Deep beneath the temple, the very walls thronged with magia. With a single breath, Skippii filled his core to bursting. Slamming his foot into the steps, he emitted a Seismic Quake. The evocation ruptured the steps above, displacing chunks, sending them clattering to the chasm floor. Emerging from the tunnel above, the two stone guardians shook atop the narrow stairs. But they pressed on, heavy forms proving difficult to upturn.

Skippii took three short, sharp breaths, then a fourth deep inhale, swelling his body with magia. It rushed up into his skull and the tips of his fingers, but he pulled it back down, filling his solar-plexus. Meanwhile, the guardians neared, stoney faces carved in cruel, compassionless snarls, lit by the raging fires of their beards and manes.

With a roar, he stomped again, expelling a powerful Seismic Quake. The stone cracked like ice. Fissures ripped up the steps. A long, thin chunk collapsed like wet sand succumbing to its own weight, dragging one of the guardians down with it. Its carapace crashed against the rocks below, but the second guardian kept its balancing, loping on. Without thinking, Skippii dashed forward to intercept it. The stone tremored beneath his feet, unstable and crumbling still. He paced his stride to match the golems' gait, aiming to strike at precisely the right moment.

The golem rocked uneasily from one foot to the next, leaning forward as he neared it. Its massive arms were raised to dash him against the lava-tipped pillars below.

Empowered by Boiling Blood, Skippii leapt and struck the golem in its shoulder. Its sheer weight resisted his strike, but Skippii dug his toes in and braced, leaning all his strength into the spear. Though unable to match the construct's strength, he had aimed precisely. The force pushed against the golem's raised arm, twisting its body akin to its own momentum, turning it off-balance. Rather than come back around and right itself on the steps, the golem's heavy arm rotated behind it, encumbered by its own weight. It teetered on slab-feet, and fell.

Skippii ducked behind his shield as the construct toppled over him on the narrow steps. He was nearly flung backwards by the impact. Splaying his limbs, he winced as his chin bounced off the steps, but he held on. A second crash followed as the guardian plummeted to the ground. His face pressed against the cold stone, his shoulder ached as he raised himself and peered over the edge. Fifteen metres-or-so below, two fires flickered amongst the cone-shaped columns. With the sound of grinding stone, two imposing shapes moved in the dark, lumbering towards the steps beneath him. The fall may have damaged them, but had not destroyed them.

Above, the stairs had collapsed in chunks, making a retreat difficult. He could wait for them on the steps, but the stone cracked where he lay. A fall from this height would be treacherous. As much as it daunted him, he would have to descend the stairs and face them on the ground.

Jogging down the stairs, risking three at a time, he held his shield out like the wing of a bird to slow his descent. A dim fire bobbed into view before him, barring the way. A hateful face floated in the dark, its body obscured by the blackness of the chasm; its eyes were black shadows, hidden beneath a helmet of stone. There was no life in those eyes, no blood in its limbs. It was powered by a single purpose: to kill him.

Skippii cleared the steps and leapt to the ground. The rock beneath him was smooth and uneven. A spire rose before him, thick at its base with red liquid fire glowing at its tip. Its surface was bobbled like melted wax, dripping down a candle. Drawing magia into himself, he formed a Guiding Light in his spear-hand. Shadows flickered across the chasm, shaped by the many wax-like pillars, and in the darkness, a macabre illusion was cast: he was surrounded by the many spines of animals both large and small, all fused together, undulating and bubbling, rising from the tomb's floor–the pits of Diamortis' hell.

The grating of stone caught his attention. Brightening his light, he saw one of the golems climbing over the base of the stairs towards him. Taller than even Tenoris, and at least twice his width, the ground shook with each of its steps. Stone formed like armoured plating around its humanoid form, and firelight burned deep within its joints. It carried no weapons, for its naturally immense limbs were heavy enough to bludgeon a man with a single blow. Its right arm had split at the elbow upon the fall. The firelight glowed dimly at the severed joint, rising on a thin smoke, like blood leaking a wound. But otherwise, it seemed unharmed. What force of his could hope to kill stone?

As it lumbered towards him, it picked up speed. Skippii's heart burst with nervous exhilaration. The golem opened its maw with a smokey bellow. Its fires intensified. It raised an arm to crush him.

Skippii raised his shield and bounded forward to meet it, hopping from foot to foot, keeping nimble. At the last moment, he leapt aside, thrusting his shield out to take the golem's charge, and avoid its clubbing arm. The construct crashed through a pillar and rolled across the ground. The dereliction echoed cacophonously, shaking the cavern's walls. But as Skippii strove to seize the advantage, it rose unhindered. In its stone gauntlet was a spire's dislodged tip–a branded lance.

