The stepped staircase at the end of the path of spotlights remained open.

Rightly so, no one closed it after my first visit.

A sort of melancholy passes through me as I cross that threshold.

It is been so long.

Curiosity.

Spirit of adventure.

Many emotional reasons bind me to this place.

I carry Gron in my arms and feel it stirring.

“Everything is fine?”

“Yeah, it's just that this place is huge.”

“I told you as we approached that even those distant lights belonged to a single structure.”

Gron looks up at the ceiling. I raise my face to do the same. I will go back and look at it.

“So? In your adventures, have you never come across a large structure? Maybe the ruins of a fortress, an ancient fortress.”

“Pr—structures like this abound in my home world. Where the dunes coincide with oases and rocky peaks, the fortresses are always besieged. But I have never seen such vast buildings. Furthermore, these corridors, these rooms—it's as if it were a warehouse. Like that Leviathan.”

“I agree with you. Hmm, it's a truly immense structure. It is not living, but there is a titanic heart inside.”

As I walk, I think about Gron's words.

Desert.

Fortresses.

Oases and dunes.

I spoke with inhabitants of distant deserts. The Underwasteland is different from all their stories.

Here, sand, dust, and ash mix. White, gray, and black. Everything is as if incinerated, charred, or forgotten.

I would investigate the deserts Gron talks about. Maybe it could bring out other memories of the time we spent together.

But a metallic scraping and explosions make my ears prick up. They channel my attention.

Who knows if Fulzo's party also heard these noises?

Perhaps, at the entrance, they took a different route, or they did not finish the path of light, preferring to follow some pipeline.

In any case, I remember the source of these noises.

As I approach this source, Gron becomes agitated and climbs onto my shoulders.

“What was it? Is there anyone!?” it whispers in my ear.

“Don't be afraid. They are like iron puppets. Some are frozen. The one we are about to see is determined to perform a task I do not understand.”

“Would be?”

I scratch behind my ear thoughtfully. “Try to shatter the glacier. One of the many tubs present. Except that the ice regenerates too quickly. Fails.”

“Prrr… could it be a golem?”

“I've thought about this possibility. But, without Scan, it's hard to say. Here we are.”

The corridor opens onto an iron balcony that accompanies the wall. Beyond the parapet, the metal quadruped with the cables attached forcefully hits the sheet of ice.

The pool occupies the center of the room, and the being strikes it by pointing its two sharp legs.

Not much has changed since I first came by. A dark, iridescent slurry pooled beneath it, crystallizing in the cracks of the slab.

Only now do I realize something important.

Error corals grow on floors and walls, especially in the spaces between one block and another.

But they do not take root on ice.

Is there a kind of reaction?

I lean over the railing, allowing Gron to look at the creature.

“Prr. Creepy.”

“A bit'.”

“Isn't it hostile? What goes through the cables? Look how many—meow. They stick to the ceiling, to the walls…”

I pat Gron's head. I continue to look at the being. I listen to the background of electricity still flowing.

Ci-cin.

Magical electrification.

Beneath the ice, an ocean of fiery blue gas.

It is more of an intuition than a certainty, but their energy comes from there.

“The cables carry the energy to the creature. I doubt it could live otherwise. They are strange life forms.”

“Hm, they can't be golems. At least not in my world.”

“Can you think of anything that might explain its behavior?”

Gron passes a paw over its face and withdraws from my caresses.

“No, nothing like that. It's just that I realized something. See how much fluid it leaks with each stroke.”

With each stroke, liquid spurts from the joints. It must be injured and unable to regenerate between shots—but…

…I do not understand what Gron wants to tell me.

“Sorry, if I were injured, I would lose fluids. My green blood that—”

Ci-cin.

Gron does not tell me, just nods.

“Of course! If its internal fluids continue to leak. It means it has a functioning circulatory system! So—”

“It can't be an ordinary golem. Prr, exactly. Golems require maintenance. Only I can boast of being an exception. A living golem. Ex-living, but we understand each other. If that being continues to bleed, its organism is synthesizing what it needs to function.”

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Hmm… however captivating as a theory, Gron itself is proof that golems can be different from the idea I have.

“Couldn't Dal-Dazzer make golems like that?”

