry multiple cores in distributed random locations across their body. Adventurers must destroy each to ensure a kill.
Vision-Based Relays: A Sentry Golem cannot "speak" or telepathically report. Instead, its glowing eyes act as recorders, transmitting visual data back to the Computare. If it does not see an intruder, it cannot alert others. This makes stealth viable—but dangerous.
Behavior: They patrol in shifts, often in pairs, with one idle sentry standing constant while the others rotate through submerged tunnels or hidden chambers.
Rank and Danger
A-Rank Classification: Not given lightly. A single Sentry Golem can crush an ill-prepared squad, while multiple operating in unison create scenarios few parties survive.
Environmental Threat: Rarely fought alone—turrets and stone soldiers often accompany them, creating kill-zones that punish rash attacks.
Inner Chambers: Armed to the teeth with flamethrowers or mana beams, Sentry Golems elevate their threat beyond A-Rank in practice, approaching special-class encounters when reinforced by Computare-driven traps.
Adventurer's Advice
Stealth is survival. Avoid their gaze, silence the turrets, and strike the cores fast.
Never fight near walls. The turrets will reduce you to ash.
Count the minutes. Their patrol cycle is precise—twelve minutes per rotation.
If forced into open combat—pray your barrier holds.
______________________________
The Idle Sentry Golem stood unmoving, a colossal sentinel of stone and rune. Its carved head groaned faintly, the grinding of stone on stone echoing through the cavern. From its eye-sockets poured two narrow beams of white light, sweeping across the walls like the searchlights of a prison tower. Every flicker of movement, every shifting mote of dust, it noted and transmitted—raw vision fed back to the distant and unseen Dungeon Master.
And then—its world went dark.
The left calf cracked like thunder. Its massive weight shifted awkwardly as one of its legs gave way, stone splintering, moss scattering into the air. For the first time in decades, the sentinel faltered. Its eye-lights flickered, searching, processing—yet there was no intruder to see. Only blank nothingness.
It reached for balance, but its senses screamed emptiness where once there was mana. Its core—the one lodged in its calf—was gone. Shattered.
The Golem lumbered, staggering like a crippled beast, attempting to rise on one leg. Its chest plates groaned, arms straining against its own weight.
Then the ground shook as it toppled back, collapsing onto its side with a quake that sent dust falling from the cavern roof. Its beam-eyes flickered wildly, sweeping like panicked torches. Still, no enemy. Nothing its vision could place.
For a brief moment, the sentinel paused—confused, unalarmed, simply wounded.
Then a blur—only for a split second.
A mace crashed into its left shoulder, pulverizing the stone around the embedded core. The impact rang like a bell, sending fractures spider-webbing across its frame. The eye-lights caught the sight, processed it—then nothing. The veil cloaked its attacker before the truth could be sent back.
The Golem let out a grinding moan, twisting its head desperately as the glow of its shoulder-core sputtered and died. Its bulk shook violently, searching with its remaining strength, still unable to register the cause.
Until the end came.
A silver arc flashed out of nowhere, Trevus's sabre driving straight into the rune-carved cavity of its chest. The blade pierced through, cleaving the glowing mana core within.
The cavern filled with a sharp crack as the light died.
The Idle Golem convulsed once, the last vestiges of its power flaring in its runes before collapsing inward. Its eyes went black. Its limbs sagged. Then it was still, nothing more than a heap of shattered stone and fractured moss.
Trevus exhaled as he pulled his sabre free, the Tenfold Veil still cloaking him and Lotha. He wiped the dust from his blade against his cloak before speaking low.
"One down."
Lotha rested her mace against her shoulder, calm but firm. "Fast enough. The veil holds. No alarm."
Trevus' voice drifted from within the shimmer, taut with concentration.
"Don't celebrate yet. The others will rotate soon. Twelve minutes goes faster than you think."
Dust settled over the silent ruin of the golem. For the first time in ages, the sentinel chamber knew silence not of discipline, but of death.
The silence after the Idle Golem's death was short-lived.
A searing beam of mana erupted from the far corner of the cavern, carving a brilliant line of white across the darkness. It split the dust in half, the air cracking as stone vaporized under its heat.
