The cyclops was one of Horkensaft’s more infamous monstrous species. Appearance-wise they were gray-skinned humanoids with top-heavy builds, had pot bellies to varying degrees, and their long arms reached all the way to their ankles. They were also twice as tall as any human and three times the girth. These immense proportions came with the standard collection of pros and cons one might expect - incredible strength, exceptional toughness, and sluggish movements. Their defining feature was, of course, the singular eye just above their tusk-filled overbites. It was both an obvious weakness and their greatest weapon, as every cyclops was capable of discharging an ocular beam of some kind. It wasn’t always destructive in nature, but its power was something to beware. When facing a particular cyclops for the first time, it was generally advised to be patient and bait out that eye beam to discern its effects before fully committing to an engagement.
A certain golem was fully aware of those meatbag tactics and had summarily elected to ignore them as she charged her quarry with reckless abandon, grenade launcher in hand.
*THUM*
*KAPOW*
“RRRAAAAHRG!”
The three-and-a-half meter monster let out a roar as the explosive charge did nothing to it. It swung its tree-sized club in a wide sweeping motion at the inbound construct. The Paladin skid to a halt, planted her heels in the gravelly ground, and raised her recently reattached shield.
“Shield Wall!”
The Artifact once more shone with a dull red glow as the Martial Art was evoked with perfect timing. The weaponized tree trunk creaked and cracked as it bounced upward after hitting the momentarily immovable object, much like a certain acid-ferrying wagon had the night before. The big guy had a profound expression of confusion on his ugly mug. He clearly hadn’t even considered that someone that small could deflect his blow so completely. Then again, he probably hadn’t considered a frightening amount of subjects. Intelligence wasn’t a cyclops’ strong point, which was why he swung his obscenely long club down at the shiny target without any doubt or hesitation. This time Fizzy rushed forward with Armored Charge, her linear trajectory passing under the monster’s outstretched hand as its weapon fruitlessly smashed into the ground behind her. The golem’s Skill brought her to a complete and total stop as she smashed into the monster’s ankle shield-first.
This also did absolutely nothing to the cyclops. Though by no means a weak impact, it was still like hurling a stone at a fortress wall. That craggy rock-like skin easily deflected physical blows on top of making the creature more resistant to harmful magic. The cyclops still felt that bump, though. It had momentarily lost sight of the shiny midget as she ducked under its strike, but did not fail to retaliate by taking a step back and swinging its empty hand at her as if to swat away a pest. This blow was also parried with a perfectly timed Shield Wall, which the Paladin followed up with a double-handed overhead wrench strike to the big toe. The crushing attack did little in terms of damage, but judging by its howls, it hurt like a bitch.
Now that the cyclops was focusing entirely on the little thing at its feet, Tony made his move. The hobgoblin emerged from the hard-packed soil of the abandoned quarry as if he was floating in a lake of mud, about fifty paces away from the action. He stretched his iron hand out, grasping his favorite axe out of thin air. Sure, he had two of them and they were practically identical, but he still preferred this one for the task at hand. He then mumbled a Windfury Spell under his breath, imbuing the blade with air magic to boost its speed and cutting power. He then activated Fury of the Small. This Skill was a leftover from his early goblin days, and greatly increased the damage of his next attack against a target significantly larger than him. It was great for ambushes but little else since he could only use it once an hour and a miss would waste it. Thankfully, with the golem distracting his target, he had plenty of time to line up his strike.
As such, the hob assumed a throwing stance with his left foot out front and the right one bearing most of his weight. His prosthetic limb held his weapon of choice behind his head while the other stretched out in the big oaf’s direction. Tony’s mechanical muscles then began to tremble and vibrate as a faint white glow enveloped both the prosthetic and the blade in its grasp. This was a Ranger Skill called Power Throw, and it did exactly what its name suggested. It took about five seconds to store up the maximum amount of power this ability allowed. The hob then amplified his impending attack even further by layering a Martial Art on top as well. This came courtesy of the Nimble Axe Skill from the same Job, which gave him an array of ranged and melee techniques to use with those one-handed axes he liked so much. This one was called Helmsplitter in the civilized tongue, though that wasn’t the name the hobgoblin knew it by.
