The silence of the gallery was broken by a low tremor, deep as a stone’s heartbeat.

  Two red eyes opened in the darkness, fixed like rubies.

  The wall of ice cracked slowly.

  A massive arm burst through, followed by a torso carved with ancient glyphs.

  The creature tore itself free of the wall like a statue waking from slumber.

  Its body was forged of ice and stone, fused together by an old mana.

  It stood five times Garlan’s height.

  The ground shook with every step.

  — That’s not a golem, Marenna murmured. That’s a sentence in motion.

  A voice rose.

  Not mechanical.

  Alive. Cold.

  — The trial of the Disassembled begins. Break order. Survive chaos.

  The colossus raised its fist.

  Garlan lunged. His scales unfurled in a rush, his body shifting into partial draconic form. He charged, arms thrust forward.

  The impact was brutal.

  His blow struck the golem’s forearm like a comet.

  A shockwave rolled through the chamber, shattering spikes of ice along the walls.

  The golem bent—

  but did not falter.

  — You took that?! Garlan blurted in disbelief.

  A colossal backhand sent him crashing into a pillar.

  Marenna instantly summoned a wall of thorns to block the next strike.

  — It has an adaptive structure, she growled. It learns every time we touch it!

  Garlan rose, wiping blood from his lip.

  — Great. Just what I needed. A challenge.

  They exchanged a glance.

  This was no longer a fight. It was a lesson.

  After a flurry of clashes, Garlan managed to land a full strike against the golem’s chest.

  The creature staggered, then suddenly exploded in a voiceless scream.

  Shards of ice and rock scattered in every direction.

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  — Is it over? he asked, panting.

  Marenna shook her head slowly, brow furrowed.

  — No…

  The fragments twitched.

  A finger. An eye. A shoulder. Then an entire torso.

  They reassembled fluidly, as though gravity itself was calling them back.

  Dozens of smaller golems rose around them.

  A hundred at least, each man-sized, moving in perfect unison.

  Like termites of stone.

  — Seriously? Garlan muttered. I thought we were playing the golem, not the horde.

  — Each strike… was a clone, Marenna whispered. You multiplied it yourself.

  A mineral laughter echoed through the air.

  Not a voice—

  the mana itself of the scattered golem, now a fractured consciousness.

  — Order is broken, the diffuse voice whispered. Chaos reigns.

  The first wave of small golems charged.

  Garlan dove into the melee.

  Flaming fists, draconic tail lashing, a roar tearing from his throat.

  He smashed them one by one—stone shattering, bodies crumbling.

  — Too easy, he growled.

  But he didn’t notice right away that some…

  weren’t falling the same way twice.

  One dodged his uppercut.

  A second slipped into his blind spot.

  A third melted into the floor, then surged upward to topple him.

  Marenna shouted:

  — They’re learning, Garlan! Every time you strike, they grow stronger!

  Garlan cursed.

  — Fine. Change of plan. Brenuss, ready?

  The small dragon shivered, his breath unsteady.

  Claws raked the floor, but he dared not leap.

  — He’s afraid, Marenna said. He hesitates.

  — Then we’ll force him to choose.

  Garlan stomped the ground.

  A ring of fire burst outward, forcing the golems back for a heartbeat.

  He shouted:

  — Kid! Look at me! Don’t hold back your fear. Use it!

  The golems charged again.

  Now coordinated. Like a pack.

  Brenuss shut his eyes.

  His breath faltered.

  Then…

  He opened his jaws.

  And this time, it wasn’t just fire.

  A wide, searing cone of flame—yellow, nearly white—erupted, devouring the golems with unprecedented force.

  The ground shook. Marenna staggered back in surprise.

  Garlan roared in answer.

  He unleashed his own fire in the opposite arc.

  The two streams collided.

  Fused.

  At their crossing point: a sphere of pure flame, compressed, pulsing, alive.

  The heat made the walls weep.

  The golems, trapped between the torrents, screamed as one—

  a single burning consciousness.

  They melted.

  Disintegrated.

  To the last.

  The ground quaked.

  The ice split.

  Then silence.

  Breathless, Garlan rejoined the others.

  He placed a hand on Brenuss’s trembling head.

  — Well done, little one. You did better than me.

  The dragonet growled proudly.

  A wisp of smoke still curled from his nostrils.

  The stele at the chamber’s far end vibrated.

  A whisper resonated:

  — The final gate opens to those who have embraced chaos…

  and crossed the fracture.

  Garlan frowned. “The fracture?”

  He understood.

  It wasn’t the ice.

  It was theirs.

  Fear. Doubt. The break within.

  And the strength regained—together.

  A wall dissolved slowly, revealing a white gallery carved in frozen light.

  They exchanged a glance.

  And stepped forward.