Earth Golems

Everyone entered one by one through the arched portal reshaped by Herbert's spell.

Matthew walked a few paces behind Sutton and Herbert. The moment he stepped inside, a damp, clammy chill enveloped him. The light was almost completely shut out, leaving only a thick, impenetrable darkness. Only a faint glimmer of light filtering from the entrance behind them outlined the blurry silhouettes of the people ahead, and even those soon dissolved into the deep gloom. The air was stagnant, filled with a heavy, musty odor of dust, stone, and ancient decay. Their footsteps rang out with striking clarity in the narrow passage, carrying hollow echoes.

Just as he was focusing his mind, on high alert and adapting to the darkness—

A tiny, almost imperceptible surge of Spirit, like the lightest thread of cobweb brushing against his skin, swept across his body in an instant before quickly fading away.

Had he not already been a Second-Grade Apprentice with Spirit as "solid as steel" and sharp Perception, he probably would not have noticed it at all.

Almost at the exact moment this Spirit swept past, an unexpected change occurred.

On the rough rock walls lining both sides of the passage, unremarkable greyish-white stones embedded at regular intervals suddenly lit up. The light was soft as moonlight at first, but it quickly stabilized, casting a steady, cold glow that illuminated the previously pitch-black tunnel.

Though the light was not intense, it was enough to reveal the uneven path beneath their feet and the damp rock walls on either side.

Matthew's heart stirred, and his gaze quickly swept over the glowing stones.

'This light... is neither natural mineral fluorescence nor a pre-stored magical light source. Did that faint surge of Spirit just trigger them?'

Observing closely, he found that the stones themselves had no complex runic engravings and were simple in structure. It was just that when the 'scanning' Spirit swept past, a minute energy circuit inside them seemed to have been 'activated.'

'So that's how it is...' Realization dawned on him, a flash of understanding crossing his eyes. 'This isn't an illumination spell that requires a continuous infusion of Spirit to maintain. It's a simple sensory-trigger mechanism. The builder set up a mechanism to detect fluctuations in Spirit. Once a living being with Spirit enters its sensory range, it automatically triggers the lighting. The Spirit consumed is negligible, acting more like a "switch" rather than a "power source." An ingenious design that balances concealment and practicality.'

He silently noted down this discovery, treating it as a practical trick learned on this trip—in certain ruins or hidden places, lighting might be hidden behind such seemingly ordinary stones, waiting for a 'key' of Spirit.

With the aid of this steady, cold light, the team continued deeper inside.

At first, the passage was narrow, only wide enough for two or three people to walk side by side. The ground was slick, and cold drops of water fell from overhead from time to time. However, as they advanced, the path began to slope gently downward, and the space widened at a visible rate.

The rough, natural rock walls were gradually replaced by neat stone slabs. Though ancient, with dark moss and unknown ferns growing in the crevices between the slabs, the signs of manual construction were highly apparent.

The arched ceiling gradually rose. From having to walk with hunched heads, they eventually found themselves in a rather spacious area, as if stepping into the antechamber of an ancient, subterranean palace.

Silence was the dominant theme here. Aside from the sound of their footsteps, breathing, and the occasional drip of water seeping from somewhere unknown, there was no other sound. Yet, this silence did not bring peace; instead, it exuded a heavy, oppressive feeling, as if sealed away by countless years.

Matthew kept his Spirit extended at all times, like invisible antennae, delicately perceiving every inch of the surrounding space. He noticed that the stuffiness in the air was growing heavier, faintly mixed with a trace of an extremely faint, indescribable residual energy—as if it were the 'echo' of a spell cast long ago.

Just as the team rounded a slightly wide bend and the passage ahead suddenly became much broader, as if entering a hall connecting different areas, Sutton and Herbert, who were walking in front, stopped almost simultaneously.

“Stop,” Sutton said in a low voice, but it carried a clear note of warning.

Herbert did not speak, but he raised his hand in a halting gesture, his sharp gaze directed toward the dimly lit area deep within the hall illuminated by the cold-light stones.

Matthew stopped as well, narrowing his eyes to look.

The 'hall' was about dozens of yards square, its floor paved with large square stone slabs, many of which were cracked or sunken. In the center of the hall and near several passage openings leading deeper, some bizarrely posed objects lay scattered.

They were not living creatures.

Instead, they were seven or eight... or rather, seven or eight 'piles' of what looked like assembled constructs.

They were crudely cobbled together from greyish-black rock fragments of various sizes, mixed with some metal shards and an unknown hardened resin, forming outlines resembling humans or beasts. Covered in dust and moss, their joint connections were stiff, and many parts were broken or damaged. They stood or lay silently in the shadows, like sculptures in a long-forgotten ruin.

However, the moment everyone stepped into the hall, extremely dim yet unsettling dark-red pinpricks of light suddenly flared at the core of the torsos of four or five of the more complete construct remains, like sleeping beasts slowly opening their eyes.

Immediately following that, a low, grating friction sound rang out—the dry scraping of stone against stone, and metal against metal.

The few 'awakened' constructs began to move with stiff, sluggish motions, attempting to 'stand up' or adjust their postures.

They turned their featureless 'heads'—if those could even be called heads—and the dark-red light points seemed to lock onto the direction of the intruders.

A weak but clear wave of hostility and energy radiated from them.

“Earth golems... but they look like shoddy imitations. Out of repair for years, they only have instinct left,” Herbert's voice carried a trace of disdain, though his eyes did not relax. “It seems to be one of the tomb's automated defense mechanisms.”

...