The moment the Viscount’s figure came into view, Oseku didn’t hesitate for even a second. He immediately awakened the synthetic golem beside him and barked out a low command:
“Wind Sever!”
The golem responded instantly, swinging a blade of wind forged from invisible currents. With a piercing shriek, it hurtled straight toward the Viscount, aiming to drive away this uninvited guest.
But the Viscount merely shifted his stance, dodging the fierce attack with ease. The Wind Sever whistled past him, missing entirely—and instead, with its remaining momentum, it tore toward the train behind him.
A sharp riiiip echoed through the air as the outer shell of the train car was sliced open like paper.
“Not bad power… but way too slow!”
After evading the strike, the Viscount curled his lips into a cold smirk, then dashed toward the golem without missing a beat.
Vestal’s heart sank at the sight. He thought about using this chance to flee, but the Baron was already blocking his way.
Still, Vestal knew full well that while the Baron was stronger than an average man, he was ultimately still human—susceptible to gunfire and, if enough bodies were thrown at him, beatable through sheer numbers.
Seeing their chance, the gang members pulled out their guns and opened fire on the Baron. The Baron moved with agility, dodging sideways while pulling a pistol from his coat and returning fire.
Leolo’s eyes turned cold and vicious. Leading the gang members behind him, he charged straight ahead, grabbing the Baron’s wrist in an attempt to subdue him.
But the Baron was no pushover. With a single, clean hip throw, he slammed Leolo flat onto the ground.
The other gang members rushed in, trying to snatch the gun from the Baron’s hand—but his grip was too tight, and they couldn’t pry it loose.
Left with no choice, they shot him in the wrist.
The Baron winced in pain, his grip loosening just enough for the pistol to drop. Clenching his teeth, he channeled his inner energy and forced his way out of the crowd through sheer willpower.
“Not bad at all…”
His gaze swept over the group before him. The throbbing pain in his wrist forced a stiff, strained smile onto his face.
The more combat-savvy gang members and the returning Leolo took point, gripping their guns tightly, aimed squarely at the Baron, ready to fire at any moment.
Meanwhile, those less inclined to fight—Vestal, Antina, and the others—prepared to pull back at a moment’s notice. If the Baron showed even a crack in his defense, or if the Viscount became too occupied to pay them any mind, they could slip out of this dire situation.
The Baron moved first. He understood that this bunch wouldn’t be easy to take down. He shook out his fists, testing the injury on his wrist.
Leolo rolled his shoulders, cracking his knuckles with a series of sharp pops. The gang members pressed forward two more steps, completely encircling the Baron.
In the distance, the Viscount drove his fist—worn, yellowed, coated in stone and dirt—into the golem’s leg. Finding his normal attacks useless, he focused his internal energy and struck again.
A thunderous BOOM echoed as the leg, pieced together from chunks of rock, shattered under the Viscount’s blow. The massive golem staggered, its movements stalling as it teetered precariously.
And in tandem with that deafening sound, the Baron, still surrounded by the crowd, made his move.
Swinging his fists like a raging tiger descending from the mountain, he charged straight at the three gang members in front of him.
They were too close to get a clean shot off, forced to throw punches instead.
The Baron showed no fear. In just a few swift moves, he kicked one of the men behind him flying, then hoisted two others who were grappling with him high into the air and flung them violently to the ground.
The remaining gang members and workers raised their guns, ready to fire at the Baron. But as if anticipating this, he snatched one of the nearby gangsters and used him as a human shield.
For a split second, everyone aiming at him froze. And in that instant, the Baron let go of his hostage, grabbed two others by their collars, and smashed their heads together—knocking both unconscious in one brutal blow.
Leolo watched their carefully built advantage crumble in an instant, and a flicker of fear ran through him. But when he glanced at Oseku, that stubborn refusal to lose came surging back. Gritting his teeth, he mustered his courage and charged once more.
Oseku, in the meantime, had halted the golem’s self-repair and commanded it to rise using only the elements of wind and water.
“Corrosion!”
Oseku bellowed. From the gaps in the golem’s assembled frame, a highly corrosive liquid began to seep out, quickly spreading across the ground around it.
For a time, the Viscount could only leap from rooftop to rooftop to press his attack, unable to get close to the golem directly.
His goal was the golem’s core.
From intelligence gathered at the front lines, he knew these golems seemed to possess a central core. A unit from Cork had previously shattered one by accident, causing the entire construct to collapse. After sweeping the battlefield, they found fragments of a mysterious device inside, leading them to believe it was the golem’s control core.
That would explain why this newly summoned golem was showing signs of magic depletion so quickly.
Subsequent clean-up crews had sifted through the remains of other golems and confirmed the existence of these cores.
In other words, every one of these golems had a core. If the Viscount could find it, he could destroy it easily.
