Chapter 112: Legacy Made to Black Rabbit
[In Chapter 111 I kept getting the stat points from leveling up wrong. First I divided the level by five by mistake; then I misunderstood the amount and multiplied the level by ten. After repeating those mistakes, I washed my face, cleared my head and worked it out properly: 20 points per level-up × 5 level-ups + 50 bonus points = 150 points. Sorry for the confusion.]
As far as I've researched, the area boss of the Ruins of Past Glories is the Overdress Golem. It's not a relic from the Age of Divinity, but a naturally spawned golem—one that adorns itself with the decayed remnants of Divinity-era relics like scales, to the point that it almost looks dressed up.
If that's the case, then the one standing before me is not the Overdress Golem. This is the rare enemy that wanders the Ruins of Past Glories, exterminating intruders—the Omega Cell Unit Golem: Security Slaughter. That is its name.
Sunraku: "I don't have time to deal with a rare enemy. I don't... but..."
When it comes to running all the way to Fiftysia, I've already thoroughly researched the boss intel. As for the Overdress Golem, if things go well, I could potentially take it down in about a minute. And I've already mapped out the strategy for it. In that case, how far can the current me—Sunraku—fight? As a punching bag to test that... this Omega Box—ugh, too long—this Omega Box is perfect, isn't it?
The thought did cross my mind, but my body's already being honest, heh heh heh... just kidding. My body's already in motion.
Sunraku: "I'm gonna have to spend an hour gushing about how they feel to use later, so I might as well give 'em a test drive..."
I stow Togetsu in my inventory and hurriedly allocate my stats. The stat requirements for that thing are... you've gotta be kidding me—VIT 300?! No, wait, wait. You can raise that through equipment, so it's not like it's actually impossible... The VIT added by equipping the Battlehorn Helm [Four Shells]... YESSS, 500! Thank you, Quad Beetle! No, seriously, thank you!
Then with the 150 points, I meet the minimum required stats—STR 100 and TEC 70—neatly rounding off the others while dumping every last remaining point into Luck... Conditions met.
The technology of the Age of Divinity, revived in the modern era by the Ancient Craftsman Bilac. A Re-Legacy Weapon, named as an inheritance from a far-distant antiquity—crafted from the materials of the beloved bastards known as Crystal Scorpions and the Golden Scorpion, along with a constellation of rare ores. Even here, where the Omega Box and the colossal skeleton block the light, it gleams with an obsidian radiance.
Sunraku: "Re-Legacy Weapon: Bilac... and its name is [Gilta Brille]! Bilac, you've done a damn fine job here..."
I remember it now. Just before I set off to rechallenge the Crystal Nest Cliff—when Bilac came to me, asking to make a Legacy Weapon from the Crystal Scorpion materials. She asked me what she should make. And my answer...
—If you're making something, not dual blades. Make me something like gauntlets for hand-to-hand combat.
Sunraku: "Blazing spirit! This is great, I'm pumped up to the max!!"
Clang! I slam the gauntlets—covering both my arms up to the elbows, each shaped like the head of a Crystal Scorpion and a Golden Scorpion—together. Their size is immense; just the fist portion of one gauntlet is nearly the size of a human head. Combined with their sci-fi aesthetic, they almost look like mechanical arms. As if striving to claim victory in their first battle, they quietly hum with a drive sound that no ordinary steel could ever produce.
At a glance, they might look like nothing more than jet-black gauntlets, but the gleam of crystal peeking through the gaps in the obsidian armor holds a secret: gold on the right, pale silver on the left.
Sunraku: "I've been thinking for a while that it's a waste to keep punching bare-handed."
Infight and Hand of Fortune—I've always used these two skills with my bare hands. If there were meaning in "fighting bare-handed" like Oikatzo, then it would be one thing. But the Mercenary job has no such restriction. That means I've been throwing out martial arts attacks at minimum power this whole time. That's why I asked Bilac to make me hand-to-hand combat equipment. But there's another reason too.