“Chakolashat!”
His entire body sprang forward as he unleashed his singularly most destructive attack. The axe flew so fast and straight that it might as well have been a beam of light. It instantly struck the cyclops in the head, embedding itself deep in the monster’s thick skull with a thundering boom.
[You have delivered a critical strike. Target HP -2,157.]
The force of the blow was so great that it made the much larger primitive stumble clumsily from the shock and recoil. Fizzy took advantage of this opening and delivered a full strength blow of her own. She doubled-up with Plus to overlay a Grand Slam and a Judgement, the Art-Spell combo smashing through the back of the buckling giant’s knee, destroying what was left of its balance and bringing it crashing to the ground. And yet the stupid thing still wasn’t dead. It instantly pushed itself up to its feet with those ridiculously long arms, its singular eye fixed on Tony. The hobgoblin needed a moment to recover after over-exerting himself with that throw, and was thus unable to avoid what came next.
An actual beam of white light as big as the hob’s head flashed out of the larger monster’s face and hit the greenskin’s center of mass with pure magical force. The good news was, the Shaman was far too tough for that attack to punch a hole straight through him. The bad news was his torso was dented inwards in a way that crushed his shattered rib cage into his lungs. The hob fell over, unable to draw breath as he violently coughed up blood.
“Plus?!”
“Range!”
Those two words were all the communication the two alter egos needed to coordinate their next move. The Paladin immediately disengaged from the target and dashed closer to her dying shield-serf. This put Tony in reach of her divine magic, which the Parallel entity channeled through her to invoke a Holy Light. The Spell flooded the hob with revitalizing energies that instantly stitched together his mortal wound. He coughed up one last batch of blood before air finally flowed back into his chest. That breath was then immediately exhaled as he shouted a warning.
“Boss! Watch de eye!”
Indeed, the cyclops wasted no time in redirecting its ire towards the radiant construct. One might assume that his beam Skill needed time to recharge, and that might’ve been the case with other, flashier versions of the ability. However, this particular variant could be used as often as the monster wanted. The only limit was its MP, of which it didn’t have a lot due to its abysmally low INT. It still had enough mystical energy for a few more shots, and it didn’t hesitate to send one of those towards Fizzy just as Tony’s warning came out. Too bad the hob was just wasting his breath.
“Rebound!”
The Champion of Chaos saw it coming and reflected the magical attack back at its source with another impeccably timed Art. This sent the cyclops reeling as its eye was crushed into a useless red pulp by its own attack. One would think this pretty much settled things since it rendered it both blind and incapable of using that nasty Skill. However, being a monster, it had another, equally unfair ability at its disposal. Its name was Monocular Rage, and it kicked in whenever the cyclops’ most obvious weakness was targeted. In a manner similar to Tony’s Undying Frenzy, the mountain of muscle displayed a sudden spike in strength, speed, and endurance as it charged at the Paladin. Its massive fists flew around in a wild manner that even Owen’s divine gift was incapable of predicting, forcing his Champion to get smacked around despite her best efforts.
[You suffer blunt force trauma. HP -326.]
[You suffer blunt force trauma. HP -361.]
[You suffer blunt force trauma. HP -306.]
[Proficiency level increased. Shock Absorption is now Level 2. END +4. STR +2.]
If nothing else, at least all this abuse was doing wonders for Fizzy’s newest Metal Golem Skill. Another upside was that the frenzied monster hurt itself since it felt the heat of the construct’s Engine of Destruction and the spark of her buzzing Charge Pack every time it touched her mithril frame. The reflected damage wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to keep it focused on the self-healing juggernaut and allow the sole back-liner to focus on ranged attacks. However, he didn’t do any more axe throwing. With how much that thing was moving around, his flying blades would achieve little but make flesh wounds that would only piss it off even more. That and he’d need to recall the one stuck in the thing’s skull, and that simply wasn’t wise.
“Krakka Don!”
