I jumped back on instinct, dodging the massive clump of metal before it could turn my face into paste. As I did, I felt a gust of air on my cheek when the fist passed me. I kept my distance while keeping my eyes on the enemy.

Finally, the doors ground fully to the side, and a golem walked out of the darkness of the corridor.

It was wholly made from some sort of metal. I couldn't tell what kind, as I had my irises snapped open, seeing the world in grey.

Before I could think up any plan, the thing exploded into motion, springing at me with a hook chambered for my gut. I let the staff jump into my hand and fired Force to fling myself out of the way. My own spell hit me the same instant the golem's strike split the air where I'd been.

I hit the ground with my back and rolled to the side and onto my feet. As I stood up, I began casting Death's Grasp—just to see the golem standing almost directly before me, the moment I looked up.

My eyes widened. It was unimaginably fast.

I cast another Force, this time into the creature, and dodged the coming punch. The fist accelerated as my spell hit, still shaving skin from my cheekbone.

I felt the warm blood slowly drip off the wound as I completed Death's Grasp.

Taking a step back, I cast it, hoping to buy myself at least a second.

Undead hands erupted from stone. Hoping I had some time, I scanned the metallic surface for any weakness—only to see the golem rip itself free with a single wrench and, with terrifying power, launch itself back at me.

I dodged a punch and threw up a Shield to block the left hook right after.

The pressure on me was constant. I was building another spell as I wove between the attacks. But then I stopped. Well… stopped casting, not moving. I still had to slip a kick that would shatter my ribs and then the elbow that followed.

Something was wrong.

Why didn't it just land a punch? That thought bothered me.

It was clearly moving fast enough to arrive in front of me instantly. It could just ram straight into me. Any swing made with that speed wouldn't be dodgeable—so why not do just that?

I let the staff coil back around my wrist and focused on reading the golem's movements. Elbow to my face, then a knee. I sidestepped the punch and pushed the golem with Force, ducking under the high kick that followed. Each attack was deadly but also clearly telegraphed, so nothing was landing.

The answer came to me. It seemed obvious now that I looked closer at the creature. It was a test. I needed to do something about the opponent before I ran out of spells and stamina.

Weaving in between the attacks, I cast Watcher's Circle, and the golem and all the surroundings snapped into knife-edge clarity. I noticed what I was looking for. Runes—runes etched across the golem's armor.

I'd assumed they just powered it, but there were a few square seals dead center on its back made up of soul runes and some scripture. They were describing a weakness of the spirit, but they seemed incomplete. Why carve those at the back unless…

I dodged another strike and, now knowing what to look for, caught a second cluster of runes under its armpit.

I think I got it.

Grinning, I sped into the creature's guard and, slamming a second-circle Force to stagger it, I bought myself enough time to check out the writing under the armpit. They described a particular attunement, the music of a soul that was sick and dying.

I reattuned my magic to what was described and extended it to the place where the runes were. The instant my mana touched the spot, something inside cracked.

The golem ceased its movements.

I used that time to check another set of runes under the second arm.

Another soul-attunement, this one a lost spirit, aimless and hollowed of will.

I began reattuning my magic when the helmet snapped toward me. The eyes gained a slight glow of red, and the creature lifted its hand. I immediately cast a Shield as a Pierce spell slammed into it.

Great. Now it was doing magic as well.

Now the battle shifted. The pressure was not only a matter of dodging fists now. No, the golem, with its superior speed, had full control over the pace of the battle. If it wanted to switch to distance, it could just take the distance and blast magic. If it wanted close quarters, it could arrive in front of me in a split second. One mistake, one bad dodge or botched spell, and I would catch a metallic fist to the body if I was lucky, the face if not.

I poured everything into defense. As I danced between the attacks, I reattuned my magic for the second under-arm rune script. A spell ripped the wall beside me, and after getting showered with stone shards, I extended myself to the spot.

Just a touch was enough, and another crack could be heard coming from inside the machine. The golem froze once again, as I quickly went for the runes on the back. There was a change. The runes were completed and not only glowed slightly, but now an imprint of a hand showed on the plating, right at the back of the head.

