Chapter 17: The Guardian's Challenge
Time seemed to slow as the Phase Mantis took its first deliberate step forward, its iridescent chitin plates shifting colors in the fading light. Mike's mind raced, calculating angles and distances, searching for an escape route or defensive position. The creature blocked the main entrance behind him, and the special wood he'd been struggling to cut lay on the workbench between them.
"Easy now," Mike said instinctively, as if the monster could be reasoned with. His hand moved slowly toward the hammer at his belt. "I'm just passing through."
The mantis's multiple eyes focused on the movement, its head tilting with an unsettling mechanical precision. The scythe-like forelimbs raised higher, their serrated edges catching what little daylight remained. A low, vibrating hum emanated from somewhere within its thorax—not quite a growl, more like the sound of an electrical transformer under strain.
Without warning, it struck. The right forelimb slashed forward with blinding speed, aiming directly for Mike's chest. Only his enhanced reflexes from the level advancements saved him, allowing him to dive sideways as the blade-like appendage sheared through the air where he'd been standing.
Mike rolled to his feet, hammer now in hand, just in time to see the second forelimb coming toward him in a horizontal sweep. He ducked beneath it, feeling the displacement of air as it passed inches above his head. The limb continued its arc, slicing through a wooden support beam as if it were paper. The severed upper portion crashed to the mill floor, sending dust and debris scattering.
"Not good," Mike muttered, backing away. The creature's reach was longer than he'd initially estimated, and its speed was terrifying.
The Phase Mantis advanced with deliberate steps, each of its six legs moving in precise sequence. Though slow in its walking approach, the striking speed of its forelimbs created a deadly zone around it. Another slash came—this time an upward diagonal cut that Mike barely sidestepped, the edge nicking his sleeve as it passed.
Mike retreated further, trying to put more obstacles between himself and the creature. The mill floor was cluttered with abandoned equipment and fallen structural elements—potential barriers, but also hazards that limited his own mobility.
Deciding to test the ancient hammer's effectiveness, Mike darted forward after the mantis completed another slash. He aimed for the joint of its front-right leg, swinging the hammer in a powerful arc that connected solidly.
The impact produced a resonant *gong* that echoed through the mill, but instead of collapsing as expected, the limb merely dented slightly. The mantis reacted immediately, multiple eyes swiveling toward Mike as it pivoted with surprising agility, both forelimbs slashing in a scissoring motion.
Mike threw himself backward, losing his balance and landing hard on his back. The scythes passed above him, close enough that he felt their passage on his face. Before he could regain his feet, one of the mantis's middle legs kicked out, connecting with his ribs and sending him sliding across the floor until he slammed into a heavy workbench.
Pain lanced through his side, but adrenaline kept him moving. He scrambled to his feet, using the workbench for cover as he caught his breath. The mantis approached methodically, its thorax swaying slightly as if calculating the most efficient path to its prey.
Mike glanced around desperately, seeking any advantage. The two-handled saw he'd been using on the special wood lay several yards away, beyond the mantis's position. His hammer was still in his hand, but had proven ineffective against the creature's armored exoskeleton. The woodcutter's axe remained strapped to his pack, which he'd set aside before working on the timber.
The pack now lay near the far wall, forcing Mike to make a difficult choice—remain trapped in his current position or risk crossing open ground to retrieve his supplies.
"Come on, level nine" Mike whispered to himself. "Show me what you've got."
He feinted left, then sprinted right, aiming to circle around the mantis toward his pack. The creature reacted with uncanny precision, not falling for the feint but adjusting its position to intercept his true path. A forelimb slashed downward, forcing Mike to dive into a roll that carried him beneath a massive saw table.
The mantis stabbed its scythe through the table top, splintering the thick wood and nearly impaling Mike as he crawled beneath the structure. He emerged on the other side, now closer to his pack but still dangerously exposed.
Another slash came as he rose, this one catching him across the upper arm, slicing through his sleeve and into flesh. Hot pain bloomed as blood immediately soaked the fabric. Mike hissed through clenched teeth but kept moving, diving behind a large gear assembly that had fallen from the mill's mechanism years ago.