The sky thundered as a literal bolt from the blue answered the Shaman’s Storm Call Spell. The summoned lightning brought with it nature’s unbridled fury, which very few mortals could hope to control. The hobgoblin wasn’t one of them, so his Storm Call would always follow the path of least resistance to the ground. Thankfully, there was a convenient lightning rod that redirected it into the skull of the cyclops, past its craggy skin, down its spine, and right through the monster’s heart. The devastating shock momentarily paralyzed it, allowing Fizzy the precious moments she needed to finish off that knee she’d been tenderizing since the start. The lump of enchanted steel in her hand smashed through the joint, finally breaking it and rendering the lumbering lummox unable to stand. The cyclops refused to fall completely, however, as it landed on its giant ass and stubbornly continued swinging from its seated position. This wasn’t the smartest move it had made today.
“Krakka Don!”
Lightning struck the still-towering target yet again, pushing it to the brink of death and briefly incapacitating it once more. Fizzy once more exploited the weakness, this time by leaping onto the monster, bouncing up from its generous belly, and climbing onto its massive shoulder. This finally put her within reach of the colossal cretin’s ridiculously wide underbite.
“Grand!”
“Judgement!”
“Slam!”
Another combination attack with Plus saw the Paladin’s wrench and a brick made out of golden light crash into the cyclops’ head from either side. There was a gruesome crack as the skull finally gave way from all the abuse. Her Champion of Chaos Skill then politely informed her that the weather in her immediate area was about to get extremely hostile, prompting the golem to raise her shield skywards.
“Krakka Don!”
“Rebound!”
As if by a miracle, the instantaneous Storm Call bounced off of the Artifact and went into the cyclops for a third time. The enormous head literally exploded into smoldering chunks as its body slumped over like an avalanche of fat. Fizzy slipped off its shoulder and landed on the gravelly ground with all the grace and finesse of a flailing lump of mithril. She lay there for a few moments before picking herself up, her face positively crackling with fury. She picked up her wrench and started striding towards the greenskin about thirty paces away. The hob was too busy cheering at his victory to notice the pint-sized calamity approaching him until she was within arm’s reach, at which point she reached out with her arm. More specifically, with her fist. Even more specifically, towards his groin.
“Jehaha-hooooooooooooooooo!”
The Shaman’s boisterous laugh instantly switched to a high-pitched squeal as his private parts were punched, singed, and electrocuted all at once. He fell over in a quivering, trembling mess while clutching his unborn offspring with both hands. He barely managed to invoke a Cure Spell and salvaged the situation somewhat.
“What was dat for?!” he squeaked out.
“You have to ask?! You literally just tried to fry me with your magic!”
“Aren’t you immune to it?!”
“What the fuck would give you that idea?!”
“Just look at you!”
Indeed, it was easy to make that mistake considering the blue sparks that arced out from the golem’s mithril plating. These were the product of her back-mounted Charge Pack, an Artificer device of her own design. It was powered by magic and alchemy, but the electricity it produced carried no arcane energy. That was why it didn’t harm the golem. Or at least, not enough to be of any concern. However, a Spell was different in that it could interfere with the magical power circulating within the construct, thereby causing her to ‘bleed.’ An obscure distinction, but an important one that Fizzy learned about firsthand during the war. Still, she had to concede that it was an easy mistake to make, so her anger diminished somewhat. It wasn’t as if Tony was powerful enough to kill her outright anyway, but it would have been a shame if her Charge Pack was overloaded in the process.
“Alright, but if you try to do that again, it’s your other head that’s gonna pay.”
“Yes, boss,” the hob groaned, still in pain.
“Fizzy! Remember what we talked about!” Plus whispered in her mind.
Right. Positive reinforcement, she replied in kind.
“That aside, I’m impressed with how quickly you brought that thing down. I barely had to do anything but keep it busy.”
“I’m a goblin. Almost everythin’ I fight is bigger than me. Even now, is hard to find somethin’ my size or smaller that gives me trouble. Except you, dat is.”
“Damn right I’m exceptional.”
“… Sure. Whatever you say, boss. Anyway, can we go find another?”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“No time. We have a mag-rail to catch in 84 minutes.”
“Ugh. Again in de metal box? Can we just walk?”
