The construct, born of forbidden science and black magic, had its body linked by tendons and bearings, and its mechanized, terrifying limbs were driven by nerves and cables. Even as an observer, Solomon could feel the demon's agony. The demon machine, nearly twice the height of a man, had its vocal organs removed and could only silently engage the sharp ratchets beneath it and charge forward—no tactics, no thought, only frenzied assault, as though attacking was the only way it could alleviate its pain.
Bayonetta immediately moved to intercept, and Solomon tossed the boy behind the nearest gray stele before joining the fight.
The witch leapt gracefully into the air, spinning like an Olympic high jump champion, her back arched as she evaded the massive horizontal swing of the giant ratchet. The razor-sharp blades spun with chilling velocity, raising a wind so cold it burned the skin, brushing past her nose, chest, abdomen, and toes—but not leaving a single scratch. Landing in a half-crouch, she drew her longsword and slashed backward without looking, severing the metal spikes used for movement and balance on the underside of the demon's ratchet. She then exploited the construct's imbalance to strike at the smaller gears in its upper limbs, aiming to disable its transmission system and paralyze its offensive capabilities.
The Arcanist quickly cast spells, summoning chains and bindings to restrict the demon's movements and buy Bayonetta time to attack. The conjured chains clamped tightly around the construct's gears and small blades. A massive electric current surged through the chains and into the construct's body, charring the little flesh it had left and temporarily shorting out its mechanical systems.
By the time he had joined the battle, the witch had already dealt irreparable damage in an instant. Her sword had precisely sliced through tendons and bearings. Black oil and red demonic blood gushed from the ruptured pipes and splattered across the ground. The greasy, pungent liquid immediately ignited from sparks caused by the ratchets scraping against the stone tiles, releasing thick smoke even denser than that of burning tires. Any normal person who inhaled even a bit of the foul smoke would instantly become dizzy, nauseous, and vomit.
As always during her sparring sessions with Solomon, Bayonetta demonstrated exceptional skill in melee combat.
Most of the witch clan's martial techniques were designed to deal with large targets. This had been a significant point of reference for Solomon, who had already begun studying swordplay at the time. It could even be said that while the Grandmaster imparted knowledge to him, it was Bayonetta and Athena who truly trained him in combat—be it sword or spear.
Solomon conjured a gust of wind to sweep the blinding smoke up toward the cathedral's dome, ensuring Bayonetta wouldn't be injured by an unseen attack. He didn't draw his holy sword to strike the demon—not because he was being lazy, and not because he suddenly remembered he was a spellcaster, but simply because this demon wasn't powerful enough to warrant it. For an Arcanist and a witch, this wasn't any harder than squashing a cockroach at home. After casting two spells, he lost interest in fighting and instead reloaded the large-caliber explosive rifle on his left arm, activated the ammo feed system, and began resolving the problem with technology.
Just as he always advocated: technology was the best solution to everything.
The boy, hiding behind the stele, noticed that the gunfire, explosions, and clashing metal had gradually died down. He mustered his courage and peeked out from the side of the stele, only to see Bayonetta standing there with her hands on her hips. The massive demon construct was now engulfed in filthy flames and smoke. Unlike the corpses of previous extradimensional beings, this construct did not dissolve into shadows upon death. Instead, it left behind a pile of mechanical wreckage. Two empty magazines lay at Solomon's feet. There weren't more simply because Bayonetta had killed the construct during the time it took him to finish firing.
"Here, take this!" the witch said sharply, hurling two of the demon's relatively intact blade-ratchets toward the Arcanist. These were among the few components that had survived. She wasn't offering them as a gift—rather, she wanted him to see the markings on them. The Fifth Demon Pillar's emblem was glaringly obvious. In truth, even she didn't know how many of these demon constructs the Fifth Pillar had sold off in the past, but Solomon was now forced to vouch for Malphas, lest Bayonetta go looking for trouble on Mars when they got back.
A grand spiral staircase led to the upper levels of the Waterfall Cathedral. After the battle, the boy eagerly—partly to escape the awkward tension between the Arcanist and the witch—led them up. He said the "Bridge to Heaven," which led directly to the middle of Mount Fimbulwinter, was at the top of the cathedral. The memory was so clear, combined with the magic he had just released, that even he began to doubt himself. "I don't remember anything. I don't even know why I have to go up that damn mountain. But I have to—I just know it. Does that sound normal?"
"Let me put it this way: I'm pretty experienced with 'total memory blank,'" Bayonetta said in a half-mocking tone of comfort. "I didn't know who I was for 500 years. Only recently did I find out the truth. Let's go, little one. Whatever's waiting for us up there, we've got every reason to meet it."
"Waterfall Cathedral" was the name locals gave the building, though modern residents didn't really know why. If they saw it after the magic restoration, they would immediately understand. The spiral staircase the trio ascended was built alongside a man-made waterfall. The lake they had seen outside the cathedral was actually fed by this waterfall. When the device repaired the cathedral, it had also restored the ancient water channels.
Compared to the boy, who was still troubled by his lost memories, Solomon was more relaxed.
He brought up the rear of the group, cheerfully critiquing the cathedral's sculptures and architectural style. The windows weren't made of stained glass, nor were there religious images pieced together from colored glass, nor were there inscriptions or distinctive symbols of worship. The only indicator that this building had a religious function was the hooded, robed, sword-bearing statues standing alone in alcoves along the long spiral staircase. Their beautifully sculpted faces were cloaked in the indistinct shadows of their hoods, gazing down upon anyone climbing the stairs. Solomon speculated that the statues served the same purpose as the soaring domes, elaborate frescoes, and altars of Catholic cathedrals: to impose psychological pressure on the worshipper.
These statues had originally been nothing but broken gray stones, but after the device's restoration, both the statues and windows had returned to their original state. No moss, no damage, allowing Solomon to piece together what life under the rule of the World Watcher must have looked like.
"Darling, how about we bring a few of these statues home after the mission?"
One moment the boy was drowning in the melancholy of memory loss, and the next he was stunned by Solomon's out-of-the-blue idea. Not just him—even Bayonetta was caught off guard. But after a moment of surprise, she quickly recovered. After all, Solomon's mind worked at such a rapid pace that by the time others were still pondering one question, he had already solved the second or even third. Most people simply couldn't keep up with his kind of lateral, jumpy way of speaking.
"Where should we put them?"
"The manor's fountain and walkways need sculptures like these," Bayonetta nodded, approving of Solomon's idea. Such statues would indeed be perfect for their estate in Oxfordshire. He added, "And I think my foster mother would appreciate this kind of art. We can even tie a bow on one and give it to her as a gift!"
(End of Chapter)
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