Gron gets out and moves away from the railing. “Of course, it could. That is not the point. The point is: are they considered puppets or sentient organisms? The classic golem is like the gargoyles that guard this dungeon. I, if you allow me, no.”

Sigh.

I wish I could use [Scan].

I would solve the mystery and satisfy my curiosity.

Ci-cin.

My tail got stuck between the railing bars. I bring it back with my hand.

I let go of being intent on its crazy operation. I look at Gron.

“So, this is what you wanted me to see?”

I shake my head. “Follow me, there's another room we need. I said it might help your research.”

♦

It takes a while to arrive.

Arched naves of the cathedral, central pipeline, slabs identical to that of the [core], and rose window that emits dark blue light.

I blow my breath into my hands, which I rub to keep warm.

Gron walks around, and I see it duck behind a row of black plates.

Arriving at the central nave, I check to see if [Bakenekro]'s corpse is still there.

There is.

She did not move.

Not that I believed she could do it—but…

I look away. Regrettably, I realize that the corals have taken control of the room.

It has created a tangle that mixes plates, emerges from the pipeline and the floor, and envelops cables and columns.

They also extended between the cables that held that creature prisoner.

Peering out of the corner of my eye, I notice that they have also grown on the tails. But have not affected the rest of the body.

Must be a recent infection. One day, coral will swallow everything.

So sad.

Alienating.

What will the Underwasteland be like once the error has displaced me?

Sigh.

I have to find a solution to this problem—if only my predecessors had had it…

…hmm, maybe they would not have solved it. But I may have some more information.

If it had not disappeared into the Ocean, I would talk to the [Leviathan]. But I fear that it sank precisely to protect me from the [Devil].

What an insidious entity.

“N! N! There's a lookalike of yours here! Pr-prr.”

Gron smells the body and the cables surrounding it. It wags its tail and gives me a few glances.

“I don't know who she is. It's been here for who knows how long… come on, we have to go up. Upstairs is the room I want to show you. As long as the corals haven't blocked it.”

♦

Fortunately, the room is still accessible. The corals have invaded it, creating a shell on the walls and ceiling. It will still take some time to conquer the entire area.

Gron looks at the organ.

“Keyboards make me think of a musical instrument—but I've never seen anything like it.”

“It's called a pipe organ. My father considered it the king of instruments.”

“Uh, can we hear it?”

Ci-cin.

I move closer to the keyboard. I sit on the bench and study the anatomy of the organ.

Since Sylviette was judged, I have tried to learn to play it by practicing in the orchestra hall.

Unfortunately, coordinating your hands and feet is tricky. Furthermore, in addition to keyboards, these giants feature buttons and levers that activate or inhibit specific registers and barrels.

Complex machines. I still have to learn about them.

I slide my fingertip and nails across the keys. Should I play something?

But Gron does not know that it is a magical object, nor that it is not fit to accompany a song of its.

“Prrr, will you let me hear it or not? You don't have to give me a concert. I'm just curious. That's why you brought me here. Didn't you?”

I watch.

Gron begins to shine its orange mane, although the dark light makes it look blue-green.

Puuuuuu!

I press a pedal. The drone is powerful but feels muffled.

It is too dark to see the problem, but since some coral is poking out of the reeds—yes, they have clogged it up somewhere.

VAAAA!

Indeed, this note on the keyboard sounds in all its glory.

I leave the keyboard and the bench. I stand up.

“Prrr… er, er… that's amazing! This sonic power!”

I nod. “But its magical properties are even more interesting.”

“Hm, I'm listening.”

“This tool allows if used correctly, to teleport you to deep points in the dungeon.”

“MEOW! Really!?”

Gron leaps onto the bench, passing me.

With its paws, it begins to caress the surface of the keyboard. It has to stretch to do it, but it does not put pressure to play.

“So can you send me directly, or even near the alternative entrance to the Golden Doors?”

Ci-cin.

I lower my ears. I feel slightly embarrassed to admit it after this presentation.

“I'm sorry, but I don't know how to use it—it's not just a question of keys. It's that you need to know specific sequences… even calling out Sylviette, even she only knows how to get me into a few areas that don't serve the purpose.”

“I understand what you want to ask me.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You want me, the great Gron, to continue searching for a key, or some writing, capable of allowing us to exploit this wonderful device.”

