The Bronze Giants were nothing short of terrifying.

They didn’t just move like mindless machines.

No, they adapted—shifting forms, hunting down their enemies with calculated intent.

When one suddenly morphed into a bull and charged, Ihan even felt a flicker of surprise.

CRUNCH!

CRASH!

[Uoooo!!!]

“…A bull now? Seriously?”

The Bronze Giant, now in the form of a massive bull, came hurtling toward him.

Its horns gleamed like blades, sharp enough to cleave a body in two at the slightest touch.

But Ihan met it head-on.

With his bare hands.

Iron Body.

The bull’s horns weren’t enough to pierce him.
Not even close.

Yet even if its cutting power fell short, its raw strength was no joke.

GRRRRRRK—!

Muscles strained and flexed as Ihan absorbed the full force of the bull’s charge.

Anyone else—no, any human—would have been flattened.

But Ihan?

He held his ground.

This was the same Ihan who had finally reached a 7-ton squat.

The result of relentless training and sheer stubbornness.

Sure, he was still a ways off from his goal—a 10-ton deadlift—

But a damn mechanical bull?

‘I’ll just throw the damn thing.’

Ihan activated [Force Reinforcement].

His already overwhelming strength surged, pushing him beyond human limits.

Like an ant carrying prey many times its size, or a stag beetle crushing a rival with its jaws—

Ihan’s power became inhuman.

Not that this was something just anyone could do.

To wield that kind of strength meant his body had already become a vessel capable of bearing such force.

“HAAAAAH!!”

Ihan roared, pouring his will into the attack.

It wasn’t just noise—it was intent.

A battle cry to drive his strength even higher.

The sound of his voice shook the air, rippling across the battlefield.

The mages nearby?

They clutched their ears, screaming as their eardrums burst.

BOOOOM—!

But the most shocking sight wasn’t the mages dropping to their knees.

It was the Bronze Bull, flailing helplessly as Ihan lifted it off the ground.

A 7-ton hunk of metal—hoisted into the air like it was nothing.

And then—

[──!?]

He hurled it.

Where?

Straight into the other Bronze Giants.

BOOOOOM!!

The impact sent shockwaves tearing through the battlefield.

The giants couldn’t avoid it—
the sheer force of the collision shook even their massive frames.

But—

SPLAT!

“…Shit. That hurt.”

Even Ihan didn’t walk away unscathed.

Blood oozed from his palms—torn open from the sheer pressure.

‘Maybe that was a bit too much.’

Throwing a mechanical bull like a cannonball?
Not exactly a sustainable strategy.

He needed to use his head.

Still—

‘Can’t keep relying on Sword Aura either.’

He’d already cut down three of the giants,
but the energy drain was no joke.

Unlike those bastards who used Sword Aura naturally, Ihan was still wasting too much strength.

It needed work—more control.

Until then?

He’d have to fight the rest without it.

If it were just these Bronze Giants,
he could push himself further, burn through his reserves, and wipe them out.

But—

‘I doubt this ends with the giants… or those old mages.’

Ihan’s instincts screamed at him.

The Magic Tower wasn’t finished.

No, there was more.

And whatever it was—it was far worse.

‘Now this—this is what I expect from mages.’

It was perfect.

They weren’t about to disappoint him.

Ihan—who hated and despised mages more than anyone—
was also the one who respected them the most.

And ironically?

He found relief in knowing that the Magic Tower was strong.

It was a twisted sort of admiration.

The kind that made you realize—

Just how dangerous obsession could be.

Meanwhile, chaos erupted across the Empire.

The sight of the Empire’s floating fortress, its famed castle in the sky, crashing down to the earth was impossible to miss.

The news spread like wildfire, shaking the Empire to its core.

—"Who… could have done this?"

—"What the hell is happening?!"

—"Hah…!"

—"It’s divine punishment! The bastards are finally being judged by the heavens!"

From royalty to nobles to commoners, everyone was talking about it.

The Empire’s leadership hastily convened meetings.

The question?

“Do we send help to the Magic Tower or let them burn?”

But the Empire was already a mess.

Even the officials who were supposed to attend the emergency councils were dragging their feet.

And why wouldn’t they?

The Magic Tower had made plenty of enemies.

Many nobles, including the princes and vassal lords, secretly hated the Tower.

They saw the Tower’s destruction as an opportunity.

“If the royal family and central nobility suffer because of this, wouldn’t that be… convenient?”

It was karma.

The Tower had piled up too many grudges over the years.

And yet—

Despite the reports of devastating damage—

“—They’re convinced the Magic Tower won’t actually fall.”

Not a single person truly believed the Tower would be destroyed.

They thought the Tower would recover, just like it always had.

“It’s the Magic Tower, after all.”

“…Exactly. It’s the Tower.”

“…Is it really that impressive?”

