"If there's nothing else, you should leave my workshop."
Rhodes spoke calmly, his words carrying an unquestionable finality. Across from him, the blond boy named Roche stiffened. He clearly hadn't expected Rhodes to dismiss him so bluntly.
"But—"
"There is no 'but.' I have golem research to continue. If you're bored, go play with Avicebron."
Rhodes' expression remained flat as he looked at his brother in name only, impatience seeping through his gaze.
"And drop that act. Even if I were truly foolish, I could still see the cruelty beneath your affected innocence."
"Tch."
Roche clicked his tongue. The childish expression vanished from his face without a trace. Though only fourteen or fifteen, he was already a fully qualified magus.
Especially as a golem craftsman.
From childhood, Roche had fought other magi for rare materials. The number of magi and ordinary people who had died by his hand was impossible to count.
Someone like that could never be truly "innocent." That façade existed only to extract benefits when necessary.
"How could your golems compare to Master Avicebron's masterpieces?" Roche sneered, pride written across his face. "They're nothing but scrap metal."
"Oh? Scrap metal?" Rhodes replied lightly, anger pressed down beneath his voice. "That's an interesting choice of words."
For an Archwizard who had poured his soul into golemcraft, such mockery was intolerable.
"They're just junk," Roche continued without hesitation. "Even all of them together couldn't rival the 'peerless golem' my teacher created."
His words overflowed with reverence for Avicebron—and contempt for Rhodes.
In Roche's eyes, no modern magus could possibly rival Avicebron—the one who coined the thaumaturgical system known as Kabbalah—as a golem craftsman. Rhodes, however, responded with a sneer.
"If that's the case, why don't we compare them?"
Roche paused.
"Your golem against my work. One match. What do you say?"
"Oh?" Roche lifted his chin, arrogance blazing. "Fine. This afternoon, then. Your golem probably needs tuning, doesn't it?"
"Of course," Rhodes replied smoothly. "Let's use the castle courtyard."
A cunning glint surfaced in his eyes as he laid the trap with leisurely precision.
"Fine. Just don't cry when you lose, dear brother."
With that, Roche bounced out of the workshop, slamming the door behind him. He had originally planned to steal a few things on the way out, but his mind had already abandoned that idea.
"Honestly," Rhodes muttered, amusement curling at his lips. "He's ruthless enough to qualify as a magus, but his mind still falls short."
The echo of the door lingered.
"Don't cry later," Rhodes added softly. "Or the Frain Family will lose all face."
◇◇◇
That afternoon, the sun dimmed and the oppressive heat eased.
At the heart of the Yggdmillennia castle, within layers of enclosing walls, the flower-filled courtyard stood open and bright.
At its center towered a golem fashioned from earth, wood, stone, and parchment centuries old. Its imposing presence surpassed even the golems Avicebron usually produced.
Though Rhodes and Roche had agreed to use "self-made golems," Roche had clearly abandoned that notion. He intended to rely on the power of a Heroic Spirit to teach his ignorant brother a lesson.
More than a dozen Yggdmillennia magi watched from the sidelines. Darnic stood among them, and behind him loomed Vlad III, manifested in spirit form, his gaze sharp and predatory.
No one believed Rhodes would win.
They were only curious how wide the gap truly was between a "modern magus" and an "ancient Heroic Spirit."
"So this is the golem you made, Roche?"
Rhodes stepped into the courtyard with a leisurely stride, a playful smile on his face. His composure radiated effortless elegance.
"Hmph. Avicebron is my Heroic Spirit," Roche declared shamelessly. "His golems are mine as well."
Rhodes chuckled.
"Then shall we begin the golem duel?"
"Where's yours?" Roche barked, his expression twisting. "I can't wait to see it torn apart."
He raised his voice, dripping with mockery.
"Don't tell me you're too afraid to even bring it out. As a fellow member of the Frain Family, you shame me."
This time, even Vlad III behind Darnic wore a strange smile.
"Still looking for my golem?" Rhodes asked lightly. "Isn't it already right here?"
He lifted his hand and pointed toward the clear blue sky.
"What—"
Gasps rippled through the crowd as the sky twisted and shattered, revealing a colossal structure of steel.
A massive helicopter emerged, over fifteen meters long. Its rapidly spinning rotors carved the air, the thunderous roar forcing the magi to confront the power of modern weaponry for the first time.
Silver-black armor gleamed, etched with layers of runes. Countless sigils danced through the air, forming powerful barriers. The Arcane Magic known as Three-Circle Illusion – Invisibility Sphere and Zero-Circle Cantrip – Silent Gate allowed it to vanish and move without sound at will.
"That thing… what is it…"
Roche stared at the dense honeycomb rocket pods beneath the wings and the twin railguns mounted on the fuselage. A shiver ran through him.
Only now did he understand how terrifying modern technology could be.
"Tiger attack helicopter, designation PT-1," Rhodes said with a smile that chilled the blood. "An experimental model I dug out of a military museum. Once seen as the future by countless people of Germania, it carries considerable fame-based reinforcement."
He raised his hand.
"Now then. Let the battle begin."
"Wait!" Roche shouted, panic flashing across his face.
Rhodes ignored him.
One railgun flared with blinding light. Under Arcane Magic magnetization, energy surged through the rails, accelerating a solid aluminum slug to Mach twelve.
"Humm—BOOM!!"
In that instant, the towering golem—and half the castle wall behind it—were erased, reduced to ash beneath a pillar of searing white light.