The humans of the surface had always admired the priests of the Kingdom of Heaven, who roamed the world with gentle demeanors and subtle smiles.
Their composure, seemingly unconcerned with power, made them appear as sages who had transcended the mortal world.
Yet, even they would have been utterly disgusted had they witnessed the state of the heavens now.
âTh-the anchor points for the barrier have all been destroyed! We canât maintain it any longer!â
âHow, how in the world could all Four Angels be defeated?!â
âThe surface! Are the two witches still holding out?!â
âThe surface doesnât matter right now! The enemy is right at our doorstep!â
Chaos. Terror. Pandemonium.
There was no composure there.
There was no mercy or enlightenment.
And that was only natural.
The reason they could appear so composed was because they had so much.
The reason they were unconcerned with power was because they already held a greater power.
The reason they seemed so transcendent was because they believed that any misfortune or tribulation was ultimately someone elseâs problem.
But that was no longer the case.
All their schemes had failed, and their forces had been broken one by one.
The priests, who had looked down on those desperately fighting for their lives on the surface as if it were a distant affair, were thrown into a panic the moment they were forced to take up arms themselves.
While the heavens had no shortage of priests drunk on fanaticism, who had long since surrendered their reason and judgment, they were already on the front lines, fighting the invaders. Thus, most of those left in the central palace were nothing more than terrified old men.
And there was only one place left for them to turn.
âO, God-King! Save us!â
âGreat God-King! Please show us your power!â
âThe wickedness of the unbelievers has reached its peak, and they seek to defile the great God's abode! Bring down heavenly punishment upon them!â
In the deepest, most mysterious part of the palace. A place shrouded in countless veils, where not even the highest-ranking officials of the Kingdom of Heaven dared to tread.
The priests pleaded for salvation from the God-King, who remained silent behind the veils.
They believed that the God-King who had created the mighty angels, who had ruled the heavens and the surface for eons, who had cast the vile creatures of the underground into a place untouched by the sunâ¦
â¦must surely possess a great power within him, a power that could instantly crush those who threatened them.
And then, in the inner sanctum, beyond the priests' sight, the God-King opened his mouth.
âShit, what do I do nowâ¦?!â
People were often mistaken.
They assumed that the leader of great and mighty beings must be even greater and mightier.
That the head of a vast power like the heavens must be a being of commensurate caliber and dignity.
The truth was different.
The God-King. The man called Oz.
He was no such titan.
âWhy did the eight generals fall so easily? Why did the underground let their enemies go instead of eliminating them? How could rival factions unite and form an allied army in such a short time? How⦠how did the angels lose? I analyzed their power from the corpses of the eight generals and adjusted their specs to be even greater! Why the hell!!â
He was, in essence, a coward.
That was why, despite possessing such immense power, he preferred strategies that preserved his forces and allowed him to profit from others' conflicts, rather than ruling the surface directly or confronting foes head-on.
He was, in essence, a craven.
He had stolen the work of a former friend, claimed it as his own, and used its power as if it were his to obtain his current authority and status.
He was, in essence, a fraud.
He had crafted an image of himself as a great and transcendent monarch, deceiving even the priests who took his orders as to his true nature.
Oz was not entirely incompetent.
Though his position was closer to an assistant than an equal researcher, he had helped create a âGodâ, and as a technician, he possessed outstanding skill, such as processing human souls and bodies as materials to make holy power easier to use.
Even the heavenly forces, the angels who rivaled the generals, were his creations.
However, such skills could not save him now.
All the powerful pieces he possessed had been defeated, and Oz himself lacked the angels' exceptional combat prowess.
Nor was there enough time to create new pieces.
Clutching his head in anguish, Oz finally shouted toward the giant emerald pillar behind himâat the mass of light in its center.
âGod! Withdraw all holy power, save for what is needed for the defense of this place! And grant that power to me!â
In the end, Oz decided to make a final, desperate stand.
The exceptional warriors who had defeated the angels must have expended much of their strength, and the elite army from the surface, which had fought against endless heavenly reinforcements to take his head, must also be at its limit by now.
Oz's own combat sense was no match for the transcendent beings, but high stats could often ignore petty techniques.
If he could crush his enemies with the overwhelming output from the immense holy power, he could not only overcome the crisis but also re-establish his crumbling authority.
ââââââ
The âGodâ inside the pillar responded.