Ci-cin, ci-cin!

I clap my hands. “Yes! That would be great! You are an Explorer. You sure know how to search for relics. Keep your eyes peeled and contact me as soon as—”

“Prr… yes, yes, save the joy for when I find what you desire. It would be nice, after all. I'm a little tired of traveling in desolation. Done deal, N.”

I smile in relief.

Alone I would not have a chance, but maybe with two—

WROOOM!

WROOOM!

BOOM!

Sirens!

Explosion!?

Gron has wide eyes and straight fur. “N! This Sirens!”

No, it is not those sirens.

It is different from the System alarm. It seems more like it is coming from the walls of the structure.

After ringing a third time, a second explosion, and the structure appears to shake.

Could it be the [Holy explosives]?

“I don't know what it means, but I'm afraid for the adventurers! The roars come from the north! Maybe it's them. We have to go and see!”

♦

As I run, I hear other explosions. They become more powerful. The walls and floor vibrate.

At the end of a corridor, I see flames, interspersed with black smoke and movements of something dark.

ROOOOR!

A metallic growl under which voices emerge.

“Hurry! Over here, over here!”

“Throw it! Throw it!”

Is it them? These rumors can only—

The smell of hydrocarbons in the air.

I arrive on the balcony at the end of the corridor, and a strong light anticipates a roar.

Ci-cin.

BOOM!

I feel the pressure of the shock wave and fall backward, but I am far enough away not to feel its effects.

I blindly rub my eyes.

When I reopen them, I do not believe what I see.

The smoke moves, and a leap breaks through the roof of the enormous room. I glimpse some gigantic limbs, perhaps a tail.

But there is too much chaos, among ash and debris and fumes emerging from the pool at the end of the room.

Volatile dark blue flames dissipated before reaching my elevated position.

I am paralyzed and stunned. I start looking for Gron, but I cannot turn around.

When I see it clinging to my skirt, I relax. It is fine.

The sound of distant crushing, of incomprehensible verses. What are the elves? What was that cloud of smoke hiding!?

No one of those metallic quadrupeds is here.

What happened?

It takes a few moments.

The ice layer regenerates, cutting off the flames underneath. The smoke slowly disappears into the hole in the roof, and the fragments and debris begin to fall back into place.

The fractures heal, and the Underwasteland pursues its self-repair process.

It is a slow process, and it will take several hours.

In the meantime, I am studying the situation. The thick concrete walls are full of fractures. Part of the iron balcony I am on has collapsed.

Downstairs are holes in the walls. Explosions?

The roof collapsed. From the lights on the upper floors, I understand that a second roof has also been pierced. That being showed off a leap of tremendous strength.

Gron descends from my belly.

Ci-cin.

I stand up. I jump over a piece of fallen balcony and go down the stairs.

This room is seven or eight times larger than the others. It also has no visible cables or pipes.

Yellow stripes on the walls and some hieroglyphics I do not understand.

Hmm, there was something different.

What did those adventurers do?

I have to reach them…

The explosion came from my left. Indeed, a bulkhead was torn away by the explosion.

Since it replenishes slowly, I sneak past some debris and go through it.

Beyond, there is a corridor.

I look at Gron. It is following me silently.

I hear hissing in the distance, carried by the reverberation. There are curses, steps, coughs, and screams, but I do not understand the context or meaning of the speech.

It could be a scolding. Or it could be a fight—the only way to establish it is to reach them.

A roar in the distance, a new roar.

I turn back but see nothing. The creature is now far away.

I think back to that time I happened to judge a dragon. It was old and peaceful, but it had a voice like that.

Less powerful than the [Leviathan], but still terrifyingly powerful.

The smell of that strange hydrocarbon, mixed with a bit of smoke, still permeates the air. I feel like I have to cough, but I cannot.

I take a couple of exaggerated inhales and—

“Etciù! Etciù!”

Blackish phlegm stains the floor. It has iridescent shades, like the liquid of those quadrupeds.

It must have clogged me due to the fumes mixed with the smoke. Better to keep in mind that the glacier shields from a potentially harmful substance.

I brush my nose with my forearm. Finally, I can breathe better.

I look for Gron. Between my feet, staring motionless at the corridor.

I nudge it with my foot. It looks at me.

“Better move away.”