A dark-skinned man bundled in layers of clothing, a large cotton scarf, winter boots, and worn leather gloves sat by a crackling bonfire. Its warm light flickered against his face, bringing a rare tranquility. The fire's crackling mingled with the icy silence, a small comfort after countless frigid nights. As he watched the flames rise, he felt relief. For once, he wasn't freezing.
A sigh escaped him. A meal would be nice, he thought, but he wouldn't push his luck. He was alive—that was what mattered, though his body was dotted with bruises and old aches. He'd survived long enough to rest, if only briefly.
The man—Jun—stood up and walked to his nearby tent. It wasn't much better than the outside, just enough. Inside, he had a bedroll and a small, portable red stone lamp that gave off a faint warmth, enough to make the tent livable. Digging into his worn leather bag, he fished out a pair of binoculars, then crawled back out into the cold.
He looked up, scanning the darkened horizon, stars faintly glinting above as the wind picked up. A blizzard was brewing. A tired smirk crept across his face; they were heading in the right direction. "At least the beasts aren't as active here," he muttered, but his thoughts broke as a deep, rhythmic thumping echoed from the distance.
Jun's muscles tensed. He gripped the handle of his diamond axe and took a few cautious steps back, sharpening his focus. Steam billowed from his mouth in quick bursts, and his eyes flicked over the snow-covered meadow, searching for any sign of movement.
The thumping grew louder. Jun's fingers tightened around the axe as he muttered a quick prayer. The last blood moon had cost him his shield and armor, shattered during the assault of the zombie horde. He could only hope it wasn't another massive beast. Pulling up his scarf to block the biting wind, he summoned a few cobblestone blocks into his free hand, mentally calculating his chances with the limited defenses he had left.
Finally, the source of the thumping came into view. Jun relaxed slightly, the fierce determination in his expression easing. He exhaled, lowering his axe.
An iron golem lumbered into the firelight, its massive frame casting shadows across the snowy ground. It carried a chest strapped across its back, bringing more wood for the fire. Its blank expression held an eerie kind of calm, its red eyes reflecting the bonfire's glow. Scars from countless battles marred its metallic body: dents from arrows and gashes from swords, rust creeping along its joints, though it moved just as reliably as ever.
Jun rubbed his hands together, trying to coax some warmth into his fingers. Even beneath his thick fur coat, the cold was relentless. A gust of wind tossed his dark brown hair, chilling him to the bone, and a low, grumbling sound escaped his stomach. Doubling over slightly, he hugged his midsection against the gnawing hunger.
The Golem turned its gaze toward him, pausing as if assessing Jun's condition. Jun forced a smile and waved it off, but the Golem knelt, taking the chest off its back and removing a small jar of beef jerky. It tossed the jar toward him, and Jun caught it, fumbling to open it. He tore through the jerky like a starved animal, slowing down only as he reached the last few pieces, savoring them. For now, his hunger was sated.
"Thanks, friend," he said, catching his breath as he tossed the empty jar back. The Golem nodded, placing the jar back into the chest.
Jun rose shakily, fighting the ache in his legs. "I'll have to change our route after that last horde. Blood moon's coming again soon, and I'd rather not face another wave like that." His voice was firm but weary, his resolve worn thin by the constant battles. The Golem's stare lingered, as though it wanted to argue. Jun met its gaze knowingly.
"I'll survive," he murmured. "I've made it this far, haven't I?"
The Golem turned back to the fire, breaking a few branches with surprising gentleness and feeding them into the flames. It didn't like Jun's reassurances, but it held its peace.
Staring into the flames, the Golem felt a faint echo of memories. Once, it had been a protector, summoned to defend a village tucked far from where they were now. The village had been peaceful, its inhabitants safe under the Golem's watchful presence. Children used to play around it, their laughter filling the air, the blacksmith always attentive to its upkeep, never letting a spot of rust take hold.
But that peace had shattered. One day, pillagers attacked. With no guards to help, the Golem had fought alone, cutting down dozens of attackers until the village was nearly empty. The final blow had come from the pillagers' leader, an Evoker, who cast a spell that nearly tore the Golem apart. The villagers' screams still echoed in its memory, their pleas seared into its soul as the Evoker drained almost all of its life force, leaving it broken and rusting among the ruins.
After that day, Jun had found it—barely functioning but alive. With a diamond and a makeshift enchanting table, he had managed to restore the Golem's life force, though the wounds remained. Since then, they'd journeyed together, liberating captured villagers from pillagers wherever they could, surviving and fighting in a shared silence.
As the fire crackled, the Golem watched the flames dance, drifting back to that destroyed village. The dents and scars it bore weren't just from random skirmishes; they were memories, tokens of its purpose and its failure to protect the ones it'd once cherished. But here, in the bitter cold, with Jun beside it, there was still a purpose—a second chance to protect.
Jun, now tucked in his tent, listened to the howling wind, feeling the warmth of the bonfire just outside. The Golem remained near the fire, standing watch over him, ready for whatever the blood moon might bring.
The night deepened, stars shrouded by gathering clouds. And as Jun drifted into a cautious sleep, the Golem stayed, vigilant as ever.
