With every word He uttered, thousands of golden swords formed in the sky. They were swords, they were light, and they were incantations, firing like a curtain of rain, closing in on the charging Saint.
But the Saint's face remained impassive. Silently, he once again began to burn the last dregs of his life force to their absolute limit.
He flickered at a speed nearly impossible for the naked eye to follow, swinging the Holy Sword condensed from light in his hand. With an elegance tinged with resolve, he unflinchingly faced the golden tempest that could slice through divinity itself. The drawn Holy Sword continuously clashed with the falling golden blades. His body, operating at full capacity, even began to bleed a misty vapor. Erica's gaze couldn't capture the speed of his attacks at all; she could only hear the thunderous clang of metal on metal and see the continuous bursts of brilliant light.
Was this truly something a human could accomplish? To meet a sky-filling golden rain with a sword in hand. Just listening to the sound was like the terrifying hammering of Baal in the depths of hell.
Even if the golden sword that could cleave divinity was not effective, the war god was still waiting, because this world still had to obey the most basic laws of physics.
When the reverberations finally left the Saint's arms dripping with blood, He finally drew his own sword. But it was in the form of a scepter, as He recited a new incantation.
"O guardian of the righteous, I invite and devote myself only to you. O guardian of the righteous, I praise you and present my wish to you. O you who supports the heavens and pioneers the earth, O you who grants victory and grace, I shall carry out justice. Grant me the correct path and the light! With the art of the word, I shall smite the unjust and the wicked! This is the celestial law of victory!"
Calamity bred dark clouds, and within them, lightning-serpents danced wildly. A terrifying thunderstorm descended. This time, the sky full of lightning finally locked onto its opponent.
Golden lightning bolts fell like chains connecting heaven and earth, a continuous, unending deluge of thunder. In this moment, perhaps only death was the Saint's final destination.
When the lightning ceased, the war god Verethragna approached the battlefield with cautious steps.
To the youth, the Saint Seiya was a rival and a friend. To Him, as the god of warriors, Seiya was a peerless warrior—more alluring than the most beautiful woman in the world, more priceless than the most precious treasure.
The Saint was just such a peerless beauty, an irresistible temptation to any god who presided over war and conflict.
I will make him my warrior. I will snatch him from the hands of that Western, foreign goddess. This was not just an empty boast. The thought of immediately being able to claim Seiya as his own warrior made the war god's... excitement palpable.
Now was the moment to use his youth avatar to capture him.
But just as he closed to a distance of five meters, the young war god suddenly stopped.
In that instant, a deadly light flashed in the eyes of the silent Saint. He shot up from the deep crater, a stellar brilliance swirling around him. His Cosmo was still burning, and the vibrant power made his figure move like lightning. The storm of golden projectiles had inflicted numerous wounds upon him, but none were fatal enough to stop him from continuing the fight.
Erica understood Seiya's strategy. He had been feigning weakness, pretending to have lost the ability to move, just waiting for the war god to approach so he could kill him in an instant! If not for the fact that He, as a war god, held the Authority of victory and was familiar with all forms of combat, and that His essence as a god of guidance had alerted him to the danger, Seiya might have actually created a miracle. Now that his disguise was seen through by the war god, the Cosmo he was already burning with his life force surged even higher, pushing for a greater output, seeking to turn the tides!
But time stopped in that moment. The golden sword pierced through his chest.
It was just the most ordinary, calm piercing. There was no technique involved; it was as effortless as a butcher's knife cutting through tofu. But that golden sword, symbolizing the warrior and victory, pierced through the Saint's chest. The war god, with extreme caution, even gave it a reverse twist. The incantation from before now manifested as countless, minuscule swords of light that pierced every inch of the Saint's body from the inside.
The previous outburst had already cost the war god Verethragna dearly. How could He not be on guard against such a move?
"For the sake of victory, come to me! O undying sun, grant me your shining steed! O spiritual horse with swift feet, bring forth the halo that symbolizes your master!"
—The scorching sun swelled overhead, piercing the clouds.
Its final rays shone down on the Saint, Seiya, faintly dyeing his ruined body, bloody from the inside out, a layer of gold.
"Is it... over?" Seiya opened his blood-blurred eyes.
"It is over. But it is also a new beginning," Verethragna smiled at his friend. "When you open your eyes again, you will be standing by my side. You will be far from evil, and thenceforth, my own radiance shall shine for you."
"Bring me that wine, which you might call rubies melted in a cup. That wine which, like a drawn saber, shines in the midday sun."
"If the breath of our life has ended, upon seeing the wine, life will return."
"Ah, if an eagle were to swoop down, seize the wine, and carry it to the sky, to a place where mortals cannot reach, who would not cry out as I do, 'Bravo!'?"
The war god Verethragna slowly recited the ancient Persian poem, his guidance of victory locking onto the blood-soaked youth. Erica could no longer bear to watch what would happen next. It was the white horse that carried the sun; the result would naturally be annihilation, ashes to ashes.
The youth's breathing was long and steady. In the path of the sun-carrying white horse, all things in the world were excluded from his vision, leaving only the world of each other. Victory was sealed. But why was there still a faint, inexplicable sense of dread?
Just then, the war god seemed to sense something. He subconsciously turned his head to look straight ahead.
It was the wind. It was the wind avatar that Seiya had stolen in place of the white horse. The young war god instinctively wanted to move away, but he now found his arms firmly locked by Seiya. Even the space around him had been sealed.
—The white horse was locked onto Seiya. The wind was locked onto the war god. And Seiya, his eyes now open and burning like torches, was locked onto him.
"Of course it's not over! I can still burn! Face the final ultimate technique of Pegasus—Pegasus Rolling Crush!"
"You stubborn son of a bitch!" In that moment, the war god couldn't help but laugh as he cursed.
No matter what his inner thoughts were, no matter how irrational it was, his limbs were now locked by Seiya's joint-technique, and the surrounding space was sealed by the wind avatar.
—Spin, jump, and close your eyes.
Pegasus Rolling Crush.
The ultimate, fatal secret art of Pegasus.
And at that moment, the white horse carrying the sun crashed down between them.
The battle between god and man hereby came to a close.
_____
Greetings! ✨ Walnut here with another translation! Saint Seiya united by their strength!
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