Chapter 770: The Price of Taking It

Leon forced the sword deeper before the ward could seal.

Holy light burned along the damaged path, meeting resistance at every remaining layer. He kept it separate from the ordinary energy supporting his body. There was no room here for an experiment with his Scripture; he needed control over abilities he already knew.

The guardian’s hammer rose another handspan.

Leon shifted inside its reach, keeping the broken chest between himself and the weapon’s head. The movement pulled at his injured side. He ignored the pain long enough to drive a second sustained surge through the blade.

The inner ward frayed where the physical strike and lightning had weakened it. Holy energy pressed through that break, spreading toward the source beneath.

The guardian’s seams flared all at once.

Then the hammer stopped rising.

Leon held the attack until the deep glow changed from pale blue-white to gold. The resistance shuddered against his grip, weakened, and finally collapsed.

Light went out along the construct’s arms. Its shield slipped from his side, taking a broken piece of his armor with it.

He pulled the sword free and withdrew his holy energy. The guardian sagged onto one knee, then pitched forward onto its ruined chest.

The impact shook dust from the dome.

Leon backed away, breathing shallowly around the pain. He watched the dark seams and waited for any sign that another source might take over.

Nothing moved.

He approached from behind the shield, checked the exposed heart with a careful thread of power, and found no active resistance. Even so, he severed the damaged conduits leading to the shoulders and hips before allowing himself to sit down.

There were at least two fractured ribs on his left side. Beneath them, the shield’s edge had left a long gash through the broken armor. The bleeding was manageable. Breathing deeply was less pleasant.

He pressed a folded dressing against the wound and took stock.

More than half his ordinary reserve was gone. The holy attack had cost considerably more than finishing the Marauders’ Avatars. He had enough left to defend himself if something found him, but another serious fight would be a miserable idea.

A panel appeared.

[Regional guardian defeated: 1 of 4]

[Evaluation B requirement will be satisfied upon departure.]

Leon read it twice, then looked at the construct.

One guardian. He could leave with that progress if he chose. The higher objectives were still waiting, but none required him to limp into the next region today.

Behind the fallen armor, the reservoir continued glowing through the grate.

He listened. The conduits maintained the same steady vibration he’d felt before the fight. No surge passed through the walls, and no section of the room went dark with the guardian.

His earlier assessment had held. The mobile guard was disabled; the fixed machinery remained active.

Good. I’d have hated to break the thing I came here to rob.

The thought almost made him laugh. His ribs objected before he got very far.

He stood carefully and raised an earth barrier across the doorway. It wouldn’t survive something on the guardian’s scale, but it would give him warning. Then he removed the damaged armor over his side and cleaned the wound properly.

Loriel had labeled the salve containers. He was grateful for that now, when searching through half a dozen similar little pots sounded exhausting. He treated the gash, secured a clean dressing, and checked that the wrapping allowed him to breathe.

The ribs needed time. Swearing at them provided no noticeable benefit, although he tried it once.

He ate sitting against a pillar, with the dead guardian between him and the door. The last rice cake was no better than the first. He finished it anyway, drank, and waited until the sharpest pain had settled before moving again.

The deposits looked even larger from close by.

They covered most of the back wall, rising to twice his height in places. Smooth layers overlapped along the banks, interrupted by small gaps where later growth had formed over older surfaces. He pressed a hand against one and felt the same dense cold as the sample on the landing.

His fingers left a warm mark that faded almost immediately.

Leon studied the layers before setting a blade to them. Cutting straight through the thickest growth would waste strength. At an exposed edge, a narrow seam allowed him to loosen a slab without touching the wall beneath it.

The first piece came free with a soft crack.

He caught it, steadied the awkward weight without twisting his side, and put it into his ring.

The next was easier. Once he understood how the layers had grown, he could follow their joins, separating sections roughly the size of paving stones. He kept the loose surface grains apart from the denser slabs so he could compare them later.

They might not all have the same purity. A good sample from the landing didn’t justify assuming every part of the deposit behaved identically.

Still, by the time he’d cleared a stretch of wall wider than his arm span, his mood had improved considerably.

This was the sort of reward he’d wanted from the Tower. Knowledge mattered, and so did the chance to test himself, but neither removed the need for materials when an experiment consumed more than expected.

If the prepared harvest behaved like his small sample, he could run longer compression trials. He could repeat a result before trusting it. He could afford to discover that an attractive arrangement failed after hours instead of declaring success because he couldn’t spare the fuel to keep it running.

That prospect pleased him almost as much as the sheer quantity.

He worked steadily, resting when his side began to tighten. There was no prize for getting all the treasure into his ring while reopening his wound.

Behind the last row of pillars, he found a small empty room with one narrow entrance. He checked it, set down his bedroll, and prepared a barrier he could close once he was ready to sleep. It was a better recovery spot than the open chamber.

On the way back to the deposits, a faint movement caught his eye.

An alcove stood beside the central grate, partly hidden by a pillar. A clear pane rested on a low pedestal inside it. As he approached, something flickered beneath its surface.

Leon stopped a few paces away.

For an instant, the pane showed the chamber around him, clean and undamaged. Figures moved beside the grate, and the guardian stood upright at the door.

Then the image vanished.

Leon looked from the pane to the fallen construct.

Whatever the people who built this place had left behind, some of it was still waiting to be heard.