The guild hall was an oven of tension.
Dozens of adventurers—some seasoned, some green but eager—stood frozen around the entrance as Friezzar stood silently beside Lyra, his wooden fingers wrapped around her hand with uncertain pressure.
To them, he was a monster wearing the shape of a man.
To Lyra, he was simply… lost.
To Arden, he was a question that could rewrite every rule the kingdom held about constructs and dungeons.
The guildmaster, Oren Valen, a broad-shouldered man with streaks of grey in his beard, set both hands on the long oak table in the center of the hall.
His voice was low.
Commanding.
Barely restrained.
"Arden. Lyra. Start talking."
Arden sheathed his sword and stepped forward.
"Guildmaster, we found him inside the Forson Labyrinth. He killed monsters, fought the guardian, and… saved us."
The room murmured like a disturbed hive.
Oren's brow arched sharply.
"A construct saved you?"
Lyra stepped to Arden's side.
"He protected us. He even held back against weaker creatures—he only devoured what was necessary."
Oren's expression darkened.
"Devoured."
Silence thickened.
Every adventurer tensed.
Hands tightened around hilts.
Eyes sharpened.
Friezzar didn't move.
He sensed pressure, fear, hostility—
a mix of emotions that burned his senses like static.
His chest glowed faintly, flickering with unease.
Arden took a breath.
"He's not a mindless puppet. He's sentient. Aware."
"Dangerous," Oren corrected.
Lyra shook her head.
"No. Misunderstood."
She stepped closer to Friezzar, placing a hand over his chest.
The puppet did not flinch.
"He speaks," Lyra said softly. "Not much yet, but he understands."
Friezzar blinked.
Then he lifted his hand and tapped gently at Lyra's lantern, trying to mimic their earlier exchange.
"…Li…ght…"
The word echoed through the silent hall like a fragile bell.
Every adventurer stiffened.
Some drew steel.
Oren raised a hand sharply.
"Hold!"
Weapons lowered—but not fully.
Lyra offered Friezzar a gentle smile, squeezing his hand.
"See? He's learning."
Oren exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing.
"A construct with evolving speech, instinct suppression, self-restraint… and appetite for essence."
He turned toward Arden.
"In all my years, nothing like this has ever emerged from a dungeon."
Arden nodded grimly.
"That's why we brought him here. Not because he's a threat—"
Oren scoffed.
"Everything unusual is a threat."
Arden didn't deny it.
"—but because killing him without understanding him would be suicide. For the kingdom. For us. And possibly for the dungeon system."
The guildmaster's eyes sharpened.
"What do you mean?"
Arden gestured toward Friezzar.
"When he devoured the guardian… the dungeon calmed. It reacted to him. It… recognized him."
Whispers exploded.
"It's the dungeon's core?"
"Is it a new guardian?"
"Is it a curse?"
"A puppet that eats monsters… impossible—"
Oren raised his hand again.
"Arden. Lyra. Sit. We're doing this formally."
The two obeyed.
Friezzar stood behind them like a silent shadow, eyes darting nervously across the room.
The Trial Begins
Oren sat at the head of the table, slamming a thick ledger down.
"Under Guild Law, any unknown magical entity brought into Arnvale must be judged for classification and threat level."
He pointed to Friezzar.
"Creature. Step forward."
Friezzar didn't move.
Lyra whispered, "It's okay."
He stepped forward quietly.
Oren studied him.
"Name?"
Friezzar blinked.
Lyra knelt beside him.
"It's okay. A name… is what you call yourself. Like I'm Lyra."
Friezzar looked down at his hands.
His carved fingers curled into a faint fist, as if searching for something inside himself.
No name surfaced.
He looked at Lyra.
"…Light?"
Lyra flushed.
"Um—no. That's not my name. That's what you call the lantern."
Oren sighed.
"He has no name. Continue."
He flipped a page.
"State your function."
Friezzar froze.
Function.
Purpose.
He didn't know.
A dim ache filled his chest—
the same ache he always felt when he didn't understand the humans.
He lowered his head.
"…hun…ger…"
The room recoiled in alarm.
Oren slammed his hand on the table.
"Control your construct!"
Lyra jumped.
Arden cursed under his breath.
Friezzar took a step back, chest dimming.
Lyra held her ground.
"No—he didn't mean hunger for us," she said urgently. "It's… the only word he has for his instinct. He devours essence, not flesh."
Arden nodded.
"Without understanding language, he's describing his nature, not threatening anyone."
Oren glared at the puppet.
"Creature. Are humans food?"
Friezzar's head snapped upward.
His glowing eyes widened.
He shook his head violently.
"Not… feed," he rasped.
Lyra exhaled in relief.
Oren's expression remained grim.
"Then what are humans to you?"
