The Black Great Tree groaned as it continued its upward crawl, fueled by the Giant Golem’s magic power. Its overwhelming siphoning disrupted the flow of internal energy, causing the machine's movements to grow sluggish.
“Don’t you dare look down on me...!” John roared.
The golem unleashed beams of light from its fingers, but the energy only grazed the bark. Deprived of its usual potency by the tree’s constant drain, the attack lacked the force to sever the trunk. Still, through sheer persistence, the golem focused its fire until it finally managed to slice through the wood.
Bereft of support, the Great Tree split and groaned, toppling away from the golem’s head as gravity took hold. Yet the stump remaining in the metal skull immediately began to sprout anew. The tree had rooted itself too deeply; merely severing the trunk accomplished nothing. To truly rid itself of the parasite, the golem would have to tear out every single root—a nearly impossible feat.
“Dammit! What the hell is happening?!”
John spat out a curse and detached the golem’s ruined head. It slammed into the earth with a thunderous roar, where the encroaching miasma immediately set to work, turning the metal to rust. With its supply of magic power cut off, the parasitic growth within the head withered and died.
Metal plates slid out from the headless stump of the golem's neck. They snapped into place with mechanical precision, forming a crude, boxy replacement. It appeared the machine was designed with internal spare parts for mid-battle repairs. The shift in aesthetics—from the original head to this utilitarian block—was likely a matter of modularity. John had designed it so that a single type of spare part could patch any major damage.
While it was little more than battlefield first aid rather than a true restoration, the ability to self-repair under fire was nothing short of revolutionary.
A cold blue light flickered to life within the boxy head, fixing its gaze squarely upon me. With the tree's drain halted, the golem surged with renewed vigor.
“You piece of shit Demon King... I’m going to murder you!”
Enraged, John let fly a barrage of beams and artillery shells. Every weapon system integrated into that massive frame bared its fangs toward me.
(He’s lost his cool. His attacks have become crude and predictable.)
I remained suspended in the air, refusing to evade. If I dodged, the stray fire would only further devastate the city. For now, I had no desire to see the capital completely erased. More importantly, there was no need to move.
I countered the incoming beams with miasma-infused hellfire, using the clashing energies to neutralize the threat. The opposing properties worked in my favor. Given my own vast reserves of magic power, I wasn't worried about being overwhelmed by brute force. Furthermore, I had already analyzed the golem’s energy signature; adjusting my own output to perfectly cancel his out was a simple task.
When a dozen more artillery shells screamed toward me, I conjured a defense magic array: thousands of specialized, paper-thin barriers stacked in a dense wall.
The shells plowed into the stack with immense force, but each layer they pierced sapped their momentum. Their internal formula destruction mechanisms were being ground away by the sheer friction of passing through my barriers—precisely as I had intended. Once the last barrier shattered, I cast a magic power net. The webbing caught every shell, stretching under the impact before snapping back with violent elasticity.
“What?!”
John cried out as the golem reflexively raised its arms. The very shells that were meant to pierce my defenses now detonated against its own steel forearms. The blast buckled the armor, and the shockwave sent the giant staggering back through the ruins.
“I see.”
I observed the damage. Sparks showered from the golem’s forearms, and its fingers twitched with erratic, unnatural movements. The internal operating mechanisms—the machine’s equivalent to a nervous system—had been mangled. This wasn't the kind of damage that could be solved by simply swapping out a metal plate.
“Not bad...” John growled. “That actually stung.”
“Is that so?”
As we squared off, I noted a shift in the golem’s posture. Its magic cannons had fallen silent. It appeared the machine had finally run dry. Unlike its tank cannons, which fired projectiles forged of pure magic power, the magic cannons required physical shells. John had clearly exhausted his magazine.
From this point forward, the golem’s long-range options would be restricted to its beams. It seemed he lacked any other auxiliary weapons; perhaps even he hadn't possessed the resources to outfit this colossus with an infinite arsenal.
In truth, more weapons shouldn't have been necessary. Under normal circumstances, the combination of magic cannons and tank cannons would be enough to annihilate any foe from beyond their effective range. If an enemy managed to close the distance, they would be crushed by the sheer weight of its steel frame.
John simply hadn't anticipated a protracted battle. This golem was a weapon designed for a swift, overwhelming blitz. Had he been allowed to refine the design, he likely would have addressed these shortcomings, but I had no intention of granting him that luxury. It was a blessing that I had encountered this machine now; had its development continued, the struggle would have been far more desperate, and the collateral damage exponentially higher.
“Just how much magic do you have?” John demanded, his voice strained. “By all rights, you should have been empty a long time ago.”
“I was thinking the same of you,” I replied.
“Hah! I see you have no intention of giving me a straight answer!”
The golem broke into a low, lunging sprint. As it moved, it scooped up a massive hunk of debris and hurled it at me with terrifying velocity.
(I see. Desperate measures, then.)
Thrown with such immense physical strength, the rubble became a high-velocity mass weapon. Its destructive potential likely eclipsed most high-level spells. Yet, it was a clumsy move born of frustration. I conjured a blast of wind magic, scattering the debris before it could reach me. The rain of stone whistled past, failing to land a single hit.
“—Got you!”
John’s triumphant cry echoed. An instant later, a massive, concentrated beam of light erupted from the golem’s torso. The debris had merely been a feint to mask this point-blank shot.
“Naive.”
I manifested a barrier with the clarity of a mirror. The beam struck the surface and instantly reversed course, surging back toward the golem’s chest.
“Whoa?!”
The golem threw itself to the side in a desperate dodge. The reflected beam grazed its torso, melting the primary cannon and gouging deep into its right shoulder, nearly severing the arm. It was a crippling blow, though John’s quick reflexes had prevented the worst. Had the beam struck true, it would have punched a hole through the cockpit, incinerating the pilot and leaving nothing behind but the indestructible Secret Stone.
The golem dropped to one knee, cradling its mangled shoulder. New metal plates slid over the wound as internal welders flared. Moments later, the gap was sealed. The repair was messy and looked unnatural, but it seemed functional enough.
The blue eyes of the boxy head glared up at me with murderous intent.
“You bastard... what did you do?!”
“The Forbidden Reflection Magic,” I answered truthfully. There was no need for secrecy. “Having analyzed your golem’s magic power, I was able to replicate its frequency and turn it back on itself.”
I had hoped to save that spell for a final, decisive strike, but the gamble had paid off regardless. While it would have been ideal to end the fight then and there, I wasn't going to be greedy. The fact remained that I had stripped John of another trump card. He could no longer fire his beams with impunity, and the psychological weight of that restriction would be crushing.
Watching one’s options being methodically dismantled piece by piece is the fastest way to erode hope. After witnessing those beams so many times, devising a counter was inevitable.
I may be a hideous undead now, but I was once a man called a Sage. Performing a feat of this magnitude was a simple matter. In my former life, I spent my days battling those who grew arrogant in their own power. I could count the number of times I had the upper hand on one hand. I am well-acquainted with the art of toppling giants.