The holy power spread throughout the realm condensed into one point, and a seemingly infinite power began to fill Oz's body.
The moment Oz was about to revel in this overwhelming sense of omnipotence.
ââ¦Curious. I've changed quite a bit, yet you remain the same even after all this time. Still so petty, so sordid, so⦠human.â
Along with that terribly dry voice.
CRUNCH!
Oz's heart was pierced.
*
You looked ahead.
You saw that the knight, the throne he guardedâeverything had vanished without a trace.
The scene looked as if a dragon's breath had erupted along the path of your slash.
After confirming this, you spoke as if to complain.
[The âTin Knightâ says it would have ben nice if you'd handed this over sooner!]
[The âTin Knightâ grumbles that a trump card unknown even to its master is far too contrived!]
No answer came from the sword.
Its attitude seemed to say it wouldn't play along with such pathetic banter.
You, too, didn't bother to press the golden dragon sword any further.
Because with your body in tatters and your shield and weapon shattered, being given a new sword was an undeniable stroke of luck.
Through the cracks of the palace, which was sliced up and crumbling all over, you gazed toward the center of the Kingdom of Heaven.
With the four barriers destroyed, all that remained was to eliminate the God-King Oz and end this war.
Normally, you would have gladly rushed toward the final battle, but your current condition could not be called good, not even as a joke.
The inability to fix your damaged body due to the broken repair function was a problem, but the blow to your core was especially fatal.
The vessel containing your soul was covered in countless cracks, its balance so precarious it seemed it could shatter at any moment.
The scene you saw from outside the monitor was even more severe.
The computer, your link to the Tin Knight. You could see it was cracked and broken all over.
You realized instinctively that the moment the core shattered, the line connecting you to this world would shatter as well.
You hesitated.
Here, just a little, a tiny bit more impact could shatter the core.
Conversely, if you rested and stabilized, there was a good chance you could somehow fix it.
Just by defeating your predecessor, you had already fulfilled your role.
The forces heading to the center to subjugate the God-King Oz were also formidable.
Therefore, you didn't necessarily have to go to the center.
Just as you were about to stop and rest, feeling a slight sense of regretâ¦
âââââââ!
A massive, truly massive and overwhelming wave of power washed over the entire Kingdom of Heaven.
All the emerald light that had covered the Kingdom of Heaven was gathering in one place, growing in scale.
The God-King Oz.
The king of the heavens and the fraud who claimed God's authority as his own. Threatened by the defeat of all four angels, it seemed he was recklessly concentrating power into himself.
The tingling sensation could be felt even from this great distance, so the majesty felt up close must be far greater.
However, you had no capacity to care about such a âtrivial thingâ.
Because your senses, your intuition, the experience etched into your body, were all sounding an alarm for something else entirely.
It was something terribly murky, dense, and dark.
In these heavens, filled with emerald light, it was an alien presence, like a drop of black ink.
You felt the urge to curse at Oz, a man you had never even seen.
Because you understood what it meant to concentrate the holy power from other places into himself. You understood what a foolish thing Oz had done.
You didn't think your allies heading to the center would lose to a mere fraud with immense power, so you could have trusted them and waited. But âthatâ which you now sensed was a different matter.
You hesitated.
You briefly pulled your consciousness away from the Tin Knight and looked again at the place where you were.
A space barely large enough for one person to lie down with their legs outstretched. There were no structures like doors or windows connecting to the outside; the only things in the room were a desk, a chair, and a single computer.
You suddenly imagined being left here alone to die.
It was truly terrifying.
What was most terrifying was the fact that the image you had just conjured was the lesser of two evils.
You, in the room, felt no fatigue. You felt no hunger, no drowsiness.
Many things a living human should feel were absent in you.
If so.
Perhaps.
If even death was included in that absence.
In a moment of carelessness, you might find yourself condemned to an eternal isolation where not even death was permitted.
That fear held your feet fast.
The excuse that things might work out even if you didn't go weighed down on your shoulders.
âThank you, Sir Tin.â
âCould you pat my head, to cheer me up?â
âI'm asking if you'll join me.â
But when you came to your senses, you were already kicking off the ground.
You are the Tin Knight.
A doll of cold metal who knows no pain or fatigue, who has no blood to bleed, who once treated the world as lightly as a game.
You are the Tin Knight.
A companion to a scarecrow, a teacher to a lion, a contractor to a witch.
A knight with a heart.