Trevus snapped his head toward it. His blood chilled. "Nira!"
From the veil, they saw her—no shadows to cloak her, no time left to hide. She had spat herself out of the Realm of Shadows too early, her dagger already raised, angling to plunge into a turret's rune-core. But the turret's eye had turned faster.
The beam struck true.
Nira's cry was sharp and guttural as the mana bolt tore through her shoulder, spinning her into the air before she crashed onto the stone floor. Blood pattered faintly, dark droplets scattering across the dust.
Gritting her teeth, she forced herself onto her back, her breath ragged. Purple eyes widened as the turret's mouth glowed again—light charging for a second shot.
Her hand pressed against the floor, shadow already pooling, ink bleeding outward. She tried to sink back into the Realm. Too slow.
The glow reached its peak. The cavern thrummed.
Then—silver.
Trevus came like a storm, his sabres flashing arcs of steel. The first swept through the turret's head with a crunch, severing stone from rune. Before the pieces fell, his second blade drove deep into the core nestled within its chest, splitting it in two.
The light died. The turret collapsed against the wall, inert rubble spilling down.
Trevus stood over the ruin, sabres still humming with the last flare of mana, his chest heaving. His eyes darted immediately to Nira. "You're alive."
She coughed, the corner of her mouth twitching into a half-smirk despite the blood soaking her shoulder. "Barely. Not… my cleanest work."
Lotha and Ashe caught up, the veil rippling faintly around them. Lotha dropped to her knees at Nira's side, already pressing cloth to the wound.
"Hold still. The beam scorched deep, but it missed your heart. You'll live if you don't fight me while I bind it."
Nira hissed at the sting but didn't protest. "Fine. Just… make it fast."
Ashe's face was pale, his lips tight. He glanced toward Trevus. "That shot wasn't subtle. If any of the other sentry turrets saw it…"
"Then we've got a problem. The Dungeon may know we're here now." Trevus sheathed one sabre, his expression grim.
The cavern felt heavier, as though the walls themselves had begun to listen.
Somewhere in the depths, the grinding of stone grew louder.
The shimmer of Ashe's Tenfold Veil fractured and dissolved, scattering like smoke on the wind. What had been their cloak of invisibility was now nothing but pale afterglow fading into the dark.
Ashe exhaled, brushing his gloved fingers together as though shedding the residue. "I don't need to keep this anymore, right?"
Trevus's reply was blunt, his sabres still dripping grit from the turret's ruin. "No. Stealth's gone. We're compromised, and the Sentries will be coming."
The words carried a weight heavier than the dust settling around them. An A-Rank Dungeon stirred awake. To most adventurers, that spelled doom. But Party 5? They'd faced worse. Their threads glowed faintly, binding them together in grim resolve.
Lotha remained kneeling at Nira's side. Golden light shimmered around her hands, runes unfurling across her palms like intricate script before flowing into the wound. The faint smell of scorched flesh mixed with the stone-dust of the cavern as she murmured the words of her spell.
"Purificatio; Purely Still."
The yellow glow sank into Nira's torn shoulder, the bleeding halting as though time itself had frozen within the wound. The flesh around it tightened, clean and sterile, no infection, no seep of life.
Lotha exhaled, pulling her hand back. "The beam burned you more than pierced. Your bones are intact. I've sealed the bleeding completely. But don't expect miracles—this is only a stilling spell. No bloom, no full mend. Deep wounds won't close under this one."
Nira grinned through gritted teeth, sweat dripping along her jawline. "Still… thanks a lot, Priestess—"
Lotha's green eyes flashed as she snapped back immediately. "Paladin! I'm a Paladin now! Get it right!"
"Heh… sorry." Nira chuckled weakly, leaning her head back against the wall. "I flopped that hard, huh? Gods, so annoying. I had twelve seconds left on the wristwatch. Didn't wanna risk timing out… so I just ran for the damn thing. Wasn't fast enough."
Her smirk faltered, guilt flickering in her gaze. "My fault the turret saw me. My fault the dungeon's on us."
