They all were exhausted but moved on and once again reached the forest.

From there, they reached another area.

The grassland stretched out before Flora and her party, deceptively peaceful.

The small pond shimmered in the sunlight, the tree swayed gently in the breeze, and the nest nestled in its branches looked almost idyllic.

But all of their focus was on the figure sitting in the center, perched atop the throne, watching them with an unsettling calm.

I sat there, my gaze fixed on them.

Their exhaustion was evident—sweat dripped from their brows, their weapons hung limply in their hands, and their breaths came in shallow gasps.

Yet even through their weariness, I could see the flicker of hope, the belief that perhaps they could take me down and end this nightmare.

"So you’ve finally made it," I said, my voice smooth but carrying an edge of menace.

As I stood from my throne, the hunters instinctively stepped back, their fear palpable.

Flora’s eyes widened, and her team followed suit.

The reality of the situation had clearly begun to sink in.

"You… you can talk?" Flora stammered, disbelief and dread mixing in her voice.

The others mirrored her surprise, their hands tightening on their weapons.

But even as they processed this revelation, I saw their eyes darting around, each one assessing the situation, calculating their odds.

I could feel their thoughts as clearly as if they’d spoken them aloud.

If we take down the boss, we can escape.

"Don’t think about it," I warned, my tone icy.

The forest around them began to stir.

Trees rustled ominously, and out from the shadows poured an army of golems—clay, stone, steel, brick, wood, and sand—all moving with synchronized precision.

The ground seemed to tremble under their weight as they emerged, each one a towering symbol of strength and destruction.

The hunters turned in every direction, their eyes wide with horror.

The golems kept coming, relentless, their forms blotting out the trees, surrounding the group until escape was no longer an option.

There were more than thirty golems, each one larger and more intimidating than the last, their unblinking eyes trained on the hunters.

Flora’s face paled.

Her team, once so confident, now stood paralyzed, backs pressed together as they stared at the overwhelming force before them.

Fear was written in every line of their bodies.

The weight of their earlier battles had taken its toll, and now, they were trapped.

"You won’t have to fight them all," I said, my voice cutting through the suffocating tension.

"Just defeat one golem, and I’ll let you go."

The offer lingered in the air like a poison.

They wanted to believe it—they needed to believe it—but the doubt in their eyes betrayed them.

They knew there had to be a catch, but what choice did they have?

Flora clenched her fists, her knuckles white. She had led them here, and now they were at the mercy of something far beyond their understanding.

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Her breath hitched as she looked at the golems, then back at me.

Every muscle in her body screamed to run, but there was no escape.

The reality settled over her like a shroud—this might be the end.

"One golem?" she asked, her voice shaky but trying to sound brave.

She raised her bow, though her arms trembled from the sheer weight of it.

Her team gathered closer, each one readying their weapons with whatever strength they had left.

I smiled, sensing their desperation. "Yes. Just one."

But inside, I knew it wasn’t going to be that simple.

Defeating one of my golems wasn’t just about brute strength—it was about survival.

And as they had already learned, this dungeon wasn’t like the others.

The rules weren’t so clear-cut, and victory wasn’t guaranteed.

The tension was thick, the hunters exchanging glances filled with silent dread.

They had no other choice. Fight, or die.

Flora, trying to summon whatever resolve she had left, nodded to her team.

"We can do this," she said, though her voice faltered at the end.

The others followed her lead, their faces etched with exhaustion but determined to survive.

The mage gathered her last reserves of mana, the assassin tightened his grip on his daggers, the swordsmen gripped his sword tightly and the tank—injured but still standing—took position in front of the group, shield raised.

But deep down, they all knew the truth.

This fight wasn’t going to be fair.

And I—watching them from the edge of the battlefield—felt a twisted satisfaction.

They had no idea what awaited them.

"Begin," I said, my voice echoing across the grassland like the tolling of a death bell.

The moment I gave the signal, the stone golem stepped forward—a hulking figure made of jagged rock, its movements slow but deliberate.

Flora and her team tensed, focusing all their attention on the creature, their faces still lined with exhaustion.

"Get ready!" Flora shouted, raising her bow. Her voice was firm, but there was an undercurrent of desperation.

The party moved into formation.

The tank, his shield up despite the pain in his shoulder, took the front, his body trembling but standing resolute.

Behind him, Flora stretched her bowstring, eyes locked on the golem’s chest.

The mage began gathering energy in her hands, fire crackling around her fingers.

While swordsman prepared to defend her and attack any openings.

The assassin darted to the side, searching for an opening, while the priest muttered prayers under her breath, casting healing spells to keep them standing.

For a moment, hope flickered in their eyes. They had the numbers, the skills, and the experience.

This wasn’t the first time they had faced a powerful enemy.

They just had to destroy its core—simple, in theory.

