The Fight Without Sand
Dayton bared his white teeth in a grin.
The moment he stepped into this place, he knew.
The temple's guardians were golems.
He didn't know who owned the temple, but using golems as sentinels wasn't unusual.
A temple was, literally, a place of worship for those with divine stature.
And those with divine stature might as well be gods themselves.
"Gods, you say?"
Madness gleamed in Dayton's eyes.
For over a century, he'd roamed the deserts, conquering countless dungeons.
He'd slain numerous S-rank beasts—the kind whispered about in legends—but he'd never set foot in a dungeon housing a god.
If a real god lurked here, it was the chance of a lifetime.
A chance to kill one.
"Heh heh!"
A manic laugh bubbled through his lips.
Screeeeech!
Something blocked his path.
A colossal stone creature.
A golem.
The boulder-sized golem glared with fierce, glowing eyes.
Dayton knew exactly what that glare meant.
"Come on, you rockhead."
Dayton drew Clayon.
Thud! Thud!
More golems lumbered up behind the giant one.
The madness in Dayton's eyes deepened.
Black force fields cloaked their bodies.
Just like the traits of humans fused with machines.
"Heh heh! That punk might actually bite it."
He'd known the instant they entered the dungeon.
This place had the worst possible matchup for Zeon.
True to a temple honoring a god, not a speck of dust or single grain of sand existed inside.
Clean magic kept it spotless, no doubt.
The worst environment imaginable for a sand mage like Zeon.
No sand meant facing the golems with raw power alone.
A do-or-die scenario.
But he had to get used to fights like this.
The world was mostly desert now, but not everywhere.
Neo Seoul was the prime example.
The city beyond those walls—off-limits to slum rats—was shielded by force fields, virtually dust- and sand-free.
Much like this temple.
To survive there, Zeon needed to master fighting without sand.
"If he croaks just from no sand, he ain't fit to live."
Overcome the sand mage's limits—or fail and get crushed by golems.
Zeon had two paths, nothing more.
Dayton had never planned to help him.
Zeon had to toughen up and survive solo.
That was the bare minimum for Dayton dragging him along.
"Survive if you can, you bitchin' fool!"
"Why the hell did I follow this old bastard?"
Zeon rolled aside frantically, muttering under his breath.
Boom!
The golem's fist pulverized the spot he'd just vacated.
A split-second slower, and he'd be ground meat.
Thud! Thud!
The golems tightened their encirclement around Zeon.
Dozens of them, all registering him as enemy.
Lucky for him, their movements were jerky as hell. A touch more fluid or swift, and he'd be dead already.
But dodging forever wasn't an option.
Awakening gave him stamina far beyond a normal human's, sure—but limits existed.
Stamina gone meant gruesome death.
Find a way first.
Weapons I have besides sand?
Zeon quickly inventoried his gear.
Right-hand gauntlet first. Elf weapons in subspace, too.
Elven gear was out.
He couldn't shoot a bow, and in this cramped swarm? Useless.
Daggers? Same issue.
Didn't matter how sharp elven blades were—doubtful they'd slice stone golems.
Left with just Kaili's gauntlet.
Only one play from the jump. No agonizing needed.
Zeon clenched his gauntleted fist.
No choices? Make the most of what you've got.
He dodged a golem swing and hammered its torso.
Boom!
The explosion jolted its massive frame. Stone dust trickled, but it shrugged it off.
More punches yielded the same.
Plain hits barely scratched it.
Normal attacks won't cut it!
His gauntleted fist throbbed like it might shatter.
Even with the gauntlet, it couldn't fully blunt rock impacts.
Zeon realized: he wasn't tapping the gauntlet's full potential.
Spot the issue? Fix it.
Condense mana, amp the power.
Whoosh!
A golem fist whistled past his head, missing by centimeters.
Head-exploding close.
Still, Zeon kept cool.
Trailing Dayton had drilled that in—countless scraps honing his calm under fire.
No panic, always rational.
Zeon steadily channeled mana into the gauntlet.
Vrrrrm!
"Huh?"
A fierce resonance erupted from it.
Zeon blinked in surprise—but got it quick.
This was the gauntlet's true use.
Forged from ironclad sea urchin skeleton and adamantium, it was built to condense and amplify mana.
A martial awakener would've clocked it ages ago.
Better now than never.
Dodge, punch torso.
Boom!
Torso exploded, half gone.
Still attacked, pain-free artificial life.
Find and smash the core.
Where? No clue. Solution: beat one senseless.
Boom! Boom!
Shoulder blasted off, limbs severed.
Mana drain brutal from short-burst power-ups, but necessary.
Found it: blue-glowing magic stone in the neck stump, fingernail-sized, mana pulsing strong.
Golem core, obvious.
Crunch!
Smashed without mercy.
Golem froze.
Weakness known—efficient kills now.
Dodge, decapitate.
Smash neck core.
Sounds simple. Reality? Brutal.
Predict/dodge needed smarts, athleticism, mana finesse.
One motion, endless prep.
All in a blink—or die.
Think-act? Too slow.
Boom!
Fist pulverized golem head.
As he lunged for core—
Thwack!
"Urk!"
Zeon grunted, tumbling across the floor.
Waist screamed like it snapped.
No breather for pain—fists rained.
Boom boom boom!
Rolled desperately, evading combo.
Barely out, he gulped air.
Motions too wasteful. Trim the fat, go minimal.
Real-time self-analysis.
Prior hit? Core-strike motion too telegraphed.
"Huu! Huu!"
Panting done, dove back in.
Golem charged straight.
Stone bulk a battering ram.
Non-gauntlet hit? Bones shatter, muscles rip.
Barely sidestepped, hooked leg.
Heavy bastard wouldn't topple easy.
Left hand slammed chest—mana-boosted, crumpled it down.
Smashed thrashing head.
Boom!
Shattered.
Follow-up to exposed core.
Stopped dead.
One breath total.
Inhale-exhale span.
More assaults incoming.
Roll!
Instinct evaded.
Slipped encirclement by a hair.
Targeted fringe golem.
Knee joints wrecked drive shafts, tripped, decapitated cores.
Repeat refined motions: sleeker, deadlier.
Perfect martial sparring dummies.
No true skills like martial awakeners, but gauntlet mastery dawned.
Rustle!
Last remnants crumbled.
"Haa! Haa!"
Zeon heaved, soaked in sweat.
Fight wrung his body dry.
Legs quaked, lungs burned.
Bruises everywhere despite damage control—pain roared.
No sitting pretty.
Dayton pushed ahead.
Linger? Gap widens.
Pulled jerky, chewed slow.
Energy trickled back.
"Good. Moving."
Advanced, eyes dark-adapted.
No fumbling now.
Golem brawl boosted confidence.
Scary foes: fearless, devastating power. But sluggish, predictable—stay sharp, exploit.
More at this level? Manageable.
"Do I got martial talent or what?"
Zeon smirked—
Thud thud!
Heavy steps echoed.
Grin vanished, battle stance.
"Bring it. I'll drop every one."
Golems emerged from shadows.
But different builds.
Human torso, equine lower body.
"Centaur?"
Exact match.
Thud thud thud!
Full gallop charge.
Ancient cavalry storm.
"Fuck! Cheating bastards."
Zeon cursed his big mouth.
Stronger, swifter golems engulfed him like a tempest.