Dulric's hammer fell in a steady rhythm against the anvil, each strike sending sparks dancing across the dimly lit forge. The temple had grown quiet as midnight approached, but sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. His beard was tied back with copper wire, sweat beading on his brow despite the cool night air.

  He paused, examining the curved metal plate taking shape beneath his hammer. Good stock, this. Not as fine as proper dwarven steel, but serviceable.

  Dulric chuckled to himself, the sound low and gravelly in the empty workshop.

  "From village smith to temple-dwelling monster hunter," he muttered, reaching for his tongs. "Not the retirement I had in mind."

  The description Doc had given of the construct nagged at him. A squat guardian with a central blue eye, forged of bronze and stone. He'd read of such things in the great libraries of Khazak-Thrum, before the eastern wars scattered his clan. Watcher Units, they were called. Ancient guardians from the time when dwarven colonies stretched across the northern territories.

  Dulric set the metal aside and pulled a worn leather-bound journal from beneath his workbench. He flipped through pages of sketches and notes until he found what he was looking for, a rough drawing of a similar construct, copied from a mural he'd seen decades ago.

  "Thought so," he grunted, running his fingers over the faded ink. "Stone and bronze. Single optic. Sentinel pattern."

  He closed the book with a sigh. Strange how life circled back on itself. He'd fought in three campaigns, traveled half the known world, then finally settled in that quiet village to be nothing more than a simple blacksmith. No glory, just honest work and quiet evenings.

  Now here he stood in an ancient temple, cleansed by the sacrifice of a stranger who fought with light and fire. A temple blessed by the Mother of the Vale herself, a being he'd thought was nothing more than a fireside tale told to children.

  His fingers traced the edge of his old hammer. The tool felt alive in his grip now, warm with potential he was only beginning to understand. The metal sang to him differently since his class transformation to Techforged Smith. Not just strength and weakness, but possibility, the whispers of what materials wanted to become.

  Dulric lifted the curved plate again, studying how the firelight played across its surface. It wasn't fancy armor, just a simple reinforcement for his shoulder, something that might turn aside a construct's blow if things went poorly tomorrow.

  "Should have asked for retirement pay," he muttered, hammering the edge into shape. "Combat against ancient guardians wasn't in the village contract."

  But despite his grumbling, Dulric felt more alive than he had in years. His hands moved with purpose, his mind clear and focused. The forge-fire reflected in his eyes as he worked the metal, coaxing it into its new form with each precise strike.

  He lost himself in the rhythm of his craft, hammer rising and falling in a steady cadence that made time blur. He barely noticed when the forge's orange glow was joined by pale sunlight streaming through the high windows. The golden rays caught motes of dust and smoke, creating ethereal patterns above his anvil.

  He set down his hammer and rolled his shoulders. His muscles ached pleasantly from the night's labor, but his mind remained sharp. That was the dwarven constitution for you, forty-eight hours without sleep was uncomfortable but manageable. Not like those humans who got bleary-eyed after missing a single night's rest.

  The fruits of his labor lay arranged on the workbench: reinforced shoulder plates, a modified chestpiece, and bracers designed to deflect rather than absorb blows. Simple work, but effective. The Old dwarven constructs weren't known for subtlety, they hit hard and direct. His armor would account for that.

  Voices and movement filtered in from outside. The settlement was waking up.

  Dulric splashed water on his face from a nearby bucket, the cold shocking away some of his fatigue. He wiped his hands on a rag, tucked his beard back into its work-braid, and stepped outside.

  Morning sunlight bathed the temple grounds. Children ran between the stone buildings, carrying kindling for cooking fires. The smell of baking bread wafted from somewhere.

  Mazoga was making her rounds, inspecting the night watch positions with that stern efficiency he'd come to respect. Her Ravageboar armor gleamed in the morning light, the green-gray hide reinforced with metal plates that moved silently as she walked.

  "Morning," he grunted as she approached. "Ready for the expedition?"

  Mazoga smiled, the expression transforming her stern features. "As ready as I'll ever be. The packs are prepared, weapons checked."

  Mazoga's expression grew more serious. "I've been thinking about who goes through that gateway today. My plan is to keep the first team small—you, me, and Doc to establish a foothold. Once we've secured the area and dealt with any immediate threats, we can bring others through."

