The roar vibrated through the dungeon like a living storm.
Stone cracked. Dust cascaded from the ceiling. Ancient pillars groaned under the pressure of a force too great to be contained by a dying labyrinth. It was the voice of something old—older than Friezzar, older than the humans who had stepped into the dungeon for the first time in decades.
A floor guardian.
Not just any guardian.
One created during the era of Varath Cain.
The puppet did not know what the roar meant.
But his body did.
Feed.
Grow.
Become.
That instinct—older than thought—pulled him forward like an invisible chain.
He stepped into the darkness.
A Guardian Awakened
Arden and Lyra watched in stunned silence as the puppet strode away from them, the lantern's golden light casting a long shadow behind his wooden form.
Lyra whispered, "Arden… shouldn't we stop him?"
Arden's grip tightened on his sword.
His instincts screamed that nothing good waited ahead.
But something else—something cold and unfamiliar—slithered down his spine.
"He isn't attacking us," Arden said slowly. "And he bowed. Constructs don't bend the knee. Not even the intelligent ones."
Lyra's fingers tightened around her lantern.
Her heartbeat echoed softly in her ears.
"Arden… that creature isn't evil."
"Maybe," Arden muttered. "But it's certainly dangerous."
Lyra lowered her gaze.
"Everything born from loneliness is dangerous," she whispered.
But Arden had no response for that.
Because ahead of them, down the dark corridor—
—the dungeon began to breathe harder.
Runes ignited like fire along the walls.
Broken braziers burst with pale flame.
Dust swirled with rising heat.
And in the center of the labyrinth…
The guardian stirred.
The Hall of Broken Fangs
Friezzar stepped into a vast chamber.
The ground sloped downward in a fractured circle, like a giant bowl made of shattered stone and jagged teeth protruding from the floor. Pillars lined the edges, each carved with symbols that were half-broken, half-erased by time.
At the far end of the chamber…
Something massive moved.
Friezzar's glowing eyes adjusted, the faint blue light brightening his vision.
A giant beast—four-legged, wolf-like in shape but skeletal like a construct—pulled itself from the rubble. Its body was wrapped in layers of bone plates, fused with chunks of obsidian. Its fangs were broken and uneven, giving its maw a crooked, terrifying shape.
But what stood out most was the giant crystal embedded in its chest, cracked but still glowing with violent red essence.
A guardian core.
The beast lifted its head, sniffing the air.
Its hollow sockets flickered with red fire as it spotted the puppet.
A low, rattling growl echoed through the chamber.
Friezzar didn't move.
Not out of bravery.
Not out of calculation.
He simply did not understand fear.
But he understood hunger.
And the guardian's glow…
It was the strongest thing he had ever sensed.
Hunger.
Desire.
Purpose.
The guardian lunged.
Instinct vs. Ancient Fury
The floor shook as the massive beast charged forward, claws gouging deep trenches in the stone. Its maw opened, cracked fangs gnarled and crooked, dripping with red mana.
Friezzar moved—
—but not backward.
Forward.
Straight into the beast's path.
The guardian snapped its jaws shut, but Friezzar ducked under them with surprising agility. His movements were smoother now, his joints moving like flowing water instead of stiff wood. The essence he had absorbed earlier glimmered through his carved patterns.
He pressed his wooden hand against the guardian's chest—
straight onto the glowing core.
The guardian roared so loudly the walls vibrated.
Friezzar's fingers curled.
Essence surged into him—
—but the guardian struck back.
A massive claw slammed into Friezzar's side, launching him across the chamber. His body crashed into a pillar, splintering his wooden arm and cracking his torso.
Friezzar lay on the ground—
chest buzzing, essence swirling wildly.
He looked down at his splintered arm.
He tilted his head.
Not confused.
Not afraid.
Just… processing.
He pushed himself upright.
The guardian snarled, charging again.
Friezzar's body felt… wrong.
Off-balance.
Damaged.
But something in him sparked.
Something new.
Something he didn't recognize.
A desire not just to devour, but to protect—
protect the light he'd seen earlier.
Lyra's light.
Her warmth.
Her voice.
He didn't understand the emotion, but it sharpened his next movement.
He sidestepped at the last second—
and leaped onto the guardian's back.
The guardian roared, twisting violently.
Friezzar clung to its bony plating, wooden fingers digging into cracks. Essence pulsed through the beast's body, drawing him like a flame draws a newborn moth.
He tore at the plating—
a shard snapped free—
raw red glow spilling from beneath it.
The guardian bucked wildly, its roar echoing through the labyrinth.
Arden and Lyra arrived at the chamber doorway just in time to see the puppet latch onto the guardian's chest again.
Arden's jaw dropped.
"What in the—"
Lyra gasped, gripping his sleeve.
"He's fighting the guardian… alone."
Arden's voice cracked with disbelief.
"That puppet is suicidal."
Lyra bit her lip.
"No… Arden… he's trying to protect us."
The notion stunned him.
"Lyra… it's a construct. It doesn't—"
He stopped.
Because Friezzar looked back at them for a moment—
just a moment—
—and his hollow eyes flickered faintly.
Recognition.
Connection.
Something like instinctive protectiveness.
Then he turned back toward the guardian just as the beast reared to crush him under its weight.
The Breakthrough
The guardian slammed down.
Friezzar rolled under the impact, his wooden torso groaning under the force. Cracks split along his chest, glowing as essence surged to repair them.
The guardian lunged again—
teeth snapping—
and Friezzar thrust his arm straight into its gaping maw.
Wood against bone.
Crack against crack.
The beast bit down—
—and Friezzar's arm shattered from elbow to wrist.
Lyra screamed.
But Friezzar didn't falter.
He thrust his remaining hand against the guardian's chest, fingers digging straight into the glowing core.
And then—
for the first time—
he willed something to happen.
DEVOUR.
Not instinct.
Not reflex.
A command.
His own will.
Essence exploded outward in violent crimson tendrils.
The guardian's roar shook the chamber—
and then fell silent.
The core disintegrated.
The guardian collapsed.
And all its essence poured into Friezzar's chest like a river of fire.
He screamed—
though he had no lungs—
voice erupting like a hollow echo from inside his wooden frame.
Light burst from his cracks.
His carved patterns shifted violently.
His height stretched.
His limbs lengthened.
His chest split and reformed.
His face plates rearranged—
smooth, elegant lines forming a faint jaw, subtle cheeks.
His eyes burned brighter—
deeper—
more alive.
His broken arm melted into glowing essence, reforming into smoother, stronger wood—
with bone-like reinforcement beneath the surface.
His new hand flexed—
effortlessly.
His entire body glowed with transforming light.
Lyra covered her mouth, tears forming in her eyes.
"Arden… he's evolving."
Arden remained speechless.
When the light finally dimmed,
Friezzar raised his head.
Taller now.
Stronger.
More humanoid.
Elegant in shape, inhuman in every detail.
And utterly silent.
He turned toward the humans.
Not with hostility.
Not with hunger.
But with something new.
Purpose.
Recognition.
Curiosity.
Lyra reached out her hand, unable to stop herself.
"Hello again…" she whispered softly. "Can you… understand me now?"
Friezzar tilted his head.
Then—
For the first time—
He attempted sound.
A crackle of wood.
A soft vibration.
A voice built from hollow resonance.
It came out broken, distorted, faint—
"…Li…ght…"
Lyra's breath caught.
Arden froze.
Friezzar lifted his hand, touching the glow of Lyra's lantern—
—and repeated, clearer:
"…light."
The dungeon trembled again.
But this time—
It wasn't from danger.
It was from awakening.