CHAPTER 26: DESPERATION

[Oliver’s P.O.V.]

The red glow of the teleport stone faded—yet Oliver’s hand closed on nothing but air.

The others were gone.

The Return Stone had taken them all, leaving only the fading shimmer of magic in the chamber. A cruel afterimage of escape.

Oliver stumbled forward, reaching desperately as if he could still catch them. His fingers grasped only empty space. His knees buckled, smacking against the cold stone floor.

"...No. No, no, no..." His voice cracked. It echoed in the vast, ruined chamber but carried no answer.

Then—

Thoom.

A heavy step shook the ground.

Oliver’s head whipped up, eyes wide.

From the shadows, hulking shapes emerged. Golems.

Half the constructs had been shattered during the fight, their bodies nothing more than rubble scattered across the ground. But several remained intact—and for Oliver, even one was more than enough.

Grinding gears and shifting stone filled the chamber as the nearest golem’s arms reconfigured. Stone plates slid into place, locking together until its forearm became a blade etched with faintly glowing runes.

The construct’s core pulsed once, and then the blade descended.

Oliver dove instinctively.

BOOM!

The weapon slammed into the floor where he had been, blasting shards of rock in every direction. Dust stung his eyes and cut his cheeks. His ears rang with the impact.

"Shit—!" He rolled, coughing, lungs burning from the dust.

Another golem stepped forward. Its chest split open, revealing a circle of jagged runes that flared with electric light.

"—Discharge."

A torrent of crackling energy erupted.

The blast ripped through the chamber, obliterating a section of the far wall. The shockwave hit Oliver like a hammer, flinging him across the floor. His back smashed into a broken pillar, and agony ripped through his ribs.

He coughed, a hot splash of blood spraying from his lips. His whole body trembled as he clawed at the ground, forcing himself onto his knees.

I... I can’t take even one more hit like that.

His vision blurred, but his ears still worked. And what he heard made him freeze.

The golems weren’t just moving.

They were speaking.

"Target locked."

"Strike sequence initiated."

"Crush the intruder."

The words were flat, mechanical—like orders spat out by a machine.

Oliver’s eyes widened. Wait... they’re calling their moves before they even make them?

No one else would understand the garbled mechanical language. To the others, it would be meaningless noise. But to him—

His class. Linguist.

He could understand it all.

They’re giving away their patterns... their next attacks...

His pulse raced. This was his one thread of hope.

The ground shook again as another golem advanced. Its arm shifted, stone grinding as it reshaped into a spiked mace.

"Impact sequence: Initiate."

Oliver’s body moved before his brain did. He threw himself sideways—just as the mace slammed down, carving a crater into the ground where he had stood.

Debris rained down. If he’d hesitated for even a second, he would have been pulp.

He staggered to his feet, chest heaving, sweat and blood dripping into his eyes. His whole body screamed in protest.

Damn it! Even if I know their moves, I don’t have the speed or strength to use it properly. I’m just... delaying the inevitable.

Still—he gritted his teeth.

Delaying was better than dying.

~~~

The pain in his ribs throbbed with every breath. His legs shook, and his hands were raw from scrambling over broken stone.

But he forced himself to think.

The Return Gate behind him was sealed. There was no way back.

Ahead—the portal leading down to the 21st floor stood open, shimmering faintly in the distance. The only way out.

His jaw clenched. Deeper into the dungeon... but anything is better than dying here.

The golems stirred, their runes flashing as their cores whirred back to life.

"Target locked."

"Extermination sequence: active."

Three of them stepped forward, blocking the path to the portal. Their heavy steps echoed like war drums.

Oliver’s breathing quickened, his chest tightening in panic. But he forced it down. He couldn’t overpower them. He couldn’t outrun them.

Then I’ll outsmart them.

The nearest golem’s runes pulsed.

"Forward cleave."

Oliver threw himself flat. A stone blade swept overhead, the wind of its strike nearly tearing his hair out at the roots. Dust stung his eyes as rock shattered behind him.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain in his scraped palms.

Another’s chest glowed.

"Discharge—"

Oliver dove behind the rubble of a collapsed pillar just as the lightning beam ripped past, scorching the air. The blast vaporized the debris, but it shielded him for one heartbeat. That heartbeat was enough to roll aside and keep moving.

"Crush sequence."

A third golem lunged. Its massive fist slammed into the floor where he’d been, rock exploding outward in a deadly spray. The shockwave sent Oliver sprawling, skin tearing as stone fragments cut into his arms. His ears rang.

Blood trickled down his temple. His lungs burned. But he forced his battered body forward. The portal was still there. So close.

The golems moved again, their words overlapping like a chorus of death.

"Left sweep."

"Piercing thrust."

"Area slam."

Oliver’s eyes darted. Left, then forward, then down—!

He sprinted left, sliding under the arc of a stone blade. Pain screamed in his ribs, but he didn’t stop. He leapt over a crack in the ground, then twisted his body just as a spear of stone shot forward, grazing his side. Blood gushed, but the wound wasn’t fatal.

"Area slam."

The last one raised both fists high.

Oliver’s eyes widened. Shit—!

The fists came down like twin hammers. He barely managed to throw himself forward, but the shockwave still caught him. The impact hurled him through the air like a ragdoll.

He slammed onto his back, every nerve screaming. His vision blackened at the edges.

But when his eyes refocused—

The portal was right in front of him.

The golems’ steps shook the ground as they closed in.

"Target cornered."

"Annihilation sequence."

Oliver spat blood, dragging his trembling body forward inch by inch. His nails cracked on the stone as he clawed at the ground.

One golem raised its arm, runes blazing. The stone blade gleamed, ready to end him.

"Final strike."

Oliver rolled sideways at the last second. The blade smashed down, inches from his skull, sending shockwaves through the floor. The impact rattled his bones—but it also left a narrow opening.

The path to the portal.

With the last of his strength, Oliver staggered up and lunged forward. His body screamed in protest, but his will pushed him on.

The portal’s glow swallowed him whole—

—and then the chamber vanished.

His knees buckled, and he collapsed on the stone floor of the 21st floor. His breaths came ragged, shallow, painful. Blood trickled down his side, his arms, his temple.

But he was alive.

Oliver let out a broken laugh, coughing mid-way as more blood came up.

"...I did it... I actually... did it..."

For now.

Because he had no illusions. The 21st floor wouldn’t be easier.

But at least he wasn’t crushed into paste back there.

And with every desperate move, every bloody scrape, one thing had become clearer in his mind.

His useless class—Linguist—wasn’t so useless after all.

But his joy did not last long as his tired body gave in and his consciousness faded into darkness.