  Dulric nodded, made sense. Three experienced frontline fighters could handle most situations, and if things went badly, fewer people would be at risk.

  "Who would you recommend we bring after that?" Mazoga asked. "I want your opinion on this."

  Dulric thought long and hard, running through the settlement's residents in his mind. Each had their strengths, but for an expedition into an ancient dwarven outpost filled with unknown dangers and forgotten technologies...

  "Carl and Kesh," he said finally. "The halfling's got a knack for figuring out magical contraptions. If we're dealing with old dwarven constructs and workshop equipment, he might be able to learn something useful from studying that guardian Doc fought and Kesh ability to sense danger will be sorely needed."

  Mazoga grimaced at the suggestion. "If Carl comes, Calen will want to come too. Those two are practically joined at the hip these days."

  Dulric shrugged. "Let them both come. The boy's proven himself a capable fighter, and having someone watch Carl's back while he's tinkering is a good idea. You know how he gets when he finds something interesting, forgets the world exists around him."

  That was true enough. Carl had a tendency to become completely absorbed in his work, muttering to himself and losing track of time. In a potentially hostile environment, that kind of distraction could get him killed.

  Mazoga nodded slowly. "Good point. Calen's quick on his feet and knows how to stay out of the way when things get dangerous." She paused, considering. "We should also bring Ironha, at least after we've secured the gateway area. Having her positioned near the portal means she can escape quickly if needed, but she'll also be able to provide immediate medical attention if someone gets hurt."

  "Smart thinking," Dulric agreed. The elf's healing abilities had saved lives more than once, and ancient dwarven constructs weren't known for pulling their punches. If someone took a serious hit, having Ironha close by could mean the difference between life and death.

  "That makes seven of us total," Mazoga said, counting on her fingers. "Should be manageable without leaving the temple too vulnerable."

  Dulric picked up one of the shoulder plates he'd forged, testing its weight and balance. "When do we leave?"

  "After morning brief. I want everyone to know exactly what they're walking into."

  Dulric approached the runic gateway with his newly forged armor fitted snugly against his frame. The curved shoulder plates gleamed in the afternoon light, etched with subtle reinforcement patterns that few would notice but any proper smith would appreciate. His hammer hung at his side, its weight a familiar comfort.

  The expedition team had gathered in the chamber, their packs and weapons ready.

  Mazoga stood before the shimmering gateway, her voice carrying across the chamber

  "Listen up," she began, her amber eyes sweeping over the assembled group. "This is a very dangerous expedition. We're dealing with ancient dwarven constructs that have been guarding something for who knows how long."

  She gestured toward the portal's blue light. "First wave goes through in thirty minutes. That's me, Dulric, and Doc. Our job is simple, secure the immediate area, neutralize any threats, and establish a safe perimeter around the gateway on the other side."

  Kesh adjusted his pack straps. "How long do we wait before sending the second team?"

  "Two hours minimum," Mazoga replied firmly. "If we haven't returned or sent word by then, assume we're in trouble."

  Kesh nodded. Conservative but smart approach.

  "Second wave will be Carl, Calen, Kesh, and Ironha," Mazoga continued. "Carl, your job is to study whatever dwarven technology we find. Calen watches your back. Kesh handles perimeter security. Ironha stays near the gateway as our medical support and emergency retreat coordinator."

  Carl practically vibrated with excitement. "What if there are active forges? Or construct workshops? The technological implications—"

  "You'll have plenty to examine once we've made sure nothing's trying to kill us," Mazoga cut him off with a wry smile. "Patience."

  Ironha stepped forward, her healing satchel secured across her shoulder. "I've prepared emergency medical supplies if needed. High-grade healing potions and mana potions.

  "Good," Mazoga acknowledged. "Remember, we don't know what's been happening in that outpost since Doc fought the guardian. There could be more constructs, automated defenses, or worse."

  Dulric hefted his hammer, testing its familiar weight. "What's our signal system?"

  "If the first team needs immediate extraction, Doc will send Fish back through the portal," Mazoga explained. "If we're successful in securing the area, I'll return personally to give the all-clear for the second wave."

  She looked each team member in the eye. "Questions?"

  The chamber fell silent except for the low hum of the active gateway.

  "Then we wait for my mark."

