Ssshhh—
Thick white smoke began to fill the inner section of the laboratory.
It was paralysis gas.
“......!”
Gariel instinctively tried to stop ti—but hesitated.
In a sealed space with nowhere to run, stopping ti would only an losing more of it.
His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the floor.
Seeing Gariel’s state, Nikolai unlocked the heavy door and stepped inside.
Wearing a gas mask, he looked down at the trembling figure on the ground and curled his lips in amusent.
“I thought a rat had snuck in, but judging from your state, you’re no better than an insect sprayed with poison.”
“Y-you bastard...!”
“Even your mouth is filthy. That’s why it’s better not to mingle with the worthless.”
Removing his gas mask, Nikolai dragged a chair over, sat down, and crossed one leg over the other.
“To think soone with that kind of magic talent spends his ti stealing and gambling. Your dead master must be weeping blood in the afterlife.”
“Shut... up!”
Gariel glared at him with murderous eyes—his only act of defiance left.
Thud! Thud!
The ceiling shook, dust raining down from above.
Nikolai glanced upward with a smirk.
“Still putting up a fight, I see. It won’t last long, though.”
“What... what have you done...?”
“Curious? Well, I don’t enjoy my pleasures alone. How about I show you a little gift before I send you off?”
He reached into his coat and pulled out a crystal orb.
It glowed faintly, and an image flickered into the air like a hologram.
The projection zood in on a massive figure floating high above the ground, its four chanical arms spread wide—
The Machine God.
The surrounding landscape was a wasteland of ruin.
The earth overturned, fires blazing from leaking gas lines, shattered vehicles and buildings, corpses scattered everywhere.
“A monster...?”
That was Gariel’s first thought on seeing it.
“No. A god,” Nikolai corrected, his tone almost reverent. “A god that judges and purifies arrogant, filthy humans.”
“That thing is a god?”
“I’d rather turn that question around. What is a god, exactly? A noble, exalted being? An all-knowing, all-loving symbol of virtue?”
Nikolai laughed—a twisted, venomous laugh.
“That—” he pointed toward the projection, “—is god. Pure power. An absolute that no one can defy. Good or evil doesn’t matter. If it can destroy and create, it’s a god.”
God created humans.
And humans, in turn, created another god.
Like a serpent devouring its own tail—
An endless cycle.
Nikolai believed he had beco the link in that chain.
“John Doe will die there. Most of this island will be purified. And Isla Machia will take its next step forward—as a new Tower of Babel, built to topple the old gods.”
“You’re insane. You really think things will go your way? Your plan will never succeed.”
At Gariel’s words, Nikolai’s expression twisted.
His exhilaration soured instantly.
He rose from his chair and kicked Gariel in the jaw.
Gariel’s head snapped to the side—but his mocking grin didn’t fade.
“Didn’t even hurt. You were the one who kindly anesthetized , rember?”
“...Ha.”
Nikolai started to kick him again but suddenly stopped, as if struck by a better idea. He switched the image on the orb.
“You’re right. Killing you now would be boring. There’s still so much you need to see before you die.”
The new image revealed a girl lying on a bed.
Gariel’s eyes went wide.
“Rine!”
“You even raided the Divine Tower just to save her, didn’t you? Seems she’s quite important to you.”
“......”
“Then watch carefully. Watch her die right before your eyes.”
Beside Rine stood Cravat, casting a powerful curse.
Dark energy coiled around her body, forming a magic circle that shimred with writhing symbols.
Cravat focused his mind, suppressing the divine power raging within Rine’s body.
“A fascinating scene, isn’t it?”
“H-how...?”
There were no surveillance devices left in the hideout. There shouldn’t have been any way to see inside that room.
“Why do you assu there isn’t?” Nikolai smirked. “You’ve always had a pair of eyes following you.”
“...Don’t tell —the automaton?”
Gariel recalled the advanced automaton.