“Absolutely not.”
It was a tempting offer considering how mind numbingly bored she got on the ride from Steelhead, but there were two other factors to consider. Firstly, time. Why waste days on foot travel when a mag-rail could cover that 300 kilometer distance in mere hours? Fizzy had even found an express freight train that had no passengers and would go straight to its destination at top speed. She and Tony were gonna get stuck in the cargo car anyway, so she figured she might as well make the affair as brief as possible. That and this particular mag-rail was the first one headed out of Gun Tarum. After last night’s acid spill, Fizzy wanted to put as much distance between the capital and herself as possible before she was implicated and dragged into court over it. That was her second reason, and very similar to her first one, given the weeks and possibly months those lawyers would take out of her life.
Fizzy and her shield-serf were thus loaded in and ready to depart within the hour. Both were secured much more firmly than before. The golem was strapped down to the floor via metal cables in compliance with transportation protocols for this type of train. The same went for Tony’s portable cell, with an extra set of manacles binding his waist, wrists, and ankles to the bars. The mag-rail departed more or less on time, and its monstrous passengers were instantly subjected to its significantly higher acceleration compared to the public transit model. The golem was thrilled to see this machine show off the potential of her inherited designs. The hobgoblin was far less excited and instead struggled to keep his fleshy self conscious while the train gained speed at a ridiculous rate. It was a uniquely unpleasant experience. Thankfully it only lasted for a few minutes, but he had to go through it once more when the mag-rail approached its destination and hit the brakes. Meanwhile Fizzy had given up on any complaints she might have had about her bindings. It was humiliating to be treated like literal baggage, but getting tossed around the carriage like a bug in a jar was probably worse.
And at the end of that otherwise uneventful two-and-a-half-hour trip, Fizzy and Tony arrived at a place like no other.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!”
“Ugh… I’m gonna need more mojo for dis…”
Before them stretched out another gnomish city - full of high-rises and square shapes connected together by countless walkways. However, its similarities to Steelhead were only fleeting. Bizarre, almost alien-looking constructs walked the streets, flew through the air, or crawled up and down the walls. There were nothing like the Anvil District’s industrial golems, boasting even wilder designs and chugging, rattling, or otherwise screeching as they went. Wheeled vehicles roared and rumbled as they moved, propelled by neither animal nor magic. Nearly every building was adorned with massive gear assemblies that all clicked together in some city-spanning network. Factories were everywhere, not simply confined to one specific area of the city like in Gun Tarum. Dozens of clock towers marred the skyline, making it impossible to not know what time it was unless one walked with their eyes closed. And in the middle of it all was a spire of metal and concrete, its dizzying height unmatched by any structure built by mortal hands.
This was the city of Dragunov. It was founded by and named after the otherworlder that first discovered the Artificer Job over a century ago, and has since become known as the Tinkerer’s Holy Land. It was a place where technology had been allowed to develop, unrestrained and unchecked by common sense. Even the citizens all wore some form of gadget, gizmo, or goggles to aid in their daily lives… at least in theory. Artifice was still a young craft, and pushing its boundaries meant malfunctions and accidents galore. Much as Malcolm warned Fizzy, she’d only been here for around ten minutes before there was an enormous explosion somewhere in the distance. The locals were entirely unperturbed by this frighteningly common occurrence as they frantically went about their busy days. This was, after all, still a gnomish city, and that meant everyone had a time table.
As such, Fizzy and Tony with their lack of pressing appointments stood out like sore thumbs, though both of them were used to it by now. They were equally adapted to the intense noise and air pollution. Neither were as bad as the Anvil District, but certainly far higher than even the most crowded elf or human cities. To that end, the hobgoblin had run into a bit of trouble.
“Hey boss, can I get another pair of earplugs?”
“Again? What about the ones you had yesterday?”
“Cyclops must’ve knocked ‘em out when he blasted me.”
“Damn it, Tony,” the golem shook her head. “That’s the fifth set you’ve lost.”
“Is not my fault I got big ears, ok?”
“Well, I don’t have any extras left. I guess you can just use mine.”
“You don’t need ‘em?”
