To think this eye-patched man was the true identity of the crossbow golem wielder. With his now slovenly expression and rolled-back eye, he no longer resembled the handsome man I had seen in the branch office. That was why it took me some time to realize they were the same person.
Ah. So when he watched me in the lobby, he had been looking at me as a target.
Since the mist had vanished immediately after the eye-patched man was defeated, I surmised the anti-detection spell was one he had cast. The fact that his crossbow golem could fire from an unbelievable distance while he protected both it and himself from detection proved he was profoundly skilled. Frankly, if my senses hadn’t been heightened by sorcery, there was no way I would’ve been able to resist the threat he presented.
However, that was the end of my peaceful contemplation. A dark and furious bloodlust gushed like a flood from Gol’s entire being as she stood in front of the crossbow golem.
This was bad. Gol was incandescent with rage. The target of her dense, seething hatred was the crossbow golem.
I couldn’t say I didn’t understand why she was so indignant. I am strikingly unmotivated to act violently, even in self-defense. My rare sense of determination this time around had stemmed from the need to protect my elders and a small child. Hence my Earth Battle-Axe shenanigans, which, thankfully, had neatly obstructed the enemy’s attempt to murder me.
However, if I had been my usual moocher self and resigned myself to acting as a carefree referee, I would have 100 percent been killed by that last attack, and the perpetrator of that final blow would’ve been the crossbow golem.
“This is bad…” My face paled as I unconsciously uttered these words.
But before I could say anything like “Stop,” Gol slammed her foot into the crossbow golem. Then she straddled her toppled opponent’s chest and began to mindlessly pummel his face.
Wait, I don’t think that’s quite correct—linguistically speaking, I mean. The crossbow golem’s head had already been pulverized by the initial blow, yet Gol continued to shower the area where the head had been with vicious, wrathful punches. She was practically in a frenzied state. She must have been so panicked, so terrified at the thought of losing me.
Each time Gol brought down her fist, the trees in the forest shook as if in an earthquake. Her anger had yet to be sated. She began to rip off the pitiful crossbow golem’s remaining arm. Her thin, white, elven arm strained against the thick tan arm of the crossbow golem and disturbing creaks rang through the air. Finally, with a dreadful crack, the crossbow golem’s arm was disconnected from their shoulder.
“Hey, Gol! The match is over already. Any more would be cruel.” I had rushed over and was finally close enough to walk up to Gol. I truly was a pitiful owner. I hated watching her lose her mind, so I tried to restrain her, but, well…
That is to say, I intended to stop her, and I could have, but—no, hear me out—you understand that to reach her, I had to sprint at full speed across an entire meadow, right?
I was out of breath.
I desperately tried to catch my breath next to Gol, but I lost it all to a gasp.
Gol’s blazing red eyes were filled with murderous fury as she raised her right fist even higher into the air. Her target was the golem’s chest, the place where their heart—their sorcery core—resided.
Mr. Chotos had said that no matter how many times a golem’s body was broken in battle, it could be repaired with relative ease. But once broken, the sorcery core that housed a golem’s artificial personality could not be restored. The sorcery core in a golem’s chest was indeed like their heart, since it was formed by the accumulation of their memories and experiences. Destroying it meant “killing” the golem.
So: Gol intended to kill this golem.
“Wait—stop, Gol!” In a daze, I jumped on Gol.
As ever, when I touched her, Gol did not remotely resist me. I crashed into her with all my momentum and she fell over with her right arm still held aloft.
I covered Gol with my whole body, her on her back, so in the end it looked like I had pushed her to the ground. Her body was soft underneath mine, and everywhere we touched I was met by faint warmth.
As I held her down, I stared at her with utter seriousness. Because I had run to her as fast as I could, my breathing was still ragged, like that of an aroused beast, but that couldn’t be helped. Each time my hot gasps touched Gol’s face and neck, her body twisted as if in pain and her long ears trembled. Her crimson eyes stared up at me, feverish and blurry.
What was this? I sensed some kind of determined resolution in the depths of her eyes, glittering in their daze. It was as if something powerfully important had occurred to her, like she had decided to offer up some precious thing only she possessed, something she could never offer again.
Ah, I got it. She was ready to receive my lecture.
But you know, partner, I don’t think you need such heroic resolve for something like this. Aren’t you taking my scolding a little too seriously?
Well, whatever. In any case, this was an important conversation. As I lay on top of her, I slowly enunciated, “Hey, Gol. Let’s not kill this golem, okay?”
You see, I was against killing golems—generally, as a thing.
“I know you’re only doing this because you’re thinking of me. This world seems to welcome irrational violence, but no matter how naïve I am, you must not think it’s fine to go around killing anything and everything. One day, you may be forced to kill people in righteous self-defense…but don’t kill their golems.”
Gol stared back at me questioningly.
I continued gently. “Gol, I’m sure you would slaughter any enemy without hesitation if I asked you to, right? Well, this huge guy and those clowns are just the same. They aren’t bad. The bad ones are their owners.”
I held firm to this belief: It is the responsibility of owners to provide proper training. Any acting out, any improper aggression, is fundamentally their fault. Dogs—no, golems—are not remotely guilty.
Also, golems could be rendered powerless without having to kill them. You just needed to destroy their head. Therefore, there was no need to go through the trouble of prying off the thick armor covering their chest to kill them.
“You understand? Okay?” While still on top of Gol, I gently stroked her head.
Gol stared blankly back at me as if in the throes of a fever. She was clever; I was sure she understood. And besides, Gol was a good girl who always made sure to keep her promises to me.
Now then, all the enemies on the battlefield had been taken care of.
I got up off of Gol, who seemed oddly reluctant, and returned to the wagon. While I had run all that way in a panic, I had let the mana supply to my Earth Battle-Axe cut off. The axe crumbled into black particles inside my robe, leaving a trace of the dirt I had used to create it, then disappeared.
With the crumbling of the Earth Battle-Axe, my sorcery ended and my spatial awareness returned to normal.
As such, I didn’t notice what came next—not in time to stop it. Gol found a new target for her anger and slowly stood up behind me. Her bloodlust rose like a heat haze, and she slowly approached the defeated crossbow golem wielder: the unconscious eye-patched man…