“Is there some kind of way?”
“If the Mage Tower intends to deliberately overlook this incident and remain silent, then the only option is to force their mouths open.”
“How?”
“If they pretend it’s not their problem, then we’ll just make it their problem. Even the most stubborn ones will move when it concerns them.”
“You’re not seriously...”
Verom could faintly guess what Ludger was thinking.
That method was insane, reckless beyond reason—but there didn’t seem to be any other way.
“But how are you going to do it? You’ll have to lure that monster all the way to the Tower.”
“No need to lure it. Just buy me some time.”
“Time?”
“I’ll handle the rest.”
There was a strange trust in Verom's chest at Ludger’s confident tone.
Normally, anyone who said something like that would sound suspicious, but with Ludger—it somehow felt possible.
“...Fine. I’ll do what I can to stall for time.”
“You don’t have to do it alone.”
At that moment, Phyron, who had recovered enough to move, stepped in.
The serious wounds still hadn’t closed completely and blood continued to flow, yet it was a miracle he had survived such an attack at all.
Ludger pulled a recovery potion from the shadows and tossed it to Phyron.
Phyron caught it, grumbling with a sullen face.
“I don’t drink anything without protein.”
“Just drink it.”
Phyron tilted the potion into his mouth.
There were recovery pills as well, but when it came to closing deep wounds, potions were still far superior.
“Ugh. Why is it so sweet?”
Phyron grimaced.
“Is sweetness a bad thing?” Verom asked.
Potions were supposed to taste bitter; wasn’t sweetness a good sign?
In fact, the higher the grade of the potion, the more attention was paid to flavor and aroma. A sweet taste meant it was an excellent potion.
“Of course it’s bad! It means there’s sugar in it! That’s unhealthy!”
“......”
Verom stared at him in disbelief, then turned to Ludger.
His expression clearly asked, Is this guy always like this?
Ludger gave a small nod—basically saying, Yes. Just let it go.
“I’m thinking of paying a brief visit to the New Mage Tower. Any objections?”
At Ludger’s question, Roteron, freed from the mechanical arm, approached using flight magic.
“After we’ve already put a hole in the Tower’s midsection, I don’t think there’s any more room for politeness, is there?”
“......”
“...Fine. Understood. If we fail to stop this anyway, the Tower won’t survive either. Forcing them to intervene might indeed be the better choice.”
“Many could die.”
“If we leave it as is, we’ll just be taken down one by one. We have no choice.”
Though his words were calm, Roteron’s voice sank heavily.
There were those in the Tower who hated him, but also those who trusted and followed him.
Dragging such people into the middle of this battlefield weighed on him.
Still, he didn’t falter or complain.
As long as that Machine God lived, no one could escape this fight.
“It’s better to end it before the damage spreads further.”
“Exactly. So buy me some time.”
With that, Ludger was swallowed by shadow, his body compressing to a dot before vanishing.
The three remaining simply accepted it—by now, the sight was familiar.
He wasn’t the type to flee after saying that. He was clearly preparing something big—something that would shock everyone.
Until then, their role was to hold off the Machine God.
But must they only stall for time?
“Buying time doesn’t sit well with my pride. We’ve come this far—better to bring it down with full force!”
“I agree. If we can finish it here, that’s the best option.”
“If we don’t fight with the resolve to kill, it might be us who fall instead.”
Phyron, Verom, and Roteron exchanged determined words and prepared for battle.
The Machine God, having wiped out the defensive batteries, turned its gaze toward them again.
These were powerful beings that could threaten its existence.
Ludger—the most dangerous one—had vanished, replaced by the Black Knight, Verom.
They could not be allowed to live.
As the Machine God’s will manifested, the two halos floating above its head gleamed brightly.
Four mechanical arms fell like meteors.
* * *
“Verom. Not only did you fail your mission, but you joined hands with John Doe?”
Nikolai’s irritation boiled over as things drifted further from the outcome he wanted.
He should have eliminated Verom back when he had reforged that armor.
He hadn’t—because their relationship wasn’t exactly hostile—and now the bastard had stabbed him in the back.
What’s worse, Verom looked completely different now.
The image of a medieval knight was gone; his form had become leaner, sharper—closer to a beast, or perhaps a hunter.
“You couldn’t shed your treasure-hunter habits, could you? You’re no Black Knight anymore—just a grave robber.”
Still, it didn’t matter.
Whatever power that new armor possessed, it was meaningless before a god.
Adding one more corpse to the pile wouldn’t make a difference.
The spectacle he had been anticipating hadn’t yet unfolded, but Nikolai was willing to wait.
Considering the time and money invested into creating the Machine God, he could afford to be patient.
“There’s still one more thing to enjoy.”
His eyes shifted to one of the two screens—toward the feed showing Rine and Cravat.
* * *
“This isn’t good.”
Cravat focused intently, but he was well aware of the impure presences approaching from outside.
He had carefully chosen a location free of surveillance devices to hide in, yet somehow Nikolai had found them again.
“...Don’t tell me.”
Cravat’s gaze landed on the half-destroyed automaton in the corner of the room.
The automaton’s film-like eyes flickered toward him, and Cravat let out a low sigh.
“Damn it. Guess even under the lamp, it’s darkest.”
It was too late to smash it now—those closing in would not retreat.
He instantly realized he’d been cornered.
The curse is already in progress. If I stop now, the divine power I barely managed to suppress will rebound even stronger.
