ACT 12 : THE FINAL FIGHT
The golem advanced—its footsteps like war drums, steady and unhurried, a thing without rage or hesitation.
Dorian and Monica stood side by side, both ragged, bleeding, and breathless.
"I don't have much left in me," Monica muttered, cracking her knuckles. "You?"
"I barely have a plan," Dorian said, eyes narrowing. "But that's better than nothing."
The golem lifted its arm, rotating its wrist with a screech of ancient servos. Its shoulder emitted a pulse of mana so strong that the air distorted.
BOOM.
The blast cracked the wall behind them, sending fragments skittering. Monica darted forward in a blur—using her remaining blood mana to leap high and strike its shoulder joint. Sparks flew, but the golem barely flinched.
Dorian had already vanished into the shadows behind it, scanning with precise eyes. Aetheric cores—five of them—two in the legs, one in the chest, two in the arms. The main core glowed faintly inside the chest cavity.
