The stoneborn manning Deephollow’s front gate were bored out of their minds per usual. It was frankly impressive how little this particular bunch had to do, despite the seemingly unceasing war going on. Then again, the fact that the area around the capital was so peaceful was probably a good thing. It might have even given the people hope that they might one day rid themselves of that mechanical menace. Unfortunately, they had gotten no evidence to suggest that was possible over the last two decades, leaving them muddling through the everyday grind with a sort of grim acceptance.

All of that would change today.

It started, as most things do, with something seemingly inconsequential. A lone guard yawned heavily as he looked idly upwards. The Realmstone hung heavily above him, shining its warm light onto the city same as it did all day every day. The guard looked at it lazily, idly wondering when would be the next time he’d get to try his wife’s kraken-cakes as he waited for his shift to end.. There really wasn’t much else for him to do atop the gatehouse but laze around.

The unflinching light he had become so accustomed to seemed to flicker for a moment. The guard blinked several times and rubbed his eyes, but the Realmstone’s glow remained as constant as ever. Wondering if he was just imagining things, he looked towards his colleague, who had the same puzzled expression upon his face that he did. The two stared at each other, the unasked question weighing heavily in the air.

Just then, they started hearing singing. It was an upbeat, silly song about muffins, accompanied by a strangely rhythmic thumping as it drew closer. The two guards scrambled to the edge of the gatehouse and looked down from the ramparts. They noticed a procession of fourteen figures that moved in two columns. A pair of Rockfist Guardians flanked them on either side for a total of four, with each stone construct carrying an impressive looking magmite shell as high above its head as possible.

“It’s adventurers!” shouted one of the lookouts. “They’re returning from a successful magmite hunt!”

This caused quite a stir among the guards since, to the best of their knowledge, there were no adventurers that left the city recently. Or at least, not the kind that could kill four magmites so cleanly in one outing. They hadn’t even heard of such a thing. Therefore, they naturally lined up in front of the heavy gate to intercept the singing procession. Their dozen-plus-two visitors came to a stop several meters away while toning down the vocal performance. Two of them - a man and a woman with diamond skull-buds - then stepped forward and saluted their welcoming party by slamming their right fist against their left breast twice.

“Hail, travelers,” said one of the guards while returning the gesture. “Who are you and what brings you here.”

“Hail, defenders of Deephollow. I am Kragiel of clan Sterner,” said the woman.

“And I am Kadam of clan Sterner,” added her brother.

“So you’re the Sterner siblings, hmm?” said the official while rubbing his chin and eyeing their trophies. “I’ve heard good things, but I never thought you’d be capable of this.”

“We just got lucky is all,” said Kragiel with a shrug and a smile.

“Hah!” laughed the guard. “Luck, is it?”

“Yeah. Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“So what’s the purpose of your coming here, then?”

“We wish to meet with the senate. Both to present them with these trophies, as well as to relay news of the Nemesis’s activities.”

The somewhat jovial mood immediately turned serious the instant Kragiel mentioned the stoneborn’s hated enemy. That wasn’t why the guards at the gate were none too amused with her stated intentions, though.

“Nobody meets with the senate so simply, girl,” said the official coldly. “Especially not lowborn grunts like you and me. You should know this.”

“Oh, I have a feeling they’ll be begging to see me soon enough. You see, I have someone with me that they cannot possibly ignore.”

There was a sound of heavy, metal footprints as Fizzy moved up from the middle of the procession and walked towards the guards. The guards looked stupidly at the mithril golem as her impeccable frame glistened in the Realmstone’s light. Her visage was so radiant, so unbearably shiny, that a few of them had to squint in order to avoid being blinded by it.

“Yo. How you doing, meatbags?” she asked with a wave of her hand.

“Allow me to introduce Fizzy of clan Rustblood,” said Kragiel while presenting her. “In the short time that I’ve met her, she has single handedly defeated a borewyrm queen, routed a magmite den and exterminated an entire colony of shardling burrowers. Her assistance will be crucial in our effort against the Nemesis, as she holds intricate knowledge of the enemy’s strategies, inner workings, and weak points.”

The official was understandably flabbergasted. Not because of the outrageous story or anything. He hadn’t even processed that bit yet.

“Talking… mithril… golem…”

He was still hung up on the shiny woman that was so casually smiling at him.

“Uh… miss Kragiel, was it?” butted in one of his subordinates. “You do realize how ridiculous this all seems.”

“Oh, I know full well how crazy it sounds,” she answered while glaring at the side of Fizzy’s head. “I know so well it bloody hurts. At the same time, this is what our friend here requested, so I can’t really do much about that. I am willing to swap memories if that will convince you.”

“I think I’ll pass on that, miss,” answered the guard nervously.

Frankly speaking, he didn’t want to risk doing that with a potential lunatic. Simply put, this stuff was far above his pay grade. Which was why he walked closer to his malfunctioning superior, elbowed him in the ribs, and whispered in his ear.

“You gonna take this or what?”

The man in question seemed to break out of his stupor and coughed a few times in a futile attempt to wash away the awkward atmosphere.

“Right! Yes, of course. Follow me, please.”

He led Kragiel inside the gatehouse through a small side door. The remaining guards kept nervously looking over their visitors, who were still humming that muffin tune under their breaths. The one that was the loudest and most stared at was, of course, Fizzy herself. This carried on for a few more minutes before their overseer came back, though his facial expression was weird and difficult to pin down. It was a sort of tired smile that had given up on life and its absurdities, yet shocked and disgusted at the same time.

“Op- Open the gates,” he said weakly. “I said open the gates and let them through!” he repeated with a bit of force.

Having not much of a choice in the matter, the gathered security force went about the business of raising the massive portcullis while Kragiel rejoined the formation next to Fizzy and Kadam. The guards gave the procession ample room to pass through unhindered, though one of them walked up to and stood before the guest of honor.

“Excuse me, miss Fizzy?” he spoke in a somewhat confused tone.

“Yeah?”

“What’s that thing in your hand there?”

“Oh, you mean this?” she asked while raising the Iron Teeth into the air. “Just a little something I picked up during my travels. Why?”

“Well, it looks like one of the Nemesis’s machines. I’m afraid I can’t let you bring that into the city.”

“It’s alright, my lad,” butted in Kragiel. “I assure you that thing is no more dangerous than a common mace.”

“Just the same, ma’am. No suspicious machinery allowed. I’ll have to confiscate it.”

Fizzy’s calm smile widened until it turned into a mad, toothy grin. She raised spread her arms out, allowing her wrench to float ominously between her and the poor sod just doing his job.

“Go ahead,” she said while arcs of electricity crackled between the orbs on her head. “Take it from me!”

The well-meaning guard looked towards his superior officer, who just frantically shook his head with a panicked grimace on his face.

“N-nevermind, ma’am! Go right ahead!”

“Much obliged, meatbag!”

Fizzy snagged the wrench out of the air and proceeded into the city proper while marching at the head of the procession.

“What’d you do to the guy in there?” whispered Kadam to his sister.

“Nothing much. I just showed him what Fizzy did to that borewyrm. He was very understanding from that point onward.”

“Oh yeah. Those guys are all just for decoration after all.”

In all the excitement of the past few days, Kadam had forgotten how worthless the guards actually were. Anyone with any actual fighting ability would already be doing something useful rather than lazing about the capital like they did. The only thing this sorry lot was good for was chasing pickpockets or breaking up drunken brawls. It wasn’t like they were completely useless, but they were pushovers in the grand scheme of things. There was no way people like them would have the courage to stand up to that mithril killing machine.

As for Kragiel, she was far more worried about the civilians’ response. Granted, news of the Nemesis’s white enforcer hadn’t spread among the general populace, but she wondered whether Fizzy’s intimidating appearance would cause a riot anyway. It was, from her point of view, a very valid concern. However, she had neglected to take something very important into account.

A military officer used to executing clandestine operations using questionable methods had a very different perspective from the average citizen.

The crowd that gathered to view the impromptu procession as they traveled through the city’s main street were not at all frightened or scared. If anything, the silly song that the visitors were singing upon Fizzy’s insistence had turned the mood surprisingly festive. The men and women decked out in nearly identical gear and the four Rockfist Guardians carrying magmite shells around seemed like some kind of parade. The people of the capital had very little festivities to look forward to normally, so they naturally responded positively to this wondrous display.

The most impressive one was Fizzy herself, however. She strode proudly at the front of the pack, waving and shouting excitedly at the people around her. At one point she threw up a bunch of steel shards in the air around her, using her magnetic Skills to levitate them and arrange them into various combinations. She than ran high voltage electricity through them, causing the arcs of blue lightning to draw various shapes as they jumped between the metal pieces. She was even able to use the sounds they produced to hammer out a rough beat in tune with the unceasing muffin-man song.

Kragiel almost hated to admit it, but that golem’s skills at showing off were first rate. Her attitude was so infectious that even her men started showing off their various Spells. Plumes of bright flame and shards of glimmering ice flew into the air. With so much of the population being forced to take up the Stonesinger Job, the civilians were genuinely delighted at the rare display of flashy magic. Even the guards were getting into it and began clearing the way to allow Fizzy’s group to proceed unhindered while grinning under their helmets. The suddenly festive atmosphere had made them assume this spectacle was something their superiors had organized rather than some sort of coup attempt.

That was why the circus-like procession was allowed to travel mostly unhindered as they moved further and further into the city. They went as far as the innermost part of it, commonly referred to as the Castle District, in the middle of which stood the royal palace itself. The ‘parade’ was naturally barred from entering the palace grounds, though. Their route had been blocked by two rows of stoneborn who were armed with spears and shields and wore armor far more ornate than the ones at the gate.

Having found themselves sandwiched between the palace’s unflinching guards in front and the cheering crowd at their back, the procession had no choice but to come to a halt. A silence steadily descended upon the scene, as everybody was starting to realize they were just sort of going along with the flow and didn’t have any idea what was actually happening. Even Kragiel and her men were confused in that aspect.

It was at this point where Fizzy stepped forward and saluted the guards as per stoneborn tradition. Her right fist banged against the left side of her chest, producing a clear, almost bell-like sound. All eyes immediately fell upon her, and she used this opportunity to begin the customary lip service.

“Brave and noble people of Deephollow!” she shouted. “I am one known as Fizzy Rustblood! You do not know who I am, and I do not yet know you. However! I know of the pestilence you face! Of the ruthless aggressor who has plagued your people and slain your friends and family for almost two decades! But rejoice, for salvation is at hand!”

The golem raised her wrench high into the air and activated her Divine Wrath Skill. The damage and magic boosting effect of it was rather meaningless in this context, but that wasn’t what she was after. It was the golden halo that formed above her head and the aura of holy energy that wrapped itself around her weapon that she was trying to show off. And they had the intended effect, judging by how a sea of gasps rose around her.

“I stand before you today with God at my side, and He has decreed that this abomination will not be allowed to flourish any longer! That is why He has sent me here in your hour of need, and I intend to carry out His divine will without fail! I hereby swear as a Paladin of the Order of the Gilded Chest that I shall not rest until the Nemesis has been stamped out like the heretical wretch that she is!

Fizzy turned her attention away from the crowd that was eating out of the palm of her hand, and pointed her weapon towards the castle above the stunned line of guards.

“However! As formidable as I am, I cannot hope to best that vile fiend by myself! This is why I must beseech you, wise nobles of the stoneborn! Join me! Not in a desperate struggle for survival, but for a righteous crusade to reclaim all that your people have lost!”

It was at that point that the Realmstone far above this farce flickered once more, drawing everyone’s gazes upward. The massive crystal orb’s light pulsated steadily for several seconds, waxing and waning steadily like a breathing chest or a beating heart. It then shone brightly - brighter than it ever had in the last twenty years - and let out a pillar of serene, white light that fell on Fizzy like a spotlight.

The tension in the air was so thick that one could almost choke on it. Even Kragiel and Kadam who were supposedly in on the golem’s intentions were taken aback by this sudden development. As for the one right smack in the middle of all this, she fell down to her knees, gazed up at the Realmstone and threw her arms out. The white light that poured down upon her bounced off her impeccably shiny frame and danced across the surroundings with her every move. It was almost as if she was sharing it with everyone gathered there.

What followed was a thunderous cheer as the people celebrated what was undoubtedly a sign from the divines. Cries of ‘All hail Fizzy!’ and ‘God has not forsaken us!’ could be heard sporadically throughout the crowd. Given the extreme atmosphere, it was only inevitable that the mithril golem be escorted into the castle by the palace guards. Anything less than that and they risked a genuine riot on their hands. She was even able to bring along Kragiel to serve as an intermediary.

The interior of the royal palace was nowhere near as opulent as either of them expected, however. The walls, floors and ceilings were all bare, devoid of any paintings, statues, carpets, chandeliers or any other sort of decoration. Even the stoneborn officer was shocked at how depressingly empty the halls they were led through were. This was the first time she had seen the inside of the castle, so her reaction to this desolate and depressing building was only to be expected. It almost made her forget about what had just transpired outside.

Almost being the operative word there.

“F-Fizzy?” she asked quietly, wary of the guard that was leading them. “What happened back there?”

“Dunno,” responded the golem. “It was kind of weird, even by my standards.”

She honestly didn’t know what to make of that light show, but she wasn’t about to complain since it helped bamboozle her way in here. She wasn’t too worried about it, either. Fizzy had a feeling she was about to find out exactly what was going on around here, one way or another.

“Yeah. ‘Weird’ is one way to put it I suppose,” groaned Kragiel.

Frankly speaking, her stoneborn common sense had already been murdered by this absurd creature in front of her, so she had very little intention of questioning things. She would just roll with the punches as best she could, much like her fellow Paladin had done so before they came in here.

The pair was escorted into a large, circular chamber. The tall walls were lined with a total of fifteen small balconies, although only six of them had people standing in them. There was a hole in the ceiling, through which the Realmstone’s still fluctuating light shone through. It fell upon the marble floor, illuminating a withered carving of some kind. As for the purpose of this room, that was made evident by the empty stone throne that lay on the opposite side of it and the golden crown that rested upon it.

Which wasn’t to say that there wasn’t anyone in charge, however. Fizzy had heard from Kragiel that, although greatly diminished, the senate still had a central figure. The man in question was an elder stoneborn, his eyes and skull-buds an onyx black, though his dark hair and dignified beard had streaks of gray running through it. He was seated on a smaller, far less impressive throne about two meters to the right of the royal one. In fact, it was more akin to a simple chair one would find in a commoner’s household than any grandiose seat of power. As for the man that was seated upon it, his plain clothing made him look like a common shoe cobbler, even though his identity was almost the opposite of that.

“You must be the steward,” called out the golem. “Magrik, right?”

“Indeed I am, usurper,” he answered in a shaky voice without any semblance of life or vigor.

“Good. I have several complaints I would like to make.”

The golem stepped forward, her heavy footsteps echoing through the nearly abandoned castle.

“I see. You have come to laugh at us,” spoke Magrik with a sort of defeated tone.

“Laugh? No, not really.”

“Oh? Then why have you so brazenly forced yourself in here, usurper? Is it not to mock us and cast us out as you claim this rotting carcass of a nation for your own?”

“Nah, nothing as grand as that. I was just thinking that my boot and your groin had an appointment. After that, we’ll see where the wind takes us.”

“Heh. Heheheh. You are queer one, usurper.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Because that is what you are!” screamed one of the nobles from his private balcony.

“Calm yourself, Borg,” insisted the steward.

“I will not! I will not have this outsider, this- this- this pretender insult all that we have sacrificed so openly! I may not have much left to my clan’s name, but I will not have her sully my ancestor’s honor!”

“Okay. Time out,” said Fizzy. “The empty castle, the defeatist attitude, that light out there - it doesn’t add up. What in Patrick’s name is going on around here?”

“… In truth, the noble caste are nowhere near as well off as we make our subjects believe we are.”

The one to speak up wasn’t Borg or Magrik, but one of the other nobles upon the balconies. It was a female stoneborn with amethyst skull-buds.

“Our resources, our coffers, our troops, even our own sons and daughters - we have given all of those towards the war effort,” she continued. “All we have left by now are pointlessly big houses that are too expensive to even clean. I’d wager there are many in the merchant or warrior castes that eat better than we do, if I had two gold pieces to rub together. Whatever personal funds we obtain just go towards keeping our hollow estates from falling apart.”

“Why?!” shouted Kragiel. “Why do you insist on keeping up appearances if you’re really struggling as much as you say?!”

“Because our pride as nobles demands it,” replied Borg. “I doubt a commoner like you would understand.”

“You’re right! I don’t! You people are out of your damned minds!”

“Kragiel, calm down,” urged Fizzy. “It’s not all that hard to see their intention. Just think about it. What do you think the common man would do if he suddenly found out those who were above him were all penniless and effectively powerless?”

“I-! … I don’t know. Surely it can’t be all that bad, right?”

“Your rigid, antiquated society would collapse,” declared the golem. “Trust me on this. History is not in your favor.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The dwarves - your people’s descendants on the surface - they inherited your messed up traditions.”

