On the snowy outskirts of the Weiss Highlands, the four immortals of the Jaeger group Sphinx stood amidst a sea of corpses. All three immortals aside from their leader Gyro weren’t lightly wounded, heaving and panting from exhaustion. Gyro, on the other hand, was only lightly covered in cuts and scratches which only added to his growing repertoire of scars. Immediately after they regrouped with one another, they stood their ground and fought against their pursuers numbering in the forties. A group of four immortals fighting against an immortal group numbering forty plus.

A normal person would have thought that the members of Sphinx handled an average of ten immortals each, but in actuality Gyro himself had dealt with twenty-five immortals single-handedly and yet came out with the least amount of wounds, while the other members of Sphinx each fought against an average of five immortals.

The lazy immortal Roy gave off an incomprehensible noise that was like a mixture between an extended yawn and a sigh of exhaustion while holding his hands behind his head. His eyes abruptly shined with a streak of white light, and he said with a dissatisfied frown while looking off into the distance, “There’s more coming our way.”

The little girl pouted, puffing up her face, “I’m too tired to fight anymore! I’ll come back after everything’s over! Gyro will take care of everything like he always does,” she said with a mischievous smile, before flying off into the opposite direction where the lazy immortal was looking.

Both the clawed immortal and lazy immortal watched her leave with helpless expressions.

The lazy immortal Roy sighed once more and said in a joking tone, “The things I put up with.” He lifted his right hand holding onto his crossbow, pointing it in the direction of their new arrivals. Generating a white bolt in his left hand, cocking it into his crossbow, and firing.

…

Zieg was flying in pursuit of Sphinx, all the while eavesdropping on the other group’s discussion across the sky. A great elder of the Weiss Clan, Asher was debriefing Seria’s group on information about the Jaeger group Sphinx. Zieg couldn’t afford to miss any information related to Gyro at this point in time.

Through their conversation Zieg was able to learn that Gyro had become a leader of a four member Jaeger group, and that he was widely feared in Tiandiyu as the Artifact Hunter. It was said that any artifact that managed to attract his interest would never be able to escape his grasp. If Zieg hadn’t seen Gyro for himself, he would have taken these words as utter nonsense meant to defame the kindly vagabond. How such a radiant, pure individual like Gyro had turned into a merciless criminal was something Zieg struggled to accept.

He thought back to his past life, to the times when Gyro had taught him how to fend for himself in the wilderness, and how he had always talked about his desire to protect their race. The disparity between that kindly figure to the present him was something that could hardly be fathomed. Even now Zieg thought of him as a father to him.

Immersed in his thoughts, he was barely able to perceive a white streak of light come hurtling across the sky towards their direction. Zieg hurriedly yelled, “Spread out!”

Just as Zieg yelled out, that white beam of light burrowed into the forehead of an elder of the Weiss Clan, and the elder powerlessly fell from the sky, dead.

The two groups scattered across the sky in every direction, looking towards the direction the white bolt came from. What they saw were three Jaegers of Sphinx, standing on the snow relaxedly while being surrounded by the bodies of dead immortals. One of them an unseemly lazy immortal holding a green crossbow with a mocking expression on his face.

The two groups descended onto the ground to face the three immortals, and Zieg was the first to act by releasing a suffocating purple aura.

Everyone seemed to brush the aura off, but the expression on Gyro’s stoic face noticeably changed.

“I have business with that boy, you two, dispose of the other seven,” Gyro said to his companions, and motioned for Zieg to follow him.

“Seven?! Isn’t it usually the other way around where you handle the seven and we get the one?” Roy said almost pleadingly to Gyro.

Gyro shot him a glare.

“Okay, okay… I’ll take the three weak-looking kids. You can have the scary-looking old men, Mary.” Even when he was forced into work, Roy still wanted to do the least amount of work possible.

“Can you be anymore shameless?” the clawed immortal shook her head, but still grudgingly accepted.

The three members of Sphinx separated, each going their own direction and drawing away their selected opponents. Zieg to Gyro, his group to Roy, and the Weiss Clan to Mary.

