Despite its prodigal, bone-shaking volume, the music was drowned out by the noise that followed.

A singular, all-consuming THOOM, accompanied by blinding light. Zef was among the few to see what transpired, and even that only thanks to the Philosopher’s Eye being able to compensate for such sudden changes in brightness.

First to catch her eye was the arm-cannon - flying right into the treeline, tumbling in flight, trailing sparks and smoke. Next she saw Zel rolling backwards, cleaver in hand, the tatters of her arm-harness trailing Fog and flapping as it visibly lost grip on her skin with each passing moment.

In the next moment the golem’s upper half smashed onto the ground while its lower half froze in place, its body split just above the waist. The stone had been melted by the incredible forces involved, and above the sect building there shone the remnants of that grand technique - a chittering swarm of sparks, the shape of a savage, beastly head. It even had eyes of ball lightning, short lived though it was. Indeed, the remnant lasted only seconds before it flickered out of being, but in those short few seconds, Zefaris had managed to sprint across target blocks and dummies to get into position before taking a photograph of the whole scene.

It wasn’t over yet.

Zel got her bearings after perhaps the fourth full roll, with only a single spit’s worth of dirt in her mouth. All in all, a success… So she thought, until she noticed the absolute state of her arm-harness.

“Talk about a hot fuckin’ load…” she murmured, shaking off her arm. The harness had, thankfully, done its job in dispersing the recoil, but that didn’t change anything about the fact said dispersed recoil felt about as gentle as being slammed into the side of an armored supply tractor by a raging rot-bear.

Nevertheless, she was certain the battle wasn’t over yet. Even though her heart leapt with joy at the sight of a bisected golem, she could clearly see its eyes still glowing and its torso still moving.

In fact, it hopped up on its palm as if nothing had happened, facing her down with its single eye.

Then, cracks began to spread from where its waist had been severed. Unnatural ones, shining lilac and propagating far faster than any normal structural failure would.

In moments it was utterly covered, and moments later still, it crumbled to pieces, leaving behind… A shriveled man, seemingly having been entombed within the golem’s torso. His legs were scorched stumps just above the knees and his left arm ripped off above the wrist, his skin both the shade and texture of ancient tanned leather.

He drew in a ragged breath and lifted himself up, crawling forwards as his eyes scanned his surroundings before locking onto Zelsys.

“Truly, thou art worthy!” he proclaimed with a ragged voice in a tongue whose words she did not understand, yet the meaning of his speech rang true all the same. The music had gone quiet now, no more than the occasional pound of the drum and the pervasive, slight plucking of strings.

A grin of yellowed teeth spread over his face… And he laughed.

“Hahahahahaaarghhh… Yes! Even now, as I stand at the precipice of death, never have I felt more alive, never have I been more hopeful for the future of the sect…”

He took two of his fingers and plunged them into his own chest, pulling out his sternum to the sound of snapping bone. Within the bone itself, a long piece of ornamented metal was embedded. Even as black, tar-like blood seeped forth onto the ground before him and one could plainly see the desiccated veins inside his body undulating with each slow heartbeat, he spoke with a most serene smile as if nothing was amiss.

“To think an outsider would be the first in centuries to truly embody Lord Branstein’s teachings… Hgh-here’s the key. You stink of that man, the Sage. You stink of him and… Retribution. Eve- Hghrouuughh…”

The man fell onto all fours, and a chunky red-black waterfall issued from his facial cavities. A few teeth rattled into the puddle. Drawing in a gurgling breath, he raised his head. His eyes were turned red by burst blood vessels.

“...Even now, you judge me, you judge all those who stand before you. For all his acts, the Sage never stepped to violence unless pushed. How ironic that one so suffused with his stench would be so utterly unlike him. One fluent in the tongue understood by all… Violence. Go forth and pronounce my sentence. You and I both know that I won’t die quickly if you dgh- Hgruourrgh... If you don’t finish me off. Do it! Bring my duty to an end!”

Zelsys sheathed the Lightning Butcher as she walked towards the dying man, uncertain what to make of him but entirely willing to fulfill his request. Whoever he was. Whatever he was. Some sort of self-mummified monk, perhaps. She steadily let herself slip out of Engine Breathing, instead turning to steady, deep breaths of Fog.

Squatting down in front of him, she raised her hand and meticulously shrouded the tips of her fingers in Fog, before igniting the coating with Fulgur. The possibility of sparing him hadn’t even come to mind for two reasons - the first was his overt request for death, the second the simple fact that she could tell he was well past the point of death for any normal person. With each passing second his body degraded more and more, rivulets of blood spraying from his skin and threads of Fog escaping alongside them. It was no wonder, he must’ve been inside that golem for centuries. This was more likely than not just whatever magic had kept him alive all that time dissipating.

His eyes flashed with anticipation at the sight of Zel’s lightning-wreathed hand, his only reaction beyond this the insistent handing-over of his sternum-bone. Zel took it from his hand, and in the same action, plunged her own into his chest, burning yet more Fog as she invoked Heartbreaker.