CHAPTER 833: THE TRUE TRIAL

Adam clutched his left side, feeling the heel’s mark embedded in his skin, but neither the searing agony nor the blood in his mouth could distract him from the female golem.

She stood where she had knocked him off from, a blade of abyssal darkness and one of pure light clenched in her armored fists. If he had believed the broadsword they had emerged from to be at least a legendary artifact, these twin blades made his vision swim in dread.

Her face was an immortalised mask of beauty that bore the features of someone whose mere smile made men relax and children giggle. Her silvery torso, a skin-tight cuirass that blended with her engineered frame and curves, was nothing like the colossal golem’s. Sparse arabesques replaced painted artistry to create a sober design that rivalled the elegance of elven craftsmanship.

But it was the black star with jagged edges emblazoned against the sleek silver that forced his eyes to narrow. A coat of arms—ancient, unknown, perhaps the enduring echo of a noble house’s unsung story. No matter what it was, something rang clear: they had found the legacy of one of the seven great houses.

The colossal golem before? A mere joke. She was the real trial.

As the realisation that they had merely passed the qualifications landed like a hammer blow to the back of his mind, the golem turned toward Desmond, whose voice had yet to fade in the deadly silence of the room.

"Don’t stand still, you purple fool!" His voice cracked, blood flying out of his mouth.

Before Desmond’s trembling wand, the golem spun her blades with fluid wrist movements. Three splendid dark and light arcs hummed around her peacefully before peace was no more.

Without warning, she lunged at the teenager.

’Damn it!’ Adam clenched his teeth, Qi and mana churning like a frantic storm trying to mend broken shores.

He launched himself with a stomp that tore a suppressed groan out of his tightly shut lips, palms stretched to his weapons. Mana threads shot in a tight noose around the hilts of his Chronoscar and macuahuitl before they propelled the weapons into his hands—just as the dark blade cleaved at Desmond’s neck.

The wide-eyed teenager lurched to the right, avoiding the icy kiss of the blade by a hair’s breadth. His feet caught on the red carpet, his vision shifting sideways as the light blade whistled to eviscerate him.

Horror twisted his lips, and his vision blurred with tears of unfairness. He had given his all to defeat the colossal golem with Adam. Yet, now he would die. All for what? Another one, faster, more dangerous. Why... why did they have to fight mechanical monsters well beyond their tiers? Why was something calling him in this damned room?

But the blade gave him no time to feel sorry for himself.

A desperate "Yahoo..." was all he managed when his face reflected in the blade’s edge before he closed his eyes. Adam... Adam would avenge him. He at least found something close to comfort in that.

CLANG

"ARGH!" he shrieked as the clash of metal drowned the room. "My friend will dismantle you bolt by bolt. I trust him!"

He waited for death, satisfied with his last words. Yet, only a bark and forceful shove answered him.

"Hide!"

He snapped his eyes open to Adam’s figure, both swords held in a downward cross that locked the light sword in place. The shove came from Adam’s misaligned hips, breaking his otherwise perfect posture.

For a moment, Desmond felt his stomach through his intact uniform—no wounds. Then, he focused on Adam’s strained face. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by a mask of solemn fury underneath which veins pulsed in irrepressible strain.

"Now!" Adam repeated, his voice like rumbling stones.

But the golem didn’t spare them a second. Her dark blade fluttered in an upward arc with deadly grace.

Adam twisted the light blade off course, pivoting in the same fluid motion into a kick that landed on the golem’s cuirass with a dry thud. She didn’t move back, didn’t even flinch.

And her blade continued to fall.

Biting his lip, he hurled Desmond back with a blast of mana. At least he could focus on the fight if he didn’t have to worry about him. But he was out of balance. All he could do was brace for the impact by raising his Chronoscar.

BANG

The collision sent a tremor through his recovering side, making him cough up blood. With a hiss, he swung his macuahuitl like a club, the edges glinting with deadly intent. Yet, her light sword drifted in a graceful parry.

As sparks flew between them, Adam’s mind raced. She was slightly less powerful than the colossal golem, but faster without its bulk. But what forced an icy shiver down his spine was something unquantifiable.

Where the colossal golem delivered almost unavoidable yet simple strikes born of careful predictions, she fought as a sword master. Her posture, this single exchange, they were all he needed to be sure this fight would be much harder than the previous one.

If he wanted to win it, he couldn’t fall into her rhythm.

He twisted his Chronoscar, guiding the dark blade along its edge. Her sword left a dark trail right beside his left shoulder as he swung his free Chronoscar at her neck.

Her answer came not with a parry, but by gently leaning back. As the crystalline edge passed harmlessly, she lodged her light weapon between the triangular blades of the macuahuitl, then, using its own structure as leverage, she forced it upward before counterattacking.

Adam’s pupils constricted as both of her blades snaked at him from as many vicious angles. He crouched beneath the first horizontal slash, then shifted on his feet, barely dodging the upward one. Then, he shot up toward her, arms swinging like the maws of a beast closing on prey.

Yet, a bright sheen drew his attention mid-movement. His eyes darted to its source, only for him to see his face reflected in the greave of her rising knee.

Every muscle and every joint in his body creaked in protest as he forcefully shattered his momentum by spinning to the right. The golem’s knee blasted the air where his chin had been, sending his hair upward from the strike’s sheer power.

He landed a couple of steps away, knuckles white around his weapons.

"I’m not sure I can defeat her..." he admitted, his murmur echoing across the room.

Desmond, who hid behind the carcass of the colossal golem, felt his heart sink at Adam’s words. His breath caught in his throat, and he tightened his robes around him, as if they could shield him from a monstrous construct even Adam didn’t want to fight.

They were exhausted and wounded. They had to run!

But...

Everything would have been for nothing. And...

He gazed at his friend. He knew Adam wouldn’t give up. And if Adam didn’t, he wouldn’t either. They either left together, or...

A steely glint entered his eyes, and his trembling hands steadied. He had made his choice.

There had to be a way! Trust. Trust Adam and wait. Like for the first golem, stack spells and wait for the perfect moment... even if he would have to endanger himself.