After distancing himself from the others, Gyro spoke coldly, “I don’t know why you’re here, or why you’re in that form, but you should leave, Zieg,” these words contained all the compassion and consideration Gyro held for Zieg.

“What happened to you, Gyro?”

“What do you mean what happened to me?” Gyro asked back with a frown.

There were too many things Zieg wanted to ask, and his face was full of uncertainty.

“Why did you change so much? Why did you become a Jaeger? What happened to your ideals?” The final question was what Zieg wanted to know the answer to the most. How could such a charismatic vagabond with admirable ideals sink so lowly and become… this? Zieg recalled their conversation around the fire, Gyro’s firm beliefs and brilliant smile. That smile was so pure, so blinding that the Zieg at that time could barely look at it. Back then Zieg had feared that if he continued to look at that brilliant expression, his resolve for revenge would waver. That was how bright Gyro was.

“My ideals? Tell me, Zieg. What are ambitions worth, what are dreams worth, what are ideals worth when you don’t even have the power to see them through?!” Gyro roared back. He violently slammed the base of his halberd in his right hand down onto the ground, causing a slight tremor and snow to fly up. Those words encompassed all of his thoughts, and answered every one of Zieg’s questions. He wanted to protect, but so what? He had fought Volheilm and lost miserably. He couldn’t protect a thing with his power. So the solution he found to this was to gather more, more, and more in the form of artifacts until he couldn’t possibly raise his power any further. If the legendary artifact Gawain raised his power so much, what if he added Aegis onto that and had two? What if he gathered three? Four? Repeating this process unceasingly, he had completely lost himself in it. He didn’t care if the one who got in his way of doing so was someone he once thought of as a son and student, he would still kill them mercilessly.

“I see,” Zieg shook his head in visible disappointment. He couldn’t bear it. Seeing the person he admired and viewed as his father like this.

A person so consumed by the concept of power, becoming the very being they had once feared the most. If the Gyro from back then saw the person he had become, how would he have reacted? What would he have done? Zieg briefly pondered, and directly said the answer.

He looked into Gyro’s eyes, and said resolutely, “You lost yourself in the process, Gyro. Out of my respect for you, I will stop you, even if it means I have to kill you!”

Zieg swiftly pulled out Bloodwhistler, and transforming into a red blur, leapt into the air and swung downward at Gyro’s left shoulder. He planned on cutting Gyro’s entire metallic arm off, neutralizing whatever ability the legendary artifact possessed. The downward slash made contact with his shoulder, slowly sinking into his flesh and stopping.

A swing with enough power behind it to cleave an entire body in half had only left a shallow wound a few centimeters deep into Gyro’s shoulder.

It was at this moment that Zieg roughly understood the legendary artifact’s ability. The legendary artifact Gawain, The Guardian. Gawain immensely boosted the physical capabilities of its wielder, giving its user the strength and defense comparable to that of an artifact’s. Being the wielder of the legendary artifact Gawain, Gyro’s entire body was an artifact.

Gyro extended his metallic left arm out, lightly pressing onto Zieg’s chest, and pushed. That light push propelled Zieg backwards an unimaginable distance. The force behind it parted the snow, leaving a gash of open ground.

Zieg spun his body in midair, thrusting Bloodwhistler down into the ground in an attempt to stop his momentum. Bloodwhistler was continuously being dragged across the floor, leaving a scar on the Earth for several meters until Zieg finally slowed into a stop.

“And out of mine for you, I had spared your life once,” Gyro said coldly while staring at Zieg.

When Bloodwhistler was sinking into a stop in Gyro’s shoulder, Gyro had the perfect opportunity to cleave Zieg directly in half with his halberd. He had spared Zieg’s life and had only pushed him out of the way. This was his final act of mercy.

“If you choose to still get in my way, I will kill you,” Gyro said, his voice containing not an ounce of emotion.

Blood from the shallow shoulder wound opened up by Bloodwhistler slowly slid down Gyro’s metallic left arm. It dyed the white snow beneath him in droplets of red. The blood dripping down the legendary artifact gave off an illusion.

It was as if Gawain, The Guardian, was crying for Gyro’s sake, weeping tears of blood.