Broly gently set the car down. Second time riding a flying car, Taiga Fujimura no longer looked frightened.
"Broly, why are you here—and making such a weird entrance again?"
As the three of them approached, Rin Tohsaka was the first to question the boy.
"I came to find you. I noticed you weren't happy anymore. I want to know why."
Broly stated his purpose bluntly.
"'Us'?"
Rin was sharp. She picked up something from his words.
"You know my little sister?"
"Yeah."
Broly nodded.
"Sir, if I'm not mistaken, when we brought your daughter home last time, it was to tell you she was being abused in her adoptive family, wasn't it?"
While Broly spoke to Rin, Taiga strode up to Tokiomi Tohsaka, eyes hard, and questioned the elegant man in the red suit.
Arriving at the Matou house and seeing the scene of a child being handed over, then connecting it to the drop in the girl's Happiness Value—there was no need for more details. Taiga had already filled in the outline.
Her guess might not be perfect, but on the big points it was right: this man was sending his daughter back to the family that had abused her.
Tokiomi took a step back. The way the boy had descended from the sky with a car on his shoulder made him realize that the two who had once brought his little daughter home were no ordinary people.
Carefully, he drew out his jeweled cane before replying.
"This is a misunderstanding. My daughter was not abused in the Matou house. Their training in magecraft was simply a bit strict.
"But as her father, I do thank you for your concern. However, I must ask you, as outsiders, not to meddle lightly in the affairs between the Tohsaka and Matou families.
"Otherwise…"
Before he finished, Broly appeared in front of him. His small fist smashed into the side of Tokiomi's face.
Before everyone's eyes, the elegant man's features warped and twisted. His body spun through the air and shot away.
With a crash, he slammed into the Matou's big iron gate, rattling it loudly. Only then did the people around react.
"Tokiomi!"
"Teacher!"
"Dad!"
The first cry came from Aoi, the second from the expressionless Kirei Kotomine, and the third from Rin. She resented her father's cold-heartedness, but still had the instinctive respect she had grown up with.
"Your father's still alive. I didn't kill him."
Broly reassured the anxious Rin, then walked toward the man crumpled against the gate.
"I sent her home so she could be happy. But you drove her out of that home again."
He pointed at Sakura, who was watching from the side, his tone growing more and more furious.
"Old man fathers who act like old bastards usually deserve a beating. I'll use my fists to teach you who really owns your house."
Broly meant to fulfill the promise he had made to Sakura under the covers: to use violence to bring her home, to beat her parents into submission—or, to put it more bluntly, to help Matou Sakura seize back her former home.
Tokiomi was stunned. He had not expected Broly to move that suddenly, nor his blow to be that fast and that powerful.
Broly had held back just enough to avoid popping his head like a balloon, but his cheekbones were completely deformed. He spat out a mouthful of blood and several broken teeth.
The pain made him want to black out, but his pride as a magus kept him clinging to consciousness.
He raised his cane. Mana rose from within, and a fireball shot from the ruby at its tip, flying straight at the boy.
Broly watched the slow‑moving fireball and casually slapped it out. The mages around them could not help the twitch at the corner of their eyes.
Seeing his fireball fail, Tokiomi did not hesitate. He pulled a few high‑grade gems from his breast and flung them toward Broly.
The Tohsaka family's jewel magecraft was special. With gems of sufficient quality as auxiliary casting materials, they could greatly amplify the power of their spells.
"Art of the Six Shackles: Heavy Pressure!"
The spell Tokiomi unleashed was a gravity magecraft, multiplying the weight bearing down on anyone inside its field.
What would have been several times normal gravity, boosted by those top‑grade gems, surged to over twenty times a planet's standard gravity.
Outwardly, a body might be strong, but internal organs were fragile. No human viscera could tolerate more than twenty times Earth's gravity—unless he had grown up under a gravity stronger than that.
Broly felt the shift in gravity—it was like he had suddenly returned to Planet Vampa.
Vegeta's gravity was ten times that of Dragon Ball's Earth, and Vampa's was even heavier than Vegeta's.
So Broly showed not the slightest discomfort. Aside from glancing once at the gems Tokiomi had thrown, he walked right through the gravity field and up to him with ease.
"Impossible…"
Tokiomi could not accept that his magecraft had no effect. He stared, eyes wide.
"Are you ready for me to beat you up?"
Broly raised his small fist and asked earnestly. The beating to come would be difficult; he needed to keep tight control over his overwhelming strength so as not to accidentally kill the girls' old bastard father.
"I…"
Before Tokiomi could answer, Broly started.
His fists were small but blindingly fast, a blur that punched Tokiomi up off the ground.
"Tokiomi!"
"Teacher!"
"Dad!"
The cries rang out again as Tokiomi's eyes rolled back under the boy's barrage.
"Don't just shout—go help your teacher!"
Aoi's panic boiled over and she shoved Kirei.
Kirei: "…"
Watching Tokiomi get pummeled, he kept a concerned face, but felt a strange flicker of delight inside.
Prodded by his nominal "teacher's wife," he had no choice but to put on the mask of the dutiful disciple and rush in.
"Stop! Bajiquan—Crushing Fist!"
Kirei stepped into Broly's flurry and swung his Bajiquan at the boy.
The next moment, his whole body flew backward, tumbling down the street facing the Matou gate for over a dozen yards.
When he staggered up, his right arm was twisted and out of joint—a severe fracture.
"What is this thing?"
