“Thud… thud… thud…”

  The sound crept closer and closer, as if it came crawling up from the depths of the stone passage, carrying a strange echo that made my eardrums itch.

  The torch flame jittered with every vibration, and the shadows on the walls followed suit, shaking like a swarm of twisted, snarling ghost faces.

  I shrank backward until my spine stuck to the cold wall, trembling and bracing for some monster to leap out the next second.

  “Thud… thud… thud…”

  The sound stopped.

  The passage fell into dead silence. So quiet I could hear my own heartbeat like a drum inside my skull.

  I had just begun to let out a breath when, above my head, a sudden BOOM erupted.

  The entire corridor shook like it had been kicked by a giant. Dust rained down. I instinctively crouched and covered my head. Then, to my horror, the seams along both walls lit up with a dim green glow—one point at a time, lining up like rows of eyes slowly opening.

  “…What the—?!”

  The green points connected into lines, the lines snapped into a massive sigil, and from the center of that glowing array, a stone statue pushed its way out—easily three stories tall, gripping a stone axe as thick as a roof beam.

  I froze on the spot.

  Its stone head tilted downward, as if it were looking straight at me. Then came the grinding sound of gears—krrk, krrk, krrk—and the statue’s arm actually moved. The axe began to rise.

  I nearly dropped straight into a kneel.

  —I was literally just sitting down to catch my breath. How did I trigger a hidden trap?!

  The system chose this moment to twist the knife:

  [Notice: Host has triggered a “Tomb Guardian Golem.”]

  “You could’ve mentioned that a little earlier!!!”

  The stone axe whooshed downward. I rolled to the side like a panicked gourd. The axe slammed into the ground with a deafening crash, splitting the stone floor wide open. Shards flew everywhere.

  I scrambled up, ready to sprint for my life, when something in the corner of my eye made me jerk to a stop.

  In the statue’s eye sockets sat two black-purple orbs. When my torchlight swept across them, something deep inside those orbs flickered—like blinking.

  “…Wait. It’s looking at me?!”

  The hairs on my back stood straight up. But that wasn’t even the worst part.

  A long, narrow crack opened across the statue’s chest—revealing a strip of shriveled flesh inside. Like a dried-up corpse had been sealed into the stone, acting as the thing’s core.

  Even creepier, whenever the statue lifted its arm, the corpse twitched—jerking in sync, like it was controlling the statue… or the statue was puppeteering it. I couldn’t tell which was the Golem and which was the master.

  My mind rang like a gong. Goosebumps popped across my arms like a rash.

  —This thing isn’t just machinery. Someone’s actual body was built into it?!

  When I saw dark blood oozing from the corpse’s mouth, dripping down the stone chest with a soft “tap, tap,” my legs nearly folded under me.

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  Shaking all over, I could only scream internally:

  “Is the corpse controlling the statue, or is the statue controlling the corpse?! No—wait—does this thing count as alive or dead?!”

  The moment I asked, I regretted it. I absolutely did not want the answer.

  While I was shivering myself into an early grave, the statue raised its axe again with a harsh krrk krrk, bringing it down toward my head.

  “Help!” I bolted in whatever direction I could find, lungs screaming.

  But halfway through the swing, the axe froze. Just stopped, hanging in the air less than half a foot from my skull—like the statue had lagged.

  I blinked.

  —Huh? I run, and it stops hitting me?

  I tested it. The moment I planted my foot and held still, the axe immediately buzzed downward again, nearly pureeing me into a sad smear on the floor.

  I slipped and stumbled forward, and sure enough, the axe stuck mid-air again, as if some invisible force yanked the Golem’s arm back.

  Not convinced, I held my breath and stood still again. Predictably, the axe resumed its murderous arc toward my face.

  So I took off running and broke down on the spot:

  “So this trap is a sick joke, huh?! Stillness equals death, motion equals life?!”

  The system chimed in, leisurely as always:

  [Tomb Guardian Golems follow the principle of “the living move, the dead do not.” If the host stands still, you are categorized as a corpse. The Golem obeys the directive to ‘slay the dead,’ hence the attack.]

  “You could’ve said that EARLIER!”

  Which is how I ended up shuffling down this cursed burial passage—pitter-patter, pitter-patter—like a baby duck learning to walk, because stopping meant instant death.

  The worst part was that the end of the stone corridor didn’t have an exit at all. All four sides were sealed shut, like I had run straight into a coffin with the lid hammered tight. I didn’t dare turn back either—the Tomb Guardian Golem was blocking the way, and if that axe caught up to me, my bones would fly farther than my soul.

  I could curse all I wanted, but cold sweat was still streaming down my back. Because very quickly, I noticed something worse: though the statue had stopped trying to chop me in half, every time the axe froze mid-swing, the corpse inside its chest twitched even harder. Black blood dripped faster and faster, and when it hit the ground, it began snaking along the seams of the stone floor—forming strange patterns.

  —For hell’s sake! Am I supposed to run around and draw some kind of picture for it?!

  The more I ran, the more panicked I became, shouting internally:

  “You’ve got to be kidding me! Is this turning into some kind of formation?!”

  But the corridor had no way out, and the Golem blocked the only path behind me. All I could do was scamper in circles like some miserable little rat, feet going pat-pat-pat as I cursed a thousand ways:

  “This is it! I’m not even going to die by getting chopped—I’m going to drop dead from exhaustion in this damned tomb.”

  My steps were already a mess, my calves shaking uncontrollably, and my breathing sounded like a broken bellows. Meanwhile the black blood flowed faster and faster through the cracks, its patterns sharpening into grimacing faces glaring coldly up at me.

  A chill shot through my heart:

  —It’s over. If that formation completes, I’m pretty sure it’ll summon something worse than this Golem.

  In the middle of my frantic thoughts, my foot suddenly slipped on a slick streak of blood. With a loud thump, I went flying like an empty sack and rolled across the ground several times in a glorious display of incompetence.

  “Ow—this is the end of me!”

  But what I didn’t expect was that those several rolls just happened to hit all the right spots—my feet, my knees, my back, each one smearing across the blood-patterns. One by one, I wiped the lines out, completely wrecking the half-formed formation like a toddler destroying a sandcastle.

  Just as I lay there dizzy and prepared to be minced by the Golem, my forehead rammed straight into the lower edge of the wall with a sharp bonk. The impact made stars explode in my vision—but right afterward, a series of clicking sounds echoed from inside the wall.

  Before I even processed it, my flailing foot kicked out—and the stone wall shifted. Pebbles crumbled down as a narrow hidden door popped open, all because I’d smashed my head into it.

  I stared, slack-jawed, and only managed to react after a long moment:

  “It… opened just like that?!”

  Behind me, the Tomb Guardian Golem stood frozen, unmoving. It seemed the ruined formation had cut off whatever power controlled it. The corpse in its chest tilted limply to one side, black blood halfway down its chin, slowly drying into stillness.

  I held my pounding head with one hand and wiped the blood from my nose with the other. My whole body felt like I’d been used as a training dummy—calves cramping, palms burning, my back scraped raw, even my butt numb.

  But I still couldn’t help baring a stupid grin:

  “Well… who said I’m useless? Heaven apparently refuses to take me. My little life here was carved out through pure dumb luck! My head hurts, my feet hurt, my hands and back and everything else hurts… but the point is, I’m still breathing!”

  I winced hard, but inside, it felt like I’d just made a huge profit.

  “Heh… behold the young master’s secret technique—surviving by falling on things!”

  Still clutching the enormous bump on my forehead, I stumbled through the hidden door, muttering a prayer:

  —Please, please don’t let this lead to somewhere even scarier…