Friezzar stared at Lyra.
At her lantern.
At her hand.
At the warmth she radiated.
He stepped closer to her.
And his voice—still rough, hollow, fragile—whispered:
"…safe."
The room went silent.
Every adventurer blinked.
Lyra's breath caught.
Oren's expression shifted.
Perplexed.
Conflicted.
Not convinced…
but shaken.
"…Safe?" Oren repeated.
Friezzar nodded once.
"…safe.
Light… safe."
Lyra's eyes shimmered.
Arden leaned back slowly.
"Guildmaster. If he thought humans were prey, we wouldn't be alive."
Oren exhaled sharply.
"We're not done."
He flipped another page.
"Final test. Combat restraint."
Arden tensed.
Lyra stiffened.
"Guildmaster—"
"It's required by law," Oren said firmly. "We test whether the creature can restrain itself under threat."
He raised two fingers.
A swordsman stepped forward—
a veteran, built like a blacksmith, blade infused with faint mana.
He stopped in front of Friezzar.
"Creature," Oren commanded, "you are about to be attacked. You may defend yourself—but you must not kill."
Lyra grabbed Arden's arm.
"This is insane! He just evolved—he doesn't understand control fully!"
Arden hissed, "Oren, if you provoke it—"
But Oren didn't relent.
"This is the rule. If it can't restrain itself, we cannot let it walk our streets."
Lyra turned urgently to Friezzar.
"Listen—fall back. Do not attack unless you absolutely must. Please."
Friezzar stared at her hand on his arm.
Then at her face.
Then at the blade pointed at him.
He didn't understand words like law, test, restraint.
But he understood her expression.
Worry.
Fear.
Not fear of him.
Fear for him.
It made something strange surge inside him—
a warm thrum in his chest.
He stepped back.
Ready.
The swordsman moved.
The Restraint Test
The blade swung down.
Fast.
Sharp.
Lethal.
Friezzar's eyes glowed brighter—
instinct screaming.
Move.
Devour.
Survive.
But he held back.
He dodged the slash with fluid grace, spinning aside instead of counterattacking. The blade clipped his shoulder, sending small wooden splinters flying—but Friezzar didn't strike back.
The swordsman attacked again.
Friezzar stepped aside.
Again.
Friezzar retreated.
Again.
Friezzar lifted his hand—
grabbing the blade.
Gasps filled the room.
The puppet didn't crush it.
Didn't shatter it.
Didn't pull it away.
He simply held it place—
gently.
The swordsman snarled and infused mana into the blade, sparks flying as the weapon heated under his hands.
Friezzar's carved fingers steamed.
But still, he did not retaliate.
Instead…
He let go.
He stepped backward.
And lowered himself to one knee.
Bow posture.
Submission.
The entire hall froze.
Oren's eyes widened once—
Then slowly closed.
"…enough."
The swordsman lowered his blade, chest heaving.
Lyra rushed to Friezzar's side.
"You did it," she whispered, kneeling beside him. "You listened. You didn't hurt him."
Friezzar didn't move.
But his runes glowed faintly.
Warmly.
Arden crossed his arms, exhaling through his nose.
"Guildmaster. He passed."
Oren stared at the puppet long and hard.
Finally—
He sighed heavily.
"…Very well."
He stood, voice firm and resonant.
"By authority of Arnvale's Adventurer's Guild—
the construct is granted temporary protected status."
Lyra's eyes shone.
Arden nodded, relieved.
The room murmured—but no one objected.
Oren continued:
"He will be closely monitored. He will remain under guardianship of a certified handler."
He looked directly at Lyra.
"You brought him here…
You handle him."
Lyra's jaw dropped.
"Guildmaster—I—I'm not—"
"You're the only one he listens to. The only one he trusts."
He pointed at Friezzar.
"And the only one he sees as 'safe.'"
Friezzar slowly lifted his head, looking at Lyra.
"…Light…" he murmured.
Lyra smiled weakly.
"I suppose… that means yes."
Arden smirked.
"Well. Looks like you've adopted a dungeon anomaly."
Lyra flushed furiously.
"It's not like that!"
Friezzar tilted his head.
"Not… like… that?"
The entire guild hall stared.
Lyra put her hands over her face.
"Oh gods…"
Arden slapped a hand onto her shoulder.
"Congrats, Lyra. You now have a walking, evolving, monster-devouring wooden son."
"ARDEN!"
Friezzar blinked.
"…son?"
Lyra nearly fainted.
Oren gripped the table.
"Enough. All of you. The creature stays—but under supervision and strict conditions."
Then he looked at Friezzar.
"Welcome to Arnvale…
whatever you are."
Friezzar didn't understand the words.
But he felt the shift.
For the first time since he awakened…
He was not alone.