The bronze doors to the boss room were warm to the touch, vibrating with a low-frequency hum that rattled the teeth in Josh’s skull. He could feel the metal on the other side. A lot of it.

  "Ready?" Josh asked, his voice calm, filtered slightly by the loaner helm.

  "Open it," Bhel grunted, gripping his axes until his knuckles were white. "Before I lose my nerve."

  Josh nodded and shoved. The hinges shrieked, a sound like a dying bird amplified a thousand times, and the doors swung inward.

  They expected the temple. They expected the long slopes, shadowed entrances for enemies to detach from, and a high parapet where the Master looked across the room. They expected to look up.

  Instead, they looked straight ahead.

  The room had changed. The towering Smelter was gone, retracted into the floor or simply deleted by the Dungeon’s reconfiguration. In its place was a vast, circular arena of black iron floor plates and machinery that was pitted and scarred. The walls were lined with massive, silent pistons the size of redwood trunks, and in the centre, grounded and terrifying, was the Forge.

  The Master was there.

  He wasn't standing atop a podium. He was standing at a massive anvil, his back to them. He was colossal, a giant of muscle and soot-stained skin, wearing a heavy leather apron over his lower half, the same bulging armour over his chest and back, steam seeping from the exhaust pipes. His hammer, a block of iron on a haft as thick as a man’s thigh, rose and fell with a rhythmic, earth-shaking violence.

  CLANG.

  CLANG.

  But he wasn't forging a sword or any armour.

  Lying on the massive workbench before him was a nightmare of brass and iron, a construct. It looked like a mockery of a humanoid, its chest cavity open, revealing a clockwork heart of spinning gears and glowing pistons.

  And feeding it was the smoke.

  The black, oily vapour that had been sucked from the corpses of the kobold horde in the corridor was pouring into the room, swirling like a dark tornado before funnelling directly into the construct’s open chest. The Master was hammering the death-energy into the metal, binding the souls of his fallen minions into the machine.

  "He's building a golem," Brett whispered, horror dawning on his face. "He's recycling the mobs' souls?"

  As if hearing them, the Master stopped. He didn't turn around. He simply reached out a massive hand and pulled a lever on the side of the workbench.

  HISS.

  Steam vented from the construct’s joints in screaming jets. The black smoke inside its chest ignited with a baleful, green witch-light, casting long, sickly shadows across the iron floor. The gears spun up, a high-pitched whine that rose in frequency until it set Carcan’s teeth on edge.

  The construct sat up.

  It was crude, unfinished in places; one arm was just a jagged, hydraulic pincer, the other a heavy crushing piston tipped with a flat steel plate, but it was massive, easily ten feet tall and broad as a carriage. It slid off the workbench, its metal feet crashing onto the floor plates with a sound that shook the room.

  The Master turned then. He wore an iron mask that covered his entire face, save for the eyes which glowed with the same furnace-light as his forge. He pointed his hammer at the party. He didn't speak. He just gestured to his creation with a lazy flick of his wrist.

  Kill.

  The construct, the Soul-Forged Scrap-Hulk, roared. It wasn't a biological roar; it was the sound of grinding metal, escaping steam, and the tormented shriek of trapped souls forcing air through brass pipes. It lowered its shoulder and charged.

  "Scatter!" Josh bellowed.

  He didn't scatter. He stepped forward, driving his heels into the pitted iron floor, planting his boots wide, shield raised.

  The Scrap-Hulk didn't have technique. It had mass. It was a locomotive of hate, moving with a terrifying, jerky speed. The piston-arm punched forward, extending on a hydraulic ram, slamming into Josh’s shield with the force of a falling building.

  CRUNCH.

  The impact was catastrophic. The floor plates beneath Josh’s feet buckled. The metal shrieked as it warped downward. Josh was driven backward ten feet in a heartbeat, his boots ploughing up sparks and curling strips of iron from the floor.

  But he didn't fall.

  His joints locked, his skeleton turning into a rigid frame. His skills absorbed the shockwave that travelled through his bones, dispersing the kinetic energy that would have liquidated his organs. The loaner armour groaned, rivets popping on the gauntlet and pinging off the walls like bullets, but Josh held the line.

