Chapter 23

[Snake report]

When I was in the Dungeon last night, something unspecified attacked Rocky.

I’m being honest here, because as of right now, I’m not sure what it was.

I don't.

All I know is what it did, which was a heck of a lot of damage. I had to put some of my scheduled Dungeon crawling on hold, in order to make repairs.

Rocky got the worst of it.

Whatever it was.

My list of potential enemies capable of doing this type of thing isn’t very long, so I’ve got a rough idea of what happened.

In the middle of the night, "something" snuck up close to the entrance and made a surprise ambush. Rocky intercepted, and took some nasty hits. Gorf must have responded, and together they either killed whatever it was, or wounded it badly enough to drive it off.

Sss…

But, see: that’s where it get weird.

With all the human activity recently, at first I thought it might have been a real possibility they changed tactics. Maybe, they tried to catch us with our guard down. Actually attempted to be smart for once.

Some kind of surprise stealth mission.

Like, secret agents instead of a large-scale assault. Some professional-killer or something.

That would be a very human thing to do.

Offer up a bag of Gold and get some sort of assassin to try and finish to job. Like those Mercenaries with the crossbows, or hire someone really powerful, like… what the heck was that guy’s name?

Zane?

The one with the giant sword, who attacked Imra’s tribe way back when.

I haven’t met any other humans that are quite as scary as that guy on their own, but I’m sure others of similar caliber exist.

Probably.

If the Empire decided to send in someone like that, instead of a bunch of newbies puffing hot air, I might actually be in trouble. So, I'm taking this pretty seriously.

I’ve only lived this long by a policy of NOT seeking out combat with enemies like that, and in the few times I couldn’t, I was up against actual monsters.

Against that kind of enemy, my victory would be a gamble.

Plus, I seriously doubt a human would be stupid enough to eat me, so my best survival strategy is out. Especially if they have a way of getting past my Golem defenses.

Interestingly enough, though: I’ve ruled the humans out.

Whatever attacked us wasn’t a person.

At least, in the chance it was a person, they exceptionally good at hiding any signs of having been here. There aren’t any foot prints, or wagon tracks.

The signs I would have been excepting just aren’t around.

Plus, humans have a distinct smell… Taste?

Whatever sense it is when I flick my tongue out.

Humans leave a particular sort of odor. Some are just smell, but generally it's not really bad so much as noticeable. And that generally sticks around.

But I don’t catch much of that.

I mean, a little, but nothing new.

Considering how highly-tuned my senses are these days, I’m keen to believe I’ve got my wits about me for this one. Which is a bit distressing, because I’d almost prefer if this had been caused by humans.

Then I wouldn’t be stuck here questioning this whole mess.

What the heck was it?

Another monster?

Sure, Mister Boulder likely had a few relatives left in the area he hadn’t eaten, but I don’t see evidence of any of them around, either…

Wouldn't those have left, like, blood? Or something?

I imagine they would smell just as much, if not more, than humans do.

Some sort of proof would have been detected.

But I didn’t find any.

So this is a troubling prospect.

Outside of the Dungeon, I really haven’t seen a lot of monsters. Certainly not many strong enough to do serious damage to a bunch of giant stone Golems. No doubt, there are probably a few. Not saying there aren’t, but if it had been one of them that attacked, I would have expected more proof left behind.

Sss…

It’s a problem.

As if I didn’t already have my work cut out for me, here. Pretty sure that means some new kind of enemy.

Which is just great.

Repairs took all damn morning, and now I'm behind on my work in the Dungeon.

The [Sentient Golem] skill still really gets in the way, which was part of why it took so long. Adding that together with how bad the damage to Rocky actually was...

I had to remake the shield, for starters.

The piece was a total and complete wreck, which meant the fight didn’t end quickly.

Whatever attacked, was up there on the danger-scale.

The actual damage to his body took me awhile to get back to normal, too.

Gorf, also took some hits. His arms were pretty banged up, although, I’m not convinced he was actually involved in the main battle that took place up here.

I actually think Gorf took it upon himself to pummel whatever might have been left behind from Rocky’s fight, into the dirt.

For hours.

Another reason I don't have much evidence.

Best guess, as that was what he happened to be doing when I slithered up here.

Punching the ground.

Yeah.

Fairly confident he must have been in the stairwell or something, and missed most of dangerous parts. Rocky probably took the brunt of this on his own.

Searching the heavily punched dirt for clues hasn’t yielded any additional information.

I don’t know if there was a weapon there, or a corpse, but by the time I managed to get him to stop, there was absolutely nothing but dirt and rocks.

I filtered through it pretty carefully and found about what you would expect to find in the dirt.

Which was dirt.

Not very helpful.

Nothing to see, nothing to smell…

Little bit of mana, maybe? Some metallic scents… but, we’re smack-dab on top of a Dungeon entrance, here, and I burned so many pieces of Empire property in this general vicinity, I’m not even sure that’s a surprise.

Some of what I can smell might just be left over from that.

Sss...

Anyways, currently I’m assuming it was a monster.

Maybe it was a monster that attacked, and ran off after. I’m not even sure what else could want to kill me. I’ve already ruled humans out.

