"Damn it," Adam murmured, his gaze locked on the golem through the door slits.

As he closed the studded door, Desmond shook Adam's shoulders from behind, his voice cracking with something less than fear and more than betrayal. "How?! Why can you open the mysterious room? Wasn't I like... the chosen one?"

Adam shook his head, his somber frown deepened under the shifting light and shadows on the walls. "Doesn't matter. What does is our inability to get Louis' vials, and I doubt another story about a scary storage door will please him."

Wide-eyed, Desmond pushed Adam back and opened the door—still the mysterious room. A heavy sigh left his lips. He could open it. The call still tugged at him. Whatever the golem guarded should be his.

Stepping back, he muttered under his breath, ragged with discomfort. "Do we ask someone to open it for us? It'll sound suspicious—"

He paused mid-sentence, his attention drawn to the sound of footsteps. Adam turned, too, observing soft lights pulsing from the grooves on the walls to accompany the approaching individual.

"Teacher Louis?" Adam asked when he saw the loose dark robe of the teacher and the burn scars covering his face. "We were about to bring you the vials," he declared, lips curving. There was the solution.

Desmond's eyes flickered between Adam and Louis before his eyes lit up with realisation. Hand on the handle, he nodded. "Did we take too long? Sorry, teacher. We kind of lost track of time while discussing my grandfather's stories. He had such imagination, I promise he was better fitted to be a minstrel rather than a road paver!"

Louis' green eyes narrowed at them, his fake courtesy tearing an icy shiver down their backs. "You can't imagine how interested I am in your grandfather's stories, Desmond. Now open the storage room and get me my vials."

"Of course." With a fearless twist of his wrist, he shoved the handle down and flung the door open.

Just like yesterday, the mysterious room didn't appear in Louis' presence. Instead, old shelves reeking of dusty parchment, crates filled with materials he didn't want to know about, and vials filled with potions, some murky, some bright, and some resembling plain water, greeted his grinning face.

"To my office. Five minutes earlier," Louis snorted, walking back through the corridor.

Once his footsteps faded into silence, Desmond wiped his sweaty forehead. "That was... lucky. But it won't work tomorrow."

"He's suspecting something." Adam shrugged. "He'll return as many times as needed to uncover what we're up to."

"Then what do we do?" Desmond hoisted a crate of vials, glass clanging as the shimmering liquid swirled like gas.

Adam winked as he lifted another box. "We waste time in front of the door until he comes. I only hope he's as stubborn as he sounds."

A heavy silence followed his words as he led the walk back to Louis' office. He knew Desmond needed time to process the battle against the golem, his own powerlessness and the secrets he had learned.

There was also the slight threat of executing Desmond if words came out about his ability to use Qi. It was a gamble he was ready to take, for he believed in the genuine friendship the teenager tried to establish with him. And if he were right, he wouldn't mind counting Desmond among his few close friends, after resolving the golem's crisis, of course.

But not now. Even though he acted as usual, his mind rang with a single thought—to simply let it rest. And that's what he did. He carried the vials to Louis' office, nodding at whatever the teacher said before parting with Desmond.

Back in the garden, he found a spot behind the maze of verdant walls and lay down. The blend of hibiscus, freesia and lilac soothed him as much as a cup of enchanted tea. The soft grass at his back felt like a heavenly bed as he closed his eyes to enjoy the quiet.

Wind ruffled his hair until the dipping sun painted the sky a pinkish mauve. The temperature dropped, the shy glint of the first stars cascading over him as he sat, eyes locked onto his right hand. This was the battle's true reward; nothing physical—understanding granted by his mythical hand.

He had identified the golem's enchantments earlier, and now the knowledge flowed through his mind. He deciphered it in the blink of an eye, ancient symbols he had never seen dancing like an equation.

For a moment, he nodded in recognition. It was perfect work. Logical. Precise. Beautiful in its order. But also terrifying in its effectiveness. As he had suspected, the golem had a power source, but not a manacore or gem. Instead, each city, mountain, and river painted on its torso hid a magic circle that fueled it, along with several fake ones. Not something he could exploit unless he had years to waste searching for them in the wilderness.

The golem's mana and shock immunity were unexploitable to him as well—not enough firepower to overwhelm them. The worst was the red eye beneath its visor.

He pursed his lips, his voice like grinding stones. "The most evident weakness is, of course, a trap. The core of its protocols is protected under its unbreachable armor."

Yet, a smile blossomed across his face. "Should I build my own golem and pit them against each other? That would surely be quite a sight." He chuckled, clenching his fist. "Not my style. There must be another solution, a hidden weakness I've overlooked."

He thought for a few more minutes before rising to his feet. He patted the dirt off his pants and shrugged. He had eleven days to find it, and teachers he could consult. Haldris had mentioned Teacher Viktor would be delighted to answer inquiries about constructs. The enchanting symbols would be a good start in determining when the golem had been crafted.

While he set the golem to the back of his mind, he returned to his room, where he found Quintella and Bao eager to further their training. Chuckling, he brought them to the training grounds where they sweated for two hours. Stamina, precision, fluidity—he taught them the basics of everything with a relaxed grin.

Then, the three of them returned to their rooms, falling asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow after the eventful day.