It thrust with unnatural power. The molten-fire tip struck his willowcore shield, knocking it askew in his hand. Dancing backwards, Skippii shifted from side to side as the golem traced his movements with the spire's tip. Its head rocked as though eyes within followed him. What magia had made it? What mind was directing it? Such considerations diminished as the golem bore down on him, stabbing relentlessly. It did not aim, as a man did, at his feet and head, but rather pummelled his centre-mass, knocking him backwards and rattling his shield.

Skippii dashed and ducked away, drawing energy into himself, empowering his body with Boiling Blood. Steam streamed from his skin as his flesh turned red, and time seemed to slow down. Circumventing a pillar–putting it between him and his foe–he scanned his surroundings for the other golems. Far away, shadows flickered across the chasm's high ceiling as one or more constructs approached from its depths. But he could not detect the other which had fallen from the stairs. But his respite was brief. There was an ear-splitting crash behind him, and the construct was upon him.

Fragments of stone showered him as the golem tore through a column and charged. He raised his shield as stones struck his face, and he was picked off his feet by a tremendous force. Slamming into the ground, he slid and rolled, letting go of his shield. Coming to a crouch, he sighted the golem and reacted quicker than thought, beyond fear. Lunging forward, he launched his spear at its face, pouring all his magia into its shaft, evocating a Firetail Lance.

The blazing spear shot through the air like a ballista bolt and smashed into its face, piercing the eye-socket of its helmet. The spear exploded on impact with a shower of sparks and smoke. The golem rocked backwards, the visage of its head crumpled in ruin. One gauntlet gripped a nearby spire, but it was not enough to prevent the headless construct from toppling to the ground.

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Skippii's eyes were wide as he watched it become still. The glow emanating its joints grew cold; the fire of its beard and mane extinguished. He could do it. They could die, but his spear had been shattered. The attack had cost him his best weapon, and there were more to come.

Picking up his shield, he listened for their approach. Heavy boots echoed off many spires, ringing like temple bells. Skippii shuffled across the uneven floor, senses keen on its approach. Fires flickered in the dark. He had only a moment to think.

Drawing his kuri, he composed himself, breathing steadily. Judging by the echoing footsteps, the third golem was still a ways away. For now, he had only to worry about the enemy nearby. Raising his magia, he felt it swirl around his body, illuminating his heat-body core. Drawing more than he was accustomed, he stirred it into motion–just as he had learned during the Trial of Flux. The light in his fist grew brighter until the whole chasm was aglow with its aura.

He quickly rehearsed his ordinatio, remembering his most recent addition. Kneeling, he drew the earth's energy to the surface, but did not call it forth into flames. The ground began to glow hot, but he willed it remain contained, like a bundle of bone-dry tinder awaiting a spark. Tentatively, he rose, but his connection with the Flashfire Trap was not severed–threads of the same web spread out in the ground beneath him, like the single string upon which the spider swings. With it, he kept its magia balanced on a knife's edge.

Stone creaked as a heavy golem dragged itself through the columns of spires. Shadows fled in its wake. Skippii held his fingers to his lips and whistled, backing up, putting his trap between them.

A brutish face emerged from the dark. Black smoke pooled in the thick of its brow, billowing from its mouth. The golem did not pause when it spotted him as a predator might, but with a single, immediate correction, swung and charged. It smashed through the smallest spires like reeds, tremendous weight shaking the ground. Skippii retreated further, realising his folly. The Flashfire Trap had stunned and burned a wolf, but what could it do against this unnatural construction, beyond pain and fear?

As soon as the golem's heavy foot shook the trap's surface, the evocation exploded in a plume of cinder and smoke. For a moment, the construct was obscured, then its hulking figure came barreling through the smoke. Skippii dashed aside, rounding a large spire. In a flash, he was on its flank. Leaping forward, he stabbed his curved blade into the grooves of its hips, trying to dislodge the joints, aiming for the glowing spots which connected the seams between stones.

The heavy construct half-turned and swiped at him, but could not stop its own momentum. Crashing into a pillar, it turned and fell into rubble. For a moment, it was disguised, as in a bed of stone. He climbed over it, stabbing at any crack of light that showed itself. He jammed his kuri deep into one crevice and dragged it towards him, severing the joint. Stones crumbled to the ground, joining the rubble of the pillar. The golem gurgled with rage–the sound like two whetstones being ground together.

