Yuuto's final trump card—[Break].
Its target: the Goblin Lord's greaves. Nothing more than a piece of armor, devoid of will.
A sound like shattering glass split the air as the steel guard crumbled to dust. Yuuto drove his steel dagger deep into the exposed leg, the full weight of his body behind it.
"GIIIIIIAAAAAAHHHH!!"
The Goblin Lord's scream shook the very walls—a cry of a lord whose pride had been ripped apart and whose flesh had been pierced at its weakest point. The giant staggered; Yuuto's strike had cleanly severed the tendon.
But the lord was not dead yet.
Kneeling on one knee, his bloodshot eyes locked on Yuuto. With his remaining arm, he swung the massive mace in a desperate, savage arc. It was the final attack of a wounded beast—its most dangerous.
(Can't dodge...!)
Yuuto's stance had already collapsed after his attack. He couldn't evade. Death was certain.
(...No. Not yet.)
Just before despair silenced his thoughts, the engineer within him reframed it: a fatal error, an unavoidable system crash. If the error cannot be avoided, then—minimize the damage, log the failure, and use it for the next action.
"[Sort]!!"
He turned away from the incoming mace and poured the last drop of his consciousness into the skill. His MP was nearly empty. Pain like searing electricity tore through his head as he executed a full-scale analysis: the entire structure of the throne hall, and a physics simulation of how his body would be thrown when struck—angle, force, trajectory.
In his mind, countless red predictive lines spread like threads of light. Among them, only one glowed blue—a single outcome where he'd be hurled into a specific pillar along the wall.
(There. That's the only path.)
Victory depended on one condition: if he took the blow at the right angle, his body would become a projectile—an intentional 'shell'—that would shatter the chandelier's supporting pillar.
(...Do it.)
It was a gamble—but not a prayer. This was the ruthless logic of a designer using even his flesh as a piece on the board.
Wind from the swinging mace tore at his face. Yuuto met the Goblin Lord's furious gaze and smirked.
"...A lord, huh? That little brush of yours couldn't even dust me off."
The provocation was absurdly out of place. The Goblin Lord's eyes bulged wider. Intelligence gave birth to pride—and pride to wrath. To be mocked by the insect beneath his feet was the final insult.
"GRUUUOOOHHHH!!"
Rage obliterated reason. The Goblin Lord poured every ounce of power into the swing, the mace seething with dark magic that warped the air. It became a blow that could carve the world itself.
(Perfect. That's enough force.)
Yuuto didn't try to dodge. He waited for the instant of impact. A split second before the mace struck, he twisted his backpack from his back to his chest, adjusting the angle with surgical precision.
It matched the blue trajectory exactly—preparing to launch himself as a human cannonball.
A thunderous crack split the throne room.
The mace slammed into the backpack. The explosion of force sent the pack flying apart, and Yuuto's body shot through the air like a rag of paper—straight toward the pillar.
"Guh—ha...!"
His bones screamed. His vision dimmed. Yet even as he spun midair, he saw it—his plan was working flawlessly.
Impact.
He crashed into the pillar like a fired shell. It wasn't just any column—it was one of the central supports holding the chandelier above.
Cracks spidered through the stone. The shock of Yuuto's strike, combined with the ground-shaking force of the Goblin Lord's blow, fractured the structure beyond repair.
"Gu...!?"
The Goblin Lord faltered, confusion flickering across his rage. The insect he'd swatted away had triggered the very collapse that now began to consume the hall.
(...Got you, foolish lord.)
Darkness claimed Yuuto's senses. The last thing he heard was the desperate roar of the Goblin Lord—and the thunder of steel and bone as the chandelier fell, heralding the end.