The last assignment was clear. And I winced, reading it.

Reattune magic to both despair and the wrath of the spirit.

"Abyss help me," I groaned.

That was a strange mix, hard to get without one canceling the other. That would normally be done with me sitting in meditation, and I was pretty sure that thing could smash through a dome spell like it was an eggshell.

The head snapped toward me again. The eyes now glowed red like two furnaces. I lowered my weight, ready to dodge or cast, but instead the golem opened its mouth. It looked like it was breathing something out, and after a second, I realized that it was mana.

I frowned.

Its chest expanded as if taking a breath, and a song spilled from the open mouth. A song unlike anything I'd ever heard, a song that started retuning the magic around us. A low thrumming sound at first, then higher, until I felt it.

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I was attuning my magic for the new assignment when I felt a sensation akin to vibration from deep within, like standing right in front of a powerful speaker.

My eyes went even wider than they were. That bastard was trying to get partial resonance with me. It was trying to read my spark. I quickly dropped my magic and extended myself to it.

I could feel the spell. It started from the mouth like a thread connecting the creature to the mana around.

Ambient mana. So be it. Two could play that game.

I pressed my original tongue against the roof of my mouth and used the second one to speak a quick command.

"Stop," I said in Arcane, and pushed my will to the magic closest to the golem's mouth.

The song sputtered and went quiet, the magic torn between two opposing commands. Something akin to surprise flickered across the blank metal face.

Magic preferred me, apparently. But I got no time to gloat, as the golem exploded into motion once again, trying to punch my head off my shoulders. Swearing, I jumped to the side and heard a small explosion as the fist made a sizable indent in the wall.

I was halfway through the final attunement. I could pick it back up quickly, but I needed breathing room. Breathing room, I wasn't getting.

A Pierce scored my shoulder. I could feel myself start breathing heavier and heavier. Even with my new body, I had limited stamina. And this thing clearly didn't. Just a few moments to use my magic without the need to disrupt the mana around it.

Eldritch magic came to mind.

But would it count as a win? And what if the creature readjusted its strength and tore the spell, just to kill me in the next move? I'd seen the Squirming Void fail me once already.

I flung myself out of a kick's way.

Should I gamble on it?

I was about to fall into myself when a pebble hit the top of my head. I stole a quick look upwards and almost got killed by a punch. But that small movement gave me an idea. Weaving through the barrage, I approached the switch for the hidden room. Once near, I hit it, and the entrance showed itself as the stone wall jumped up.

Now I started casting, preparing two spells as the golem opened its mouth once again, singing the strange song. I let it. I could feel the partial resonance as I focused all my magic on those two spells.

A fist came flying at my head, and I released the spells.

Force Explosion was strong enough to send the golem flying backwards and right into the waiting hands of dual-cast Death's Grasps, one organic and one from the staff.

I could see the golem getting ready to tear itself free.

But not this time. I dived into the room and used a Force spell to hit the hidden switch, slamming the massive stone wall onto the golem.

I didn't get a full breath before the wall started slowly grinding back up. It lay pinned, arms close to its body, my skeletal hands still latched.

'How strong was that god damn thing?'

But no matter. I was close to finishing the attunement of my magic. I covered my hand in mana and got ready to touch the mark at the back of its head.

And then it clicked.

Not my magic—but the golem's song.

Something shook inside me as partial resonance locked. I felt something akin to a counterspell, and my magic almost went haywire. I grit my teeth as part of the attunement was lost. I was still approaching the creature, fighting against its magic.

I could feel the push. Even with my second tongue, fatigue pecked away at me. I needed to crack its song while keeping mine. And there was one way to do that. I activated the eldritch contract—slightly, like opening a door just enough to feel a breath of fresh air, then closing it back up. I let the void flow through me and then out into the ambient mana.

The strange song suddenly changed its tune, becoming distorted before the small amount of eldrith magic disappeared.

This was my chance. I jumped forward, my knees scraping against the ground as I finally grabbed the back of the golem's head. My fingers felt the rough and cold alloy. A crack rang, and the golem's eyes flared for a second and then went dim. Metal groaned as I quickly jumped to raise the wall before it would crush the thing.

