"They've held out quite well for a developing nation."
Guillermo Marukitasu murmured to himself, peering down at the world below from the bridge of his flagship, a 100-meter-class soaring ship.
The Moon, Uni, was nearing its zenith.
He had already finished neutralizing both of the World Security Guard airships. One had been forced into an emergency landing, while the other had plummeted to the earth. He hadn't bothered to pursue them; he had judged that the destruction of the capital, Mahalig, was the higher priority.
The Hall, owned by the Council of Ten, had been demolished. The councilors who were presumably inside were now buried alive in an underground shelter. If no rescue arrived, they would likely last a week at most. They reportedly had stockpiles of food and water, but even those were finite resources.
The Royal Palace was in a state of partial collapse, and the fate of the royal family remained unknown.
However, to Guillermo Marukitasu, the Research Dormitory was a far greater nuisance than any palace. It was a den of those who worshiped physical matter and technology—the very people Guillermo considered his sworn enemies.
"I cannot underestimate them, it seems."
In particular, Guillermo took note of the technician who had led four golems in the defense of the city gates. The man was remarkably capable.
"...Ugh... my head..."
Recently, the headaches tormenting Guillermo Marukitasu had grown more frequent. Every time the pain struck, his will seemed to sink deeper into a turbid confusion.
Yet, there were only golems in his presence. There was not a single human nearby to offer him a word of concern.
＊ ＊ ＊
"Damn it, twenty of them? This is far beyond my calculations!"
Twenty enemy combat golems waited outside the door. Their presence drove those barricaded inside the warehouse back into the depths of despair.
"Go!"
With no other choice but to fight, Groma Tray issued a command to his special golem.
The special golem charged, its massive frame bowling over an enemy golem standing just beyond the threshold.
"Good."
One of the defining features of this special golem was its sheer mass. It was 1.5 times heavier than conventional models, and its power output had been doubled to compensate. Because of this weight, it could easily knock the enemy units aside.
The special golem immediately moved to engage the nearest targets. It swung its mace, smashing into an enemy's head. If the sensors governing its vision were knocked out of alignment, the golem became easy to handle. This was a tactic Groma had discovered at the cost of his four prototype golems.
By delivering a heavy blow to the waist of a disoriented enemy, the golem’s upper and lower body coordination would fail, slowing it further. Finally, by shattering either the left or right knee joint, the unit would be rendered immobile, neutralizing the immediate threat.
Using this method, the special golem successfully dispatched three units.
"Yes, that’s it!"
However, from the fourth unit onward, the enemies seemed to adapt. They began to dodge, parry, and evade the mace strokes aimed at their heads.
"Damn, they've adjusted."
Groma watched with frustration as the special golem was surrounded by five units. But they weren't out of tricks yet.
"In that case, use Attack Pattern 2!"
He barked the next instruction. Pattern 2 consisted of a wide-area magic attack.
Purple lightning arced through the air, and the pungent, sharp scent of ozone filled the space. It was Thunderbolt—a high-voltage electrical strike. The special golem unleashed the discharge into its immediate surroundings, catching itself in the blast as well.
This was devastating against golems with metallic shells. As the electrical shock surged toward the ground, it generated Joule heat at the points of highest resistance: the joints. This caused the outer shell's joints to weld shut instantly.
Groma Tray had designed his special golem with low-resistance joints specifically to withstand this self-inflicted attack. The enemy golems, their shells now fused, suddenly became sluggish. The special golem wasted no time neutralizing the five surrounding units.
"That's eight...!"
"Th-That's incredible."
"It was worth all the effort I put into those modifications!"
Yet, more than half of the enemies remained.
"If there were ten at most, we might have managed somehow," Groma muttered.
The remaining twelve units had switched tactics. Wary of the wide-area Thunderbolt, they began cycling in and out of engagement to avoid being caught together. Still, two more Thunderbolts managed to cause malfunctions in two more units. That left ten.
"This is getting dire."
Firing a powerful Thunderbolt required a high-performance ether converter and mana driver. However, with the materials Groma had available, even running two systems in parallel was insufficient, necessitating the use of a mana tank. After three uses of Thunderbolt, the mana tank was nearly empty.
"All that's left is Pattern 3... a frontal assault!"
The special golem lunged at the enemy combat golems once more. It moved constantly, trying to force one-on-one engagements while slowly drawing the fight away from the warehouse entrance. Groma needed to ensure the safety of the evacuees, but he couldn't let the golem wander so far that it couldn't return to help in an emergency.
Under such grueling conditions, the special golem was performing admirably.
"If only we had at least two more... no, even one more..."
Despite its valiant struggle, the lone unit began to accumulate damage. It had already swapped to its spare shield, but that too was now battered and nearly useless.
Finally, with five enemies remaining, it reached its limit.
The special golem's left arm was ripped away along with its shield. Forced to fight with only the mace in its right arm, it was quickly overwhelmed. Its destruction was now only a matter of time.
"...Ngh...!"
Groma watched in frustration, while Kachea and the majority of the others were swallowed by despair.
"Oh, no... it's over..."
As someone whispered the words, the sentiment spread like a plague. One by one, the researchers fell to their knees.
One of the enemy golems began to approach the cowering group.
"Damn it! Pitfall!"
Someone capable of earth-attribute magic summoned a hole in the ground. The enemy golem tumbled into it, but it was merely a stalling tactic.
Ignoring Groma’s nearly immobilized special golem, two more enemy units closed in.
"Pitfall!"
But the magic had a one-second activation delay. In that single second, the two units simply stepped two meters to the side. The Pitfall did nothing.
"Run!"
The researchers had no choice but to flee, but human speed was no match for a combat golem.
"Ah!"
Kachea, running at the very back, tripped over a piece of rubble and sprawled onto the ground.
"Eeeek!"
The enemy golem loomed over her, its club swinging down. Kachea squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the impact.
It was then.
"Damn it, like hell I'll let you!"
Eira, who had circled back, threw her entire weight into a tackle. The club missed Kachea, gouging a crater into the earth instead.
"Forming!"
Touching the golem’s metal skin, Eira desperately channeled her magi-craft. The enemy golem’s torso twisted violently out of shape.
"I did it...!"
Her relief was fleeting. Though its body was mangled, the golem had not stopped functioning.
"Whoa!"
The golem lashed out, throwing Eira back. She flew three meters through the air before slamming into the ground, where she slumped into unconsciousness.
The golem, its torso still twisted and its movements jerky, turned back toward Kachea and prepared to strike once again.