The Commandant of Mass did not scream.
It endured.
Its armored body skidded across the First Floor, carving deep trenches into the metal as Ren's grip tightened around the massive hammer head. The impact from moments earlier still reverberated through the chamber, shockwaves rippling through the colossal support pillars like distant thunder.
Ren exhaled slowly.
The weight of the hammer was immense—far beyond what it should have been—but it rested in his hands like a burden he had already accepted.
— Heavy, he said calmly.— But not unbearable.
The Commandant growled, servos screaming as it tried to wrench its weapon free. Its armor plates shifted, locking into place as raw force surged through its massive frame.
— Resistance detected, it intoned.— Increasing output.
The floor cracked.
Gōrin laughed.
A deep, savage sound that echoed through the industrial hall.
— Increasing output?— I like this one already!
He charged.
Not with finesse.
Not with strategy.
With pure violence.
Gōrin's fist slammed into the Commandant's side like a wrecking ball, the impact folding layers of reinforced armor inward. The construct was hurled sideways, smashing through a load-bearing column with an explosion of debris and steam.
Ren released the hammer and stepped forward.
— Don't let it recover.
The Commandant struggled to rise, its systems recalibrating, armor reassembling with mechanical precision. Pistons along its legs hissed as it forced itself upright, dragging the massive hammer back into position.
— Threat escalation required.
It swung.
The hammer came down like a falling building.
Ren didn't dodge.
He stepped into the blow.
His feet planted firmly against the vibrating floor, spine straight, shoulders aligned—Gōshin in perfect form.
The impact detonated.
Metal screamed.
The floor beneath Ren's boots cratered violently, but his body did not move.
Ren's muscles condensed further, strength folding inward as he absorbed the weight, redirected it, carried it.
Gōrin stared for half a second.
Then grinned wider.
— Hah!— That's the face of a man who finally gets it!
The Commandant hesitated.
Just for an instant.
That was enough.
Gōrin lunged, grabbing the Commandant's shoulder with one massive hand. His grip tightened, veins bulging across his forearm as he twisted violently.
Armor tore free.
Bolts snapped.
The Commandant staggered, balance compromised.
Ren moved.
He stepped forward and drove his fist into the exposed core beneath the shattered armor.
Not fast.
Not flashy.
Perfectly placed.
The blow landed with a dull, devastating thud.
The Commandant's systems flickered wildly.
— Structural failure imminent—
Ren followed with a second strike.
Then a third.
Each punch carried the full weight of the First Floor behind it, vibrations traveling through the construct's body until its internal framework collapsed.
The armored giant fell to one knee.
Gōrin didn't give it time.
He roared and brought both fists down in a crushing overhead blow.
— Break.
The Commandant's core imploded.
The massive body froze for a moment—then collapsed in a heap of twisted metal and broken machinery, steam venting uselessly from ruptured systems.
Silence followed.
Ren straightened slowly, rolling his shoulders.
— That was… easier than I expected.
Gōrin snorted.
— That's because it was built to crush weight, not understand it.
Ren nodded.
— Foundations don't fall to force alone.
They turned as the First Floor vibrated again—not in response to them, but elsewhere.
Elsewhere — Saeko
Saeko's breathing was steady.
Her heart was not.
The corridor around her was narrower than the others—lined with rotating blades, pressure plates, and grinding mechanisms that shifted constantly, never settling into a predictable pattern.
Ahead of her stood the Commandant of the Blade.
Its body was slender compared to the others, armored in segmented metal that flowed seamlessly with each movement. Mechanical blades extended from its arms, spinning slowly as it assessed her.
— Threat profile incomplete, it stated.— Initiating pressure escalation.
The air sharpened.
Saeko felt it immediately—a subtle but relentless force pressing against her skin, making every movement heavier, slower, more deliberate.
She tightened her grip on her weapon.
— Figures, she muttered.— I get the one that doesn't let me breathe.
The Commandant moved.
Not with brute force.
With precision.
A blade flashed toward her throat.
Saeko barely twisted aside, the edge grazing her collarbone and drawing a thin line of blood. She countered instinctively, striking back—but the blade intercepted her attack effortlessly, sparks flying as metal met metal.
— Insufficient output.
The Commandant pressed forward, each strike faster, sharper, forcing Saeko back step by step. The pressure intensified, her limbs growing heavier with every exchange.
Her breath hitched.
— Tch…!
She blocked another strike, knees buckling slightly under the compounded force.
Something stirred inside her.
Not power.
Not rage.
Awareness.
She felt it—the way the pressure aligned with her movements, how the environment reacted not to her strength, but to her hesitation.
— …So that's it.
She exhaled slowly, centering herself.
— You're not trying to kill me.
The Commandant paused briefly.
— Clarification required.
Saeko's eyes sharpened.
— You're trying to make me break.
The Commandant resumed its assault, blades moving in precise arcs designed to corner, restrict, and overwhelm.
Saeko smiled faintly through the strain.
— Then you're gonna have to try harder.
She shifted her stance.
The pressure didn't lessen—but it changed.
Saeko moved with it instead of against it, letting the weight guide her steps rather than resist them. Her movements became smoother, more economical, each action measured.
The Commandant hesitated again.
— Behavioral deviation detected.
Saeko struck.
Her blade slipped past the Commandant's defense for the first time, carving a shallow groove across its armor.
— Huh, she said.— Guess I'm learning.
The pressure surged violently in response.
Saeko staggered, blood dripping from her lip—but she didn't fall.
Not this time.
Something was awakening.
But not yet.
Elsewhere — The Throne
Gōrin no Ō watched.
Seated upon his throne of steel and stone, the King of Foundations felt every vibration, every fracture, every clash of will across his floor.
The fall of the Commandant of Mass sent a ripple of satisfaction through him.
"They carry weight well."
His gaze shifted.
To Saeko.
Her struggle amused him.
"Not broken yet."
Then—
His attention returned to the central chamber.
Where Jun stood.
Waiting.
Gōrin no Ō leaned forward slightly.
A slow, deliberate smile formed beneath the veil.
"Now…""Let us see how much one human can bear."
The First Floor trembled.
And the true test began to take shape.