BZZZZ—BOOOOM!!!
Blinding light devoured everything in sight. In the confined courtyard, the railgun's blast annihilated Avicebron's proudest Golem in an instant. The Yggdmillennia Clan's castle wall, meters thick, collapsed into rubble, while beyond it, the lush forest was gouged open into a half-kilometer trench.
It took minutes for the dust to settle. The magi stood stiff as wind-up Automatons, necks creaking as they turned toward the shattered wall and the endless, blackened scar stretching far into the distance.
Within the railgun's kill zone, nothing survived. Ancient trees, hardened boulders, even the very earth itself had been obliterated, crushed, or hurled away.
The ground was torn open into a trench ten meters wide, and within dozens of meters of the blast's path, not a single tree remained—snapped and flung skyward, or else reduced to blazing pyres.
The castle, reinforced dozens of times with Magecraft, couldn't withstand the shot. The projectile didn't just pierce clean through—it didn't even slow down. The aftershock alone dragged both adjoining walls down with it.
A fortress that had stood for centuries now lay in ruins. Even Darnic, the patriarch of the Yggdmillennia Clan, shuddered at the sight.
Not from the loss of wealth. Not even from the raw terror of the shot's power. What shook him was the thought: If I could wield this kind of might… victory in the Holy Grail War would be assured.
"Rhodes… no, Lord Rhodes…" Darnic's voice rasped as he turned to face the Tiger-class attack helicopter still hovering above, its rotors thundering. He swallowed hard before speaking again, awkward but eager. "Such a weapon… can you make more of them?"
Expectation filled his tone. Rhodes gave a casual nod, lips curling in a mocking smile.
"Of course. Ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand… as long as you provide me with enough modern weaponry, transforming them into enchanted war machines is no trouble at all."
"Gulp…" Darnic swallowed again. His handsome face twisted with a bizarre mix of shock and joy. He trembled uncontrollably, like a man who'd just won the imperial exams, unable to vent the flood of elation inside.
"Then… in the Holy Grail War—"
"Nope. Won't happen." Rhodes cut him off flatly, dousing his excitement without hesitation. "Even if modern weapons rival Noble Phantasms in power, they're too heavy, too clumsy. Even boosted by Magecraft, they're no match for Heroic Spirits. And more importantly—Mystery. The sheer depth of Mystery a Heroic Spirit embodies means modern weapons simply can't affect them."
"I see… what a shame." Darnic shook his head. Then, forcing a smile, he pressed on. "But I do have a small proposal, if you'd be willing to hear me out, Lord Rhodes?"
"What?" Rhodes stepped back a fraction, expression unreadable. "If this is about hooking up, forget it. I'm not interested in pretty-boy bottoms."
Darnic froze, then forced out a strained chuckle.
"Please, Lord Rhodes, no jokes. The Yggdmillennia Clan needs pillars like you. After we defeat the Clock Tower, our family will need an even stronger foundation—"
"Fine. I'll build you a modern war division. You supply the materials. And you should know exactly what it costs to hire a magus ranked among the 'Three Colors,' yes, Patriarch Darnic?"
Rhodes's tone was calm, but the extortion rang clear. Darnic stiffened, then nodded with a bitter smile.
"But of course. The clan will never treat you poorly." Darnic forced a hearty laugh. "If you wish, once the Holy Grail War is over, you'll be head of the Frain line. And when I leave this world, you'll be Patriarch of Yggdmillennia itself. How does that sound for payment?"
"Not bad. But promises like that are nothing more than empty bread. I need something real." With a smirk, Rhodes glanced at a few Homunculi scribbling down data, then sneered. "So let's compromise. Hand me Lord Gordes's mass-production system for Homunculi. If you do, I'll take your commission."
"Ugh…" Even the cunning Darnic twitched at Rhodes's brazenness. To treat the patriarch's seat as a mere "commission" and then demand Gordes's prized research on top of it… still, ever the politician, he inclined his head and agreed. "Very well. I doubt Lord Gordes will refuse."
"Wise man, Patriarch." Rhodes chuckled and nodded, then cast his gaze over the ruined courtyard, the collapsed walls, the scorched forest, and the magi still sprawled in disarray. "Cleanup isn't my problem, is it? As the victor here, I'd say I've earned that privilege."
"Naturally. The Holy Grail War will soon reduce this castle to rubble anyway." Darnic tried to sound lighthearted, though his heart bled.
The castle had centuries of history, strengthened by generations of magi. Now one wall was gone, leaving the fortress lopsided and broken. Even for the wealthy Yggdmillennia Clan, this was a heavy blow.
But compared to securing Rhodes's allegiance, what was one castle? Darnic weighed the cost and dismissed it entirely.
"Truly magnanimous. No wonder you're patriarch." Rhodes glanced toward the golden-haired boy groveling on the ground, smirking. "Compared to my dear brother Roche, you're leagues beyond."
Roche, still sprawled like a beaten dog, wanted to cry but had no tears. He hadn't even noticed when Rhodes left the "dueling ground."
Behind him, Avicebron—clad in his strange robe and golden mask—spoke with cold disgust.
"Hmph. This abomination defiles the very essence of the Golem! A Golem is meant to mimic mankind, sculpted from earth. This… this monstrosity isn't a Golem at all. It's nothing but a crude machine of war!"