Trevus crouched low beside her, his voice steady, firm, the tone of a commander but softened by something more. "It's better you're alive than scattered into ash. You gambled, you slipped—but you're breathing. That's what matters."
Nira blinked once, then let out a breathy laugh. "…You always know how to scold and reassure in the same sentence, Captain."
From the backlines, where Harlen's Monster Repelling Barrier glowed faintly around their temporary hold, the rest of the party had heard the explosion.
Camylle's fiery voice carried over the cavern wall. "Hey! What happened? I heard a blast—are we compromised!?"
Trevus cupped his hands, shouting back across the echoing chamber. "Yes! We're compromised! The Dungeon knows we're here! Get down here, now!"
Camylle cursed under her breath, her vexes sparking alive like angry fireflies. She turned to Harlen and Mina. "You heard him! Move it!"
She vaulted the jagged wall without hesitation, landing on the stone ledge a full story below, her boots striking sparks as she steadied herself. She snapped her fingers, sending vex-lights swirling tighter around her as she pushed forward to regroup with the others.
Behind her, Harlen growled as he adjusted the hammer on his back, muttering,
"Always gotta run headlong…" But he followed, dropping down after her with the heavy grace of a man built to withstand earthquakes.
Mina trailed with lighter steps, her crimson thread pulsing faintly as she vaulted the wall in silence, her eyes sharp and lips tight.
The cavern shifted then—faint grinding deep in the walls, as if the dungeon itself was waking, listening, rearranging. The sound carried like thunder rolling beneath their feet.
The full weight of the A-Rank Dungeon was about to come down.
Trevus wiped his sabre against the dead turret's rubble before sheathing it, his expression calm though his jaw was tight. He turned back to Nira, who was still steadying herself with Lotha's help.
"Enough. You've done your part," he ordered firmly. "Get back to the barrier and recover. You'll need a full twenty minutes before your Shadow Realm resets, and we can't risk you in open combat while you're dry."
Nira clicked her tongue but didn't argue. She twirled her dagger once before slipping it back into its sheath. "Fine. I'll sit this one out. Don't go dying while I'm resting."
She limped off toward the rear, the faint glimmer of Harlen's barrier just visible in the distance.
Trevus lifted his chin toward the others. "Mina. Ashe. Hold back. Something's coming."
Ashe didn't need to be told twice. He stepped behind Mina, his cyan thread flickering faintly. He wasn't fit for direct combat—an illusionnaire without the cover of surprise was more liability than edge. His hands twitched nervously against his gloves, ready to cast at Trevus's signal but clearly preferring the shadows.
Mina, on the other hand, rolled her shoulders and unsheathed one of her daggers. The blade shimmered faintly in the vexlight—Ruth, her favored long dagger. Its silver shaft gleamed coldly, while the grip of redwood had darkened from her constant use. A faint rune burned along the fuller, still fresh from its recent enchantment.
"Captain Ferris wasn't joking," Mina murmured, testing the weight in her hand.
The enchantment was rare—ripped straight from the Staynic Codex of Enchantry. She'd tested it in drills, but never in real combat. Gravity. The blade weighed nothing in her hand, as quick as any dagger she'd ever thrown—yet when she willed it, it absorbed the mass of mountains. A weapon bound to her mana, impossibly heavy to the world, impossibly light to her.
Her lips curled into a smirk. "Guess this is as good a time as any for a field test."
The ground shook.
A rumble pulsed through the cavern floor, a deep grinding that made the moss tremble and loose stones roll. Trevus raised a hand, steadying the group. His eyes swept the chamber walls.
"It's shifting… but not all of it. The natural stone holds. Only the bricked walls answer the Computare's mana. That's where it moves."
Nira had almost reached the barrier when the east side of the cavern groaned. With a grinding roar, a stone bridge extended outward, sliding like a tongue from the dark shaft above. She froze, her purple eyes widening.
"What the—?"
From the new bridge, shapes began to march. Humanoid, stone-bodied, runes glowing faintly along their arms and chests. Their eyes were pinpricks of white, cold and unyielding.
Sentry Legionnaires.
"Wh-wh—whuh! Trev!" Nira shouted, breaking into a run.
