Ackster wasn't disappointed in the golem. It was his blow that had felt lackluster. It hadn't felt like he actually hit something solid. It was like punching a cotton pillow with the unfiltered rage of a three-year-old flowing through his veins.
His strike felt useless.
Ackster glared at the golem.
It wasn't like he didn't understand why his punch, or rather the results of his punch, was so disappointing. He knew what kind of opponent he was up against to some degree.
A golem of clay. At first glance, it might look easy to defeat. But with an unknown and possibly close-to-endless source of both mana and clay, the golem was, even if not invincible, immortal.