I guess it could have been some sort of spell, maybe.

I don’t feel like that's what it was, but there’s not much which really fits.

If Gaia has me on the top of their hit-list these days, just based on the lack of wagons and people screaming, a random, rogue, monster attack would make the most sense.

I think.

The [Sentient Golem] spell ranked up at least five times before I managed to panic-slither all the way back up here, so, whatever it was, it had to be big.

The really scary monsters are usually big.

Besides, seriously: what else is out here?

Nothing.

That's what.

Sssssss…

As soon as I’m absolutely, completely, certain that I’ve patched all the side tunnels, I’m going to have to see about getting some additional defenses.

There are still some mana crystals laying about. I can put those to use. Maybe, some sort of Golem response team, for backup. They can wait in the dungeon and react to whatever direction problems happen to come from.

Yeah.

That sounds reasonable.

Just as soon as I finish setting this last spider-nest on fire.

..………..

[Rocky]

Rocky stared out across the plains, and all was well.

His favorite pile of pebbles was right where he had left them.

The small green thing he had been charged with protecting, was slightly less small now.

His shield was brand new.

All was well. Perhaps, even better than well. It was clearly a great honor that the Creator had felt Rocky was worthy of additional effort. To make new equipment for Rocky to us, and to fix his injuries.

Today was a good day.

So it was, he stood perfectly still, new shield blocking the sun, as the winds kicked up small twisters of sand. Rocky stared out, and watched the hours pass by, ever-aware of the small smudges beyond his clear recognition, as they continued to travel along their beaten path through the ever-drying landscape.

Those were "wagons."

The Creator taught him that.

Human things, he now understood, specifically designed for being thrown as far as possible.

They could also roll quite well, which Rocky found interesting, but that was not nearly as exciting as the alternative methods by which he’d seen them travel.

Still, these particular wagons were not the “bad” wagons, meant for breaking. No, The small smudges at the edge of his “sight” (should Rocky’s core system of recognition even be called such a thing) were very much avoiding the Dungeon entrance, and thus they were supposed to be left alone.

Much to Rocky’s utmost disappointment.

The Creator had been very clear on this subject, though. So, it wasn’t as though Rocky was going to argue.

Besides, if Rocky had to go all the way out to where those wagons were, who would protect the sprout?

Rocky shifted slightly, facing down to focus at the small green thing he’d been told to protect, uncomfortable with the thought.

It had only been several dozen times, but Rocky had been forced to stop his brother, Gorf, from stepping on the plant over the past weeks just a little too often for comfort. As such, Rocky had decided he wouldn’t trust his sacred responsibility to another Golem. This was his job, unless the Creator decided to make another Golem.

One who could be trusted not to step where they weren’t supposed to.

As the sand picked up again, Rocky consciously opted to continue his thoughts.

How odd this all was.

Thinking, for his own entertainment.

Not long ago, Rocky knew he would have stood here all day, with nothing more than tracking the sun, or following the skitter of small monsters among the stones.

Since then, the world had changed.

This was not to say the world wasn’t always changing, in some way, or some form. Everywhere around Rocky, he could see it. While lacking a conventional form of eyes, he could still sense in ways which were similar.

His core could detect the outside world.

With it, he could watch as those many, many, grains of sand, continued their journey. Rolling along from one spot, to the next, like rounded wheels on the wagons in the distance. He could feel the heavy presence of those great shapes up in the sky, passing by with a backdrop of deep blue. Leaving a distant sense of energy and mana behind them, all but invisible.

The very material that had brought him into being, was scattered out with endless potential.

Rocky had no method by which to articulate this observation, but he could clumsily grapple with such a line of thinking.

He could also recognize, how not all that long ago, such a thought would have been impossible.

Well… not impossible. That wasn’t exactly right, but it was safe to say it would have been much, much more difficult.

Thinking.

At first, Rocky had to admit, it almost seemed like a waste of time.

The Creator could think plenty well enough on their own. They had no need for Rocky’s foolish attempts at doing so. Before recently, he’d mostly chosen not to do much of it at all, unless he was required to actually do something. A specific task, or reaction to some stimuli of danger, which made it a necessity.

Still, at times like this, when the sun was at its highest, and the winds were drifting in just the right way, he felt it was right to think a little.

“Good job, Rocky. Keep it up.”

Magic lessened, then ceased.

With the daily ritual of providing water for the sprout now completed, Rocky felt the Creator’s presence lessen. They were slithering away at great speed, back down into the depths.

“Good job.” They had told him.

Not just a regular job, but a “Good” one.

Rocky straightened, to stand ever so slightly taller as he registered the praise. The Creator hadn’t said any such thing to any other Golem.

Or, if the Creator had, Rocky hadn’t heard it.

Proudly, Rocky turned to see his brother was still quite busy on the far side of the Dungeon entrance. There, it seemed to Rocky, that Gorf was inspecting a rather particular looking piece of burnt wood. The oddly-shaped Golem picked up the new-found object, inspecting it closely, with great care.

Then, they picked up another one.

Rocky stopped, for a moment.