  Dulric took stock of their expedition team with a craftsman's eye for detail. Mazoga stood tall in her reinforced armor, the Ravageboar hide making her look even more imposing than usual. The warhammer at her back could crack stone when she put her weight and skill behind it.

  Kesh maintained his customary silence at the edge of the group, bow slung across his back, quiver full. The hunter's amber eyes missed nothing, constantly scanning their surroundings with predatory focus. His brambleweave-reinforced leathers would let him move without sound when needed.

  Near the chamber entrance, Ironha was speaking with Lina, one of the village children, in what looked like an makeshift infirmary, clean bandages, potion vials, and dried herbs arranged with methodical precision. The elven healer had changed since her class evolution, becoming more systematic in her approach. She caught Dulric watching and gave him a short nod.

  Carl stood examining the gateway's edge, his small frame practically vibrating with excitement. Dulric noticed the miniature version of baton hanging from the young engineer's belt, barely half the size of the one he'd crafted for Doc, but likely just as ingenious. The lad had a gift for creation that reminded Dulric of the master crafters in Khazak-Thrum.

  Doc stood motionless before the gateway, his eyes unfocused as he stared skyward. Dulric recognized that distant look, the man was communing with whatever guided him, that mysterious knowledge source he never directly explained. Fish sat patiently at his side, her midnight fur rippling with subtle violet patterns as she waited.

  "Everyone ready?" Mazoga called, her voice cutting through the chamber's quiet tension.

  Nods and murmured affirmations circled the group. Dulric tightened the straps on his armor one final time and stepped forward.

  "Front line goes first," Mazoga continued, gesturing herself, Doc, Fish, and Dulric. "Secure the immediate area, then signal if it's clear for the rest to follow."

  Dulric moved to stand beside Doc, drawing his hammer with practiced ease. The weapon felt alive in his grip, the metal warming to his touch as his Techforged abilities responded to his intent.

  Fish rose silently, muscles rippling beneath her sleek coat as she moved to Doc's side. The three of them faced the shimmering portal, its surface rippling like disturbed water.

  "Let's see what my ancestors left behind," Dulric muttered, and together, they stepped through the gateway.

  The gateway pulled at Dulric's insides like a smith's tongs yanking hot metal from a forge. Colors swirled and stretched around him, his beard seeming to float as if underwater. Then came the impact, not physical, but a sensation of being suddenly compressed back into proper shape.

  He stumbled forward, blinking rapidly as his vision swam. His legs felt unsteady, like he'd downed three tankards of Ironbrew on an empty stomach. The disorientation clawed at his senses, threatening to topple him.

  Beside him, Mazoga grunted and braced herself against the stone wall, her tusked jaw clenched tight. Her green-gray complexion had taken on a paler hue, but she remained standing.

  "Seven hells," she muttered, shaking her head like a bear clearing water from its ears.

  Dulric expected to see Doc in similar straits, perhaps worse, given his leaner frame. But the man stood perfectly steady, his eyes already scanning their surroundings with sharp focus. Fish circled at his feet, showing no signs of distress beyond a slight ripple in her violet markings.

  "You alright?" Doc asked, glancing at Dulric with what might have been concern.

  Dulric straightened, pride pushing back against the lingering dizziness. "Fine. Just... finding my feet."

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  Strange. Most humans he'd known couldn't handle strong spirits, let alone whatever that was. Yet here was Doc, looking as if he'd merely stepped through a regular doorway. Another oddity to add to the growing list.

  As the disorientation faded, Dulric's attention shifted to their surroundings, and his breath caught in his throat.

  "By the Ancestor's forge," he whispered.

  The chamber stretched before them, vast and perfect. Vaulted ceilings arched overhead, supported by columns carved to resemble ancient dwarven warriors. Each pillar bore the distinctive geometric patterns of old northern stonework—not crude approximations, but true master craftsmanship from the Ancient Age.

  Blue-white light emanated from crystalline fixtures embedded in the walls, illuminating the chamber with a steady glow that hadn't dimmed in what must have been centuries. The floor beneath their feet was polished stone, inlaid with bronze runes that still gleamed as if freshly burnished.

  "Impossible," Dulric breathed, running his hand along the nearest wall. The stone was cool and smooth, precisely fitted without mortar, a hallmark of true dwarven masonry. "This craftsmanship... this place truly is from before the Great Clan Wars."