The mantis circled the obstacle, its movements becoming more agitated, the humming sound from its thorax increasing in pitch. It seemed frustrated by Mike's evasions, its attacks growing less precise but more frequent.
Taking advantage of a moment when the creature was navigating around a collapsed roof beam, Mike broke cover and sprinted for his pack. He reached it just as the mantis realized his intention, its body pivoting sharply to follow.
Mike grabbed the woodcutter's axe from its straps, turning to face the oncoming threat. The mantis paused momentarily, multiple eyes focusing on the new weapon, perhaps assessing its potential danger.
"Let's see how you like this," Mike growled, adjusting his grip.
The mantis struck first, right forelimb slashing horizontally. Mike ducked under it and stepped inside the creature's guard, swinging the axe with all his enhanced strength at the joint where leg met thorax.
The axe blade connected solidly—and shattered. The head of the axe broke into jagged fragments against the mantis's chitin, leaving Mike holding nothing but a useless wooden handle. He stared at it in disbelief for the split-second before the mantis's second forelimb swept toward him.
Unable to dodge completely, Mike raised the handle defensively. The scythe sliced through it and continued into his chest, cutting a shallow but painful gash across his pectoral muscle. The force of the blow sent him staggering backward until he collided with the stone wall.
Blood flowed freely now from both wounds, his arm and chest throbbing in synchronized pulses of pain. The mantis closed in, sensing weakness, its body swaying slightly in what almost seemed like anticipation.
Mike still had his hammer, but the earlier blow had proven its limited effectiveness. He needed something more substantial, something designed to penetrate the creature's armor. His eyes darted around the chamber, searching for anything that might serve.
The mantis lunged, both forelimbs extended. Mike dove to the right, rolling across the floor until he fetched up against the base of a spiral staircase he hadn't noticed before. It led to an upper level—perhaps an office or oversight platform for the mill's operations.
Without hesitation, Mike scrambled up the stairs, taking them two at a time despite his injuries. The mantis followed, its six legs clattering on the stone steps as it pursued with determined focus. The staircase creaked alarmingly under the creature's weight, ancient wood protesting after decades of neglect.
The upper level opened into what had indeed been some kind of administrative space—a large room with shattered windows overlooking the mill floor, the remains of desks and cabinets scattered about. Most importantly, there was only one entrance—the stairway Mike had just ascended—making it more defensible than the open processing floor below.
Mike crossed to the far side of the room, placing a heavy desk between himself and the staircase just as the mantis's head emerged at the top. The creature paused, its multiple eyes scanning the new environment, assessing threats and prey position with cold efficiency.
Blood loss and exertion were taking their toll. Mike's vision swam slightly at the edges, his breathing ragged and painful where the gash across his chest pulled with each inhalation. He needed to end this soon or risk collapse.
The mantis advanced into the room, more cautious now in the confined space. Its forelimbs scraped against each other, producing a sound like swords being sharpened. It circled the desk, cutting off Mike's path back to the stairs.
Backing away, Mike bumped into something solid—a wall-mounted cabinet that had somehow remained attached despite the mill's general deterioration. The impact caused the cabinet door to swing open, revealing its contents: rolled documents, writing implements, and—most crucially—a weapon.
It was an axe, but unlike any Mike had seen before. The handle was wrapped in the same spiral-grained wood he'd come to retrieve, while the head was forged from a strange bluish metal similar to the saw he'd used earlier. Runes or symbols were etched along the blade edge, glowing faintly in the dim light of the upper chamber.
Mike grabbed the axe just as the mantis lunged forward, its scythes slicing through the desk as if it were made of foam. Wood splinters flew as Mike retreated, positioning the axe defensively before him.
The moment his fingers closed around the handle, his woodworking ring pulsed with warmth. The axe seemed to respond, the glyphs along its edge brightening momentarily. A notification appeared briefly—not the usual warning or status update, but something that included both the axe and hammer symbols side by side.
"Same system," Mike realized. "Same maker."