I've played a countless number of trash games. And since each one required a different approach to clear, I've handled a wide variety of weapons. Guns, swords, spears, staves... and of course, fists. I'm confident that I can master pretty much any weapon with about thirty minutes of practice. But even I have a "preferred weapon." Like, say, the martial arts I mained in a certain inhuman fighting game.
Sunraku: "It pains my heart to bring trash-game elements into a god-tier game... but you're gonna hear me out, box bastard."
The Omega Box has also shifted into combat stance. I thrust my left fist toward it, flashing a fearless grin beneath my four-horned helmet as I declare:
Sunraku: "Here stands the true essence of the Iaifist Style. I'll knock you out in one round."
Those words weren't exactly a signal, but we both start moving at almost the exact same time.
Like sliding sheets of stacked paper apart one by one—like holding a hand of cards fanned out—the box-segments that form its arms slide into thin plates, and a whip-like arm made of aligned plates comes swinging down. I felt like I'd seen something like this somewhere before... is it similar to a snake-sword?
The sequence of plates descends like a blade, aiming to sever me. But I'm not so senile that I'd get caught by such a straightforward trajectory, lukewarm speed, and too-thin hitbox. If you wanna hit me, expand that hitbox by two meters, bring it down to 12 frames or less, and then come back.
I sidestep, still in the boxing form I'd raised to guard my face. Then, the moment the Omega Box's "arm" attack hits the ground, I close the distance in one burst.
Sunraku: "Now then, let's test the firepower."
Infight—granting a bonus to point-blank attacks. Hand of Fortune—performing damage calculation through Luck. I activate a series of skills that, within my arsenal, form an inseparable combo rivaled only by the Nitro Gain and Climax Boost pairing.
I step forward with my left foot, leaning my body back to generate momentum, winding up my fist. The massive body—about three meters tall, the kind you'd say could stand as a boss on its own—looms before me. My target: the base of one of its four articulated legs.
I shift my entire weight onto my left foot, drive into the ground, and swing my right arm. This may be a rare enemy from the later areas of this continent, but I'm level 99. Even accounting for being solo, you can't take a high-power blow to a leg joint—a part where durability is constantly being shaved away—and walk away with no damage like nothing happened.
A box-doll of the past—neither life nor soul within it—knows no fear of curses. Even against an opponent stronger than itself, the mission that golem must fulfill will not change. Extermination of intruders. That, and nothing else, is the reason for the Omega Box's existence. The Omega Cell Unit Golem: Security Slaughter.
But here's the thing—if you want to make a character stand out, you've gotta give it at least the bare minimum of emotion. Otherwise, a robot won't survive.
Incidentally, if a robot can sacrifice itself—half-destroyed or completely wrecked—to protect a main character, and then, right on the verge of shutting down, gaze at a flower and deliver an emotional line, it's guaranteed to rank high in popularity polls. What I'm trying to say is: as a mere rare enemy, you don't have a single chance in hell.
My right fist—modeled after the Golden Scorpion—lands a clean hit on one of the four articulated legs, right where the knee would be. Naturally, I'm not sloppy enough to miss the critical. The response that travels through the gauntlet and into my right arm is the satisfaction of a perfect blow.
The crack running through the knee joint means that single strike overwhelmed its durability and dealt massive damage. The Omega Box moves to eliminate the enemy at its feet—but I'm three moves faster.
Sunraku: "Snap!"
I forcibly crush the lingering momentum of my right swing and pour power into my left arm. I can't expect Hand of Fortune-level firepower from it, but with my current STR, I can dish out damage rivaling Luck. I drive an uppercut—scooping up from directly below—into the cracked knee joint.
Crrrrack. The fracture widens further, and strength drains from the tensed articulated leg. The fact that it didn't shatter and snap off is probably because the blow wasn't imbued with a destruction attribute. But the only thing that matters is the fact that one of its legs is destroyed. Two skill-boosted critical hits to destroy one leg for sure, huh... Would've been nice if it were two criticals without the skills, but I can't afford to be greedy.
Sunraku: "This is already a detour—I'm finishing this fast!"
I fire off another blow at the remaining articulated legs, challenging this formidable enemy alone...
Twenty minutes. That's a huge flub, damn it!!