Chapter 21: The Treasure and the Guardian Part 2

“The ecology of Frost Golems is bizarre. They absorb magical energy to sustain themselves.
Without magic, they quickly cease to function—an unsolved problem even for the ancient frost fairies.
If you want to deal with them easily, it’s best to refrain from using magic.”

When the Frost Golem began to move—

“Bork!”

“I know already, kid!”

Soren and Bork were already rushing out of the passageway.

Their position was terrible.

Moss and Loreia were still inside the room, and darkness had fallen once again over the passage beyond.

Meaning, the party from earlier might be hiding in that darkness.

This was bad news for Soren and his group.

Soren’s gaze turned sharply toward the Frost Golem.

‘This is insane…’

The Frost Golem shuddered violently.

It trembled without expression, its mask-like face quivering as if delighted by the magic it hadn’t tasted in ages.

The glass orb on its forehead sparkled with a glint of light.

That was its core.

That was the target.

“Loreia! Moss!”

“Bork!”

“Fireball! Again!”

Even before Loreia could finish shouting, a second fireball came flying from the opposite passage.

Fwoosh! Boom!

The fireball missed and struck the hard floor.

At first glance, the aim seemed awful, but in reality, it had landed exactly where Moss had been standing a moment earlier.

It was clear now.

The enemy party was aiming for Soren’s group to be completely wiped out—and while they were at it, they intended to snatch the treasure chest at the Golem’s feet.

Soren’s brow furrowed deeply.

They were a cunning bunch.

Inhuman, sure, but nothing worth pointing fingers at.

Just like any explorers who entered dungeons, they were simply trying to be as efficient as possible.

Soren understood that.

Which only made it more infuriating.

‘You think you can just reap the rewards while we do all the hard work?’

Like hell they could.

Soren had absolutely no intention of letting that happen, not even a sliver of one.

If they wanted to rob him, they’d better be ready.

He’d make sure to curse at least two of them before he died.

“Moss! Behind you!”

“Urgh!”

Boom!

Moss swung his shield, and the Golem’s punch was deflected at almost the exact same moment.

“Ah, crap!”

Even though Moss had managed to redirect the attack with his shield, his body was suddenly lifted and thrown back several steps.

Soren and Bork’s expressions turned grave.

They blinked as they stared at the Golem.

“This is… definitely bad.”

The Golem was far beyond their capabilities.

Bork’s hand axe, Loreia’s crossbow and dagger—none of it worked.

That left only Moss and Soren.

Moss, however, was already struggling, having to fend off both the Golem and the threat from the other party across the passage.

“Kid! I’m counting on you!”

“Loreia!”

“Got it!”

Loreia instantly vanished into the darkness.

She had activated one of her runes.

As Bork charged forward to fill the gap, Soren trusted the others and rummaged through his bag.

‘A sacrifice? No, that’s not it.’

There were plenty of offerings at hand.

Some of them would definitely please Uth Kalden.

But Soren was skeptical.

It hadn’t been long since he last borrowed Uth Kalden’s power, and besides, the Frost Golems were practically servants of Uth Kalden.

It wasn’t like the situation with the kobold horde, where they had been Uth Kalden’s enemies.

That meant asking for Battar-Khan’s help was also off the table.

Even if Battar Khan offered assistance, it probably wouldn’t do much good here.

Sighing quietly, Soren put the offerings back into the bag.

Meanwhile, thuds shook the floor as the Golem rained down punches.

“Ahhh!”

“What the hell!”

Suddenly, the darkness across the passage flared up with light.

It was Loreia’s ambush.

One of the enemy monks crumpled to the ground, and the lantern hidden under cloth was exposed.

Soren locked eyes with Loreia as she slipped back into the shadows.

Her gaze carried a hint of frustration.

She wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long.

“You sly little thief!”

“Will! Damn it, throw the dust!”

Poof!

As if to confirm her concern, the enemy party hurled a handful of shimmering dust into the air.

The dust clung to Loreia’s body, outlining her form clearly.

Soren’s urgency spiked.

“Kahaknal!”

Three poisonous needles shot out in a split second, aimed squarely at the enemy party.

“Attack!”

“Block it!”

But as if scoffing at Soren’s attempt, someone on the enemy side raised a shield and deflected the poisoned needles.

It was clear they had a rune that detected incoming attacks.

This was a disaster.

Soren bit down hard on his lower lip.

‘What can I do now?’

A flood of thoughts raced through his mind in a single heartbeat.

‘Offer up a sacrifice and borrow power? Impossible.’

‘Poison needles?’ He still had two shots left, but the enemy was now alert and wouldn’t be caught off guard.

‘And shooting them at the Golem?’ That was outright stupidity, trying to poison a lump of stone.

The distance was too great for even Kun Allak’s magic to reach.

And just like the venom thorns, Kun Allak’s curses were useless against the golem.

The target needed to be a living creature with eyes, after all.

‘What do I do? If offerings don’t work, then curses…’

***

At that moment, Soren spotted a lizard crawling near his feet.

It was a frost lizard, about a span long—one that fed primarily on frost moonflowers.

‘Soren, a shaman’s reach is limitless. There are venom curse shamans who poison their enemies, prayer shamans who commune with higher beings…’

‘Do I really have to master all of that?’

‘Because, Soren, you must become a shaman whose sole purpose is to conquer dungeons.’

A memory surfaced.

A story Soren’s father had told him when he first began learning shamanism, long ago.

‘Do you know the essence of shamanism?’

‘No.’

‘Soren, remember this. The essence of shamanism is in curses.’

The frost lizard came back into focus.

It raised its head and locked eyes with him.

Eyes sparkling with life, filled with the certainty of survival.

