Hermes stepped back a few paces, his hand brushing the dagger at his waist before smoothly sheathing it once more. With a courteous bow toward Aslan, he spoke in a voice laced with mockery.
"I am truly surprised. For a mere human, you have done remarkably well. As a reward, I shall allow you to witness the true form of a god!"
A dark gleam flickered in Hermes' eyes.
"Open those eyes wide and look upon me. This is a height you will never reach in your lifetime. Even though I am but a god of little combat power, I remain untouchable to mortal hands! Hahahahaha!"
His human form dissolved into motes of light. Then, high above, an immense shape shimmered into view as its stealth field collapsed—a massive economic resource transport ship, the Mecha-God body of Hermes.
It lacked heavy weaponry, its frame already worn from age and disrepair, yet its sheer size and speed gave it terrifying force. With its reinforced prow and colossal mass, it descended to crush Aslan beneath it. Hermes believed that no human could withstand the fall of such a body.
One strike was all it would take to grind the boy to dust.
But as the interstellar vessel loomed overhead, Aslan's lips curled faintly. Though outwardly intact, he could see the truth. As the forger of the Supreme Masterpiece, no flaw escaped him. The hull's surface was pristine, yet the core was damaged, the propulsion system a shadow of its design. Engines that once could have broken light speed now barely managed subsonic flight—and perhaps not even that.
For Aslan, the sight was almost disappointing.
Still, regret or not, a god had revealed its true form before him. That was all he needed.
His hand fell upon the silver-white Holy Spear. "Let's see whether your shell can withstand this."
The spear shot forward like a meteor, striking Hermes' hull with a shriek of rending metal. Sparks erupted, a deep scar carved into the divine ship's plating. Yet the damage was shallow—Hermes endured.
With a booming laugh, Hermes hurled his massive body downward, intent on crushing Aslan beneath his fall.
The sky itself seemed to collapse. Shadows swallowed Aslan's figure as the vessel plummeted.
But Aslan was already moving. From his outfit, he produced a device—an impact pack—strapping it backward for reverse propulsion. The sudden burst hurled him clear just as the Mecha-God slammed into the earth.
The world shuddered.
The prow gouged deep furrows into the ground, tearing it open as if spring plows had turned the earth. Soil erupted, fresh scents filling the air as Hermes' vast bulk carved a trench through the land. Buildings, had there been any, would have been pulverized instantly, their remains plowed under and replaced by overturned earth.
Watching from a safe distance, Aslan couldn't help but smirk. A demolition expert… and a plow. How convenient. This so-called god would be perfect for clearing cities or restoring farmland.
If Hermes, in his frenzied state, could hear these thoughts, his fury would have been boundless. To think a human dared imagine a god—a god!—as nothing more than labor. Gods were supreme. Humanity was their plaything. At least in the West, none dared challenge this truth.
Aslan raised his hand, summoning the Holy Spear back into his grip. A frontal clash would not suffice. Both spear and sword could wound Hermes' shell, but destroying him outright without shattering the entire body was another matter.
And Aslan did not want to waste this opportunity.
This was his first true encounter with a Mecha-God. To obliterate the body completely would be folly. Instead, he meant to seize its divine components and forge them into the Supreme Masterpiece of Justice. With each reforged relic, his creation would surpass all treasures, ascending to heights none could rival.
Already, Melusine, the EX-class dragon weapon, surpassed even Martha's Tarasque and the Golden Fleece's summoned dragon. As Albion's Horizon Dragon, her bloodline was peerless. But Melusine was a gift of birth, a natural talent.
Justice, however, was Aslan's own achievement—an acquired masterpiece, step by step wrought by his hand. Though already ranked EX, he remained unsatisfied.
When I stand before those who wield their own EX-class mecha Noble Phantasms, I want to say this: The only reason mine is EX-class is because the very scale itself was forced to recognize its supremacy.
And for that, gods themselves would serve as his stepping stones.
Aslan reached for the red pendant at his neck. He tore it free and tossed it into the air.
-End Chapter-
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