"Who are you? Why do I sense the aura of both dragons and my kind—[Steel]—emanating from you?"
Driven by curiosity, Saint George voiced the question that weighed on his mind.
Artoria stepped forward, her voice cold and deliberate.
"I have no interest in answering the questions of a dead man."
"Hmph! Such arrogance."
Their gazes clashed midair, and a torrent of overwhelming magical energy erupted from both of them, powerful enough to shake the heavens.
A radiant golden light emanated from Saint George, sacred and solemn, like a sun rising majestically into the sky.
Meanwhile, black flames of destruction burned around Artoria, exuding an aura of pure annihilation, as though heralding the end of the world itself.
"You look just like a demon lord bringing calamity to this world," Saint George remarked, his tone laced with provocation.
Artoria chuckled softly at his words, but the icy depths of her golden eyes betrayed no amusement, only a frozen eternity of indifference.
"Oh? And will you, the lapdog of your false god, come to vanquish this demon lord? Or should I toss you a bone to chase?"
"...If the me standing here weren't consumed by madness, I would ensure you paid dearly for your insolence," Saint George replied, his smile fading as he raised his massive greatsword and pointed it at Artoria.
The sacred aura of [Ascalon], the sword renowned for its power to slay dragons, was suffocating. Artoria's brows furrowed slightly.
"I don't like that sword," she muttered.
"So, I might as well destroy it."
As her words fell, Artoria vanished from Saint George's sight. His eyes widened in mild surprise, his battle instincts immediately sharpening.
Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a flash of swordlight. Reacting instinctively, Saint George swung [Ascalon] overhead to block, just as the blood-red, black knight's blade descended upon him.
The clash of blades sent shockwaves rippling outward, and Saint George's expression shifted.
"So heavy?!"
At that moment, stunned by Artoria's sheer, incongruous strength—so far removed from her appearance—Saint George faltered. Artoria seized the opening, charging at him. Her armored fist, shrouded in black flames, slammed into his face.
The golden radiance surrounding Saint George shattered like dry twigs under the crushing force of the dark flames. Sent hurtling downward, he crashed heavily into the ground.
Artoria moved to pursue, but a sharp, relentless force rushing toward her halted her steps.
Wrapped in singed and scorched animal pelts, Nuada strode through the air, his face twisted into a fierce grin. Every muscle in his body swelled with power.
The intensity of his fighting spirit locked onto Artoria like an unbreakable chain.
"Come, mighty warrior! Fight me once more!"
A streak of silver light hurtled toward her, its momentum unstoppable. Artoria responded with a casual swing of her black blade, unleashing a matching wave of darkness.
The silver and black lights collided, shattering upon impact.
But this was only the beginning.
As Artoria and Nuada closed the distance between them, their swords clashed repeatedly. Countless flashes of blade-light wove together, neither side yielding an inch.
Nuada, the god-king of the Tuatha Dé Danann, was not only a sovereign but also a warrior god, a master of combat.
Yet Artoria held her ground, and more than that, she gradually gained the upper hand.
Her mastery of swordsmanship drew from countless sources—her own innate skill, the techniques of Okita Souji, the secrets of Kojiro Sasaki, and even the varied forms of Nero Claudius, honed through her [Imperial Privilege]. Each technique was executed flawlessly, blending seamlessly with her movements.
Nuada found himself in an unfamiliar and humiliating position—pressed on the defensive in a battle of blades.
Worse still, her raw strength outmatched his.
Each clash felt as though he were trying to move ten mountains, divert a hundred rivers, or subdue a thousand dragons. His muscles bulged, veins popped, and yet the force of Artoria's blows threatened to crush him with every exchange.
Unwilling to admit defeat, Nuada bellowed and unleashed his divine power further.
"Heavens! Earth! Seas! Submit to me! Tremble before my might!"
"I am the greatest among the gods! I am the crowned ruler of Britain!"
"With this Silver Arm, I shall triumph over all! Unstoppable and invincible!"
Though not a pure [Steel] Heretic God, Nuada's power as a god-king was terrifying when fully unleashed.
Yet, as the blinding divine light surged, Artoria lowered her head slightly, her voice cutting through the chaos.
"Did you just say... ruler of Britain?"
The sky began to quiver.
The earth started to shudder.
Under her mounting fury, the world seemed to cower in fear.
The raging black flames swallowed Nuada's divine light.
When the flames subsided, the radiant silver light was gone, and Nuada was left stunned. A deep slash ran from his left shoulder to his right abdomen, the wound gaping and raw.
"If you want to claim dominion over Britain..." Artoria's voice was cold and unyielding, "you'll need power like this at the very least."
Without hesitation, she raised her blackened sword, prepared to deliver the final blow.
But at that moment, a sudden surge of holy light erupted from below.
"Fall, vile dragon! Begone, defiler! Shine forth, [Ascalon]!"
Countless particles of light coalesced around [Ascalon], forming a massive, thousand-meter-long cross of holy radiance.
The luminous cross slammed into both Artoria and Nuada head-on.
Amidst the golden brilliance, a speck of black suddenly flared.
"Shatter."
Black flames exploded outward, obliterating the cross of sacred light charged with the power of dragonslaying.
Artoria's figure shot forward, her reversed sacred sword cloaked in black fire. She descended upon Saint George with a ferocious strike.
Boom!
[Ascalon] rose to meet her blade, deflecting the blow—but the impact numbed Saint George's arms, nearly causing him to lose his grip on the sword.
The tremendous force of her strike sent Saint George skidding back several hundred meters, creating distance between them.
"Pierce her! [Ascalon, the Holy Spear]!"
With a shout, Saint George transformed his dragonslaying sword into a spear. The weapon shot forward as a streak of light, tearing through the atmosphere toward Artoria's head.
The spear's unstoppable sharpness, its unyielding momentum, evoked the image of Odin's [Gungnir], a weapon that would not cease until it struck its target.
Artoria's golden eyes calmly followed the spear's flight. She did not move to evade. Instead, she raised her left hand.
Boom!
The spear collided with a deafening explosion, painting the sky in hues of divine gold.
The Holy Spear, charged with the power to slay dragons, halted in its tracks—blocked by the menacing, spiked gauntlet adorning Artoria's hand.
"How... is this possible?"
The scene unfolding before Saint George was nothing short of earth-shattering.
His proudest strike, imbued with the full might of [Ascalon], hadn't even scratched her armor.
Doubt flickered in his eyes as his confidence wavered.
Artoria flicked her hand, sending the spear hurtling back toward Saint George. He caught it with a firm grip, his expression grave as he stared at her.
Then, he saw her smirk coldly.
"What's wrong? Did my last strike bruise your fragile pride?"
"Or is it that, without the master you so worship, you're nothing more than a worthless pawn?"
---
T/N: ME NEXT SALTER ME NEXT!!! oh heres pics the author provided :3c )heh wn doesnt get the pics)
...
Huh. You really stuck it out all the way to the end.
Didn't think you had the patience. Guess I was wrong.
WiseTL's the one who actually made all this come together. I'm just here putting a bow on it... or, well, shoving it in a backpack and calling it a day. Same thing.
If you had fun, you know what to do:
👉 [patreon.com/WiseTL]
And if you're the social type, there's a Discord too. Pretty decent spot to hang out—no battles required.
👉 [discord.gg/wisetl]
Alright. That's enough standing around. Go on—before you make it weird.
—Leaf