The golem writhed, its body drawing into itself as it compressed, and then continued even further. The arrow of Chi You struck true, landing at the site of the golem where two Archers had attacked moments earlier. The shields that were folding over one another as it compressed attempted to block the arrow, but it seemed that the act of compression mandated that those shields' integrity fell.
Let us say that in its compressed state, what had previously been a layer of one shield across its body had, by necessity, become a layer of ten; in this case, the integrity of each of those shields would have fallen to just over 10% of their former state, so that compression could be possible. Even Van-Fem could not compress a titan of stone to such a degree without making sacrifices, after all. However, while it was still compressing, those layers would not be ten shields thick as they would be upon completion, but rather three or four.
Thanks to this, the defenses that an A rank attack was previously needed to breach were penetrated, if only just. And yet...while this may have caused damage to the golem, it was not enough to stop it. After breaking through the shields, only strength equivalent to a D rank attack had reached the golem. How could that have been enough to stop it?
What was a castle that did not tower above man?
What was a monster that did not lurk above man?
What was a king that did not stand above man?
Yes, for all of these things, the first premise was only reasonable, but at the same time...
From thirty meters to ten, from ten to five, from five to two to just a sliver below.
Towers to tendrils, tendrils to limbs.
What was a hero that did not walk among man?Better. Much better. Even if I wanted to stay in it, I can never get used to that form.Arms, hands, legs, feet, torso, head--- come into being.
The transformation completed. This is the only reasonable result. It is unthinkable that a castle with a heart could stay as a castle for eternity.
In that place where the Demon Castle had descended, standing in the center of the crater that had been carved into the Eastern Field, was now a man.
A black-haired man.
A golem that bore the appearance of a man. Except this time, there was a light to his eyes, a glimmer in them that was...
human. A resigned smile graced his lips as he clenched his right fist. Light, a dazzling light that cut through the darkness formed within his fist, magical energy condensing at an absurd pace in a quantity that even outstripped all of the mana that had been consumed upon the Demon Castle's entry.
To Ernest, this was the being that had killed his Servant.
To Norton, this was the being that had stolen his Master.
To Ruler, this was the being that had blighted his war.
And yet, none of them were the most affected by this man's appearance. For, on the other side of the city, a man looked through the eyes of his Servant, and could only think one thought.
That's impossible.
That's completely impossible."It's really been too long, and the circumstances aren't ideal, but still...it's nice to be back home, without that suppression keeping me down."
For the first time in a hundred years, the last king of Fuyuki, Matou Zouken, felt a cold pit form in his stomach. Incredulity. Disbelief. Fear.
"...hey Makiri, or is it Zouken now? If you're watching this through your Servant's eyes, sorry you had to see me like this, was trying to avoid it coming to this point. I hope the past two hundred years have been kind, though. I know she'd have been happy to see that you're still fighting, even if she'd be sad that you still have to be fighting."
Because, after all, that man was something that could not be here.
That man was something that was outside even the understanding of a five hundred year archmage.
"...I'm really sorry, Makiri, but that fight of yours ends now. I'll be taking that torch from you."
That man was-"Na...gato?"