‘Curses are nothing but pure malice. And that malice carries tremendous power.’

‘Malice…’

‘Soren, you must draw out that malice. By any means necessary.’

Thus, the cursed shaman.

A true shaman, at times, had to be steeped in boundless, unfiltered malice.

Something strange flickered in Soren’s gaze as he stared at the lizard.

That glimmering emotion was a mixture of senseless bloodlust and elation.

Soren quietly pulled out a pocketknife.

A possibility crossed his mind.

***

Boom!

Another massive fist slammed into the ground, scattering rubble in all directions.

Moss barely managed to block it with his shield.

If any of it had hit his eyes…

‘This is the worst.’

His ragged breathing filled his mouth.

Ahead of him, Bork was fighting another golem.

Though he showed no signs of complaint, it was obvious he was growing sluggish from exhaustion.

Meanwhile, the frost golem showed no signs of fatigue.

Moss grimaced.

Of course it wouldn’t.

These mindless lumps of stone were devoid of life.

They moved purely out of malevolence.

Simply because the party had stepped into the room, tried to touch the treasure, or used magic— the golem sought to kill them all.

It was a future Moss desperately wanted to avoid.

To die crushed on a cold stone floor like this would be far from glorious.

‘Ereiphion, hear me!’

Boom!

Another punch came down.

Moss dodged it just in time.

But the shield he used took another hit.

Crrrack.

With a horrible screech, the metal rim reinforcing the shield buckled and bent.

“Hrrgh!”

Moss didn’t just stand there.

The moment he dodged, he swung his flail.

However, lacking time to build momentum, his hurried swing barely grazed the golem’s shin.

The golem turned back toward him.

It didn’t seem to have eyes, at least not in any visible sense.

Otherwise, ‘how could it keep swinging even while facing the wrong direction?’

“Loreia!”

Far across the room, Loreia was dodging desperately as well.

She batted away arrows with her dagger, evaded sword strikes, and tried to target the enemy mages.

“You’re not getting away!”

But every attempt ended in failure.

Having already spent her rune power, Loreia was quickly forced back toward where Moss was fighting.

“Are you alright?”

“Somehow… barely.”

“Damn it…”

Moss’s eyes swept across the room.

The golem was already winding up for another strike.

He wanted to lure it toward the enemy party, but they weren’t idiots.

If he tried, they’d stab him in the back, and he’d just end up crushed between swords and stone fists.

‘Is there no way out of this?!’

Suddenly, he realized—one member of their group had been missing from the chaos for a while now.

***

Boom!

After dodging another punch, Moss’s gaze snapped toward the back of the room.

There he was—the short shaman, Soren, crouching and busily working on something.

“Soren! We need help!”

“Soren!”

No response.

Moss’s face paled.

He desperately hoped Soren wasn’t betraying them.

But in a situation like this… there was no guarantee.

Moss’s mind raced frantically.

Soren, silent and focused on whatever he was crafting.

The enemy party, looming with malice.

His own party, battered and worn out.

A desperate situation.

A crisis.

Ordinarily, Moss wouldn’t hesitate to retreat.

Life was more precious than gold.

But if they ran now, the enemy party would not let them go.

The only way to change the situation was with one person—the shaman.

They needed Soren, the wildcard.

Moss cried out again.

“Soren! Now—!”

But then—

Moss gasped.

Loreia, retreating swiftly, froze in place.

Bork, swinging his axe, also paused and turned to look.

***

“Soren…?”

Soren stood up, holding something.

It was a lizard, stripped of its skin, revealing raw crimson muscle and flesh.

Still alive, the lizard thrashed wildly in Soren’s hand, twisting and writhing in agony.

Moss was speechless.

It was a grotesque sight.

Like the pure, innocent cruelty of a child who, smiling obliviously, tears the legs off an insect.

That brutal innocence filled Soren’s face.

He was smiling, quietly admiring the bleeding, mutilated lizard in his hand.

Crunch—

The lizard’s forelimb twisted grotesquely.

Still alive, it thrashed helplessly in his grip.

Soren did not stop.

A thin, needle-like object stabbed into the lizard’s belly.

“Remember this pain.”

Crack!

The loose skin hanging from the lizard tore away at last.

It still lived.

“They are alive, and that’s why you suffer.”

The lizard’s stomach split open, and small intestines spilled out.

Somehow, Moss felt the lizard’s agony echo through his own body.

“Curse them with all your hate. Pass this pain onto them.”

A shiver raced across his skin, sharp and cold like a needle.

Snapping out of it, Moss whirled around.

***

The golem was still moving.

But its movements were strange—unsteady, almost confused.

“There’s no need to go far. Live, and fly—just over there.”

Soren blew a gentle breath, as if sending something invisible away.

The lizard’s body, writhing in pain, finally went limp and died.

“Let the flesh cling.”

Soren tossed the limp, tattered lizard corpse into the room.

Moss instinctively leapt away from it.

An overwhelming sense of dread filled the air.

Crunch—

Something happened to the golem.

Moss stared, stunned.

Cracks ran down the golem’s body from the top.

The frost golem, frantic, tried to hold itself together—but its stone skin peeled away relentlessly.

Just like the lizard whose skin had been flayed alive moments ago.

Somewhere, it sounded like a lizard crying out.

There was no sound, but it echoed in Moss’s mind.

Moss turned to look at Soren.

The pocketknife, still dripping blood, was in one hand.

In the other, he held a stone—a curse stone, covered in ominous runes.

Soren pointed it toward the passage ahead.

“Since its skin remains intact… no wonder the lizard found it so tempting.”

And then—

It began.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

His skin itched madly.

Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch.

An unbearable urge to tear his own skin apart.