  "You recognize it?" Mazoga asked, her own wonder momentarily displacing her wariness.

  "I've seen ruins, fragments in old texts. But this..." Dulric gestured around them, "This is intact. Preserved. There shouldn't be anything like this left in the world."

  Across the chamber stood the construct Doc had battled, now motionless, its single eye dark. Even deactivated, the Watcher Unit commanded respect. Its bronze limbs were articulated with an intricacy that put modern armorsmiths to shame. Runes spiraled across its basalt torso, faint lines of residual magic still visible in the grooves.

  "The air," Dulric noted, taking a deep breath. "It's clean. Fresh." He pointed toward the ceiling where subtle vents had been carved. "Ventilation systems, still working after all this time."

  His gaze swept across the chamber, cataloging details with a craftsman's precision. Shelves lined one wall, holding tools whose purpose he could only guess at. A forge stood dormant in one corner, its hearth cold but immaculately preserved. Work tables of stone and metal waited as if their masters had merely stepped away for a meal.

  "This wasn't just any colony," Dulric said, voice thick with emotion. "This was a crafting colony. A golem forge."

  He stepped toward an alcove where partial constructs stood in various stages of completion. Limbs, torsos, and unlit eye-cores arranged with meticulous care.

  "My people built this," he said quietly. "Not just built, they lived here. Created here." His fingers traced a maker's mark on one unfinished golem chest plate. "They were trying to perfect autonomous guardians. Sentinels that could protect their holdings without needing living operators."

  Fish growled softly, drawing their attention to a darkened corridor leading deeper into the complex.

  "There will be more Golem," Dulric warned, tightening his grip on his hammer. "And possibly other things. The old colonies were built with many layers of defense."

  Fish's growl diminished to a low rumble before fading entirely. Her midnight fur settled back against her frame, the violet patterns pulsing once before returning to their usual subtle shimmer.

  "What is it, girl?" Doc asked, crouching beside her. "Something out there?"

  Fish shook her head, not the reflexive motion of an animal, but a deliberate, almost human gesture of negation. Her amber eyes remained fixed on the darkened corridor, alert but no longer alarmed.

  Dulric watched the exchange with quiet fascination. The bond between Doc and his wolf companion never ceased to amaze him. Fish's intelligence went beyond mere monster instinct, she understood complex questions, responded with clear intent, and sometimes seemed to grasp situations before the rest of them did. In his younger days, Dulric might have dismissed such behavior as impossible or magical trickery. Now, after months in Doc's company, he simply accepted it as another wonder in a world that kept revealing new depths.

  "Well, that's reassuring," Mazoga muttered, though her hand remained near her warhammer. She surveyed the chamber with a tactician's eye. "We should establish a defensive position here before bringing the others through. Secure our exit first, explore second."

  Dulric nodded, grateful for her practical approach. "Agreed. This chamber is defensible. Single entrance corridor, high visibility, and the gateway at our backs."

  He ran his hand along the ancient stone wall, feeling the perfect seams between massive blocks. Each had been cut with such precision that not even the thinnest blade could find purchase between them. Such craftsmanship spoke of an era when his people had been at the height of their power and knowledge.

  "We'll need light sources positioned there and there," he said, pointing to alcoves flanking the corridor entrance. "And someone watching the gateway at all times. Just because that construct is dormant doesn't mean others won't activate."

  As Mazoga began organizing their defensive preparations, Dulric found himself drawn to the deactivated Watcher Unit. He approached it cautiously, hammer still ready in his grip. Up close, the craftsmanship was even more impressive, interlocking bronze plates fitted over a basalt core, each segment engraved with runes that spiraled in complex patterns.

  "My ancestors built you," he murmured, studying the darkened crystal eye. "What were they trying to achieve here, I wonder?"

  The silent golem offered no answers, but its presence filled Dulric with both pride and unease. Pride in the accomplishments of his forebears, their vision, their skill, their ambition. But unease at what such creations might have been intended for. The ancient dwarven kingdoms had not always been benevolent in their expansion.

  He'd studied the old texts in the Grand Scriptorium of Khazak-Thrum, read fragments of records describing the Watcher Units. They were sentinels, yes, but also enforcers, tools of control as much as protection. The thought sent a chill through him despite the comfortable temperature of the chamber.

