The tremors had barely settled when the great gate creaked open. A wave of stale, metallic air poured out, heavy with dust and a sharp tang of ozone. It clung to armor and hair like iron breath.

Emery lingered near the rear, senses keyed to the faint hum beneath the silence. It was not ordinary magic; it thrummed with the rhythm of machinery — discrete pulses that suggested gears, cores, and ages of motion.

Then the first wave hit.

Bronze golems charged through the dark throat of the gate, heavy limbs striking the stone in time with the drumming in Emery's chest. The Volkov line responded instantly.

"Formation, now!" roared Grand Magus Dravic, the red-bearded commander of the Volkov faction. His voice boomed through the chamber. The soldiers reacted instantly, moving like a trained army. Dozens of rifles gleamed under the lights, their barrels carved with runes.

Dravic raised his molten gauntlet high, then swung it down. "Fire!"

The air exploded with light. Volkov rifles roared in unison, unleashing crimson and blue volleys that tore through the first rank of charging constructs. Bronze torsos shattered; gears and fragments scattered like hail.

Beside Dravic, two Grand Magus unleashed their own devastating arts. One wielded paired spirit-forged pistols, firing condensed cosmic rounds that burned through multiple golems at once. The other dragged a massive rune cannon, his every shot booming like thunder, disintegrating the ground where it struck.

The corridor became light and fire. Crimson and indigo bursts detonated against bronze plates; joints snapped and cores flared as the bombardment turned the first ranks into tumbling scrap. Even so, a handful of the constructs survived the onslaught and pushed toward Nova Roma's flank.

Julian raised his gleaming shield, its silver eagle emblem shining. "Knights! Hold the line!"

Three Magus Knights stepped forward, each at full moon realm. Julian's elite — armor bright with the silver-eagle crest. Each knight held two golems at bay with disciplined footwork and bladework, shields clashing against ringing metal. It was Athar's flying spirit weapon — a chakram disk that whirled like a phantom blade — that finished the last of the charging bronze, its edge humming through armor and servo-joints with surgical cold.

Julian strode ahead, sword and shield ready, his voice a steady rally through the din. "Keep your guard up."

The group pressed onward and the narrow tunnel widened into a vast hall — and what they saw stole the breath from every throat. Where the tunnel had felt raw and cave-like, the hall rose like a cathedral of engineered metal: towering gears embedded in bedrock, pipes running like veins, and ten motionless silver statues standing sentinel around the perimeter. Their silhouettes were cleaner, more deliberate than the bronze brutes—delicate joint work, concentric core housings, and inlays that reflected starlight.

Both Dravic and Julian stiffened the instant they saw them. Even Emery's pulse quickened. There was something familiar about them and VIA intel confirm it.

[Energy frequency matches Celestial pattern.]

Emery's eyes narrowed. The signature was unmistakable — celestial race design, the same geometry he had only ever seen in the Trial's Avalon drones. Randhall had not merely copied ancient schematics; he had grafted Celestial architecture onto his guardians.

Dravic snorted, hands flexing on his gauntlet. "Be ready!"

Everyone had expected it.

As the group advanced deeper into the metallic hall, a sharp crack split the air. The luminous sigils etched across the floor flickered, dimmed, and then pulsed in reverse. A grinding rumble followed, low and deep, as ancient gears stirred somewhere beneath the surface.

The walls shuddered. Heavy doors at the end of the corridor groaned open, releasing a surge of stale air and dust. From the darkness poured another wave of bronze golems marching in perfect mechanical rhythm.

But it wasn't the new wave that drew their focus.

Across the chamber, the ten silver statues began to move. One by one, they raised their heads. Lines of golden light flared across their joints as eyes of molten amber flickered to life. Steam hissed from vents in their arms and spines as they stepped off their pedestals.

"GET READY!" Dravic's command cut through the chaos.

The Volkov rifles swung in unison, releasing a hail of spirit-charged fire. Crimson and cerulean flares exploded across the hall as round after round struck the advancing bronze tide. The barrage tore through the lesser constructs, scattering limbs and cores—but when the first volley hit the silver guardians, the blasts barely scorched their polished armor. The impact shimmered across their surfaces, then dissipated into harmless sparks.

"Grand Magus-level golems!" one of the Volkov magus cursed.

The situation turned chaotic. Silver golems surged forward with machine precision, each step shaking the chamber.

Julian exchanged a quick glance with the other Grand Magus, a wordless pact forming. Without hesitation, each took one of the silver constructs as their opponent.