Sweat stood out on Kirei's forehead. From the outside, Broly's fists looked mostly fast and light, not particularly lethal.
After making contact, he realized those were iron fists backed by monstrous strength. If he had matched Broly's punch head‑on instead of pulling back, he might have lost his hands entirely.
"Still, he's clearly pulling his punches. Otherwise Tokiomi would already be paste."
That was Kirei's conclusion. He looked at the other two who'd come with the boy, then back at his teacher, whose elegant form had been beaten into something like a dance.
Just thinking about it, he gave up any idea of using them as hostages to threaten the boy. Far too dangerous.
Just as Broly drew back a fist again and aimed at Tokiomi's stomach for a couple more shots, a longsword suddenly flashed in from the side.
Unlike Kirei's soft, ineffective strike, this sword actually made Broly stop.
He turned toward the direction it had come from. A golden figure solidified there.
"You've put on a good show. But Tokiomi is my vassal. At times, the dignity of a vassal is the face of his king."
Gilgamesh spoke.
"You mean 'even a dog's beating depends on its master'?"
The phrase popped into Broly's mind, so he asked it out loud.
"'Even a dog's beating depends on its master'?"
Gilgamesh froze, then burst out laughing.
"Exactly. In light of how you've amused me, if you stop now, this king will overlook your offense… this time."
To squabble seriously with a child was beneath him. If Tokiomi hadn't looked on the verge of death, he would not have intervened.
"You're helping him?"
Broly asked.
"You could put it that way."
As the words fell, chains clinked. The Chains of Heaven lashed out, binding Broly in midair. His little fist, which had been swinging toward Gilgamesh, halted twenty centimeters from his face—close enough for Gilgamesh to feel the wind of the blow.
"You really are an aggressive brat, attacking this king the moment we disagree. But since you're just a child, this king can forgive—"
"Clatter—bang!"
The chains stretched under brute force, and a shield Noble Phantasm flashed up just in time to cover Gilgamesh.
Broly's fist slammed into the shield with a deafening crash. The force hurled the shield backward.
Gilgamesh raised a hand to stop the flying shield, but even as a demigod he was pushed back by it.
With a crack, the shield shattered, exposing Gilgamesh behind it. Broly ignored the chains still on his limbs, rushed forward again, and dropped a kick.
"Boom!"
No one knew if the sound came from the sky or the ground breaking. Where Gilgamesh had stood, a crater like a meteor impact had opened.
Broly stood in the pit and grabbed the chains binding his hands and feet. With a flex, he snapped them easily.
"It seems you can't be treated as a mere child. You must be considered a ferocious beast."
Perched on a streetlamp, Gilgamesh's face had gone grave. His casual outfit had transformed into golden armor. Two attacks were enough for him to realize how dangerous the boy was.
If something could threaten his life and tear through the Chains of Heaven so effortlessly, then to take it lightly would make him the clown.
Ripples from the Gate of Babylon spread out behind him. Noble Phantasms rose from the ripples, all aimed at the boy below.
Broly frowned up at him. Confirming that this was someone he could hit harder, he struck again, kicking the streetlamp out from under him.
Gilgamesh leapt clear, and the Noble Phantasms fell like raindrops with the storm.
The thunder of impacts shook the street. Pavement turned to dust and rubble, but Broly charged through the rain of weapons.
He batted aside and shattered blades with his bare hands, leaping straight up after Gilgamesh as the King of Heroes stepped from weapon to weapon in the air.
A monster. This was a true monster. Even when the Noble Phantasms hit him without being knocked aside or broken, they still failed to inflict any serious damage.
At the same time, Gilgamesh could feel Broly's speed and power rapidly increasing, as if he had not been using his full strength at first and was only now starting to.
Fortunately, the boy's movements were so straightforward that they were easy to predict. Ordinary Noble Phantasms could not hurt him, but their impact could slow him a little.
As a shield again blocked Broly's view, he shattered it with a punch—only for a massive war hammer, already in position behind it, to swing down.
Not expecting the hammer behind the shield, Broly took it full on the forehead and was smashed from the air to the ground.
"Thud!"
"Ow, that hurts!"
He clutched his brow and rolled around in the new crater, genuinely hurt by the unexpected blow.
Anyone else—beast or otherwise—would have been reduced to paste by that hit. He only felt pain.
Gilgamesh stood balanced on a Noble Phantasm, arms folded, and gave a grown‑up's evaluation of the chase.
"You're strong. This king must acknowledge that. But your attacks are too direct, like a wild animal that only knows how to charge.
"If that's the only way you know to fight, then no matter how fast or strong you are, you'll never lay a finger on this king!"
He summed it up silently, keeping one thing to himself: Broly's defense was absurd. Even direct bombardment from Noble Phantasms couldn't break his skin. Gilgamesh had no good way to deal with him.
"You're cheating. All you do is throw stuff!"
Broly was furious. Gilgamesh's throwing style was a kind of fighting he had never seen.
In all his hunting and sparring with his old bastard of a father, combat had always been body‑to‑body. No one had ever just thrown things.
"Hmph. These are my treasures. This king attacks and defends with his own wealth. That's perfectly reasonable.
"And this king is manifested as an Archer‑class Servant. What's wrong with fighting at range?"
Gilgamesh's retort only underlined one fact: he had no intention of fighting Broly up close.
Close combat with this monstrosity in human form? That was suicide.
Right now, he had no desire at all to do anything that did not match his current class.
He was Archer. A bowman, no matter how you sliced it, was a ranged fighter.
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