The hiss of acid striking the strange, dark floor mere inches from Rhys's boots jolted him into action. Years of ingrained survival instincts, sharpened by Kaelen's brutal training, took over. "Boulder, left flank! Funnel them!" he yelled, already backpedaling, putting distance between himself and the skittering horrors.
Boulder didn't need telling twice. With a roar, he slammed his heavy pry bar against one of the crystalline pillars near the entrance they'd used. The impact produced a deep, resonant chime rather than a clang of metal on crystal, but it served its purpose. The nearest insectoid constructs recoiled momentarily from the sudden, loud noise and vibration, giving Rhys a precious second.
There were at least eight of the creatures, fast, agile, and spitting corrosive projectiles. Rhys knew his meager Aether Pool couldn't sustain any direct weaving attacks, nor could he afford the concentration needed for complex environmental manipulation under fire. His advantage lay in evasion, observation, and Kaelen's toughening regimen.
He dodged another glob of acid, the acrid smell stinging his nostrils. His Echo Sense worked frantically, tracking the creatures' movements, predicting their lunges, identifying the faint energy signatures building within them just before they spat. He used the pillars in the center of the room as cover, weaving between them, forcing the constructs to split their focus. His body, hardened by weeks of Kaelen's abuse, responded better than he expected. The aches and strains were there, but they didn't cripple him. He moved with a desperate, wire-tense agility.
Boulder was a rock. He held the left side of the chamber entrance, using his pry bar not as a clumsy club, but as a deflecting tool, batting aside acid spits with surprising dexterity, his sheer bulk preventing the creatures from easily swarming past him. He took glancing hits, his thick scavenger leathers smoking where the acid touched, but he didn't falter.
Rhys realized direct confrontation was a losing battle of attrition. They needed to disable or deter the creatures quickly. He focused his Echo Sense again, analyzing the constructs more closely as he dodged. They weren't fully mechanical; there was a faint, corrupted biological element to their energy signature, intertwined with dormant Weaver-tech components. And crucially, their movements, while fast, seemed… patterned. Predictable. Like malfunctioning automatons running corrupted subroutines.
He also noticed something else: the pillars. They weren't just decorative. They pulsed with a low, steady energy that seemed to repel the constructs slightly. When the creatures got too close, they seemed hesitant, their movements becoming jerkier. The pillars were part of the room's original design, perhaps intended to regulate or contain whatever these things were.
A plan formed, risky and requiring precise execution. "Boulder! Draw them towards the center pillar!" Rhys shouted, already moving.
He sprinted towards the largest pillar in the middle of the room, deliberately exposing himself. Several constructs immediately changed targets, skittering after him, mandibles clicking hungrily. Rhys poured a small amount of Aether – not into an attack, but into his legs, a desperate attempt to boost his speed for a few crucial seconds. It was inefficient, draining, but it gave him the burst he needed.
He reached the central pillar, pressing his back against its cool, humming surface. The pursuing constructs hesitated momentarily as they approached the pillar's energy field, their movements becoming slightly erratic. That was the opening.
Rhys focused, drawing on the memory of disabling the force field. He sensed the pillar's internal energy flow – stable, regulated. Could he overload it temporarily? He gathered a significant portion of his remaining Aether, shaping it into a raw, concentrated pulse, and slammed it directly into the pillar's base through his hand.
The effect was immediate. The pillar flared with brilliant white light, the steady hum rising to an intense, high-pitched whine. A wave of pure, focused energy pulsed outwards from the pillar – not harmful to Rhys or Boulder, but intensely disruptive to the constructs. Caught in the pulse, the insectoid creatures convulsed violently. Their movements became spastic, their limbs flailing uncontrollably. Several collapsed onto the floor, twitching, their internal corrupted systems overloaded by the pillar's amplified field. Others reeled back, disoriented, their red eyes flickering erratically.
Seeing their chance, Rhys and Boulder didn't wait. They pushed past the disoriented creatures, making for the only other obvious exit from the chamber – a corridor opposite the one they'd entered. Behind them, the central pillar's light slowly dimmed back to its normal level, the whine fading, but the damage was done. Most of the constructs were incapacitated or had retreated into the shadows, their corrupted systems unable to cope with the energy surge.
The new corridor was darker, the embedded light strips flickering more erratically here. Dust motes danced in the intermittent beams. As they hurried along, Rhys risked a glance at Boulder. The big man had several burns smoking on his arms and torso where the acid had eaten through his leathers, but he moved without complaint, his face set in grim lines. Rhys himself felt a sharp sting on his forearm – a stray splash of acid had grazed him during his dash to the pillar. The pain was intense, but Kaelen's salve, applied liberally before they left, seemed to be mitigating the worst of the corrosive effect, preventing it from eating too deep.
This corridor felt different. Older, perhaps, or less maintained. The walls here weren't smooth; they were covered in faded murals depicting stylized figures manipulating strands of light, weaving complex patterns around geometric shapes. Were these the Weavers? The images were fragmented, damaged by time and neglect, but they depicted beings interacting directly with energy, shaping it with their will. Rhys felt a thrill of discovery, despite the lingering danger. This was proof.
He slowed, trying to absorb the details, his Echo Sense tracing the faint residual energy clinging to the ancient paint. He could almost feel the intent behind the images, a sense of profound connection between the depicted figures and the forces they manipulated. It felt distantly familiar, like an echo of his own fumbling attempts at weaving.
As he studied one particularly complex mural showing figures drawing energy from crystalline structures similar to the pillars, a section of the wall nearby caught his attention. His Echo Sense picked up a faint, structured energy signature behind the surface – not a trap, not a creature, but something… stored. Information?
He ran his hand over the cool surface. There was an almost invisible seam outlining a rectangular panel. Remembering the force field mechanism, he focused, trying to sense the panel's 'activation' frequency. He channeled a tiny pulse of Aether, tuned to what he perceived.
With a soft click, the panel slid open, revealing a small recess. Inside lay not treasure, but a single object: a thin, metallic slate, about the size of his hand. Faint, intricate lines pulsed with dormant energy across its surface. It felt cool to the touch, emanating a faint hum that resonated with the shard in his pocket. A Weaver datapad?
Before he could examine it further, a low, grinding sound echoed from deeper within the corridor. The floor beneath their feet vibrated slightly. Heavy footsteps, slow and deliberate, began to approach from the darkness ahead. Rhys's Echo Sense flared with a warning stronger than anything he'd felt from the insectoid constructs. Something large, powerful, and radiating waves of ancient, implacable energy was coming. This wasn't a corrupted custodian; this felt like a dedicated guardian.
He quickly shoved the metallic slate into his satchel. "Boulder," he whispered urgently, "Trouble. Big trouble." The thrill of discovery vanished, replaced by icy dread. They had bypassed the corrupted servants, but now faced the master of the house.