But the stone golem was different.

---

Flora's mind flashed back to her brother.

They were sitting by the guild’s hearth after his latest raid on an orange dungeon.

He had placed a hand on her shoulder, smiling proudly, but with a hint of warning in his eyes.

"Flora, not every fight is about skill or strength. Sometimes it’s about outlasting your enemy, surviving until they break."

She had laughed it off then, confident in her own abilities.

But now, in the face of the golem, those words echoed in her mind with a hollow chill.

---

The battle began.

Flora’s first arrow flew through the air, striking the golem square in the chest.

The stone cracked slightly but the golem barely flinched, lumbering forward.

The assassin took this as his cue, leaping in with his daggers gleaming.

He slashed at the golem’s legs, hoping to destabilize it, but his blades only left shallow marks in the thick stone.

"Target the core!" Flora shouted, her heart racing.

The mage followed with a blast of fire, sending waves of heat crashing into the golem’s side.

Chunks of rock broke off, and for a moment, it seemed like they were winning.

The golem staggered, its movements halting. A sliver of hope bloomed in their hearts.

But then the golem’s eyes glowed a deep, ominous green.

It looked down at its cracked side, almost as if understanding the damage it had taken.

The cracks sealed themselves, the stone knitting back together.

"What the…?" the mage gasped, her voice trembling.

The golem turned toward the mage, its movements now faster, more precise.

It had learned.

With a sweeping motion, it smashed its arm into the ground, sending shockwaves through the earth.

The swordsman tried to block his path but his tured body got pushed away instantly.

The tremor knocked the mage off her feet, her concentration broken, and she screamed as she fell hard onto the ground.

---

The mage’s thoughts drifted to her childhood, to the first time she’d held a staff.

She had been so eager to prove herself, to show that magic wasn’t just about power—it was about control, discipline.

Her father had smiled at her, his weathered face full of pride as she cast her first spell.

"You’ve got something special, kid," he had said.

"Just remember, you can’t always rely on your magic. Sometimes, it’s about keeping your cool when things go wrong."

---

The tank charged in, desperate to protect the mage.

He raised his shield, blocking the golem’s next strike, but the force of the blow sent him stumbling back.

His injured shoulder buckled under the pressure, and he cried out in pain, barely able to keep his shield up.

"Dammit," he growled, forcing himself to stand.

His legs wobbled, the exhaustion evident in his every movement.

Flora’s arrows flew rapidly, but with each one, the golem learned—dodging or shielding its core. It was getting smarter, faster.

The assassin managed to land a strike near the golem’s core, but it quickly adapted, using its stone limbs to protect the vulnerable spot.

"Leader, we can’t keep this up!" the priest shouted, her voice shaking. "We’re too weak!"

---

The priest thought of her family—how they’d always begged her not to become a hunter.

"You’re too gentle for this world," her mother had said, her eyes full of concern.

"Promise me you’ll take care of yourself."

The priest had promised, but now, as she watched her friends struggle and fall, the guilt pressed down on her chest like a weight she couldn’t lift.

---

Flora knew it too.

They were faltering. Every step the golem took was deliberate, calculating.

It wasn’t just brute strength anymore—it was learning their patterns, anticipating their moves.

The fire in Flora’s heart flickered, her confidence waning.

Her mind raced back to her brother again.

He had warned her.

She should have listened, should have waited for him.

But she had been so eager to prove herself, to stand on her own.

Now, all of her decisions had led her team into this nightmare.

The golem’s next attack was swift. It slammed its fist into the tank, who had been valiantly trying to shield the others.

His body crumpled under the weight, and he hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Blood trickled from his mouth, his shield clattering uselessly beside him.

"NO!" Flora screamed, her voice hoarse.

She launched arrow after arrow, but each one was deflected or dodged by the golem.

Her hands were shaking, and her vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes.

She had to protect them—she had to.

The golem moved toward the mage next, and despite her best efforts to defend herself, it struck her down with a single, brutal hit.

She collapsed, her staff rolling from her limp hand.

The assassin, in a last-ditch effort, leapt at the golem’s back, trying to land a fatal blow.

But the golem anticipated his move.

It swung around, grabbing him mid-air and crushing him into the ground.

Flora’s heart pounded in her chest, panic rising.

Her team was falling, one by one, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She aimed her bow at the golem’s core, trying to steady her trembling hands.

But it was too late.

The golem, now fully adapted to their attacks, lunged at her.

Its massive stone fist connected with her side, sending her flying through the air.

She landed hard, her bow clattering out of her hand.

Pain shot through her body, every breath a struggle.

She lay there, staring up at the sky, her vision fading.

I’m sorry, brother, she thought.

I wasn’t strong enough.

The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was the golem, standing tall and unbroken, its green eyes glowing with the knowledge it had gained from their defeat.