Greg didn't hear them, but he didn't give a damn about it. His whole life had been focused on one thing right now that is, making Agatha pay.

He wanted to hurt her and help her see what she had taken from him. He sped up weapons than should have been possible, and each one was deadlier than the last. He then threw them at the three Calamities with mechanical precision.

The constructs tried to fight back by firing their projectiles, but Greg made shields in the air to stop them. He created walls that collapsed as soon as they were no longer needed. He wove a web of animated metal around himself that moved with his thoughts and protected him while he focused only on offense.

"Stop, Greg!" Lylia's voice stood out in the noise. "This isn't you! You don't make weapons! That's your whole philosophy!"

"Fuck that philosophy!" Greg's voice was still flat and dead. "Hilda is dead."

"She didn't recover because of philosophy. Peace didn't save her, and being morally superior to them didn't save her."

He made two greatswords and sent them flying through the air like saw blades. They cut through one of the smaller Calamities' support structures, and the construct fell to the ground with a noise like a building falling down. Greg was already making more weapons to finish it off.

Tunner stepped forward with the shield Greg had made him and said, "He's not wrong."

"You sometimes have to fight. Rosalina, come with me. We need to support him."

"He's losing himself, Tunner," Rosalina said, already moving to follow. "Look into his eyes! That's not sadness, and worse still, it's not even grief anymore! That's emptiness!"

"Then we pull him back after," Tunner said. "But right now, he's giving us a chance to end this! We can't waste it!"

The Royal Knights charged ahead, and the fight turned into something else. Greg had an endless supply of weapons, which he made on the spot and threw with perfect accuracy.

Tunner used the SSS-rank shield to hold their formation together and stop attacks that would have destroyed them. Despite her injuries, Rosalina fought with the skill and grace that had made her a legend. Her sword work went perfectly with Greg's ranged attack.

Marina joined them with the SSS-rank gauntlets she picked, and each punch was ten times stronger. When they hit, they actually knocked the Calamities off their feet.

Lylia's sword sang through the air as she used her Royal Knight training to take advantage of the gaps in Greg's weapons. Seraphine, who was worn out and barely able to stand, also used ice magic to freeze joints and slow down the constructs' movements.

It worked for five minutes. The three Calamities were being pushed back, and they were getting hurt faster than they could heal.

The constant attack was also messing up their coordination. Agatha's voice was silent, and all she could think about was keeping her creations under control during the surprise attack.

Greg felt nothing. He was not satisfied. There was no proof of innocence—only the cold, mechanical process of creating and destroying. Make a weapon. A weapon to throw. See it hit. Repeat.

His hands moved in ways he didn't plan, pulling weapons from the air itself, from the possibility of violence made real.

He yelled up to Agatha, "Is this what you fucking wanted?!"

His voice echoed across the battlefield. "Is this what you were trying to show us all!" That I can still do this shit!?"

"Yes," Agatha said, and she was laughing. "Yes! This is what you have always been!"

"What you'll always be! The Warhammer Saint never died because he just acted like someone else for a while!"

"Then watch him work with your own eyes," Greg said, and made something new.

It wasn't only a weapon. There were dozens of weapons, and they all worked together as one system.

A storm of blades that spun around a central axis. Each blade could move on its own, but they all worked together as one.

It wasn't even close to SSS-rank. This was something that went beyond the ranks, something that was in the space between them.

He threw it at Agatha, the main Calamity, and watched as it tore into her changed body. The construct screamed, and for the first time, it sounded like it was really hurting.

"That's enough, Greg!" Marina was suddenly next to him, holding his arm. "You've made your point! We can finish this without you going crazy!"

When Greg turned to her, Marina felt a chill run down her spine at the sight of his eyes. They were hollow, devoid of any warmth or emotion. The Greg she had loved was no longer there; the person who wore his face felt entirely alien.

"I already lost myself," he said. "The moment Hilda died was a consequence of my foolish beliefs. This is just me accepting who I really am."

He shook off Marina's grip and raised both hands, intent on conjuring something even more terrifying. The metal surrounding them began to glow, fueled by his sheer determination. Whatever he was about to unleash would surely lead to disaster.

After that, the system notifications changed.

[WARNING: TEMPORARY ACCESS EXPIRING]

[DURATION EXCEEDED SAFE PARAMETERS]

[MENTAL STRUCTURE DEGRADATION AT 47%]

[FORCED SHUTDOWN IN 10 SECONDS]

[9...]

[8...]

Greg didn't care about the countdown. He wouldn't stop.

He had to finish this before the power went out.

He had to get it done.

He had to make sure Agatha paid for what she did.

[7...]

[6...]

The weapon he was making got bigger and more complicated. He could throw a siege engine that would destroy everything within a hundred-foot radius.

[5...]

[4...]

"NO, GREG!" Lylia's scream. "You'll kill everyone!"

[3...]

[2...]

He knew that his nose was bleeding, but not very well. That his hands were shaking. That something deep inside him was falling apart because of the stress. He didn't care.

[1...]

[FORCED SHUTDOWN TURNED ON]

It was like someone had turned off the power. The weapon that wasn't finished turned into sparks.

The clarity was gone, and Greg's mind felt like someone had used sandpaper to scrape it clean. He swayed, suddenly realizing how much pain he was in, how exhausted he was, and how empty he felt without the rage to keep him going.

The Calamities took advantage of the change right away.

"Greg!" Marina's warning was too late.

One of the smaller Calamities swung a blade arm at Greg, moving faster than he could normally react. He tried to get away, but his exhausted body wouldn't move. The blade hit.

At first, there was no pain—only a sense of stress. Then Greg looked down and realized his left arm had been severed just below the elbow. The limb dropped through the air, blood spraying out in a dark torrent that appeared almost black in the dim light.

A moment later, the pain surged through him, and Greg's scream shattered the calm demeanor he had maintained just before. It was a raw, primal agony, a blend of both animal instinct and human suffering.

He collapsed to the ground, the impact harsh as shock coursed through his body, causing his vision to blur. Blood gushed from the stump where his arm had once been, pooling on the debris beneath him.

"GREG!" Marina's voice was far away and desperate.

"NOOO...!" Lylia got closer, trying to get to him.

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