  "Dulric, help me move this workbench," Mazoga called, breaking into his thoughts.

  He turned away from the golem, grateful for the distraction. As he helped position the heavy stone table to form a partial barricade, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Not by anything living, but by the memory of this place, by whatever purpose had driven his ancestors to build such marvels and then abandon them.

  The Watcher Unit they'd encountered was dangerous enough, a single guardian programmed to respond to intrusion with overwhelming force. But Dulric knew the old colonies wouldn't have relied on just one type of defense. There would be others deeper within this complex. Different models, different purposes, different threats.

  He'd read of Crusher Units designed to collapse tunnels on invaders. Of Sentinel Cores that could manipulate the very stone of their chambers. Of things whose names had been deliberately struck from the records.

  As they established their defensive position and prepared to bring the others through, Dulric found himself torn between excitement and dread. This place was a treasure trove of knowledge, a window into his people's past that he'd never dreamed of finding. But it was also a tomb of ancient power—power that had been sealed away for good reason.

  Doc helped Mazoga and Dulric move a heavy stone workbench into position, forming a makeshift barricade near the entrance corridor. His bionic arm provided surprising strength, the materials Dulric had incorporated allowing him to match the dwarf's natural power. The smooth movements felt natural now, after months of adaptation and fine-tuning.

  "We should position someone here with ranged capabilities," Doc said, indicating an elevated platform to the left of the entrance. "Good sightlines down the corridor, minimal exposure."

  Mazoga nodded. "Kesh would be perfect. His arrows could drop anything before it gets within twenty paces, although I don't know how effective they will be against constructs."

  As they worked, Doc couldn't shake the persistent feeling of being observed. The sensation crawled along his spine, a prickling awareness that reminded him of research missions on uncharted planets, where indigenous predators would track survey teams for hours before making their presence known.

  "Is it common for these facilities to have something hidden watching the area?" Doc asked Dulric, keeping his voice casual while scanning the shadowed ceiling corners.

  The dwarf paused. "Aye, but most would have failed centuries ago. Unless..." His brow furrowed. "The texts mentioned observer units, constructs designed to monitor rather than engage. Silent things, meant to watch and report back."

  Doc filed this information away, maintaining an outward appearance of calm while his internal alertness heightened. Across the chamber, Fish paced in tight, agitated circles, her attention shifting between different sections of wall. Her behavior confirmed his suspicions, they weren't alone.

  "Fish seems restless," Mazoga observed.

  "She's been that way since we arrived," Doc replied, moving toward his companion.

  Fish's midnight fur rippled with faint violet energy as he approached. She wasn't displaying her usual alert posture for immediate threats, but rather a state of uncertain vigilance, head slightly tilted, ears pivoting independently, nostrils flaring as she sampled the air.

  "What is it, girl?" Doc asked quietly, crouching beside her. "Something doesn't feel right?"

  Fish made a low sound in her throat, somewhere between a growl and a whine. She bumped her head against his palm, then looked pointedly at a section of wall that appeared no different from any other.

  Lux, are you picking up anything unusual? Doc thought.

  Scanning, Lux responded through their neural link. Ambient energy readings show minor fluctuations consistent with magical activity, but I cannot pinpoint a specific source. There is something here, but its signature disperses when I attempt to isolate it. Continuing passive scans. Will alert if pattern solidifies.

  Thanks. Keep monitoring.

  Doc stood and rejoined Mazoga and Dulric, who were discussing how many people to bring through the portal initially.

  "Everything alright?" Mazoga asked, noting his expression.

  "Fish senses something," Doc said simply. "And my instincts agree. We're being watched."

  Dulric's hand tightened on his hammer. "By what?"

  "Unknown. But whatever it is, it's not making hostile moves yet." Doc glanced back at Fish, who had resumed her vigilant pacing. "Let's proceed with caution. The sooner we establish a proper defensive position, the better."

  They returned to their preparations, Doc moving with deliberate care while maintaining awareness of his surroundings. The ancient chamber held its secrets close, but Doc had uncovered enough mysteries in his career to know that patience often revealed what force could not.

  The final defensive preparations went quickly with the three of them working together. Doc arranged their supplies while Dulric reinforced the barricade. Fish continued her restless patrol, occasionally freezing to stare at seemingly empty sections of wall.

