NOVEL NEXT Chapter 38: The Ancient Gate & its Guardian
At the farthest reaches of the Decaying Forest, nestled between two towering cliffs of fossilized bone and petrified wood, lay the Ancient Gate, the door to the 2nd level of the dark world of the Dungeon of Azarick.
It was a relic from a forgotten era.
It was a colossal structure, its vast twin doors forged from obsidian stone and engraved with glowing crimson runes pulsing with an ominous energy.
Time had worn deep cracks into its surface, but the eerie power emanating from it remained untamed, whispering the secrets of a world beyond.
At its center, a massive sigil of chained skeletons twisted around a jagged spiral, depicting the eternal suffering of the damned.
The very air around the gate vibrated with an unholy resonance, an unseen force pressing against the souls of all who dared to approach.
It was not just a barrier; it was a warning.
And before this gate stood the Gate Guardian.
{You have encountered the Exit Gate of the Decaying Forest!}
{You have encountered the Gate Guardian, Arto, the Stone Warden!}
Immediately as Clinton stood before the gate guardian, his system lit up with new notifications, superimposing and populating his vision.
Silently, he stared at the Gate Guardian.
It was not a mere creature, but rather a monolithic force of destruction, a Stone Golem standing over fifteen feet tall.
Its body was an indomitable fortress of blackened granite, veins of molten lava running through its chest and limbs like demonic circuitry. Each movement sent a deep, earth-rumbling tremor, its sheer mass distorting the very air around it.
Its head was featureless, except for two burning sockets of golden flame, void of emotion yet radiating overwhelming authority.
From its massive shoulders extended armored gauntlets the size of tree trunks, each finger tipped with claw-like talons that could crush boulders into dust.
Chains of ancient hexed metal dangled from its arms, remnants of a forgotten civilization that once tried to control it.
Each chain rattled ominously, carrying a curse so strong that even the other monsters of the Decaying Forest dared not approach.
But today, a monster approached, a skeleton, Clinton.
A Skeleton with a Human soul.
Silently, Clinton continued staring at the Gate Guardian, fully taking in the immensity of the existence that he was about to challenge in a battle to the death.
Afterall, this may be the burial ground for his final death.
More than its size, the Gate Guardian’s aura was what made it truly terrifying. It exuded an imperious, suffocating presence, one that screamed of inevitability.
Clinton had watched from afar as this Gate Guardian tore the other apex predators of the Decaying Forest to shreds, maybe today was his turn?
He stared at it. This was no wild beast, no mindless construct.
Rather, this was an executioner.
A being forged for one purpose alone, to crush all who sought to pass through its gate to the next level of the Dungeon of Azarick.
Clinton stood before it, gripping his wooden spear tightly.
{You have entered the trial of the first level of the Dungeon of Azarick!}
{Task: Defeat the gate guardian, Arto!}
The golden flames in the golem’s sockets flared.
The challenge… was already issued.
BOOM!
The ground trembled as the colossal Stone Golem stepped forward, its enormous form casting an inescapable shadow over Clinton.
A deep, earthen groan echoed from within its stone chest like the voice of the dungeon itself awakening.
Then it spoke, its voice a gravelly rumble, ancient and resolute, carrying the weight of centuries. “You stand before the gate, fleshless one”.
“…!”
Clinton was shocked. ‘It… can speak?’
Not paying attention to his shock, the golden flames in the Gate Guardian’s sockets flickered with sentient awareness. “I am Arto, Warden of the First Seal”.
“It is my solemn duty to judge all who seek passage, and my vow to grind them into dust”.
It lifted one titanic fist, cracks of molten energy glowing between its fingers.
“You are weak. You are unworthy. I shall break you, as I have broken countless before you”.
After that, the air itself suddenly seemed heavier, as though fate had already sealed Clinton’s defeat.
Clinton smiled bitterly which in his skeleton face only looked eerie.
But then, shrugging the pity off, his grip tightened around his wooden spear, his jaws clenching. Fear gripped his bones, but something else burned within him, defiance…, a defiance to live!
“I never knew you could speak”. He shook his head. “Makes sense actually”.
He hesitated for a few seconds, then…
“When pushed against the wall,” he murmured, raising his head to meet the golem’s gaze, “even prey bites”.
His skeletal fingers curled into fists.
“I want to survive…, so I must fight!”
“Fight, fight, and fight again”.
“Fight till I win”.
“Fight till I get to survive”.
“Fight till I get to live and dictate the terms of my own existence”.
“Fight till I get to atone for my sins!”
The moment the last words left his mouth, Arto’s eyes blazed with furious light. The ground split apart as the mighty Golem surged forward.
The battle to the death had begun!
Clinton’s eyes gleamed with defiant light. ‘It’s now or never!’
BOOM!
He moved.
…
Outside the crumbling ruins that framed the Ancient Gate, a small group of humans stood at a secluded corner bathed in ethereal white light, isolated from the battle unfolding beyond.
They had not stepped into the gate. Afterall, only 1 existence could challenge the Gate Guardian at a time.
Instead, they remained outside, watching, waiting.
The eldest among the humans, also their leader, the scarred but beautiful veteran named Seraphim held her magic staff, her golden armor reflecting divine light. Her brows furrowed as she peered into the unseen battle.
“It actually challenged the Guardian,” she muttered, her voice laced with disbelief. “Or should I call it him now? He’s clearly intelligent”.
One of the younger human knights scoffed, arms crossed. “That thing is doomed. The Gate Guardian does not fall to lowly undead”.
“It was created to ensure that only the strong pass beyond”.
“That thing,” he gestured dismissively. “Is neither strong nor special, only good at running and hiding”.
A female knight, her silver hair tied in a high ponytail exhaled. “It is strange, though. A skeleton with a will to survive? That alone is unnatural”.
Another of the human knights, younger but keen-eyed, nodded tiredly. “Perhaps it has retained some human reasoning. But that will not matter. The Guardian will crush it, that is its vow”.
Seraphin remained silent for a long moment, staring at the distant echoes of the battle, the tremors, the distant rumble of stone striking stone, and then the eerie silence between clashes.
“Perhaps,” she finally said. “But if it does not die…, be prepared, we have to go all out in one final push to end its miserable existence once and for all!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
And then the knights fell into silence, waiting.
They would not interfere, not that they could.
They would only watch.
And when the dust settled, they would carry word of the skeleton’s fate.