Two spear arms shifted, their drill-heads aligning on Luna’s center mass with brutal precision. Cannons rotated half a degree to track her path.

Luna didn’t slow. She darted in, then out, baiting the timing, forcing the thrust. The guardian took it.

A spear shot forward like a harpoon, fast enough to rip the air, aimed for where Luna should have been.

She wasn’t.

Luna folded sideways at the last moment, body twisting into a narrow slip through the spear’s path. The spearhead punched empty air and slammed into the stone behind her with a crack that sent chips flying.

The instant the guardian overextended…

Viola charged.

She didn’t swing wide. She didn’t build up momentum like she was trying to cleave a tree.

She went straight in, low and direct, sword held like a lance.

She hissed under her breath, whatever she called that technique. Ludger had heard it once and forgotten the name immediately… But the effect was impossible to miss.

Her entire body aligned behind the thrust. Rage Flow and Overdrive compressed into the point. The froststeel blade became a single, violent intention. She hit the joint.

Right where the spear arm’s plating overlapped, where the runic conduits narrowed to pass through the hinge.

The sword punched through.

Metal shrieked. Runes flared and then fractured as the point drove deeper, splitting reinforcement lines like brittle wire. Viola twisted her wrist and dragged the blade sideways with all her weight behind it.

The arm came off.

Not cleanly like a surgical cut, cleanly like something chopped through a frozen branch. The severed spear arm dropped and hit the floor with a heavy clang, drilling head still spinning for half a second before it sputtered and died.

The guardian recoiled, shields snapping inward as it tried to compensate.

Luna was already past the spear’s dead angle, knives flashing toward the next joint.

And Viola reset her stance, one-handed grip steady again, left hand lifting to aim once more, calm inside the berserker heat, ready to punch another hole straight through the guardian’s perfect design.

A smirk crept onto her face.

“That was too easy—”

The guardian’s cannon arm snapped toward her. Not both. Just one.

The barrel didn’t rotate into a rapid-fire alignment like before. Instead, the runes along the inner ring brightened and held. Mana condensed in the chamber behind the muzzle, swelling into a tight, violent sphere that made the air around it distort.

Viola’s smirk vanished.

“That’s not bullets,” she hissed.

It wasn’t preparing a barrage.It was charging a blast. A single shot meant to erase whatever it hit.

Viola reacted instantly, jumping backward and turning her body to run, because there was no honor in standing in front of something that could vaporize a person outright. Her boots scraped the cracked stone as she pushed off, already planning where to take cover.

Then Ludger intervened.

A compressed column of water slammed down from above like a falling hammer, except it didn’t fall. It fired. A spinning lance of lake-mass driven with surgical force, striking the guardian’s shield side and jolting its stance at the last possible moment.

The guardian shook. Just enough. Its aim wobbled by a fraction.

And the charged blast released.

A beam of concentrated mana tore across the chamber, not toward Viola, but upward.

It punched into the suspended lake above them.

For an instant, everything went white.

The water in the beam’s path evaporated in a violent plume, steam erupting like an explosion. A clean, empty tunnel carved through the floating mass, the edges boiling and churning as the surrounding water tried to collapse back into place.

The gap began to refill almost immediately.

But for a few heartbeats, there was a clear path through the hovering lake, an exposed, steaming corridor of air and vapor where the beam had passed.

Viola stood frozen, eyes wide. Ludger’s voice cut through the steam, cold and sharp.

“Focus,” he said.

Viola clenched her jaw, smirk gone now, Rage Flow humming as she reset her stance.

“Right,” she muttered.

Because “too easy” was exactly how people died in labyrinths.

Before the guardian could fully recover from the misfire, its cannon arm began to hiss.

Steam leaked from the seams around the barrel, thin at first, then thicker, venting in short bursts as internal runes flickered and stabilized. The glow along the cannon’s inner ring dulled and sputtered, like a furnace that had been forced to burn too hot too fast.

Overloaded.

It wouldn’t fire that attack again for a while.

Luna didn’t waste the opening. She launched.

Rage Flow turned her into a blur, and Wind Overdrive erased the drag of air as she crossed the distance faster than the eye wanted to track. For a heartbeat it looked like she left afterimages behind her, phantoms of motion stamped into the dust and steam.

Then she was under the guardian’s reach. Not in front of it. Inside it.

She didn’t aim for armor plates. Didn’t try to chip stone. She went for what mattered, joints, seams, and the thin lines where rune circuits had to pass through overlapping metal.

Her knives flashed.

The first stabbed into the elbow hinge of the remaining spear arm, slipping into a narrow seam and scraping across runic etchings with a deliberate, grinding twist. Sparks burst at the contact point, white-blue flecks snapping into existence as metal met enchanted edges and circuitry cried out.

The guardian tried to swat her away with a shield arm.

Luna ducked under it, twisting her torso flat and letting the slab of metal cut only air. She used the shield’s momentum like a clock hand, stepping around it at the exact moment its arc would have trapped someone slower.

Her second knife punched into the shoulder joint. A quick stab. A deeper push. Then a sharp wrench, as if she were turning a key that the mechanism didn’t want turned. More sparks erupted, scattering across the stone floor like fireflies.