The stifling caste system was one where everyone’s role in society was determined upon birth. It didn’t matter if an individual was the greatest poet of their time, or if they were a genius at working iron and steel. If one was born to the warrior caste, then they would be made to serve the military. If one was born to the miner caste, then they would be forced to dig up the earth with a pickaxe for the rest of their life. Any failure to fulfil those duties would result in this person being stripped of the privileges and rights of his caste, reducing them to a lowly existence that was treated no better than slaves or livestock.

“Transitioning out of it was a long, bloody process,” explained Fizzy. “And it all began when the nobles lost their influence over the general populace in their selfish bid to keep things as convenient to them as possible. The Kingdom that was reborn from the ashes still endures to this day and is objectively better off for it, but that is not the sort of change your people can afford to undergo at this point in time. These guys have given everything to make sure your nation did not tear itself apart in front of the Nemesis, though I don’t think they can keep it up for much longer.”

“I… I had no idea,” muttered Kragiel.

“And that is precisely why we have endured for so long,” said the steward. “The soldiers’ morale would collapse if they realized how incompetent and inadequate their leaders truly are. We no longer have a king, so it falls to us nobles to give everything we have to ensure our people remain strong in the face of this stubborn enemy. Even if we must throw away the lifestyle our peerage promises us. Even if history remembers us as naught but corrupt scoundrels and villains. It will have all been worth it if the stoneborn live to see another day.”

A heavy silence descended upon the tomb-like throne room.

“Well, your wait is over,” spoke up Fizzy. “The Nemesis is even now working on perfecting a new weapon. One that will render all your tactics and defenses completely moot. One way or another, this war of yours is coming to an end.”

“Heh. So is this why you have come, usurper?” said Magrik with a dry chuckle. “To strike the finishing blow on behalf of your wretched master?”

“No!” shouted Kragiel. “Fizzy is not like that! I’ve seen it for myself! She stands against our hated foe, and she holds the key to breaking through her defenses and cutting the head clean off that mechanical tyrant!”

“And then what? She assumes the throne for herself? I find it hard to believe she’ll just up and leave after doing us a ‘favor’ like that.”

“Uh no. Leaving here is kind of the whole point of me doing this,” said Fizzy. “Well, that and revenge, but leaving is definitely a top priority.”

“So you’re willing to officially give up your claim to the throne?”

“… What are you talking about? Why do you keep thinking I’m here to claim your pathetic carcass of a country?”

Magrik the steward shifted his hazy eyesight upwards, towards the six nobles on the balconies. He could tell from their faces and murmuring that they were as uneasy as he was. Could it be that this was perhaps some sort of misunderstanding?

“Forgive me, shiny one,” he spoke up in a slightly more apologetic tone, “but do you mind stepping forward into the light for a minute?”

Fizzy rolled her eyes, but complied with their request anyway. Even if it was some sort of trap, she was sure she could handle anything this stagnated and underdeveloped nation could throw at her. Once she stepped into the light, the Realmstone shone upon her once more, bathing her in the same white light as it had done just minutes ago.

“That. Is the proof of royalty,” declared the steward. “It is not something that many people today remember, but the royal bloodline has always retained a special connection with what lies above. This allowed the rulers of this once great nation to draw upon the Realmstone’s immeasurable power in our times of need. And you, somehow or another, have shown that same ability.”

“Uh, no,” said Fizzy. “That’s obviously not how this works. I guarantee you one hundred and sixty nine point five-three percent I am not of noble descent.”

Not only was she not actually flesh and blood, but she wasn’t even a dwarf back when she was.

“You say that, yet the Realmstone smiles upon you,” argued Borg. “Why else do you think the people outside hailed your name? Surely even you can understand this painfully obvious sign.”

“But that makes no bloody sense! Yes, I know I said it, Plus! It was on purpose so shut your fucking face! Okay, sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’m just trying to figure out what could possibly-”

Fizzy abruptly gave up on arguing with herself and stared down at her left hand’s palm. She opened and closed it several times before clenching it with a fist and looking back towards Magrik.

“Kragiel here was sent out to retrieve some cursed relics,” she spoke coldly. “The ones that belonged to a death knight during the Plague Wars. Why?”

“… I suppose there’s no point hiding it,” said the steward with a sigh. “We have reason to believe the death knight in question was actually the Iron King.”

“Uh, Kragiel? Little help here?”

“No idea, Fizzy. It’s the first I hear of this.”

“We don’t know much of the Iron King,” continued Magrik. “All that remains are old folk tales and myths told in old carvings like the one you stand upon right now.”