  "Is that all you've got, you rust-bucket?" Josh roared, shoving back. He managed to create an inch of space, just enough to swing his sword. He aimed for the exposed hydraulic lines on the Hulk's elbow.

  Clang.

  The blade bounced off, vibrating violently in Josh's grip. The construct wasn't just iron; it was infused with the dungeon's mana, hardened by the souls trapped within.

  "Physical resistance is through the roof!" Perberos shouted, his arrows shattering harmlessly against the Hulk’s chest plating. "I can't pierce it!"

  "Burn it!" Bhel yelled, circling the beast, looking for an opening, but the Hulk swung its pincer arm in a wide, erratic arc, forcing the dwarf to dive.

  Brett stepped out from behind a pillar. He didn't cast a spell. He reached out with his mind, feeling the heat of the construct’s engine. "It's running hot! The core is exposed!"

  He thrust his hands forward. A stream of white-hot fire erupted, washing over the Hulk. The construct didn't flinch, but the green light in its chest flickered violently as the external heat warred with its internal cooling systems. The metal began to glow cherry-red, but the creature didn't slow down.

  The Hulk ignored the fire. It raised its pincer arm, snapping at Josh’s head. Josh ducked, the hydraulic claw shearing the metal plume off his helm with a terrifying snip. He shield-bashed the creature's knee, trying to unbalance it, but it was like hitting a mountain. The Hulk retaliated with a stomp that sent a tremor through the floor, knocking Carcan off her feet.

  "It's too heavy!" Josh shouted, gritting his teeth as he caught another hammer-blow on his shield. "I can't hold aggro if I'm dead! We need to immobilise it!"

  Bhel saw his chance. The Hulk had turned slightly to try and backhand Brett with its piston arm. As it rotated, the heavy plating on its lower back shifted, a design flaw in its unfinished state, revealing the massive, spinning gear-train that drove its legs.

  "The gears!" Bhel roared, his eyes locking onto the mechanism. "Jam the gears!"

  The dwarf abandoned all caution. He didn't try to slash or hack. He sprinted forward, diving into a slide across the oil-slicked floor that took him right under the Hulk’s swinging arm. As he slid past the exposed hip mechanism, the gears gnashing inches from his nose, he didn't swing his axe.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  He reversed his grip on his primary weapon, his beloved, rune-etched battle-axe that had cleaved goblins and orcs alike, and thrust the ironwood haft directly into the meshing teeth of the main drive gear.

  SCREEEEEEECH.

  The sound was agonising. Metal sheared against metal. The axe haft splintered but held for a fraction of a second—long enough for the heavy steel head of the axe to get sucked into the mechanism.

  CRACK-THUNK.

  The massive gear bit down on the axe head. It tried to crush it, but the dwarven steel was too hard. A tooth on the drive gear snapped with the sound of a gunshot. Then another. The entire mechanism seized.

  The momentum of the Hulk worked against it. The upper body tried to turn, but the legs were locked solid. The internal stress was instantaneous and catastrophic. A drive shaft snapped with the sound of a cannon shot, punching out through the side of the construct's leg.

  The Hulk listed sideways, its legs seizing up, and crashed to the floor, venting steam and black smoke.

  "My axe!" Bhel cried, scrambling away as the Hulk thrashed, its upper body still active but immobile, tearing furrows in the floor.

  Josh yelled as he stepped in. He drove his sword two-handed into the neck cabling, twisting the blade until the green light in the chest flickered and died.

  The room fell silent for a heartbeat, save for the hissing of cooling metal.

  Then, a slow, mocking clap echoed through the chamber.

  Clang... Clang...

  The Master stepped away from the anvil. He wasn't rushing. He hefted his hammer, resting it on his shoulder. Behind him, on a second workbench that had been obscured by his bulk, lay another frame. Another skeleton of iron.

  "He was making a second one," Carcan whispered, her face pale. "He was going to fight us with two."

  The Master raised his free hand. He pointed a finger at Josh, then tapped his own chest. Challenger.

  "Round two," Josh muttered, rolling his shoulders. The loaner armour was battered, the left pauldron hanging by a single strap, but he felt good. The impact of the Hulk had settled his nerves.