“I’ll be fine. If anything, I quite like how this place sounds.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
Though the savage greenskin might consider the constant clicking and clanging to be obnoxious, to Fizzy it seemed more like an eccentric orchestra. She heard an underlying rhythm buried deep beneath that cacophony - a perfectly timed mechanical heartbeat that didn’t exist in the dwarven capital. The hob couldn’t care less and hurriedly put in the noise-cancelling magic items. Now that he was able to hear himself think, Tony yet again realized he had no idea where his shiny handler was taking him. He didn’t particularly care, but he had a hunch she didn’t either. At the very least she hadn’t asked for directions or looked at a map, and the Shaman didn’t feel like wandering aimlessly in this place if he could help it.
“So where we goin’, exactly?”
“Towards that tower in the distance.”
“You gon’ have to be more specific.”
“That big brown bastard.”
She pointed at the structure in question, barely visible between the gaps in the buildings. It was the enormous spire that rested at the heart of the city. ‘Big brown bastard’ wasn’t its official name, but it might as well have been given how many people called it that. There really weren’t all that many other words that could describe it, given how bland it looked at this distance. Even Tony instantly caught on and realized why she seemed to know where she was going. A landmark like that would make it very difficult to get lost. That aside, Fizzy had brilliantly answered his question in a way that was both accurate and useless, so the hob gave her another.
“Why, though?”
“The Ritz has its headquarters there. I need to drop by and check on a few things before we head to the Vault.”
“Vault? What vault?”
He’d heard Fizzy mention the Royal Institute of Technology several times over, but this was the first he’d heard about that second thing.
“The Vault Beneath the Mountain. It’s an old facility that nobody’s been able to crack open. That changes today.”
“What’s in dis vault?”
“Nobody knows for sure.”
“Think it’s full of big things dat need killin’?”
“There’s… a non-zero chance of that, I guess.”
“Nice.”
Nothing served to brighten up the hobgoblin’s day like the prospect of throwing hands with something that could probably kill him by stepping on him. It was just so satisfying to bring them high and mighty ones down to his level. It wasn’t easy, but he’d learned that things got awfully short whenever they hit 0 HP. That cyclops was a good start, but Tony was eager to find more mountains to topple. He also quite liked the idea of knocking over that big brown bastard of a spire. He understood it was far beyond his means to do so, but imagining it made him happy.
“Wait!”
“Oof!”
Fizzy stopped so suddenly that the daydreaming greenskin bumped into and nearly tripped over her.
“Did you see that?!”
“You gon’ have to be more specific,” he grumbled.
“There!” she shouted and pointed. “Hey! Hey, you! Wait!”
The golem suddenly ran off, elbowing pedestrians and automatons alike out of her way. Tony had no idea what got Fizzy in a tizzy all of a sudden, but he followed her anyway. Or at least he tried to. It was more difficult than anticipated to chase after her through all the chaos she stirred up, so he quickly lost sight of the golem when she rounded a corner. This mad dash of hers lasted for less than a minute before rapidly slowing to an uncertain gait, her target lost.
“Damn it, all! You! Hey, you!”
She looked to the closest pedestrian - a gnome with a mechanized monocle that was stuffing a meat-filled pastry into his mouth - and grabbed him by the shoulders when he didn’t immediately respond.
“Wuh? Wha?!”
The man was understandably confused to be accosted by a shiny woman in the middle of his lunchtime stroll. It was all so sudden that he had yet to realize she was a golem.
“Did you see a red-haired beastkin around here?!”
“Who? What? Huh?!”
“Red! Hair! Beastkin!” she shook him furiously. “Where is she, meatbag?!”
“Aaah! Don’t hurt me! Please!”
Seeing him whimpering and hiding behind a half-eaten sausage roll made Fizzy realize she was acting crazy. Well, crazier than usual. She let him go with a mumbled, half-assed apology and stormed off, her eyes continuing to scan the crowd. It really spoke volumes as to how obsessive-compulsive gnomish society was that almost nobody even seemed to notice the little scene she just caused. Or that there was, in fact, a one-of-a-kind mithril construct right next to them. Fizzy would normally take offense to being ignored, but she had bigger fish to fry at that moment.