The golem looked at the mural beneath her feet. It had been scratched up pretty badly, but she could just about make up the figure of a stoneborn in full plate armor hoisting a giant axe above his head in a triumphant manner. It was oddly reminiscent of the same pose Fizzy herself struck in front of that crowd just a few minutes ago.

“He fought day and night during his reign, eventually breaking through Level 100 and Ranking Up into one of the legendary metalkin. However, he lost his life when someone of his own royal blood betrayed him. His name, title, and even appearance has since been erased from history by his killer. This mural is perhaps the only depiction we have left of him.”

“Okay, so what?” asked Fizzy in a somewhat annoyed manner. “You tried to gather the old king’s armor to tap into the Realmstone? There should be a limit to wishful thinking.”

“It is not just ‘wishful thinking,’ outsider,” chimed in Borg from above. “The undead being we faced during the Plague Wars - the history remembered as the Forsaken Sentinel - he was the focal point of the enemy’s strategy. He had been raised by the unseen general for the express purpose of usurping the power of the Realmstone. He came close, too, but our guiding light rejected the mockery of our great ancestor and purified him on the spot with a flash of red lightning!”

“That is when the king at the time realized that the armored shell he left behind was actually hollow the entire time,” continued the purple-haired female noble from earlier. “We do not know what that sick bastard did to our legendary liege, but it is said that our Ranked Up forms allow us to turn flesh into living steel. We believe that armor may actually be fashioned out of the Iron King’s remains. Our wise king therefore decided that the ancestor’s corpse be split up among the noble houses, so that none may challenge the rightful bloodline’s rule.”

A light went off in Fizzy’s head.

“I see, it’s all starting to make sense now!”

The golem stared intently at her cursed shield as she let out those words. No wonder this thing felt like it had a will of its own at times - it used to actually be alive, once upon a time. This revelation explained quite a few things, such as the origin of the curse and why this thing was within Goroth’s dungeon. One of those nobles probably misunderstood the king’s intention and offered the item as a tribute to the God of Earth.

Most importantly of all, though, it explained exactly what had been going on here.

“You meatbags were wondering whether you could do the same as the undead, but you had no idea if it would actually work,” she continued. “It wasn’t until you grew desperate that you sent Kragiel here out to fetch the missing body parts. But your collection was missing a few bits, wasn’t it? In fact, dare say your project had been doomed from the start. Because believe it or not, the Left Hand of the Forsaken Sentinel is right here!”

Fizzy raised her shield for all to see. The artifact had undergone multiple transformations since it fell into her possession, so it was only natural they didn’t recognize it. Even the curse’s presence was so paper thin that it would be impossible to detect unless one knew to look for it.

“It is a part of me as much as I am a part of it, and I do not intend to give it up! However, if you’re so adamant that I’m here to rob you of your rotten apple of a nation, then I guess I might as well put that question to rest.”

She stretched said left arm out towards the golden crown and reeled it in with her Geomagnetic Grip. She grabbed the jeweled circlet out of the air and raised it over her head as if to put it on. The gathered senators naturally began making a ruckus, and even Kragiel was blubbering incoherently behind her. As for the steward, he just had that same grim expression on his face that seemed to say louder than any words ‘Oh well, that’s just how it is.’

“Just kidding!”

*CRRRUNCH*

In a move that left everyone speechless, Fizzy crushed the ancient crown within her grasp. She introduced her right hand into the situation, further mangling the ornament between her fingers and palms. She balled it up into a lump of scratched up gold and crushed gems, which she showed before the stupefied nobles.

“Your king has been dead for twenty years,” she said coldly. “Get over it.”

The Paladin then tossed the lump of shiny garbage straight up into the air. She unfolded her right arm to reveal the Magitech Cannon and blasted the piece of junk crown. It was vaporized in an instant, with her shot continuing upwards through the hole in the ceiling. The silence that gripped the room was absolute. It was so quiet, that Fizzy could just about hear the distant murmuring of the crowd outside. Well, that and the sound of a ball of magically-created plasma splashing against something incredibly hard.

Your attack has been repelled.

A special action has been performed. LCK +1.

A bolt of bright red lightning then struck down through the skylight, enveloping Fizzy in an instant. The flash blinded everyone in the room while the ensuing thunder drowned out their own startled screams and shouts. When the stoneborn in the throne room regained the use of their senses, they realized that their ‘guest’ was nowhere to be seen.

All that was left of the mithril dynamo golem was a scorch mark on the floor that, curiously enough, seemed to spell out the letters ‘BRB.’