If that happened, the balance of power would collapse—and Rine’s body would disintegrate.
At the moment, Cravat was using the curse to suppress the divine energy inside her, meticulously controlling the flow of black magic.
He had no energy left to fend off even an ordinary attacker.
Damn it.
If he stopped now, he could still save himself.
But then Rine would die.
The master of the Ancient Curse School, risking his life to save some kid he barely knows?
Feeling the growing number of hostile signatures, Cravat’s lips twisted into a grin.
Yeah. Worth it.
He wasn’t going down without a fight.
He had laid traps outside for this very situation.
BOOM!
The sound of traps detonating rang out—enemies had entered the range.
Explosions of black smoke erupted all around.
It wasn’t ordinary smoke.
These were special traps of the Ancient Curse School, filled with concentrated curse energy.
Kiiiing—Koom!
The automatons leading the charge were caught in the blast.
The curse spared no one, even lifeless machines.
The mannequin-like automatons’ joints and parts corroded rapidly, creaking before collapsing one by one.
“Watch out! It’s a trap!”
“Casualties? Anyone hit?”
“None on our side. But most of the leading automatons are disabled.”
“Stay sharp. Our opponent’s the master of the Ancient Curse School. Take curses lightly and we’re all dead.”
Realizing there were traps, the enemy advanced more cautiously.
“Trap detected. Disarming.”
“Disarm complete here.”
“Don’t let your guard down.”
Once aware of the traps, they quickly neutralized the remaining ones.
The distance closed steadily until they were nearly at the house.
Cravat, drenched in cold sweat, continued purging the divine power from Rine’s body.
Ten minutes. No, even five more minutes would’ve been enough.
The enemy was too skilled—the traps didn’t buy enough time.
BOOM!
The sound of the front door bursting open.
A ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) trap on the first floor triggered immediately.
Flames burst outward, but the intruders threw grenades radiating icy air, neutralizing the blaze.
The remaining automatons pushed inside.
“First floor clear.”
“Moving to second. The target’s on the third—stand by.”
Cravat heard their murmurs below.
He stood frozen, eyes darting around.
When was the last time he’d felt such dread?
Self-preservation whispered in his mind.
Risk your life for some kid? You’ve survived this long for what? Staying alive comes first.
The temptation was sweet, gnawing at his focus.
Voices below.
Footsteps climbing the stairs.
His heartbeat pounded louder with each second that passed.
The last thing reflected in his eyes was Rine’s face contorted in agony.
Her body writhed, divine power raging within her—pain tearing through every cell.
And yet, she did not die.
She fought desperately to live.
I can’t stop now.
Cravat poured even more curse power into the rampaging divinity.
The white divine energy and black curse clashed violently, back and forth.
Had he prepared any less, he would have been devoured by the divine force instead.
He clenched his teeth.
The footsteps crossed the second floor and began ascending toward the third.
Awooooooooo!
Somewhere outside, a wolf’s howl rang through the night.
Cravat froze, feeling as if the whole world had stopped.
Was this what Gariel experienced when he invoked magic?
Then—screams erupted outside.
“Gaaah!”
“What the—shit! Aaaagh!”
The men stationed outside were under attack.
The ones inside, startled, called through their communicators.
“What’s going on out there?! Report!”
“It’s a wolf! A wolf just appeared!”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous! There aren’t any wild wolves on this island!”
“It’s real! Huge—massive—Aaaagh!”
Static cut the transmission short.
A wolf—appearing out of nowhere? And fully armed professionals, taken out instantly?
The team inside soon found out why.
CRASH!
The second-floor window shattered.
And through the broken glass, a massive wolf leapt in.
“Holy shit! It really is a wolf!”
But something was off.
Judging by its sheer size, it should have smashed through the wall, not just the window. Yet it slipped through, breaking only the glass.
Physically impossible—unless its body was liquid.
The automatons in the lead automatically raised their weapons and opened fire.
TUTUTUTU!
The beast filled the corridor—impossible to miss.
For a moment, it seemed the wolf would be riddled with bullets—then its body blurred.
A storm of wind tore through the hall.
SHRRRKK!
The automaton pulling the trigger was sliced into dozens of pieces.
The line behind it met the same fate.
“Shit!”
The survivors immediately activated their barrier artifacts.
The hallway filled with translucent shields as violent wind slammed against them.
The wolf reformed from the gale, growling just beyond the barrier.
It wasn’t an ordinary wolf.
Its fur shimmered in shades of gray, white, and sky blue, with a white aura swirling around its shoulders.
“T-the Spirit Beast?”
What was a Spirit Beast doing here, on Isla Machia?
Whatever the reason, something was definitely wrong.
“What are you waiting for? Take it down!”
The men in the rear threw magic grenades.
The Spirit Beast seemed to take the form of wind—so they responded with fire, burning the very oxygen.
As the shields dropped, the grenades exploded, filling the hallway with roaring flames.
The wolf tried to slip out the window as wind—but it was too late.
Yelp!
It was engulfed in fire in an instant.
The men cheered.
“Ha! How’s that taste, you damn mutt?!”
“So what if it’s a Spirit Beast—it’s still just an animal!”
They leaned out the window to laugh at the burning creature—
and froze pale at the sight below.
Growl.
Grraaaa.
The ground outside was gouged with claw marks, and all around, dozens of wolves were gathering.
“Th-that’s... not just one?”