As the stone flew upward, the metal stopped creaking, and snapping noises echoed through the cave as something inside fell apart. Shortly after, the head, legs, and hands rolled to the side, accompanied by many small parts pouring from within.

I stared, disappointed. I was eager to study the creature. Golem creation was a part of death magic and a skill I'd recently read about thanks to Death's Grasp, but now all I had was scrap.

I shrugged. Well, at least it would now fit inside the pouch, and it was free, so…

But before I could collect the pieces, I felt the fatigue overcome me as I collapsed to the floor. My breath heavy, my magic almost spent.

That was one hell of a test. The ability to think and use soul magic under the pressure of a close battle. My face was still stretched in a wide smile. That was fun. I was given a lot of entertainment recently, but that challenge took the cake so far. Almost as fun as the mutant fight, but it didn't have the whole moral conundrum of a 'teenager as an innocent victim of magic' attached.

Still on the ground, I started refilling my mana as I gathered the broken golem, making sure I had all of it. Once all parts were in the pouch and I was in better shape, I picked myself up and approached the open stone door.

Taking a large breath and casting Wailing Armour, I headed deeper into the tomb.

The opening gave onto a long corridor, which went lower and lower until the air itself… shifted. It was hard to describe. It was like stepping into a different space. Was the tomb a subspace, or was I teleported? I couldn't tell.

I slowly moved forward. The stone corridor continued, and decoration crept onto the walls as rough rock changed to smooth stone carved with runes and scenes.

I slowed my pace to study the reliefs.

In the first, a child stood with a father and mother behind. Next panel: the father gone, only the mother and the child. Then the child, clearly slightly older with the mother giving him a book. The book was depicted like holy scripture might be in icons, with rays of the sun radiating from behind it.

Next scene: the mother was now aged, and the child became a tall boy with a staff in one hand, the book in the other.

Next one: the mother was gone, and the man stood at her grave with a new woman in the background.

Next one: the book and the staff were lying to the side, seemingly forgotten, and the man was shown in a house with the woman and a dog. The woman was clearly pregnant.

I winced lightly as I could feel where this was headed.

In the next one, the house was burning with the woman still inside it. The man and the dog were to the side, both howling. Even with the simple depictions in stone, the despair was clear to see.

The corridor went on still, but the rest of the carvings were not visible. I could see damage to the wall. Someone tore the stone until what was on it was no longer visible.

I walked on until I reached a metal door and, after one last check, I pushed. The corridor opened to a massive room. It looked like a mix between a living space and a madman's laboratory. An aesthetic I could greatly appreciate as I absently nodded to myself.

As I walked in, fire lit up in sconces, lighting up the scene. I could see a large library to my left with a small living area closer to the entrance. To my right was a kitchen with a large countertop, which smoothly transformed into a sizable laboratory that continued through the room until the wall in front of me. The laboratory was cluttered with machines, arcane runes etched in stones, and glassware in all possible colors. Once filled with many glowing liquids and ingredients, now dusty and gray.

I briefly imagined this place with the owner still around, a chapel to the arcane arts at a level unimaginable to me. I wish I could have seen it back then. I took a breath and glanced at a row of empty cages, part of the laboratory complex.

Finally, my gaze fell to the end of the room. There, all the clutter was cleared, and only four things remained: two very large cylindrical containers, each covered with a white sheet. A magical circle of a size I'd never seen before was carved into the stone, but in multiple layers, as I could see there were runes under runes etched onto disks and layered over one another. Magic I couldn't even fathom. A multi-dimensional spell was cast here, but that's all I knew. And finally, the centerpiece—a stone throne covered in the same markings.

Normally, I would be smiling in excitement at something like that. Everything looked interesting. I wanted to run around like a proper madman, cackling at the books and artifacts, but instead I was standing on guard.

And the source of my worry was a corpse sitting on the runic throne.

It wasn't the fact that it was a corpse that had me on edge.

It wasn't the runes either.

It was that I was almost certain the fucking thing had just smiled at me.

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