  "This should hold against most threats," Dulric said, stepping back to assess their work. He ran his hand along the ancient stonework with reverence. "I'd like to examine these runes more closely. The craftsmanship here….There might be some manufacturing secrets lost to time here."

  Mazoga shook her head. "Not yet. Wait until we have everyone through and proper security established."

  "Aye, understood." Dulric nodded, though his fingers still traced the stone patterns longingly. "Safety first, history second."

  "I'll head back and bring the others through," Mazoga said. "You two stay alert. Whatever Fish is sensing might decide to make itself known while I'm gone."

  Doc nodded. "We'll maintain position. Fish will give us advance warning of any threats."

  With a final glance around the chamber, Mazoga strode through the shimmering gateway, disappearing in a flash of blue light.

  The silence that followed felt heavier somehow. Doc checked his improvised weapon while Dulric paced the perimeter, his attention split between security and the ancient dwarven craftsmanship.

  "These chambers," Dulric said after a while, "they were built to last millennia." He tapped the wall with his knuckles. "Sound construction. Perfect balance of stability and function."

  "Your people built this?" Doc asked, genuinely curious.

  "Aye, though not my clan specifically. This was Ironforge work, maybe mixed with Deepdelve techniques." Dulric's voice softened with admiration. "The stories say they could speak to stone, convince it to hold shape rather than force it."

  "Sounds like a form of molecular restructuring," Doc mused, then caught himself. "A type of deep magic, I mean."

  Dulric gave him a curious look but didn't press further.

  The portal flashed, drawing their attention as Mazoga returned, leading Kesh, Carl, Calen, and Ironha through the gateway.

  The disorientation hit each of them differently. Kesh stumbled but recovered quickly, his hunter's reflexes compensating as he grabbed the wall for support. Ironha swayed slightly, blinking rapidly as she adjusted.

  Carl and Calen weren't so fortunate.

  "Oh…..that's not—" Carl doubled over, his face turning an alarming shade of green. "That's not right at all!"

  Beside him, Calen made a strangled sound, hands clutching his stomach. "Is the room supposed to spin like—" He didn't finish the sentence before lurching toward a corner.

  "Not on the ancient artifacts!" Dulric cried in horror, lunging forward too late.

  Carl spun in a wobbly circle, seemingly trying to decide which direction was safest before his knees buckled. "Sorry…..sorry……" he managed between heaves.

  Mazoga stepped carefully away from the unfolding disaster, her expression a mixture of disgust and amusement. "And this is why we bring the healer through first," she said, gesturing to Ironha.

  "Portal sickness," Ironha explained, already reaching for her bag. "Common enough. The body thinks it's been torn apart and reassembled, which, in a way, it has."

  "My insides feel like they're still coming through," Calen groaned, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

  Fish watched the proceedings with her head tilted, clearly perplexed by the humans' weakness. She approached Carl cautiously, sniffing at him before backing away with an offended expression that drew a laugh from Doc despite the situation.

  "Don't worry," Doc said, patting Fish's head. "They'll recover."

  "Faster with this," Ironha added, producing a small vial of blue liquid. "Anti-nausea potion. Not as potent as my usual mix, but it should settle your stomachs."

  As Ironha tended to the portal-sick pair, Kesh moved to the elevated position Doc had identified earlier, already assessing sightlines and potential threats.

  "Once they're functional," Mazoga said, nodding toward Carl and Calen, "we'll establish a proper perimeter and begin exploration."

  Doc moved away from the makeshift barricade, satisfied with their defensive position. Fish padded alongside him, her attention still shifting between shadowed corners of the ancient chamber. The rest of the team had begun establishing a proper base camp, with Kesh securing the high ground and Dulric examining the surrounding architecture with reverent fascination.

  He approached Ironha, who was organizing her medical supplies after treating Carl and Calen for portal sickness. Both were looking considerably better, though Carl still maintained a careful distance from anything resembling food.

  "How are they?" Doc asked, nodding toward the recovering pair.

  "They'll live," Ironha replied, her silver-toned skin catching the ambient light as she sorted through her pouches. "Portal sickness passes quickly with treatment. Without it..." She glanced at the recently cleaned corner with a grimace.