The mantis advanced more cautiously now, perhaps sensing something different about this new weapon. It circled to Mike's right, trying to pin him against the cabinet.
Mike allowed it to think the strategy was working, feigning greater weakness than he felt. He sagged slightly, letting the axe tip dip toward the floor as if it were too heavy to maintain. The mantis moved closer, scythes raised for what it clearly intended to be a killing blow.
At the last possible moment, Mike sidestepped and swung the axe in a powerful upward arc. The blue-metal blade connected with the joint of the mantis's right forelimb—and cut through it cleanly.
The severed scythe clattered to the floor as the mantis reeled back, a high-pitched keening escaping from somewhere in its thorax. A greenish fluid spurted from the wound, sizzling where it splashed against wood or stone.
"That's more like it," Mike said grimly, adjusting his grip on the axe.
The mantis recovered quickly from its shock, its remaining forelimb slashing toward Mike with renewed fury. He parried the blow with the axe blade, the metals connecting with a sound like a struck bell. The impact jarred his arms but held firm—neither weapon damaged by the contact.
Mike pressed his advantage, moving forward rather than back, keeping the axe between himself and the mantis's remaining scythe. The creature retreated a step, seemingly confused by this change in tactics. Its multiple eyes blinked in unsynchronized patterns, head tilting from side to side as if reassessing the threat.
The momentary hesitation was all Mike needed. He feinted toward the creature's left side, then pivoted sharply right as it adjusted to block. The axe came around in a powerful horizontal swing that connected with the mantis's thorax, biting deep into the iridescent chitin.
More of the acid-like fluid sprayed from the wound, some spattering across Mike's arm and shoulder. It burned like liquid fire, eating through fabric instantly and searing the skin beneath. Mike gritted his teeth against the pain but maintained his grip on the axe, wrenching it free for another strike.
The mantis staggered, its balanced disturbed by the severity of the wound. Its remaining forelimb swept out wildly, no longer the precise killing tool it had been moments before. Mike ducked under the uncoordinated attack and swung the axe into the creature's right middle leg, severing it completely.
Now unbalanced, the mantis toppled sideways, crashing into the remains of a bookshelf that collapsed under its weight. It thrashed, trying to regain its footing with the five remaining legs, the stump of its severed limb leaving smears of glowing fluid across the floor.
Mike didn't allow it to recover. He circled behind the struggling creature, raised the axe high, and brought it down with all his remaining strength on the junction between the mantis's head and thorax.
The blade cleaved through the armored exoskeleton, burying itself deep in the creature's internal structures. The mantis convulsed once, a violent spasm that nearly tore the axe from Mike's grip, then went completely still.
Silence fell over the mill's upper chamber, broken only by Mike's labored breathing. He stood over the fallen guardian, axe still embedded in its neck, blood and the creature's caustic fluid mingling on the floor around them.
Cautiously, Mike withdrew the axe, ready for any final reflex action from the mantis. None came. The multiple eyes had dimmed, the iridescent sheen of its chitin already fading to a dull, matte finish. Whatever force had animated the guardian was gone.
Mike staggered back until his shoulders hit the wall, then slid down to a sitting position. The adrenaline that had carried him through the battle began to ebb, allowing pain to rush in like a tide. The slash across his chest, the cut on his arm, the acid burns from the creature's blood—all clamored for attention now that immediate survival was secured.
He examined the axe still clutched in his hand. Despite the furious combat, its edge remained pristine, the blue metal unmarred by the incredibly hard chitin it had cleaved through. The symbols etched along the blade had stopped glowing but remained distinct—similar to those on his hammer and in the interface notifications.
"A Crafter's axe," Mike murmured. "Meant for the special wood... and apparently for guardian-killing too."
No level-up notification appeared, no warm rush of advancement or healing energy. Whatever system governed such rewards apparently didn't consider this victory worthy of progression. Or perhaps it was because he'd used a weapon specifically designed for the task rather than prevailing through his own ingenuity alone.
