The stone floor shuddered beneath the rhythmic thud of iron boots.
Four towering figures charged through the sulfurous yellow mist, their two-handed cleavers raised high.
Each Pill-Guard stood over nine feet tall. Their bodies were clad in plates of dark red iron bound with leaden suppression seals. For three thousand years, they had guarded Solon’s inner sanctum without speaking, free thought, or rest. They were refined living weapons, each possessing the raw, crushing might of the Sovereign Dao Peak.
The caustic alchemical venom dripping from their giant cleavers hissed against the stone pavers, eating deep, bubbling pits into the rock.
Deacon Vane gripped the edges of his ledger scroll until his knuckles turned gray. “Those are the Four Guardians of the Scarlet Cauldron! In the ancient texts, they were renowned swordmasters from the western continents before Solon tore out their souls, bound them inside this armor, and poured molten bronze into their skulls.”
Elder Sterling drew his sword with a grim scowl. “They know no pain, no fear, and no fatigue. Solon has stripped away everything human to make them perfect butcher knives.”
Behind the open sally port, Sovereign Solon watched through the narrow viewing slit. A vicious sneer touched his lips.