“You know that, realistically, there’s no way that was Keira, right?” her alter ego spoke up.
“But I just saw it! I know you did, too!”
Indeed, she’d know that head of crimson hair with the feline ears poking out of it anywhere. It was a look that was scientifically designed to stand out and draw attention.
“I didn’t, actually.”
“She was there, I tell you!”
“I never said she wasn’t. All I’m saying is, that was probably just someone that looked like her. Him. It. You know what I mean.”
“I… Yeah. Probably..”
Fizzy relented, but was still visibly upset. That glimpse she caught of a crimson pointy-eared mane, whether real or imagined, had stirred up a cocktail of emotions that she thought she had under control. Looking at her present behavior, that clearly wasn’t the case. Plus sensed this confused turmoil and tried to comfort her other self.
“Are you going to be alright?”
“… No. I’m not,” she answered after a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ‘alright.’ Too much baggage for that, but I’ve made peace with that fact. I think it’s about time I made peace with this one, too.”
“Huff! Dere you are!” Tony ran up, looking winded. “Lost you for a second dere, boss. So, where dis dead meat dat you were after?”
“Never mind that. Change of plans. Follow me, and keep up this time you worthless bag of piss.”
The hob had worked with the emotionally unstable construct long enough to know when she was in a dick-punching mood, and decided to just do what he was told without any lip. This time she did ask for directions, mostly from store owners and patrolling coppers. Tony was somewhat surprised to hear she was looking for temples, chapels, and the like. Yes, she was a Paladin, but both of them knew that the God of Luck wasn’t one to appreciate lavish ceremonies and fancy altars. It was a very informal religion, to say the least.
In any event, Fizzy’s search for holy ground turned up a rather curious result. As expected, there were numerous places where the faithful gathered to offer worship to various deities. The temple that caught the golem’s interest was situated within a small village just outside the city’s northern border. Apparently, that area had been settled by a small community of giants. Well, ‘small’ was relatively speaking. As their name implied, the people themselves were huge. They were a little over three meters tall on average - about halfway between a fiend and a cyclops. It was physically impossible for them to integrate into gnomish society, yet they still chose to settle right next to the little ones. They had built their own little commune where they continued to practice their ancient culture and traditions. This included their faith and devotion to Solus, the Lord of Life and Light, to whom they had dedicated a modest temple. Well, ‘modest’ was relatively speaking. It was plain and simple in its design and decoration, but its actual size would probably give some of the younger Architects a bit of a stiffy.
That was the religious institution that Fizzy decided to visit, for reasons that she found suitably ironic. Before that, she dropped by the local Mercenary Guild to get Tony something to keep him busy while she took care of things. This was more difficult than anticipated. A concerning amount of the Quests on offer had to do with Artificers or Alchemists seeking living test subjects. She had invested too much time and money into her shield-serf to lose him in a freak transmogrification accident. In the end she just rented a room and ordered the greenskin to stay put while she took care of her business. Naturally, the hobgoblin didn’t listen and crept out as soon as the golem was gone. He tailed her through the busy streets, right up until she left the city and entered that giants’ commune. The hob didn’t follow her in, mostly because it gave him the creeps. Lots of tall people full of mirth and joy, and he couldn’t lay a finger on any of them if he hoped to maintain his ruse. Absolutely dreadful place, that.
On a more serious note, they had an actual sentry on the lookout, and the greenskin didn’t want to push his luck. Besides, he had a hunch this wasn’t the golem’s final destination. He had to wait a few hours before his instincts were ultimately proven accurate. Fizzy left the giant wooden temple in the middle of the village around sunset and made her way towards the barren badlands north of the city. She kept walking seemingly at random until the sun went down. The lit-up city of Dragunov could be seen a few kilometers away in the distance, standing defiantly amidst a sea of darkness. Or at least it would have on any other date. Tonight just so happened to be the night of a Lunar Convergence, meaning that all three of Terrania’s moons shone in the sky at once and bathed the ground below in their collective glow. Fizzy was rather thankful for the additional illumination, as she would have probably gotten lost without it. And yet despite all this ambient light, the countless stars sprinkled across the cosmos continued to twinkle their hardest from unimaginable distances away.