Dravic led the charge. His hammer blazed like a falling star, every swing wreathed in molten heat. When the weapon struck, the shockwave melted steel and cracked stone. His opponent—a towering guardian with twin bladed arms—staggered backward, chest glowing with strain, but did not fall.

To his right, Casiel, the Seraph rose into the air. His wings of radiant light unfurled in a burst of golden feathers. He conjured a spear of divine essence—a javelin that shimmered like the dawn—and hurled it. The weapon struck his target dead center, detonating in a flash of sacred energy that seared the construct's core. The golem roared, staggered, and retaliated with a barrage of golden beams, each one deflected by Casiel's halo barrier.

Vashka advanced with eerie calm, her pale skin reflecting the flicker of the battle. Dozens of silver threads unfurled from her sleeves, dancing in the air like spider silk. They wrapped around two golems at once, slicing through joints and armor with surgical precision. Sparks flew as she tightened her grip, but instead of destroying them outright, she observed—adjusting tension, twisting mechanisms—like a puppeteer dissecting her toys mid-combat.

Julian fought like a bastion. His shield flared with runes of divine fortitude as he met his opponent head-on. Each impact rang like a bell, his sword answering every strike with blazing holy light. Behind him, his magus knights moved in perfect coordination, intercepting the remaining bronze golems with disciplined precision. Athena and Hephaestus reinforced the line, their combined strength holding the formation firm against the advancing tide.

To one side, Poseidon's trident carved wide arcs of azure power, slicing clean through silver torsos with tidal force. Athar's lightning-wreathed chakram ricocheted through the air, cutting down advancing golems in flashes of blinding light. The two Volkov grand magus gunmen held their ground as well.

Further behind, Emery and the Volkov formation master anchored the defensive line, guarding the noncombatants and specialists. The old man commanded a web of spinning sigils in the air, each rotating layer forming an energy barrier that shimmered against stray blasts. A silver golem burst through the chaos, its massive mace hammering against the barrier—but the formation held firm, rippling like liquid glass instead of breaking.

Emery's focus never wavered. From the floor erupted his Twilight Vines—shadowy tendrils coiling like serpents, lashing around the bronze golems that had slipped through the front.

The grand hall had become a storm of light and steel. Spells roared, thunderous explosions echoed, and showers of sparks cascaded from the ceiling like molten rain.

Despite their terrifying strength, the silver golems lacked adaptability. Their attacks were straightforward—projectiles in straight trajectories, energy bursts in predictable intervals. Once the rhythm was learned, the Grand Magus responded with lethal efficiency.

Dravic charged like a living battering ram. His molten hammer struck a golem's arm, shattering it with one blow. Ducking beneath a counterpunch, he drove the weapon deep into its chest and released a burst of solar flame, his two cosmos realm power dominates. The guardian convulsed, its core detonating in a blinding flash of white fire.

Nearby, Casiel descended like judgment itself. His radiant wings flared open, and his javelin of sanctified light impaled a golem through the neck. The silver guardian collapsed, its energy faded away.

Two destroyed—yet eight remained, unyielding and relentless.

More bronze units flooded from the open gates in tireless waves, their movements mechanical but unending. The Nova Roma knights met them head-on, shields locked and swords blazing with holy light.

Then tragedy struck. One knight faltered—a golem's strike crushed his shield, splintering armor and bone alike.

Emery reacted before thought. His vine lashed out, piercing the attacker's chest and ripping through its glowing core. The construct froze mid-motion, then disintegrated into a heap of molten shards.

But the assault did not end. The heat thickened, oppressive and suffocating. Smoke and the acrid scent of burning mana cores filled the air, each explosion merging into a single deafening storm.

Then—something changed.

A pulse of raw energy rippled through the walls, a vibration that resonated through the floor and into their bones.

Every head turned toward the far wall.

The metal mural that stretched across it—depicting a Celestial figure holding a radiant star—was glowing, lines of molten gold running through its carved veins. The light intensified, the ground quaking beneath their feet.

Then, with a deafening crack, the mural split apart. Gears turned behind its frame, spilling molten radiance into the chamber.

From within the light, something stirred.

A colossal figure stepped forth, shedding centuries of dust and rust.

It was humanoid—yet impossibly vast. Forged from interlocking plates of gold and silver. Six radiant cores pulsed across its chest and spine, exuding an aura both divine and mechanical.

The floor shook under its first step.

[INTRUDERS DETECTED.]

Every magus froze where they stood, as a Colossus had awoken.

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