  Doc left her to her work, circling back toward the perimeter where Fish continued her vigilant patrol. The wolf's behavior hadn't changed, alert but not alarmed, sensing something beyond their perception.

  Any progress, Lux? Doc thought, keeping his expression neutral.

  "Narrowing down the energy signature," Lux replied through their neural link. "There appears to be a passive observation system integrated into the chamber walls. Not a construct like the guardian you encountered, but something more diffuse. I'm detecting subtle magical resonance patterns consistent with long-range monitoring."

  Can you pinpoint its source?

  "Not precisely, but I'm getting closer. The signature disperses when directly analyzed, almost like a defensive measure against detection."

  Keep working on it. Let me know the moment you have something concrete.

  "Acknowledged. I recommend maintaining normal activities. If we are being observed, unusual behavior might trigger defensive protocols."

  Doc rejoined the others, helping to distribute supplies while keeping his concerns private. Whatever was watching them seemed content with observation for now. He would wait, prepare, and be ready when it finally revealed itself.

  The sense of being watched intensified. I've isolated the signature Lux announced. Northeast corner, twelve meters up. Energy patterns unlike anything in my database,phases between solid and non-solid states.

  Doc glanced toward the location. Nothing distinguished it from surrounding stonework, yet Fish kept returning her attention there.

  He approached Mazoga. "We're being watched. Northeast corner."

  Mazoga didn't look up immediately. "Hostile?"

  "Unknown. Just observing."

  "Could be a trap." She rolled up the map. "What's your plan?"

  "Fish and I will check—"

  "No." Mazoga cut him off. "You're not alone anymore, Doc. Two fighters are always better than one."

  The statement echoed Ironha's earlier words, revealing the group's consistent philosophy.

  "Alright. Lead the way."

  Mazoga addressed the others. "Something's watching from the northeast corner. Doc, Fish, and I are investigating. Kesh, overwatch. Dulric, backup ready. Carl, stay with Ironha and Calen, secure the portal."

  Each nodded, shifting positions without panic. Kesh nocked an arrow; Dulric hefted his hammer.

  They approached the corner with measured steps. Fish padded ahead, increasingly cautious, body low, each paw deliberate.

  "Twelve meters up," Doc murmured. "Nothing visible."

  Mazoga studied the stonework. "Dwarven construction often had hidden observation posts."

  "This feels different. Fish sensed it immediately, but no hostile moves."

  Fish stopped abruptly, growling—wary, not aggressive.

  "There," Doc whispered.

  A shadow within the wall shifted. Not normal darkness, but as if stone became permeable, allowing movement within.

  "What in the world..." Mazoga breathed, gripping her warhammer.

  "Phasing through solid matter," Doc said, fascinated despite the danger.

  Fish's growl deepened as the shadow solidified slightly, revealing a horizontal line of dim purple light.

  "It knows we've spotted it," Doc said.

  The shadow surged forward. Stone rippled like water as a lean, matte-black construct emerged partway. Segmented limbs moved with unsettling fluidity, the horizontal rune-slit pulsing violet light.

  "Down!" Doc shouted, shoving Mazoga as the construct struck.

  The blow caught Doc's shoulder, sending him staggering. Cold numbness spread from impact, his prosthetic arm's interface flickered briefly.

  Fish launched herself forward but passed through empty air as the construct phased back into the wall.

  "Some kind of phase-shifting construct," Doc explained, testing his shoulder. "The strike disrupted my arm's systems temporarily."

  Kesh called from his position. "Did it retreat?"

  "For now," Doc answered. "But I doubt it's gone far."

  Mazoga scanned the walls warily. "Think there are more?"

  "Possibly." Doc sighed. "Great. Another hostile golem, only this one goes invisible and travels through walls."

  Mazoga's unexpected laugh was genuine. "You say that like it's a minor inconvenience."

  Doc's lips quirked upward. "After fungal horrors and void-casting bandits, a wall-walking shadow construct feels almost... predictable."

  "Predictable? Your standards for normal are deeply concerning, Doc."

  "I prefer adaptable." Doc gestured toward the others. "Let's regroup. If we're exploring further, we need to account for invisible, phase-shifting guardians."

  "Just another day," Mazoga replied dryly.

  Thank you for reading!

  Chapter 36 arrives Friday.