He reached out, dug his fingers into a section of the golem’s stone body, and ripped off a chunk—but still found no sign of the core.
Undeterred, he continued using the surrounding buildings to stay mobile, circling the golem as he searched for its fatal weakness.
Oseku, in turn, began demolishing those same buildings, cutting off the Viscount’s footholds in an attempt to corner him.
And then, abruptly, the gunfire in the distance ceased.
A chill ran through everyone’s hearts. They could already picture it—the hundreds, perhaps thousands of troops now marching their way.
They had to break free from this current predicament—and they had to do it now.
Vestal and the others racked their brains.
The Baron was holding his own against fifteen men, but just barely; the Viscount had the golem suppressed, yet he seemed to be holding back, occasionally glancing toward Vestal’s group.
It felt as if the Viscount could flash before them the moment the golem faltered. As if the Baron could wipe them all out once the gang members and Leolo fell.
If they were going to retreat, it had to be now.
But how could they keep the Viscount and Baron from locking them down?
After long deliberation, only one option seemed viable: self-destruct the golem. If the explosion could cause enough chaos to occupy the Viscount, they might just get their opening.
Still, Oseku thought they could gamble on one more move before going nuclear.
“Burning Flame!”
Oseku shouted, hurling a ball of fire toward the Viscount. The Viscount didn’t even flinch—the flame had clearly missed.
At the same time, Leolo, who had been lying on the ground, scrambled to his feet, and the gang members rolled back in retreat.
The Baron allowed a smug grin to cross his face, thinking they’d finally given up.
But when his gaze landed on the fireball arcing through the air, growing closer and closer, his expression shifted. He dove to the side with a string of curses, putting as much distance between himself and the blast as possible.
Vestal and the others had already retreated over ten meters away. Oseku seized the moment to command the golem, trying to trap the Viscount with water magic.
“Binding Coil!”
Oseku shouted. Smooth tentacles generated by the golem shot out, racing to ensnare the Viscount.
The Viscount, seeing the Baron caught off guard and unable to fight, intentionally angled himself toward the direction of Vestal’s group.
But just as Oseku’s tentacles reached him, the Viscount casually sliced them apart with the sword at his waist.
Even so, it bought them a sliver of time. The group managed to slip into the station’s waiting room and escape through the front gate.
Oseku wasn’t sure about the golem’s blast radius. After putting a good hundred meters between them and the station, he took a deep breath and gave the order for self-destruction.
The Viscount, locked in combat with the golem, felt the power building inside it—and a shiver ran down his spine.
But that very surge of energy helped him pinpoint the core. Clinging to a gap in the golem’s body, he slammed his fist into the wound again and again.
At last, after tremendous effort, the Viscount managed to expose the core. But just as he reached for it, cracks began to spread across its surface.
A chilling thought crossed his mind: this golem wasn’t charging up an attack—it was preparing to blow itself up.
Abandoning the core entirely, he launched himself off the golem’s body, landing some dozens of meters away. He hadn’t even taken a few steps before the golem detonated.
A pillar of flame erupted into the sky, engulfing the entire train station. The blast’s force overturned the train parked beside it and twisted the rails into useless scrap. The flash of heat melted nearby metal objects into pools of molten ore.
In midair, a figure in white robes, drenched in spilt coffee, brushed past the Viscount—but he didn’t even notice. His full attention was fixed on the explosion ahead.
The Viscount was hurled over a hundred meters through the air, tumbling four or five times before he came to a stop.
Even though he’d been fifty meters from the epicenter, the blast and heat had instantly melted the flesh off his back, leaving bare bone exposed.
Vestal’s group hadn’t fared much better—Oseku had miscalculated the explosion’s yield.
Though many buildings and walls had shielded them from the brunt of the blast, flying debris had injured several, and some had been knocked unconscious on the spot.
They were barely helping the wounded to their feet, preparing to flee, when they heard it: the unnervingly synchronized sound of marching footsteps. A Cork patrol had been drawn in by the explosion!
Looking around, there were no more alleys left—the blast had torn apart their hiding spots.
If they pushed forward into the open streets, they’d be chased down by soldiers. But did they even have the strength left to run anymore?
The only option seemed to be doubling back through the rubble and finding another way out…
If the enemy force was small enough, they could still fight back!
Vestal made a split-second decision and led the group in a rapid retreat.
The train made an excellent barrier. Leolo, Oseku, and about half the gang members volunteered to stay behind as rearguard.
Though Vestal desperately wished they could all escape together, Leolo’s words kept echoing in his mind:
“Someone has to live on, carrying the faith.”
And so, without another moment’s hesitation, Vestal and Antina led the rest of the group in a swift withdrawal toward the southwest.
But before either side could even exchange fire, a thunderous roar rumbled from the distance—the sound of a train thundering down the tracks.