Skippii released his kuri and made to jump backwards when a vice clamped his calf. Wrenching him like a ragdoll, it tipped him onto his shield. He fought to right himself, but the golem was already rising out of its ruin, its remaining limbs glowing with fury. A face appeared in the wreckage, its flaming maw belching smoke. Its grip tightened, threatening to crush his bone.

Panic struck Skippii. On reflex, he channeled his magia to the spot, filling his body with a Blazing Armour. He brought his kuri down on the vice grip. Many smaller stones were connected by glowing seams, forming three powerful fingers. He felt his shinbone creak as it squeezed tighter, and the flesh of his leg suddenly grew cold. It had severed his connection of magia with his limb, and pain came flooding in. Desperately, he raised his shield expecting a killing blow, but it seemed that the golem had lost too many limbs to deal one. Instead, it squeezed and dragged him towards its head, where fires crackled in its jaw.

Discarding his shield, he worked its fingers. One pried loose with a clatter of pebbles, but the others held hard. Suddenly, the golem flicked its wrist and his knife sprung loose. Pulling itself from the rubble, it rose above him, dragging him beneath it, ever closer to its maw of fire. Skippii thrust his hands out to resist, but it was no use opposing the construct's brutish strength. Its face, many times bigger than his, glowered menacingly.

"Come on then," he growled, allowing himself to be dragged closer. Reaching for its face, he snatched its helmet and dug his thumb into its stoney socket of its eye. Fires lapped over his arm as the golem opened its jaw for his neck. Its face, many times bigger than his, glowered menacingly.

As he dug his thumbs in, clawing at the stone, something struck him in the ribs. The golem had released another, shortened limb struck him again. Sparks flared across his ribs here its stoney appendage connected with his Blazing Armour. Defiantly, he thrust his arm into its maw–just as he had the Apertorix–pushing down its throat. Forming a fist, he choked fires that were smoking up its funnel like a chimney. Then, as he had done many times beside a campfire, he opened himself up to the foreign flame. The golem's life essence glowed before him-ripe fruit for the picking.

Skippii took a deep breath and opened his fist, sucking its fires into his palm.

The golem screeched, sounding like an axehead dragged over marble. Its grip tightened around his leg, but he kept on drawing its power, feeding his own magia with its inferior energy. What he took, he used to empower his core, strengthening his Blazing Armour. The construct rocked and rattled. The smaller stones forming complex joints clattered from its body like hail. Suddenly, a boulder-joint dislodged slammed to the ground.

Skippii withdrew his hand, pooling his energy into a Blazing Fist, and pummelled the golem's cruel face. Stone cracked beneath his knuckle like hammer blows. Before long, its features–immaculately carved–were reduced to a crooked wreck. Its grip slackened, and he released his leg, battering and twisting the construct into submission. As the fires of its core died, so too did its strength abate, but he was not going to give it a chance to recover. Empowered by magia, he dug his fingers into the joints of its limbs, tearing them free. He slung aside slabs of stone, dismantling it as a labourer does a wall, until it was nothing more than a cold pile of rubble.

Pain shot through his leg as he staggered to recover his shield and kuri. He panted, glowing with energy, listening out for the approaching enemy. The fight was not over yet. He could not let his guard down.

Out of the dark marched a dim flame. Skippii did not wait idly for it to arrive. He was near to the entrance stairs, which would give him a vantage over his surroundings. Retreating to their steps, he scanned above the spires for the golem's approach. The cavern lit, as with a dim torchlight in a nighttime forest, shining brighter as it neared the reflective rock of a distant spire, then dimming as it passed beyond, coming closer.

"One more," he said to himself. "Come on."

At the base of the steps, Skippii lit three Flashfire Traps in a triangle, drawing a thread of magia between them by tracing the ball of his foot over the uneven ground. The earth glowed, as though painted with a simple rune. It would do little to hurt the golem, but perhaps the trap would disorientate it as it had done the one before. Their weakness was in their ungainly strength. On their feet, they were as brutish as bulls. But once toppled, they were vulnerable. Furthermore, he had discovered how to siphon their flame's essence. However, his knuckles were bruised from battering, his leg painful to lean upon, and each of the two golems he had faced had been injured by the fall from the steps. How would he fare against a third, fresh for the fight?

"Easy," he reassured himself, and his blood simmered at the thought. "This is my temple, now. My power to claim."

Finally, it appeared before him, and his heart dropped. The final golem was far taller than the others, but worse than that was what it wielded: a savage hammer of black marble glinted in the fires of its maw, and in its other hand, a gigantic shield-like slab of stone.

Upon sighting him, there was no battle cry, no claim of valor nor hesitation. Wordlessly, the inhuman construct bent and charged towards him.

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