  Bhel stomped over to the smoking carcass of the Hulk, planting a boot on the twisted metal. With a grunt of exertion, he wrenched his axe out of the mangled gears where it had jammed. He quickly inspected the edge; chipped, but serviceable, before turning back to the group, bracing himself for the fight to come.

  Just as the Master charged.

  For a giant, he moved with terrifying speed. He crossed the arena in three strides, the floor shaking with each step. He swung with the precision of a smith striking a nail.

  Josh raised his shield.

  BOOM.

  The impact was different this time. The Hulk had been a blunt force; the Master was concentrated power. The hammer struck the centre of Josh’s shield, and Josh felt the shockwave bypass his arm entirely and rattle his skull. His boots slid backward, sparks flying from the iron floor.

  "Heat!" Josh yelled. "He's heating up!"

  The Master’s hammer was glowing as steam vented from its back. Every time it struck Josh’s shield, it transferred a wave of thermal energy. Josh’s shield was beginning to glow cherry-red in the centre. The heat travelled up the handle, through his gauntlet, and into his arm.

  "I can't hold him forever!" Josh gritted out, the heat radiating through his gauntlet. Even with his new pain threshold, his skin was beginning to blister and bleed. He could smell the leather straps of the shield cooking.

  "Flank him!" Perberos shouted, diving and rolling as the Master swung a backhand that would have liquified him. The rogue came up behind the boss, sending an arrow into the back of the beast's knee.

  But the arrow skittered off. The Master wore heavy, layered plate.

  "He's armoured all over!" Perberos cursed, narrowly avoiding a back-kick. "No weak points!"

  "Everything has a weak point," Brett growled. He was circling the perimeter, his eyes locked on the Master’s back, hunting for the exhaust. Just like the previous times they’d fought him, the Master’s suit was powered by an internal furnace. On his back, protruding from the heavy plate, were four exhaust pipes venting jets of blue flame and steam. They were the heat sinks. If the engine got too hot, they vented.

  "The pipes!" Brett yelled. "Same as last time! We cook him!"

  "He's moving too fast!" Bhel argued, dodging a stomp that cracked the floor. "I can't get close enough to smash them!"

  "I don't need you to smash them," Brett said, his voice dropping into a strange, resonant calm. He stopped running. He planted his feet.

  "Josh! Hold him still!"

  "Easier said than done!" Josh roared. The Master was raining blows down on him, an overhead smash, a side sweep, a thrust with the haft. Josh was using every ounce of his skills, parrying and deflecting to absorb the kinetic energy. He could feel his health was dropping from just being near the boss.

  Josh gasped as he saw the hammer coming down for a skull-crusher. He didn't have time to block it, so he stepped into it, taking the hit on his shoulder plate to close the distance. He slammed his shield rim into the Master’s wrist mid-swing, driving the wind from its core.

  The attack was interrupted. The Master stumbled, off-balance for a fraction of a second.

  "NOW!" Josh screamed.

  Brett threw his hands forward, palms open, fingers clawed. He reached out with his mind, bypassing the physical space between them, and gripped the thermal energy venting from the Master’s backpack.

  Grab. Twist. Fuse.

  This wasn't like moving fire. This was fighting metal. Brett gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead. He visualised the metal of the exhaust pipes not as hard steel, but as soft clay. He imagined the heat melting the rims, folding them inward. He poured his mana into his mental image, turning a thought into reality.

  Seal it.

  On the Master’s back, the four exhaust pipes glowed white-hot. The metal groaned, screeching as invisible forces crushed the openings. The rims folded, twisted, and liquified.

  The Master stopped. He stiffened.

  A low, rising whine began to emanate from his suit. The blue flames that usually vented from the pipes had nowhere to go. They turned inward.

  The Master roared in sudden, confusing pain. He dropped his hammer, clutching at his chest. The internal temperature of his suit was skyrocketing.

  "It's working!" Bhel cheered. "He's cooking!"

  "Wait," Josh said, his eyes widening. He looked at the Master. The suit wasn't just glowing red; it was turning white. The air around the boss was shimmering violently.

  This wasn't a meltdown. This was a detonation again.

