Boom—!
It was the thunderous crash of a tal beam slamming into the floor. And judging from how grotesquely it had bent—a beam as thick as an adult's torso—this was clearly not the kind of deformation you got from a simple fall.
It could only have been the result of an impact beyond common sense.
In other words, it was collateral from two people trading blows.
Kouzuki Yuuko ran a quick ntal estimate after judging the beam's mass and hardness. The conclusion was simple.
That tin can was a monster.
That kind of impact would have been enough to smash the main battle tanks in her world into severe deformation.
Maybe not quite "flattened into a pancake," but "half a pancake" was about right.
And now, that sa kind of thick tal column was raining down.
Like construction girders, a whole batch of steel beams suddenly dropped from above, crashing toward the tin can. In truth, they were part of the factory's ceiling—this steel-everywhere plant had been punched apart by Mr. Golden Toilet, who had tid it perfectly so the armored man would arrive right beneath it.
Unfortunately, the barrage of falling beams was either swatted aside by the greatsword or simply cleaved in two—like cutting tofu.
At the sa ti, bullets that released extre heat—hot enough to lt the beams into liquid in the blink of an eye—were fired into the ss.
Micro-missiles followed. Their detonations weren't just explosions; they burst like miniature cluster munitions, and after bursting they clung to the beams like white phosphorus.
In only monts, the steel turned into molten tal—about to pour down over that tin can.
In the next instant, molten spray erupted everywhere.
The sight made Yuuko think of an Japanese folk tradition: the "iron-flower" fireworks performance.
The custom had spread far enough that so regions in her own country used to stage it during festivals as well—tossing red-hot molten iron into the air and striking it so it scattered into countless glittering sparks, like fireworks.
What she was seeing now was effectively the sa thing—except the tin can had smashed apart the molten tal mid-flight, blasting it into a storm of liquid fire.
Those trails of searing, unknown-temperature tal drew luminous tails through the air, like countless lasers scattering outward. Quite a few demon-things were struck.
The ones with frailer bodies were like foam hit by molten iron—instantly burned through.
Then, suddenly, the god's-eye livestream view spun violently out of control. A deafening impact followed, and the picture shook like it was about to tear apart before it barely stabilized again.
Compared to how steady the feed had been earlier, Yuuko's heart sank.
It looked like he had just been hit.
The hit had sent him flying—straight into a point-defense gun emplacent, crushing it into the sa state as an empty soda can after being stomped repeatedly.
Yuuko's pupils contracted. She caught sight of obvious cracking on his helt's glass-like visor, with liquid seeping out.
Blood?
Before she could confirm, he dodged sharply. The already-ruined point-defense gun gained a dozen new gouges in an instant.
Those claw marks ca from demon-shaped monsters—creatures that were now lunging to tear him apart.
But in the next mont, so of those monsters were pierced clean through by beams of light—shots from other monsters' laser weapons.
They had fired a beat too late, missed the target, and hit their own side instead.
It didn't matter. These things were lunatics. Killing each other over prey was normal.
Of course, anything that got in the tin can's way was slaughtered as well.
The scene devolved into a massive lee—an all-out brawl—and for him, it was disastrously unfavorable.
The cara caught the tin can again. His armor showed damage in multiple places. The earlier barrage had affected him after all—at least a little.
And then Yuuko lost him.
She could no longer track the tin can's movents—he had entered a realm of speed beyond her dynamic vision. The only reason she had seen him at all a mont earlier was because he had paused briefly.
Not just the tin can—Mr. Golden Toilet was also impossible to follow. All she could see were afterimages everywhere, and sparks bursting in the air.
And since the god's-eye cara was centered on him, the feed itself struggled to make sense of the motion at this speed.
All that remained clear were the sounds: impacts, booming collisions, near-explosions, and the monsters' howls and shrieks.
Hm?
Yuuko noticed the chat panel in the livestream. Fallen Angel Kuroneko was offering a helpful reminder: there was a slow-motion feature.
Slow motion?
Following the tip, Yuuko tried it—and imdiately saw the problem.
If you slowed it down enough to catch the details, the fight would be minutes ahead in real ti by the ti you finished watching a single exchange.
For all she knew, the outco would already be decided.
So this "Super-Dinsional Channel" couldn't provide a mode where your awareness could keep up with the combat in real ti?
A "live viewing" enhancent?
Still, maybe it was better this way. It made the gap painfully clear between a viewer like her and the people inside the fight.
Another massive crash.
Both figures beca visible again.
It was obvious the tin can held an overwhelmingly dominant advantage—almost like he was playing with his opponent.
As for him, things were grim. His power armor was battered to ruin, and viscous fluid could be seen flowing—blood, most likely.
Then he removed his helt—one that looked like it might split into several pieces at any mont—revealing a pale face streaked with blood.
From his expression, it looked like he was preparing to stake everything on a final strike.
Win, or die.
And the tin can—seemingly a little surprised—also removed his helt, revealing his face for the first ti.
It was a horrifying face too, though still far better than those monsters. Rot had taken parts of him, and his features looked like severe burn scarring—like a man ruined by fire.
This small giant—nearly two and a half ters tall—lost the playful enjoynt in his eyes. His expression turned serious.
It didn't look like he believed the coming "final blow" could truly threaten him.
Rather, it felt like respect—bringing out real strength to honor an opponent's resolve.
"A warrior of the 175th Company, once of the VIII Legion, the Night Lords, under Lord Konrad Curze—" the armored man declared, naming himself. "Bors."
The audience froze.
Even Yuuko hadn't expected that identity.
She had assud he was at least so kind of minor boss-tier figure.
And instead—he was just a regular soldier in a Legion?
A soldier could be this absurd?
Still, if they called him a Space Marine, then of course he was not sothing a world still fighting on a single planet could compare against.
"Lance Plaine," the man replied. "Just an insignificant nobody serving the Imperium."
"Insignificant?" Bors sounded amused. "Interesting. If you survive my next strike, I'll deal with everything here. You may leave."
"That would be an honor."
Their exchange stunned even the demon-things. Then, with the furious roar of the first creature as a signal, both figures vanished.
More precisely—they once again entered a speed beyond Yuuko's ability to perceive.
Almost at the exact mont they disappeared, a violent flash erupted at the point where they t.
When the light faded, the outco was decided.
In that instant, Yuuko felt her heart climb into her throat.
Not because she cared about him personally.
She was a realist. She wanted his technology.
So she hoped he would live.
(End of Chapter)
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