The iron doors leading to the heart of Floor 14 groaned as Marek pushed them open. Behind him, Clara and Seraphina followed in a synchronized lockstep. They were no longer the vibrant adventurers who had joked in the tavern; they moved like shadows, their faces devoid of any human flicker. No fear, no hesitation—just the cold, mechanical efficiency of the Combat Trance.
The Gear-Grinder Golem
In the center of the vast, steam-filled chamber stood the Gear-Grinder Golem. It was a towering mass of rotating saws, hydraulic hammers, and hissing pistons. It was a beast designed to pulverize anything that moved.
Marek stood on a raised observation platform, his emerald-green eyes flashing as he intensified the link.
"Assets," he commanded, his voice booming through the mental corridors of their minds. "Destroy it. No waste. No mercy."
Efficiency Without Emotion
The girls moved instantly.
Clara didn't chirp a battle cry. She didn't even blink as a massive saw blade whistled inches from her head. With her eyes rolled back and her expression as flat as a stagnant pond, she raised her Crystal Staff.
"Hydro-Forge: Internal Pressure."
She didn't create a weapon for show. She channeled thin, needle-like streams of water directly into the Golem’s steam vents. The water turned to high-pressure steam inside the machine, causing its joints to screech and stall.
Seraphina capitalized on the opening. Her movements were frighteningly smooth. Without the weight of her Knight’s honor or the fear of injury to slow her down, she swung her claymore with 100% of her physical capacity. She took hits that would have made a conscious warrior scream, her silver-steel armor denting under the Golem’s hammers, but her face remained a blank, empty mask.
She didn't feel the pain. She only felt the Master’s command to strike.
Together, they dismantled the Golem like surgeons. Within minutes, the massive machine was a heap of sparking scrap and silent gears.
The Giggling Puppets
As the dust settled, Marek descended from the platform. He surveyed the wreckage and then turned to his two slaves. They stood perfectly still, covered in oil and soot, their chests heaving slightly from the exertion, but their eyes remained vacant and white.
"Excellent," Marek purred, walking between them. "Such obedient little weapons. You deserve your reward."
He snapped his fingers, releasing a surge of magical dopamine directly into their nervous systems.
The transition was jarring. The blank, stone-cold expressions suddenly melted. Clara and Seraphina began to giggle, a high-pitched, mindless sound that echoed eerily in the metal chamber. Their faces twisted into wide, blissful smiles that looked like caricatures of their former selves.
"Yes, Master!" Clara chirped, her voice a hollow imitation of her "Happy-go-lucky" self.
"The reward... is so sweet, Master..." Seraphina giggled, leaning her head against Marek’s shoulder, her dignity completely dissolved.
"We love to serve," they said in unison, their voices bubbling with an artificial, drugged happiness.
"Enough," Marek said coldly.
As quickly as the joy had appeared, it vanished. The giggles cut off mid-breath. Their smiles flattened out, their spines straightened, and they returned to being blank slaves, staring into the Green Void.
"We move to Floor 15," Marek stated, walking toward the treasure vault. "The gold is waiting."
He didn't notice that as Seraphina turned to follow, her hand twitched—just a fraction of an inch—against the hilt of her sword. The "Reward" was starting to feel less like bliss and more like a cage.
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and then Add to home screen.