  "Run!" Josh screamed, his voice cutting through the celebration. "COVER! NOW!"

  The Master fell to his knees, his armour vibrating so hard it blurred. The whine had become a shriek.

  "Where?!" Carcan panicked, looking around the open arena.

  "The trough!" Josh grabbed the healer by the waist. "Move!"

  He didn't run for the exit. He ran for the cooling trough along the far wall, a long, stone basin filled with water, used for quenching massive forgings.

  "Bhel! The anvil!" Josh shouted over his shoulder.

  Bhel didn't argue. He dove behind the massive iron anvil the Master had been working at, curling into a ball. Perberos vaulted over a pile of scrap metal, flattening himself against the floor.

  Josh reached the trough. The water was filthy, coated in oil. He didn't care. He threw Carcan in, splashing into the depths, and vaulted in after her.

  "Get down!" he yelled, grabbing her head and forcing her underwater. He activated his Bulwark skill, linking himself to those in range, and pulled his shield over the top of the trough like a lid.

  BOOM.

  The explosion was not a sound. It was a physical event.

  The Master’s suit reached critical mass and vaporised. The blast wave scoured the room, stripping the paint from the walls and turning the iron floor plates into shrapnel.

  Underwater, the world turned into a muffled, violent concussive slam. Above them, the air turned to fire. The shockwave lifted the massive anvil Bhel was hiding behind and skidded it three feet across the floor, sparks flying. Bhel screamed as the anvil moved towards him, but the heat washed around him and the iron block saved him from the shrapnel.

  Then, silence.

  The water in the trough was hot, bathwater hot, but it wasn't boiling. Josh broke the surface, gasping for air, hauling Carcan up with him.

  Steam filled the room. Visibility was zero.

  "Sound off!" Josh coughed, wiping oily water from his eyes.

  "Here," Bhel’s voice came from the centre of the room, followed by a hacking cough. "Singed. Partially deaf. Alive."

  "Perberos?"

  "I'm good," the rogue called from the corner.

  "Brett?"

  Silence.

  "Brett!" Josh scrambled out of the trough, water cascading off his armour.

  "I'm... okay," came a weak voice from near the crater.

  Brett was sitting on the floor, leaning against a piston. He was staring at the spot where the Master had been. There was nothing left but a pair of scorched boots and a twisted lump of slag that used to be the hammer.

  "I felt it," Brett whispered, looking at his hands. "I felt the pressure build. I felt the metal yield. It was... heavy."

  Josh walked over to him. He offered a hand. Brett took it, and Josh hauled the mage to his feet.

  "You killed him," Josh said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You turned a boss into slag."

  "We killed him," Brett corrected, looking at the team. They were battered, soaked, and covered in soot, but they were standing.

  Carcan walked over, casting her magic and healing most of their wounds, as well as sweeping away the worst of the oil and grime from their gear. "No serious injuries or major near death experiences," she said, a profound relief in her voice. "We actually did it."

  "We're getting better," Bhel grinned. He looked at the wreckage of the Golem. "Now, let's see if that scrap-heap left us any good loot."

  They walked to the centre of the crater. The loot chest was already materialising. It wasn't the dull iron of the last run. This one was steel, reinforced with bands of brass. Not legendary, but solid.

  Bhel kicked it open.

  Inside lay piles of gold, gems, and crafting materials. But on top lay two items.

  The first was a heavy, leather-bound tome. Manual of the Iron Golem.

  "A crafting book?" Bhel raised an eyebrow. "Rare drop. The Guilds will pay a fortune for this."

  The second item was a ring. It was simple, made of dark iron, set with a ruby that glowed with an internal fire.

  Josh picked it up and could feel heat emanating from it. He looked at it, then tossed it to Brett.

  "For me?" Brett caught it, surprised.

  "You're the one playing with fire these days," Josh smiled. "It’s warm so I assume it will be useful for you... but maybe don’t try it on yet." He looked around at his friends and smiled. "Ok, let's go home. I have a date with a blacksmith in ten days, and until then, I need to figure out how to get this loaner armour off without breaking the rental agreement."

  They laughed, the sound echoing in the empty, ruined chamber, and stepped onto the staircase together.

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