Mike didn't care. He was alive, had found the special wood he needed, and had discovered another tool from the same makers as his hammer. Despite his injuries, the mission could only be counted as a success.
Using the wall for support, he struggled to his feet. His shirt was shredded and blood-soaked, useless for bandaging.
"Man, I Just got this shirt" Mike said frustrated.
He moved to the fallen cabinet and pulled open the remaining drawers, hoping to find anything that might serve as medical supplies.
The search yielded several rolls of what appeared to be drafting paper—thin but better than nothing. Mike tore strips and bound his wounds as best he could, wincing as the makeshift bandages pressed against raw flesh. The acid burns were more problematic, with no obvious treatment available. He settled for rinsing them with water from his skin, which provided minimal relief.
After tending his injuries, Mike explored the upper chamber more thoroughly, searching for anything else of value. Most of what remained was damaged beyond use—rotted paper, rusted metal fixtures, furniture collapsing into dust. But in what must have been the mill supervisor's office, he found a locked metal box bolted to the stone wall.
The keyhole was an unusual shape—not designed for a conventional key but rather a specific tool or implement. On impulse, Mike pressed the head of his hammer against it. Nothing happened. Next, he tried the head of the newly acquired axe. The metal box clicked softly, the front panel swinging open to reveal its contents.
Inside lay a rolled document made from a material similar to the parchment in the underground chamber, preserved perfectly despite the decades of abandonment. Unrolling it carefully, Mike found what appeared to be technical drawings—detailed schematics for the mill's water wheel, saw mechanisms, and processing equipment.
More importantly, in a separate section, there were diagrams of the special wood itself—microscopic views of its spiral grain structure, notes in the same incomprehensible script that filled his notifications, and what looked like instructions for optimal cutting techniques.
Mike carefully rolled the document and tucked it into his belt. Though he couldn't read the text, the diagrams alone might prove useful when building the Void Ripper trap.
Gathering his strength, Mike made his way back down the spiral staircase to the main processing floor. The pain of his wounds made every step an effort, but determination drove him forward. He still needed to collect the special wood and find a way to transport it back to Crafter's Haven.
The mantis's body remained where it had fallen, already beginning to desiccate as if some preservative process had been triggered by its death. No notification announced its dissolution into light motes as had happened with some previous enemies. Perhaps guardians like this were more physical, more permanent in this world's strange rules.
Mike collected his pack and the hammer he'd dropped during the battle, then returned to the rack of special timber. With his newfound axe, would cutting the wood be easier? Or should he still rely on the two-handled saw that had shown at least some effectiveness?
Exhaustion made the decision for him. By the time he returned to the partially cut beam, darkness had fallen completely outside the mill. His injuries throbbed with every heartbeat, and blood loss had left him light-headed and unsteady. Continuing work tonight would be dangerous in his condition.
"Morning," Mike decided, leaning heavily against the workbench. "I'll finish this in the morning."
He needed rest to recover his strength. Without a level-up healing boost, his body would have to mend the old-fashioned way—with time and care. The risk of remaining in the mill seemed minimal now that the guardian was dead, and traveling in his condition would only worsen his injuries.
Mike made his way to a small side room off the main processing floor that appeared to have been a break area for mill workers. Relatively clean and with only one entrance to defend, it would serve as shelter for the night. Using his remaining supplies, he made a rough pallet in the corner furthest from the door, placing the ancient hammer and new axe within easy reach.
As he settled onto the makeshift bed, pain radiating from his multiple wounds, Mike reflected on the day's events. The journey had nearly killed him, but he'd found the special wood and an unexpected bonus in the Crafter's axe. One step closer to building the trap that might protect him from the Void Ripper.
If he survived the night, tomorrow would bring the challenge of cutting and transporting the timber back to Crafter's Haven. Then on to the other materials for the trap
"One thing at a time," Mike whispered to the darkness, his voice rough with pain and exhaustion. "Just... one thing at a time."
Sleep claimed him slowly, fitful and shallow, his injuries preventing the deep rest his body craved. But it was enough to keep him alive until morning, enough to give him a chance to continue his quest.