Gorf seemed to be working quite hard, actually. And it wasn’t as though Rocky felt he was doing any better of a job than Gorf was…

Rocky deeply considering this.

Maybe…

Maybe, Gorf was doing a good job, too? Such a good job, that the Creator had decided not to interrupt him. Was that it?

Rocky nodded, slowly.

That had to be it.

They were all doing good jobs.

Of course! It was so obvious. Why hadn’t he thought of this before-

Rocky’s thoughts tumbled to a halt.

He realized he had no way of knowing the answer to that question.

How was it, that thinking could be so troublesome?

Rocky gave up on the question, deciding that it was nothing but trouble. Instead, he continued to watch Gorf pick up another piece of broken wagon-wheel to add to the growing collection held under his other arm. That Gorf was picking up just as many pieces as he happened to be dropping, didn’t seem to deter the lumpy Golem in the slightest.

Yes, Gorf was very hard at work today.

As all named Golem should be.

Rocky nodded.

There was a great honor in this: to be a named Golem. Somehow he knew this information.

He’d found, recently, he knew a great many things that he hadn’t truly learned. Often, random pieces of facts, that almost seemed like nonsense. Yet, he knew they were true. His core held all of them, and told him that Golem, much like himself, were originally meant to be created and destroyed with little care for their individuality. It told him that they rarely existed long enough to be recognized as different from the masses, or even be considered for such a privilege.

Yet, here he was, very much not destroyed, and very much named.

And… aware of it.

Rocky would have found it profound, if he knew what that particular word or concept meant. He didn’t, though, so he just found it rather strange and ultimately left the whole predicament at that.

He was a [Sentient Golem]

[Sentient Golem] were aware.

That was just how it worked.

Rocky found no really issue with it. He knew that he’d always been aware, in some way. Ever since the Creator had first brought him into being, he’d been dimly present. If he looked back in his memory far enough, he could even remember the patterns which formed him. The knowledge was stored within his core, within his chest. But recently, Rocky understood there was a difference.

Between the knowledge he’d been born with, and how he was presently. It was almost difficult to compare the two. Especially, as the Creator continued to advance the magic which bound them.

Changes were progressing.

Was he truly the same Golem he’d been back then?

Rocky realized he had gone about constructing a rather complicated question. So, instead of being troubled by it, he decided to cut the pondering off early.

Instead, opting to stare at rather pretty dust storm.

He didn’t have to think all the time, did he?

No, probably not.

Hours passed, before the storm was finally gone, and Rocky was roused from his emptied mind with a sudden resonance.

Down below the ground, Rocky felt his two more-distant brothers defending the lower passage. Every so often, their efforts shook in his core.

Advancing.

Advancing, again.

Together, he and his brothers were growing stronger.

Still, as wayward thoughts might drift in and out of his crystal-housed mind, facts and questions recognized or filed away for some deeper review at a later time, Rocky shifted through the new [Knowledge] that seemed to spring to life in his core.

There was a little more, each time this happened.

Stored within him now, there were words, commands and motions, all of which he could now follow. All of which, before, would have likely left him clueless. For example, Rocky understood that were more way to fighting than simply lifting up his weapon, and bringing it back down!

Imagine that!

Rocky never would have, until now.

Amazing.

Perhaps, it went without saying, but in these sudden leaps of intelligence (however small they might actually have been) Rocky felt great pride.

Staring out at the horizon, light now recognized as fading off into the cycle of night, Rocky let a stone hand shift the heavy shield. It was, he realized, his first major form of motion since the day had started, so he opted to follow it with another, as he took a large step forward, to set the equipment down, heavy into the ground before him. Lifting his other arm, the stone club of stone rested on his shoulder.

Rocky tested it, experimentally.

He would need to use this, soon.

Far off, he could tell they were approaching again.

Creeping, sleek and strange form, its movement was not quite running, not quite dancing- and yet they moved with an elegance Rocky could not possess all the same. Long, graceful strides, carrying their body forward.

Just at the sight of them, he felt his core begin to spin. Processing his best course of action.

Only a moment had passed, but the shape was already much closer. No longer a far off thing that was beyond what Rocky could truly “see.” Now, their sleek body were clearly distinct to him. Nimble, as they continued in across the plains. Feet coming down, like dagger points, as they leapt along. Far from the beautiful shapes and patterns imparted by the Creator’s magic: these had terrible angles. They were sharp and cross, imbued with the look of tragedy and ruin. Etched upon their surface, Rocky could see the patterns numbering beyond his ability to count. Crossing atop themselves until they almost bore a skin, the longer he stared at them, the worse they became.

The same limbs that had almost tore him to pieces.

Again, Rocky adjusted his weapon, his shield. These seemed slow and clumsy in his hands, when compared to the perfected violence skipping atop the plains.

Would it be enough?

Another question Rocky could not answer.

Thump. Thump.

It was then, though, another shape drew his attention.

Loud and clumsy steps approached, each as poorly timed as the next, until beside him, Rocky found that his brother had arrived.

The massive shape of stone, Gorf stood tall, before he turned to Rocky.

Gorf nodded.

Rocky nodded back.

He had his answer.

All was well.