The guardian’s spear arm jerked. Its thrust came half a beat late. Luna was already moving again.

She slid behind the golem’s torso, feet never fully planting, always in motion, and stabbed into the hip stabilizer joint, right where the propulsion arrays connected to the leg plating. Her blade scraped along a rune line and carved it just enough to disrupt the flow.

The golem shuddered. It tried to grab her with its lower arm, fingers like iron clamps snapping shut.

Luna wasn’t there.

She folded back, rolled under the grasp, and came up on the other side, knives flicking in short, vicious patterns. Each strike was small, precise, almost delicate, yet every contact threw sparks as if she were striking flint against steel.

The guardian kept trying to hit her.

Shield arms slammed down like hammers. Spear arm jabbed in short, brutal thrusts. Cannon arm swung heavy and slow, venting steam as it tried to crush her. Luna danced between them.

She moved close enough that the guardian’s own limbs got in each other’s way. She used its size against it, slipping into blind angles, stabbing joints that couldn’t rotate to face her properly. Every time it tried to re-center on her, she was already somewhere else, leaving behind only a trail of brief, bright sparks where her knives had kissed its circuitry.

In seconds, multiple joints were compromised. Reinforcement runes flickered. Movement became uneven… And the guardian, built to dominate space, began to lose control of its own body, one disrupted hinge at a time.

While the guardian’s attention was pinned on Luna, Viola stepped back and raised her sword.

She didn’t rush.

Rage Flow burned hot in her veins, but she forced it into a narrow channel, letting it feed focus instead of frenzy. Her left hand slid up the flat of the blade, palm hovering near the froststeel as she began to push mana into it, slowly at first, then with growing pressure.

The air around the weapon shifted.

Mana gathered, thickened, and clung to the edge like invisible weight.

It reminded her of Lionfang, the technique Arslan used when he wanted to end a fight with one decisive blow. Not a clever technique. Not a subtle one. It was raw force distilled into an edge, the kind of strike meant to split armor and morale at the same time.

But Viola’s version was different. Less refined. More violent.

A technique that would have paired perfectly with Fire Overdrive, turning the strike into a burning cleave that didn’t care what it hit. Except this wasn’t Fire.

This was water-attuned mana, forced into a weapon that didn’t truly want anything else.

The mana would have felt heavy and stubborn, like trying to ignite a torch underwater. The blade wouldn’t have resonated cleanly.

Viola didn’t care. She held it anyway. She compressed it anyway. She waited.

In front of the guardian, Luna was still moving like a storm of knives, stabbing joints, carving rune seams, leaving sparks and flickering circuits in her wake. The golem tried to respond with all six limbs, but its motions were becoming clanky, uneven. Each time it attempted to pivot or brace, one of its joints hesitated, stuttering for half a beat as disrupted runes failed to distribute reinforcement properly.

That was the opening. Viola exhaled. And charged. She didn’t look fast.

Not in the obvious way, not in the explosive blur of wind-bursts or the violent acceleration of Rage Flow. Her movement was almost… smooth. Measured.

But it was still insane. Because there was no waste in it.

No extra steps. No excess sway. No hesitation. Every ounce of momentum went forward. Every shift of weight happened exactly when it needed to. It was as if her body had been tuned into a single line leading directly into the kill.

She crossed the distance in a heartbeat. The guardian tried to reorient, shields snapping toward her, spear arm lifting to intercept. It couldn’t.

Luna’s sabotage showed immediately. The shield arm caught halfway through its arc, joints grinding instead of rotating cleanly. The spear arm lagged, reinforcement runes flickering as it tried to stabilize. Viola arrived.

She swung once, diagonally downward, an attack that looked almost slow, like the weapon was dragging through thick air. The froststeel blade resisted the water attunement, and the strike didn’t have the clean, sharp snap she wanted.

Then she swung again, the opposite diagonal, crossing the first cut.

Again, it looked slow. Heavy. As if the blade had to force its way through the guardian’s body instead of slicing. For a moment, nothing happened.

The guardian stood there, half-raised shields frozen mid-motion, cannon arm venting steam, spear arm twitching. Then it stopped moving entirely.

A faint crackling sound spread across its torso, no longer hidden by the sound-seal now that they were in the open chamber. Frost blossomed along the two diagonal slashes, crawling outward as the water-attuned mana inside the cuts turned into a brutal, internal chill. The disrupted runes inside the guardian couldn’t compensate. The mana flow that should’ve reinforced the plates stuttered and died.

The torso began to fall apart. Not in one clean collapse. In layers.

Plates separating, sliding, fracturing as frost spread through the structures that had been holding everything together. The core’s glow flickered behind broken armor, then dimmed as the entire chest cavity lost cohesion.

Chunks of the guardian’s torso broke free and hit the stone with heavy, dead thuds.

Viola lowered her sword, breathing hard. Luna backed away, knives still raised, watching for a final spasm. But the guardian didn’t recover. It simply… came apart. And for the first time since the fight began, the massive chamber felt less like an arena. And more like a place that had just lost its master.

Thank you for reading!

Don’t forget to follow, favorite, and rate. If you want to read 400 chapters ahead, you can check my patreon: /Comedian0

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep