The activation of their new fortress, their "Asylum," was a profound, earth-shaking moment. The Unchained, a scattered, terrified mob of fugitives just days before, now stood in the heart of their own mobile mountain. A testament to their survival. A symbol of their defiance. The system's warning, the declaration that they were now at war with the very god of their world, was not a threat. It was a badge of honor.
Edward stood on the command dais in the golem's massive head-cavity. His mangled hands were already beginning to knit themselves back together. His monstrous vitality was slowly overcoming the grievous wounds. He could feel the fortress as if it were an extension of his own body. The Dungeon Core in its chest was a second, chaotic, mechanical heart. It beat in time with his own. He could feel the thrum of its power. The latent strength in its colossal, metallic limbs.