The golem chuckled as she stared heavenward.
“Boxxy always said it wanted to pluck those shinies out of the sky, didn’t it?”
Fizzy would have gladly helped it with that if it were within her power to do so, but it wasn’t. In fact, the things she was actually capable of were precious few, especially when compared to that incredibly crafty monster. It always seemed to have an answer to whatever question life threw at. Sometimes brilliant, sometimes idiotic, but it never failed to come up with something. The golem envied that terrifying adaptability. If her mind was even half as flexible, then perhaps she would have thought of something better to do instead of the pointless and rather pathetic gesture she had in mind right now. Still, even this was bound to be better than the big fat nothing she did when Boxxy met its end. It was for her own sake, so she cast aside her doubts and got busy.
The golem began by taking a polished stone slab out of her Bag of Holding. It was wider than it was taller and plenty thick, too. She dug out some of the dirt with her bare hand and stuck the chiseled chunk in so it stood upright on its own. This sole marble headstone atop the small hill looked incredibly lonely, but then again, that was more or less the point. This ceremony was for her and nobody else. Perhaps she might visit later to reminisce. Of course, some vandals would eventually show up and knock it down, maybe even try and dig up the body, but Fizzy couldn’t worry about that right now. Besides, the joke would be on them, because there was no body to be found.
Yet, she felt it inappropriate to leave nothing behind at all, so she reached for her enchanted satchel once more. This time she pulled out a badly dented mithril plate - a defective graft left over from Malcolm’s arm job. It was the one he messed up when the golem abruptly cut the assembly procedure short. Fizzy felt it fitting that this dead and mangled piece of her be laid to rest at the foot of this headstone. Boxxy would probably scold her for wasting shiny things on a pointless ritual, but it lost the right to criticize her when it got itself killed off and left her behind. The golem knelt in front of the bare grave, closed her eyes, and put her hands together in prayer. She offered a long and formal plea to Mortimer to safely guide the deceased to their next life, as was tradition. Afterwards she sent some regards to Solus and Goroth for providing the labor and soil to make this ceremony possible, which was followed by a shout-out to Nigel. It wouldn’t be fair to leave him out of this. Last but not least, she threw a quick ‘fuck you’ Teresa’s way. That one was more personal, seeing as it was her boy toy that ripped Fizzy’s arm off in the first place.
After about fifteen minutes of paying respects to the divine, the golem opened her eyes, leaned forward, and solemnly placed a hand on the headstone.
“Well, this is it, I guess,” she muttered to herself. “It’s funny, really. Back when we were on the run from Edward, I could only dream about this moment. Granted, the scene in my head contained a lot more laughing on my part and a lot more of your corpse under my feet, but I gotta take what I can get, right?”
The golem chuckled dryly once more as her face smoothed out into a sad smile.
“I guess we were both pretty dumb back then. It’s crazy to think it was only six months ago. Just look at how much we changed. How much you changed me. I know it was never your intent for me to turn out like this. But that’s just how life goes. Lots of things just happen for no reason, and after everything we went through, I can honestly say I am glad that you happened to me. Yeah. Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? You abused me. You beat me. You raped me. By all accounts, I should hate you for everything you did, and yet… if anything… I…”
Fizzy scooted closer to the memorial while still on her knees and pressed her shiny forehead against the smooth stone surface.
“No, never mind,” she whispered softly. “It’s too late for any of that. The dice was rolled, the tossed coin landed, and this is the outcome. Me, by myself, talking to a piece of polished rock as if it were a dead chest. It makes no sense, but I can’t help it. I think, in the end, all I really needed was to talk to someone. Or something, I guess. Shit. Now I know I’m going crazy. But, since I’m at it, I might as well say the words that I wish I could’ve given you before you went.”
Fizzy placed her metal lips on the vaguely chest-shaped headstone, right on the ‘M’ of the etching that read ‘Boxxy T. Morningwood.’
“Thank you, and goodbye.”