“You thought the ‘Eye of God’ only let control my own machines? Hardly. If it can be seen, I can look through it. Even household automatons.”
“That’s... impossible...”
“Perhaps. But I can observe them in real ti, even if I can’t control them remotely. My subordinates will handle the rest.”
As he spoke, the sounds of battle outside grew louder.
“Still fighting, are they? Then let’s be generous—let’s show everything at once.”
The orb split into two displays.
On one side—the Machine God, tearing apart the three-tiered city.
On the other—Cravat desperately trying to save Rine.
Gariel wanted to shut his eyes, but he couldn’t.
Because in his view, he could still see Ludger fighting the Machine God.
Freed from the tal grip, Ludger burst out by detonating his mana and charged forward, twin weapons of pure energy in his hands.
—Will you give up, then?
Why did that question suddenly echo in Gariel’s head?
Would struggling really change anything? What if it was all aningless?
If failure was inevitable, wasn’t it wiser never to try at all?
Why endure pain for nothing?
—Because trying itself has value.
He could hear Ludger’s voice—though he knew it was an illusion.
Ludger had never said those words aloud.
But Gariel believed—if it were him, that would be his answer.
“Just doing it... has value.”
He might not like the man.
He might not want to admit it.
But still—
It felt right.
Gariel closed his eyes.
Nikolai opened his mouth to mock him for giving up—
Until sothing shifted in the image.
“...What °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° is that?”
* * *
At the bottom of the crater, Phyron lay spread out flat.
The explosion had nearly consud him. His condition was clearly critical—
Muscles torn, bones broken, skin burned black and splattered with blood.
He looked like a corpse.
And yet, he was still alive.
Ssshhh—Hoo.
Phyron steadied his breath.
He inhaled and exhaled slowly, circulating mana through his body.
His stimulated regeneration cells began working furiously, pushing his tabolism to its limits and healing his wounds.
Strength and recovery beyond anything human.
The Machine God, still locked in battle with Ludger, detected Phyron’s condition and sent one of its chanical arms forward.
The arm, its tallic claws sharpened like blades, shot toward Phyron’s heart like a spear.
Even for soone like him—lying defenseless on the ground—there was no way to block or dodge.
“Sir Phyron!”
Roteron shouted, and Phyron, barely conscious, half-opened his eyes to see the arm flying straight at him.
Damn it. If only I had a little more ti.
The mont he sensed his end approaching and began to give up—
A crimson slash flew in, striking the chanical arm with explosive force.
Kwa-ga-ga-ga-gak!
The crescent-shaped slash drove forward, fierce enough to nearly sever the wrist.
The arm that had been targeting Phyron veered away to resist the slash’s power.
A strange pulse radiated from it, weakening the energy of the strike—
And in that instant, another blood-red slash ca flying.
Kwaaang!
The arm was flung backward. Phyron’s eyes widened in disbelief.
In his trembling pupils, he saw the back of a black knight landing in front of him.
“Who... are you?”
The black knight, a greatsword slung over his shoulder, turned his head slightly in reply.
“Soone who owed a debt.”
“A debt?”
“If you leave a debt unpaid—”
The greatsword in his hand erupted with imnse energy.
“—that would go against the knight’s code.”
First Order—Black Knight Verom.
Once again clad in living armor, Verom charged toward the Machine God that was fighting Ludger.
Sensing this new enemy, the Machine God turned its gaze toward him.
“Dodge!”
Ludger shouted a warning, anticipating the deadly light from its visor.
Verom spun midair in response.
The black cloak on his back whirled like a top, enveloping him just as the radiant blast struck.
Boom!
A hole was blasted clean through the cloak—
But beyond it, Verom was nowhere to be seen.
The Machine God twisted its head, scanning for his movent.
By the ti it located him, Verom had already leapt from one floating piece of debris to another, vanishing again before the next motion could be tracked.
Each ti the Machine God turned its head to follow, Verom disappeared, mocking its pursuit.
