The warmth inside the tower wrapped around Silas like a blanket, a welcome reprieve from the frozen tundra he'd left behind. The smooth stone floor under his bare feet radiated a soft heat, and the icy stiffness in his muscles began to thaw, though the tension of vigilance remained coiled in his frame. Beads of water rolled down his chest, dripping from the frost that had clung to his skin moments before. He shifted his grip on his staff, the familiar weight grounding him as his sharp eyes swept the room at the top of the staircase.
The chamber ahead was dimly lit, its walls unnervingly smooth, their seamless surfaces exuding a faint, ambient glow that cast diffuse light into the space. The air was still, but not inert, carrying a weight that suggested the presence of something unseen. Silas couldn't shake the feeling that he had stepped into a place that straddled the line between the ancient and the advanced, a domain out of step with the natural order of the world outside. A sudden slide-thud jolted him from his thoughts.
He spun, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the wall behind him sliding into place. It shut with a precise finality, cutting off the staircase and sealing him inside. His lips curled into a faint, sardonic smile.
"Figures," he muttered. "No going back now. Guess we keep moving forward."
The room remained silent, but the stillness was deceptive. A faint shuffling sound emerged from the shadows ahead, subtle yet deliberate. Silas tightened his grip on his staff, lowering it into a ready position as he focused on the source of the noise. From the dim light, a figure stepped forward, its movements jerky and disjointed, like a marionette pulled by invisible strings.
The creature was diminutive, barely reaching his waist. Its chalk-white skin was unnervingly smooth, contrasting with the ragged scraps of cloth draped loosely over its frame. In its spindly hand, it clutched a crude spear, the wood splintered and rough, as if fashioned in haste.
Silas tilted his head, his brows knitting together as he studied it. "A goblin?" he murmured, but the word felt wrong even as he said it. There was something disturbingly off about the creature. Its lifeless eyes stared blankly ahead, not at him but through him, their gaze devoid of awareness. Its movements lacked the fluid grace of life, each step an awkward, mechanical jerk.
"Not alive," he muttered, his frown deepening. "A construct... a puppet?"
The system's cryptic hints about "other races" flared in Silas's mind, but now they were impossible to ignore. His status had always been clear: Race: Human. He'd seen it a hundred times, dismissed it as a formality of the system's structure, something simple and self-evident. But now, as he stared at the goblin-like puppet, his assumptions cracked like thin ice. If he was human, what did that make this creature? The word "goblin" came to him unbidden, and yet it felt too strange, too real.
Silas's gaze lingered on the chalk-white skin of the construct, its crude clothing, its blank, lifeless eyes. It didn't move like a living thing, but that wasn't what unsettled him. The very concept of something "other" gnawed at him. Was this puppet proof that other races had existed—or still existed—beyond the limited understanding of his world?
He tightened his grip on his staff. The idea intrigued him as much as it disturbed him. The puppet wasn't just an imitation of life; it was a creation designed to mimic something specific. If this was a goblin, what else might be waiting for him deeper in the tower?
The construct didn't allow him time to think further. With a shrill screech, it charged, the spear in its hand darting forward in quick, erratic thrusts. Silas stepped aside smoothly, his bare feet gliding over the warm stone floor. The creature's movements were fast, but unrefined, its limited reach leaving wide openings in its attack.
"Quick," Silas muttered under his breath, evading another jab. "But predictable."
In one fluid motion, he raised his staff. Spiritual energy surged through the weapon as he channeled the Dao of Force. The strike came down hard, connecting with the puppet's head. A sharp crack echoed through the chamber as the surface of its skull shattered like brittle porcelain. Shards scattered across the floor before dissolving into the smooth stone, leaving no trace of the creature behind.
Straightening, Silas adjusted his grip on his staff, his eyes scanning the room with renewed caution. His chest rose and fell steadily as he processed what he had seen. "Not alive," he said softly, tilting his head. "But sophisticated. Too specific to be random." The design of the puppet—its shape, its movements—suggested intent. It wasn't just a challenge for him to overcome; it was a message.
The sound of heavy footsteps pulled his attention back to the shadows. Silas turned, his body coiling instinctively as two new figures emerged. They were broader than the goblin, their forms stocky and barrel-chested, with stout limbs and thick armor that looked as crude as their axes. They moved with a lumbering purpose, their faces bearded and blocky, their glowing eyes as lifeless as the goblin's had been.
Silas's brows furrowed. "Dwarves," he muttered, his voice skeptical. His mind churned. The system had shown him only one race: human. But this? This was a second race, clearly depicted, even if just in puppet form. Was this proof of their existence, or simply a concept drawn from the tower's creators? His thoughts spiraled further, connecting fragmented ideas, but the advancing puppets didn't give him time to linger.
With a guttural roar, the dwarves charged, their axes carving wide arcs through the air. Silas shifted, the Dao of Momentum guiding his movements as he flowed smoothly into combat.
The dwarves advanced steadily, their short, powerful legs driving them forward with relentless purpose. Their axes swung in wide, deliberate arcs, each strike heavy enough to crack stone. Silas stayed on the move, his bare feet gliding over the warm stone floor as he evaded their attacks. Their lack of reach worked to his advantage, but every missed swing made one thing clear: these puppets weren't just slow—they were strong.
The first axe came down in a heavy chop, carving into the floor where Silas had stood a moment before. He darted to the side, countering with a sharp strike to the dwarf's ribs. The blow landed solidly, but the puppet barely shifted, its dense frame absorbing the hit like a wall of solid rock. Silas backpedaled as the second dwarf lunged, its axe sweeping horizontally with enough force to leave grooves in the stone when it missed.
Testing their defenses with another quick strike, Silas aimed low, sweeping his staff toward the thick legs of the nearest dwarf. His weapon struck cleanly, but the puppet's compact, immovable frame rendered the hit almost useless. It didn't stumble or falter, instead pivoting with surprising efficiency as it brought its axe back into a ready position. Silas narrowed his eyes, his mind racing as he tracked their patterns.
The dwarves pressed forward, their movements methodical, their weapons swinging with precision. Silas weaved between them, dodging and countering in quick bursts, but every strike he landed felt muted against their sheer durability. Without necks to target or legs he could knock out from under them, finding a weakness required timing, not brute force.
When the first dwarf lunged again, its axe came down in another vertical chop. Silas dodged left, watching as the weapon slammed into the floor with a deafening crack. The overextension left the puppet slightly off balance, and Silas seized the opportunity, stepping in to deliver a powerful strike to its chest. The staff connected with a resounding impact, crushing the puppet's torso inward.
As the first collapsed, the second closed in, swinging its axe in a brutal horizontal arc. Silas ducked low, narrowly avoiding the blade, and shifted his stance. He timed his next move perfectly, pivoting to bring his staff upward in a bone-crushing blow to the dwarf's face. The strike shattered its features instantly, the puppet staggering before it fell to the ground