"I suppose I shall have to knock."
Taking a step forward Alfred suddenly paused; he sensed something was off.
And sure enough, before he could move any closer, the silence of the canyon was broken by the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of a machine.
Alfred walked down the centre of the narrow obsidian path. His tailcoat was gone, replaced by a short, improvised jacket that revealed the leather holsters of his throwing knives.
He didn't look like a butler anymore, rather he looked like a professional executioner.
Ahead, the path was blocked by a relic of the Old War.
The Void-Corrupted Golem stood seven feet tall, a hunched mass of rusted bronze and hydraulic pistons.
It didn't have eyes, only a rotating sensor that clicked as it locked onto Alfred's heat signature.
CR-R-ACK.
The Golem lunged. Its massive metal fist, the size of a man's torso, whistled through the air.
However, Alfred didn't jump back, instead he stepped in.
