Reincarnated in a novel: I am the villain!-Chapter 324: Golem?

The descent into the Cathedral’s subterranean levels felt like walking into the throat of a sleeping giant.

The air grew progressively colder, but the ambient Holy Mana became so dense it was suffocating. Elena walked at the rear of their formation, her chest heaving slightly as sweat beaded on her forehead.

Maintaining the [Vacuum Shroud] to bend the light around them was becoming exponentially harder the deeper they went

. The holy energy naturally resisted her wind, treating it as a foreign impurity.

"We are at the bottom," Alaric rumbled softly, raising a hand to halt their advance.

Before them lay the entrance to the Deep Vault.

It wasn’t a standard wooden or iron door. It was a solid, ten-foot-tall slab of pure Adamantite, etched with glowing, interwoven geometric runes of absolute light. There was no keyhole. There was no handle.

"Biometric and mana-signature locks," Lukas whispered, stepping out of Elena’s fading shroud and walking up to the massive metal slab. He examined the glowing runes. "If we try to force it, or if we use the wrong mana frequency, this entire corridor will detonate with holy fire."

"Can you bypass it?" Alaric asked, his hand resting on the hilt of The Anvil strapped to his back

.

"I’m not a thief," Lukas smirked, rolling up the sleeves of his dark tunic. "I’m an engineer. And Hephaestus taught me how to break things gracefully."

Lukas raised his hands. Click. Hiss.

From the inner lining of his heavy, matte-black Magitech Gauntlets, sharp metallic needles extended, biting deep into the flesh of his forearms and connecting directly to his nervous system and mana core

. Lukas winced at the familiar sting, but his focus immediately sharpened.

He didn’t unleash a massive fireball. He remembered his brutal training with Professor Mozart—the hours spent trying to light a single candle without vaporizing the room

.

He raised his right index finger, pressing the metal tip directly against the center of the largest runic cluster.

SSSSS.

A needle-thin beam of superheated, concentrated blue plasma erupted from the gauntlet

. It wasn’t an explosion; it wasmore like a surgical laser. The Adamantite, one of the hardest metals in Elias, began to glow cherry-red, then liquid white.

"Cooling cycle," Lukas muttered through gritted teeth.

He cut the plasma off abruptly. The runes on his gauntlets dimmed for exactly 1.5 seconds, the mandatory cooling cycle to prevent the dwarven tech from melting his own elbows

. The moment the runes flared blue again, he fired another pinpoint burst.

Fire. Cool. Fire. Cool.

It took three agonizing minutes of silent, millimeter-perfect thermodynamic manipulation. Finally, with a soft, dying hiss, the internal locking mechanism turned to slag. The holy runes flickered and died.

With a heavy, grinding groan, the massive Adamantite doors unsealed, sliding apart just enough for them to slip through.

They stepped into the Deep Vault.

The chamber was vast, illuminated by floating golden orbs. Pedestals lined the room, holding relics, ancient texts, and artifacts of the Church. But none of them cared about the gold. At the very far end of the long hall, resting atop a raised dais behind a final set of double doors, they could feel a profound, resonating pulse of ancient power.

The Sword of Heroes.

"Clear path," Lukas whispered, taking a step forward.

"Stop," Alaric commanded, his arm shooting out to block Lukas’s chest.

Alaric’s grey eyes scanned the room. The Titan’s Capacitor fused to his sternum thumped a slow, warning rhythm

. The heavy iron artifact was highly sensitive to kinetic and magical pressure, and right now, it was vibrating.

THUD. THUD.

From the alcoves lining the vault, shadows detached themselves.

They weren’t human guards. They were six massive Holy Golems, standing eight feet tall, carved from pristine white marble and draped in golden armor. They held blunt, heavy maces, and their eyes glowed with a blank, executing light.

"Automated defense constructs," Elena analyzed, her hand drifting toward her Photon Lens

. "They don’t have life force. They trigger based on unverified weight and mana inside the vault."

"If we use large-scale magic, the ambient pressure change will trigger the Cathedral’s main alarms," Lukas warned, the plasma in his palms dimming. "We can’t blow them up. We have to be quiet."

Alaric unbuckled the heavy leather strap across his chest.

SCREEECH.

The sound of The Anvil sliding off his back was heavy and grating

. He held the massive, six-foot slab of grey mythril in his right hand. To anyone else, a man wielding a four-hundred-pound slab of blunt metal was the exact opposite of ’quiet.’

But Alaric wasn’t the clumsy, reckless boy who used to break doors and crush canteens

.

"Save your mana," Alaric told his teammates, his voice a low, absolute rumble. "I’ll clear the floor."

Alaric stepped forward.

The two closest Holy Golems registered the threat and charged. Their heavy marble feet cracked the pristine floor, their golden maces raising high to crush the intruder into paste.

Alaric didn’t brace for impact. He didn’t widen his stance to absorb the blow.

He closed his eyes for a split second. He heard the teachings of Professor Mozart echoing in his mind.

’Everything in this world has a rhythm. Stone. Steel. Flesh. If you can find that rhythm and disrupt it, you don’t need a fireball.’

’You are no longer a bomb, Mr. Ironheart. You are a very blunt chisel.’

Alaric opened his eyes. They were cold, focused, and terrifyingly precise.

The first Golem swung its mace down in a vertical crush.

Alaric sidestepped, moving with a fluid grace that defied his massive frame. He didn’t swing The Anvil like a baseball bat. He stepped into the Golem’s guard, holding the heavy mythril slab with both hands, and thrust the flat pommel directly into the center of the Golem’s chest plate.

[Titan Art: Impact Calibration]

It wasn’t a loud, room-shaking explosion.

Thwump.

The sound was muffled, like a heavy sack of flour hitting the ground.

Alaric didn’t push the kinetic force outward; he drove the Titan’s Capacitor’s stored charge directly inward. The sheer kinetic energy bypassed the hardened marble exterior entirely and reverberated through the Golem’s internal structure.

The Golem froze.

A second later, a fine mist of pulverized white dust leaked from the seams of its golden armor. Its internal mana core, along with its entire structural integrity, had been shattered into powder. The construct crumpled silently to the floor, folding in on itself like a puppet with its strings cut.

The second Golem thrust its mace forward.

Alaric pivoted smoothly, using the momentum of his first strike to spin The Anvil. He didn’t hit the Golem’s weapon; he tapped the side of its knee joint with millimeter-perfect accuracy.

Crack.

The kinetic shockwave severed the mana-joint cleanly. As the Golem lost its balance and fell forward, Alaric brought the flat of his blade up, catching it under the chin. Another suppressed, internalized pulse of kinetic force instantly deactivated its brain-core.

In less than ten seconds, two indestructible magical constructs were reduced to inert rubble without making a sound louder than a dropped book.

Lukas and Elena watched in stunned silence. They had spent fourteen years fighting alongside Alaric, but seeing his absolute mastery over the very concept of physical impact still sent a chill down their spines. He was no longer a siege weapon; he was an assassin wielding a sledgehammer.

Alaric cracked his neck, stepping over the fallen marble. The Titan’s Capacitor hummed rhythmically in his chest, fueling his next movements.

He looked at the remaining four Golems advancing down the hall.

"Four left," Alaric whispered, his grip tightening on The Anvil. "Keep moving toward the inner doors. I’ll make sure they don’t follow."