He bounded across the suspended wreckage like a spring, his agility and speed far beyond what Ludger had once faced.
The Machine God couldn’t keep up.
Thoom!
A dark streak cut through the air, racing straight toward it.
One of the chanical arms extended its palm like a shield, but the black streak slid beneath its hand, gliding smoothly along its forearm—
And at the end of that streak, a dark blade flashed.
Kaaang!
The Machine God raised its true arm to block the blow.
In that instant of their clash, Verom’s appearance beca clear—and it was drastically different from before.
Previously, his living armor had been heavy and thick, built for endurance.
Now, it was sleek and refined, hugging his body tightly.
The bulky armor had compressed, streamlined. The cloak was gone—replaced by a mane of red, hair-like strands flowing from the back of his helt.
Even his greatsword had changed—thinner now, more like a longsword, matching his agile form.
He had sacrificed defense for mobility, maximizing his speed and reaction.
But perhaps due to that trade-off, his power output was lower; his montum began to wane as the Machine God slowly forced him back.
Then—
A flash of red from afar.
A blast of magic energy streaked toward the Machine God’s body.
Timing his retreat perfectly, Verom jumped back as an explosion engulfed the creature.
Landing atop a floating piece of debris near Ludger, he steadied himself.
“Didn’t think you’d decide to return,” Ludger said.
“I can’t live with unpaid debts,” Verom answered, his voice his own—not the hollow echo of the living armor.
“So, you accepted the curse after all?”
“When you’ve spent over a decade eating, sleeping, and fighting side by side, I guess even a cursed armor grows on you.”
Verom muttered almost lightheartedly, as if bewildered by his own decision.
But his new armor form made it clear—he had embraced it willingly.
“So escaping the curse wasn’t just about rejection. Accepting it could be another path.”
“Well, sohow it turned out that way. But that’s not what matters right now.”
“Agreed.”
Ludger nodded.
In the distance, continuous bombardnt hamred against the Machine God.
Isla Machina possessed its own internal defense force—a garrison that functioned as its standing army.
Ard with cutting-edge magitech weapons, they rivaled the regular armies of entire nations.
Defensive artillery had been installed across every layer of the island, prepared for any invasion.
The relentless bombardnt ca from the 2nd and 4th-tier batteries, all focused on the Machine God.
“That must be Nikolai’s so-called ultimate experint,” Verom muttered. “But no matter how strong it is, this level of bombardnt should—”
He stopped mid-sentence.
Through the blaze of red explosions, the Machine God stood untouched.
It had wrapped its four chanical arms around itself like a cocoon, completely unhard.
The defense force, seeing that, launched another volley.
Tracer shells streaked through the air like falling stars.
The Machine God raised one arm slowly.
From its palm, a strange vibration spread outward—swallowing the incoming shells.
The shells froze in midair.
“What the—?” Verom gasped.
“The defense force’s ammunition should be custom-made—not affected by electricity, magnetism, or tal-based interference!”
They would have accounted for every form of magic on this island overflowing with mages.
But there was one thing they hadn’t considered—
A being who could command tal itself as a singular magical attribute.
The hovering shells slowly turned.
Rotating in place—one hundred and eighty degrees.
Thunk.
The Machine God flicked its fingers.
The shells shot back—faster than they’d co.
Bwoom-boom-boom-booom!
The outer defense batteries were consud by fire.
“Holy hell... you think the defense force can handle that thing?” Verom muttered.
“They can’t,” Ludger said flatly.
Modern weapons ant nothing to the Machine God.
It was the absolute ruler of modern warfare—the dominator of all machinery.
“If it’s going to be defeated, only a knight’s aura or a magician’s spell can do it. What’s the Divine Tower doing?”
“They’re strangely quiet. Seems they’re too busy dealing with internal affairs—watching each other instead of acting.”
“I see.”
Ludger’s eyes darkened.
“Then we’ll just have to make them co out.”
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