Baron and Tina each broke off to their assigned sides of the outer wall, their confident strides echoing lightly across the broken stones. Their footsteps, steady and self-assured, faded into opposite directions as they began the sweep.
Ben lingered near the cracked, looming doors of the ruined castle, ancient hinges rusted and wood so brittle it looked ready to crumble at the mere whisper of wind. The door stood as a monument to decay, its surface splintered and dark with the scars of countless years and battles long since faded from memory.
Without a word, Ben turned to the others. Raising two fingers, he waved them forward—a silent signal for Fiona and Evan to follow. The movement was swift, practiced. As he took position by one corner of the door, pressing his back against the cold stone wall, he tilted his head slightly toward Evan.
"Evan, open it," Ben whispered, voice quiet but clear.
The command was more than just an order—it was bait. A trap laid for the mindless sentinels behind the castle doors. It was a simple tactic: Evan, the expendable porter, would open the doors and draw the initial attack. Then Ben would counter, catching the ambushers off-guard. Cold, calculated efficiency.
Evan knew it too. A bead of sweat slid down the side of his face, trembling as it dropped from his jaw. His fingers twitched. He didn't have the luxury of refusal.
With trembling hands, Evan eased the burdensome baggage from his back, letting it slump silently to the ground. He turned toward the heavy door, each step hesitant, deliberate. His foot dragged slightly across the stone floor as he approached, the sound barely audible.
He pressed his hands against the rotted wood and pushed.
It groaned in protest.
His legs bent, shoulders straining as he leaned into the effort, forcing the door open inch by inch. The aged hinges shrieked as the gap widened, and with a deep breath, Evan squinted, expecting the worst.
And the worst came.
A glint of steel flashed in the narrow sliver of light, and then—a sword came arcing through the air, aimed directly for Evan's face. Death approached in cold, merciless steel.
Evan's breath caught in his throat. He shut his eyes, bracing for the inevitable.
"CLANG!!"
Metal screamed against metal.
Evan flinched, his heart slamming against his ribs. When he opened his eyes, the sword meant for his death was frozen in place—locked against the blade of Ben's own weapon, intercepting it with expert timing.
"Just as usual," Ben muttered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "The intel said there will always be a Living Armour to attack when you open the castle doors."
He chuckled.
Then, with a forceful swing, he knocked the Living Armour back. The creature stumbled, its metal joints clanking in protest. Ben didn't hesitate—he surged forward, a blur of motion, and with the side of his sword, he struck the Armour square in the torso. The blow sent it flying into the wall, collapsing it in a heap of motionless steel.
The threat neutralized, Ben stepped over the remains and entered the castle.
Fiona followed him in silence, her eyes scanning the dim interior. The broken halls beyond loomed like the gullet of some ancient beast.
Evan, still frozen where he stood, stared down at the dusty floor. His legs trembled.
'I thought I was going to die.'
"Hey, porter, keep up!!" Ben's voice snapped like a whip.
Evan blinked back to life. Shaking the shock from his limbs, he stood, wiped the dust from his clothes, and scrambled to collect the bags. He fell into a brisk walk, trailing just behind them into the darkness of the castle.
Elsewhere — On Baron's Side
Baron stomped the heel of his boot into the helm of a fallen Living Armour, cracking the iron casing beneath his weight. With a huff of boredom, he slung his sword lazily over his shoulder.
Around him, two other Living Armours layed motionless on the ground, their empty helms dented.
"This is getting boring now," Baron muttered, brushing off his shoulder.
"The intel said that there's nothing special about this dungeon other than a decent number of them," he added, holding his sword up and examining his reflection in the blade.
"It's no fun since these monsters can't feel emotions either. Sigh…" he said, almost wistfully, to no one in particular.
As he tilted the sword, the reflection shifted.
Something else appeared—a figure.
Baron stiffened. His eyes darted up, following the angle of the reflection.
From above, something moved.
His breath caught.
A Living Armour dropped from the broken archway high above, descending like a silent executioner. Baron spun, eyes wide, but it was too late.
Steel flashed. Blood sprayed.
Then silence.
Back in time — moments before Ben and the others approached the ruined castle…
Inside, the Living Armour wandered the halls with mindless purpose, unaware of the changing world or its own hollow shell of an existence.
As it stepped forward, there was a sudden crunch beneath its foot—a rat, small and frail, squeaked once before it was silenced forever beneath the weight of enchanted steel.
A chime echoed.
[ DING ]
[ DEFEATED 'BROWN RAT' ]
[ GAINED 3 EXP ]
[ GAINED '1' WILL ]
The Living Armour did not react.
But something had begun to change.