“……”

“W-What? I’m allowed not to know! Don’t look at me like that!”

“…I was just surprised by the question. My apologies if I seemed rude.”

“Hmph. Whatever.”

“…Haha…”

The silver-haired boy, Derrick, smiled awkwardly.

Caught between the sharp-tongued exchanges of his two companions, he couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed.

Still, trying to ease the tension, Derrick turned to the golden-haired girl—a beauty so ethereal she seemed almost otherworldly.

With a kind tone, he explained:

“…The Magic Tower has ruled over the Empire for over a thousand years. It’s only natural that people believe it’s indestructible—even if the Empire itself were to collapse first.”

“…Isn’t that basically religion at that point?”

“You could say that. Their power, gathered over a millennium, is on a level even Pendragon can’t ignore.”

“…Hmm, I see.”

“…?”

“If they’re so amazing, then…”

The girl—Irene Windler—tilted her head.

“…Why are they getting their asses handed to them by Instructor Ihan and Sir Raq?”

“……”

Derrick fell silent.

He had no answer to that.

And before he could come up with one—

“…Those two are just freaks.”

The black-haired swordsman, Roen, muttered with a tired look.

Honestly, who could blame him?

‘Those Bronze Giants—aren’t they supposed to be Level 7.5 war machines?’

The Bronze Giants—designated <Talos>—

The invincible bronze soldiers embodying the Tower’s collective wisdom.

Each one wielded strength three times that of an ogre, moved as fast as a hyena,

Repaired themselves automatically,

Spewed 1,500-degree flames,

And could transform into beasts.

‘A single unit could level five cities.’

And there were twelve of them.

Enough to wipe out an entire kingdom in a day.

“…Yet Instructor Ihan is toying with them.”

Derrick’s enhanced [Vision Skills] let him observe the battle clearly.

It wasn’t a fight.

It was a slaughter.

When Ihan picked up a 7-ton mechanical bull and threw it, Derrick’s legs went weak.

‘How is that even humanly possible?!’

“No,” Roen said, shaking his head.

“He’s not toying with them. He’s giving it everything he’s got.”

“…Huh?”

“It’s technique, power, and will—pushing himself to the limit.”

“…That’s him holding back?”

“Yes. He’s conserving energy. Probably preparing for the next wave.”

“……”

Derrick was speechless.

The fight he was watching?

Apparently, it wasn’t even the main event.

“Ha… Is Sir Raq holding back too, then?”

Irene, using her water-magic lens, shifted her gaze to Raq.

Even against five Grand Mages,

Raq was holding his ground, exploiting their weaknesses and striking with lethal precision.

If Ihan’s fight resembled a wild circus act,

Raq’s was surgical.

Every movement was sharp—every strike deadly.

Watching him felt like seeing an acrobat walk a tightrope without a net.

‘As expected of the Wolf of Galahad.’

‘Well, he is a Level 8 Hero.’

The boys evaluated him differently—

Derrick, as someone who knew the future, recognized how terrifying Raq would become.

And Roen, as a contemporary warrior, simply acknowledged him as one of the strongest.

And then—

Ding—.

 

 

Name: Raq de Duron.

Race: ??

Traits: [Celestial Slayer (Lv.8), Genius (Lv.6), Master of All Weapons (Lv.7), Iron Body (Lv.5), Mystic Embodiment (Lv.8), Guardian of Rivers (Lv.5), All-Rounder (Lv.5)]

Celestial Slayer: A trait granted only to those born under one of the Thirty-Six Heavenly Stars. It imbues the user with overwhelming killing intent and an abnormal desire for slaughter. Such individuals possess the potential to become legendary executioners. The Celestial Slayer trait also enhances Genius (Lv.6), granting supernatural talent.

Genius: Not a gift from the heavens but a curse from spirits. It marks someone with unnerving brilliance and frightening insight. Their talents and intellect verge on the eerie, often pushing them toward psychopathy. However, the right teacher can steer them toward a righteous path.

Master of All Weapons: Only true masters of combat can attain this trait. The user can wield any weapon with deadly proficiency. Focusing on a single weapon allows them to surpass even that mastery and ascend to a legendary level.

Iron Body: A trait for those who have transcended physical limits. It fortifies the body against immense pressure and grants inhuman stamina and endurance.

Mystic Embodiment: Awarded to those who have transformed mysteries into techniques. The user must embody at least seven mystical forces, exceeding conventional power and rivaling even the extraordinary.

Guardian of Rivers: Granted to warriors who have fought 10,000 battles on rivers. It enhances combat skills on ships and water, even extending to seas. Fighting on water grants the user increased abilities and unmatched adaptability.

All-Rounder: For those capable of fulfilling ten roles at once. The user excels in any position, adapting fluidly to crises without losing composure. They are the ultimate multi-tool in battle.

