SL-R: Space-Lothair Rescue!

A demon possessed quite a primal organ called 'brain' as the proof of their earliest form of evolution.

The brain is a complex organ that controls thought, memory, emotion, touch, motor skills, vision, breathing, temperature, hunger and every process that regulates the body. Something that many carbon-based living beings need to survive.

Although, in the demon's current diverse evolutionary state, they had already evolved and adapted enough that they didn't really need to possess a brain for their body to fully function, but it's still neat to possess a brain or two.

Within the brain, there are something that are called Neurons.

Neurons are information messengers. They use electrical and chemical signals to send information between different areas of the brain, as well as between the brain, the spinal cord, and the entire body.

Yes, electricity! While a single neuron generates only a tiny amount of electricity, all your neurons together can generate enough electricity to power a low-wattage bulb.

With no thought about the repercussions of frying one's own brain, Lothair fired off his Duplication Overheal onto the ongoing electrical signal in his brain.

It started with a massive inertia of discomfort, something that was quickly turning into a painful jolt that went from a mere sensation, to a literal burst of discharge that traveled all over Lothair's body.

"AAAAH, YEEEES, THIIIS IIIS FIIINE!"

After Lothair managed to acquire a source of electricity, he cast another set of Duplication Overheal onto his iron — the very bodily mineral resource meant to make a certain protein in his blood cells within his body.

After a small visible chunk of iron popped out from his palm, he aimed it towards his planet and proceeded to overheal it once more, increasing its length into an extremely long space-string!

Back then in Magus Academy's library, Lothair learned a lot of spell structure despite the fact that he had no spellcasting affinity with the learnt subject. One of those subjects was Gravity Manipulation Spell.

Upon learning it, Lothair was familiar with the concept of the world's magnetic field.

The same force that points a compass needle North — also extends into space! And since the gravity spell is based on a tuned magnetic field, there was a page describing the possibility of generating one with mere electricity as casting reference.

With that concept, it is also possible to generate a magnetic field from a space-object that will very gently push itself towards a planet or repel it away.

'Tch, right, I also need to bind carbon and turn it into steel. I wonder if I have enough soul prowess to split the carbon in my bone... Not to mention, I need to make them at least a kilometer long!" Lothair grinned like an electrocuted madman who had found out that he could explode a dynamite by giving it enough shock. 'While also simultaneously maintaining the electricity — what a great mental gymnastic!'

2,250 grams of workable iron is needed to create a longsword, factoring for the ratio of impurities, means Lothair needed 9,407.25 grams of raw material — of blood-iron sand — to start making one alone.

For this occasion, however, what Lothair needed was not a sword. It was an Electrodynamic Tether — a very durable, conductive, and long Electrodynamic Tether.

"So, how much electricity should I charge…? I don't really want to orbit the world forever… Let's just crank it up to the maximum!"

Using electricity, this tether can push or pull onto a planet, making the planet move a distance smaller than the width of an atom and the space-object attached by the tether to move tens or hundreds of kilometers.

The downside of this is that it only works near a planet-sized world with a magnetic field, and gets worse as one gets farther away from the planet.

And with an overquantity electricity, together lack of knowledge for this subject, it would cause a rather deadly propeller-less acceleration.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-!"

With the amount of speed Lothair was accumulating, he re-entered the layer of atmosphere with enough oxygen that his scream became audible to his ear.

After he had passed the atmospheric layer where the gravitational pull stopped slacking with its work, he let go of his arduously long tether and began bracing himself on impact — despite the fact that it would take a while before his head hit something on the way.

As for the destination, he didn't need to worry because the coordinate of the Poison-King Forest had been fully ingrained within his consciousness, actively clanging and luring his attention like a beeping red-dot on a convenient radar.

So all he needed to do is to follow that source of annoyance until it aligned perfectly with the center symmetry of his face.

While praying that he didn't mess up with the timing on landing.

Meanwhile, an army consisting of three factions had already occupied the wrecked wasteland, searching for any hint of the Headless Ichthys' leader. The scenery looked less of a chaos as if the heat from the meteorite bombardment had subsided for quite a while — whether due to the time dilation in space, or Lothair taking his sweet time to admire mother nature.

The first faction included a mismatched combination of mercenaries from all sorts of guilds and origin. They sometimes wore crude uniforms befitting that of a berserker who wreaked havoc on the battlefield, and sometimes they donned fine clothes of lavishly well-off noble's heritage. There were more than a thousand of them, ready to burst into action.

The second faction was less disorderly, and much more united in terms of alma mater. They were a large troop of heavily-armored soldiers coated in black and red motif of steel from head to toe, supported by robe-wearing magus echelon that was color-coded in black and white. Standing firm in formation, they were confident with their number that was beyond four thousand.

The third faction was different from the first two. For one, they were significantly lesser in numbers, instead, they boasted a rather unique quirk behind their cognition-distorting spell formation — only to be revealed when they opened the pandora box.

"Captain! An unknown flying object is approaching our location!"

"Give me the coordinate and estimated time of arrival!"

"It will arrive in thirty seconds! As for the coordinate…"

The armored soldier pointed to the sky.

A tiny flaming individual soared vertically to the ground.

"Overheal Series…"

Despite the early notification, the majority of the army barely had any way to react. Before they knew it, the comet had struck the ground.

Yet, in contrast to the unassuming size, a massive shockwave reverberated throughout the wasteland. A tsunami of steel-melting black fog traveled like a pulsing ripple with the site of impact as the center.

Those who survived the filter began to witness a gigantic silhouette on the location of the crater, towering 200 meters in height.

A familiar annoying voice was then amped to echo the whole vicinity.

"GIGANT — OLYMPIA!!"