Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

Heavy as its footfalls were, the top-heavy idol that was Delta’s body moved with unnatural grace, only a subtle grinding audible whenever it took a step. Following it up close from behind, Zefaris made out certain details that were inconsistent with its general image of a headless, angularly simplified human male figure. Most notable were the backs of its forearms: each had a groove down the middle that unnervingly reminded Zefaris of the rails that bayonets were slid onto.

The wall-mounted traps spat increasingly bizarre things, activating right after they passed out of the trap’s effective range. Jagged shards of black-stone, Spitter acid, tiny darts with bright feathers, even fire of every conceivable variety from mundane spouts to jets of CP-T like substance that stunk like tar, earthen oil, and sulfur.

When they reached the door at the other side, it partly lit up only to stop and turn red.

Delta raised a hand and balled it into a fist in a crushing motion, causing cyan cracks to cover the door before it crumbled to pieces. At a glance, it seemed like it had given way to a particularly ominous Fog Gate, dark grey shapes roiling beyond the door frame. Then the sound of the cogworks hit them, immediate and not muffled as it had been previously. Distant pistons thumping, cogs click-clacking and turning, myriad other sounds that they couldn’t distinguish - overwhelming, all-encompassing, yet not loud at all. The ground didn’t shake, they couldn’t feel it in their bones, yet the sound of the dungeon’s internal organs consumed all other sound into its symphony.

Moments later, it was gone. The sound of something large slamming into place was heard from just beyond the grey fog, and the grey fog dissipated. An intermediary chamber lay beyond, which led to a hallway, which led to a wedge-shaped door that neither Zel nor Zef had seen closed from this side, but which both recognized. It was because of this clue that they knew what to expect on the other side.

To no surprise on the slayers’ part, the door was the corner of a sprawling trigonal arena, with trigonal floor panels. It was easily as large as the Fog Transit chamber, perhaps sixty or seventy meters across from wall to corner. Not as plain as those either Zel or Zef had been in before.

In fact, each corner was a door, and alcoves with statues filled every centimeter of empty wall space. They were arranged in three columns, some housing the usual abstract humanoids whilst others depicted skeletal soldiers in modern uniform, wielding modern weapons. The vast majority, however, were empty. There were pristine statues, chipped and broken ones, even statues that were held together by tiny pieces of black-stone.

All of them possessed glowing, cyan lightgem eyes.

All of them stared down at them. Not at the group as a whole, at the two beast-slayers in particular.

Approaching the center of the chamber, Delta explained that, “Under normal circumstances, the trial would go on for hours. We do not have that much time.”

He stopped and turned around, even as the Caster and Spearman continued towards the door. Delta raised his arms, causing two pillars to rise from the ground to either of his sides. Each was hollow, and each held a different black-stone blade - one a long shaft with a huge axe-head on the end, the other an equally long cleaver that rivaled the Black Swordsman’s original weapon in sheer mass. Their spines were shaped such that Delta was able to slot them onto his arms, and the stone melded together the moment they were in place.

“I cannot let you pass until you have bested me,” he thundered. “But I can let you choose the contest.”

The moment Delta spoke of his offer he saw a daredevil grin form on the tan slayer’s ever so smug face, whilst the pale cyclops maintained a visage of calm professionalism. Until she noticed her counterpart’s flaring ego, that is.

“Your bayonet enhances strength, right? Lend me it,” Zelsys said, her voice giddy with excitement. At that moment, the one known as Zefaris changed from calm planning to worry in the face of uncertainty, even if it was for only a moment. Still, she handed over the stone-blessed blade.

When the silver-eyed one’s right hand gripped the weapon, Delta saw an immediate flare of confidence in her eyes. For a few seconds they remained fixed to the tarnished blade before she pointed it at him and, with a grin of utmost confidence, declared her challenge.

“Swing down at me,” she said. “I’ll take it and hit back even harder.”

Delta’s eye started flickering again, in response to which Zefaris quickly retreated a few dozen meters out of the way. Zel used this time to take a deep breath, filling her lungs to their utmost capacity. Her plan was to expend her full lung capacity on fuelling if necessary, something that Breath Engine would interfere with.

“Style: Slayer…” she uttered in a near-silent tone, so as to preserve Fog. The icy-hot sensation returned once again, but it didn’t numb her pain. Instead, it furthered her awareness of her own body, steadied her hand such that she felt like she could stack needles on their points.

A few seconds later the flickering stopped and Delta accepted the conditions in an utterly robotic tone, “Trial conditions accepted: Gimmick Duel.”

The colour of Delta’s eye changed to orange, and he raised his left arm, rearing back to put his entire body mass into the swing.

“I can only hope you’re as capable as you are confident,” the golem said, now in his usual humanlike tone. Then, with a step forward and a twist of his torso he brought the huge black-stone cleaver on his arm crashing down.

Zefaris had seen her do this before. Back in the forest, she’d watched Zel send the Black Swordsman’s hunk of metal flying over his head. Even still, she couldn’t help feeling trepidation as she watched every second of the brief exchange before the golem took its swing.