“Ridiculous.”

These were traits befitting someone at the absolute top tier.

‘So the Celestial Slayer and Genius traits were stabilized because of Duke Galahad, huh? Normally, they’d self-destruct by Level 6, but this guy…’

‘The Master of All Weapons and Iron Body traits? Given his talent, of course he’d have them.’

‘But Mystic Embodiment? That’s just broken. How the hell does he have that?’

‘And Guardian of Rivers? Isn’t that almost on par with the Giant Slayer trait? Rare as hell.’

‘Wait—All-Rounder?! Are you kidding me? This guy’s built to win.’

The more Derrick looked, the more he laughed in disbelief.

Even one of those traits would make someone top-tier.

But Raq had six high-tier traits.

‘Traits aren’t everything, though.’

Derrick reminded himself of that.

North’s Grand Warrior, Maximus, had traits that could overwhelm even Instructor Ihan’s.
Yet in actual combat, Ihan had held his ground.

Traits only described potential.

True power depended on how those traits were used.

And right now?

They had a Level 8 monster fighting with them.

Raq was holding off five Grand Mages.

So Derrick and the others had their own mission—

“Let’s move, both of you. We’re already late.”

Instructor Ihan had given them a job.

Standing around watching wasn’t part of it.

“…We didn’t mean to be late.”

Irene pouted, brushing her golden hair aside.

“Honestly, isn’t it weird that those two got here faster than us, even though we flew?”

“…Are you sure that artifact you brought isn’t defective, Derrick?”

“…It’s not defective! They’re just insane. Also, I’m not a teaching assistant!”

“Right, right.”

The group couldn’t help but feel inferior.

They had flown using magical artifacts, yet Ihan and Raq—who’d arrived first—had done so by running.

Shaking their heads, they hurried to complete their mission.

Meanwhile—

“…I wonder if the kids are here yet?”

Ihan briefly thought about his three subordinates.

He hadn’t wanted to drag them into this.

But just in case, he’d sent word ahead through Taechang.

Supposedly, they had a flying artifact and could make it on time.

‘If only that thing wasn’t three-seats-only, I would’ve flown too.’

Ihan snorted at the thought.

SCREEEECH—!

“…Don’t take it personally. I wasn’t mocking you.”

Ihan shrugged at his opponent.

He’d only been worried about whether the kids could handle their part.

But now?

“Rest in peace.”

[------.]

SCREEEEE—!

BOOM!

The last Bronze Giant reached out for him—

But it froze.

Its movements ceased.

“…Not bad.”

Ihan wiped the blood from his hands.

The bastard had been tough.

It wasn’t just that the Bronze Giants were strong.

It wasn’t just that they could transform, breathe fire, or crush enemies with sheer brute force.

They were relentless.

No matter how many times they were smashed, torn apart, or cut down, they regenerated and kept coming.

They attacked again and again—learning, adapting, and refining their methods.

It was astonishing.

Their regeneration wasn’t their only strength.

They could learn.

If these Bronze Giants had been allowed to evolve just a bit further, even Ihan might have struggled to bring them down.

But—

The winner was Ihan.

And the loser was the Bronze Giant.

So—

“Good work.”

Tap.

Ihan passed the fallen giant and gave it a light pat.

As if to say, “You did your best.”

FSSSSHHH—.

The Bronze Giant crumbled into dust.

Thus ended the thousand-year reign of the Magic Tower’s guardian.

But no one spared it a second glance.

Why?

BOOOOM!!

Because the real battle was still raging.

“Damn. Those old spellcasters sure know how to put up a fight.”

Above them, thunderclouds churned in a massive counterclockwise spiral.

The storm raged with lightning, wind, and tornadoes, consuming everything in its path.

A Cyclone.

A supermassive Cyclone.

It wasn’t just nature’s wrath—it was magic, wielded as a weapon.

Watching the awe-inspiring destruction, Ihan asked—

“Still alive?”

“……”

“Hmm. Did you finally die?”

“…Don’t kill me off so easily, you bastard.”

“Tch. Still kicking, huh?”

“You damn—!”

“Whoa, calm down. Looks like you’ve still got some fight in you.”

Ihan glanced at the corpses scattered around Raq.

About thirty?

Every single one of them had been decapitated.

Not even worth acknowledging.

The real problem was those five old bastards still floating above them.

And speaking of that—

“…All you managed was to cut off an arm?”

“Tch—!”

Ihan’s voice was sharp with disappointment.

Raq gritted his teeth, clearly seething at the criticism.

Even he couldn’t deny it.

It wasn’t enough.

But from the mages’ perspective—

It was a nightmare.

Hearing their casual conversation felt like watching predators calmly sizing up their prey.

The Grand Mages stood frozen, their faces pale and ashen.

They trembled—

Like cornered animals facing a natural enemy.