The constructs rained down like boulders, dropping from the bridge to the cavern floor with bone-rattling crashes. Each impact shook dust loose from the ceiling.
"Go, Nira!" Trevus barked, sabres already drawn again.
She didn't need telling twice. She sprinted, weaving between the falling constructs, ducking as one swung its stone fist down at her. Another landed at her side, its chest glowing as it raised both arms. She dove, sliding under the blow, her teeth clenched against the pain from her injured shoulder.
At the last second, she dove through the shimmering edge of Harlen's Monster Repelling Barrier, the runes flickering as they repelled the Legionnaires' advance. The constructs slammed against it, their fists bouncing off the golden wards with dull thuds.
Harlen grunted, pressing his hammer into the ground as the barrier flared brighter. "Hah! Try harder, pebbles. This ward isn't crumbling."
Nira collapsed inside, panting but safe. "Don't… call them pebbles," she hissed, half in pain, half in humor. "They'll probably get better ideas on how to dispell this."
Meanwhile, outside the barrier, the Sentry Legionnaires assembled. Smaller than their Golem counterparts—no taller than a man—but far deadlier in swarms. They moved with grim coordination, each step a mechanical echo of the other, their white eyes burning as they turned toward Party 5.
Trevus lifted his sabres, his blue thread glowing faintly like steel drawn taut. "Form up. The dungeon's awake."
The cavern thundered with the grinding march of the Sentry Legionnaires, their white eyes glaring like soulless stars. They dropped from the stone bridge above, landing in formation, their stone limbs grinding against their runed bodies as they raised their arms in unison. The air vibrated with the weight of their presence, like an army assembled from the bones of the earth itself.
Trevus narrowed his eyes.
Harlen growled, tearing his arming sword free from its scabbard. He poured his mana through the steel, and the blade hissed as its edge heated crimson. In moments, the weapon glowed a molten red, embers dripping from its fuller like liquid fire. He gripped it two-handed, ready to shatter stone.
Trevus inhaled slowly, his sabres humming as he whispered a spell under his breath. The air around him grew colder, mana compressing into a compact, rigid form. Frost gathered along the curved tips of his blades, mist curling off their edges. His breath steamed, but his eyes burned sharp. He was the still calm before the storm, sabres eager for the kill.
Camylle slammed her fists together, and the cavern lit like dawn. Sparks exploded from her knuckles, crackling like firecrackers. Rings of flame burst to life around her wrists and ankles, spinning bands of molten red and gold. Her eyes ignited with fiery glee, joy and fury braided into one.
"Finally," she hissed, a wild grin cutting across her lips. "Something I can burn."
The heat rolled off her, vexes circling overhead, their light twisting into burning whorls.
These three—Trevus, Camylle, Harlen—formed the core, the blade of Party Five. All B-Ranked by classification, yet together their synergy carried them beyond, making the group an A-Ranked force within the Western III.
But they were not alone.
Lotha strode forward, gauntlet raised. With a hiss of gears, her mechanical shield locked into place, its surface glowing with a faint yellow cross. From its tip, a hidden blade extended, gleaming with sacred light. In her other hand, she hefted her mace, which pulsed with radiant purity, the runes of her faith burning brighter than before.
"I'll break them down," she declared, her voice ringing like a hymn through the cavern. "And keep their eyes from touching you."
Behind them, Mina twirled Ruth in her fingers. The dagger felt impossibly light, yet bound by the enchantment it was heavy with promise. A weapon of mountains compressed into her grip. She whispered to herself, almost giddy: Let's see if you can bear the weight of me.
And in the rear, Ashe's cyan thread trembled as his hands lifted, weaving illusions to obscure movement and disorient the enemy. He was no frontliner, not yet—but his art would be their unseen edge.
The Legionnaires halted, shoulder to shoulder, their heads tilting in eerie unison. Their glowing eyes fixed on Party Five. Then, as if a silent command had echoed from the Computare itself, they surged forward.
Stone feet slammed against stone ground. Hands became hammers. Their glowing cores pulsed like war drums.
The cavern floor shook beneath their charge.
Party Five met them head on...