Chapter 229: His Sword Is Named Excalibur
The Spear of Victory—to think such a thing existed!
"Damn it, how does this lecherous old man keep hiding one trick after another!"
Brunhilde gritted her teeth so hard they nearly shattered.
Thus, she truly began to lose hope for victory in this match.
For some reason, the more she glanced at that Spear of Victory, the more she felt there was absolutely no chance of winning.
The more she became convinced that victory was firmly in the opponent's grasp!
No!
Brunhilde suddenly bit her tongue, the sharp pain and taste of blood doing nothing to diminish her pessimistic thoughts in the slightest.
Her peripheral vision caught others as well—most humans had fallen into despair, nearly all convinced that King Arthur was doomed to defeat.
"There's no way we can win."
"It's over."
"Humanity is about to descend into despair."
"We'll just keep losing from now on."
One by one, they grew increasingly pessimistic and despondent, believing humanity had no hope left in Ragnarök.
So, is this the power of the Spear of Victory?
Does it affect the mind, making people negative and convinced the opponent is the victor while they are the losers?
And as the closest to it, would King Arthur also have his spirit influenced, losing his will to fight?
"The Spear of Victory? How interesting. My sword also has a name—Sword of Promised Victory!"
King Arthur, projected on the arena, spoke these words with amusement.
However, his statement did not rekindle hope among the humans. Instead, it came across as trying to compete with the opponent's weapon in name alone, unwilling to be outdone even in the title of their weapons.
To put it simply, it seemed like he was trying to one-up the Spear of Victory in nomenclature.
After all, the radiance emanating from Zeus's Spear of Victory was too brilliant—not blinding, but breathtakingly beautiful.
It unmistakably embodied the true colors of victory.
By comparison, the holy sword known as "Sword of Promised Victory," though quite radiant, is like fireflies compared to starlight when set against the "Spear of Victory."
To the naked eye, their brilliance may appear similar, but the difference between them is as vast as heaven and earth.
How far can the glow of a firefly reach? At what distance does it fade from your sight?
And starlight? How many light-years of cosmic expanse must it traverse?
This is precisely the perceptual gap that currently exists between "Sword of Promised Victory" and the "Spear of Victory."
Thus, at this moment, humanity seemed to have returned to the opening of the first round of the Ragnarök battle.
Almost all humans believed that this final battle between humans and gods was nothing but a joke—a mockery of humanity, a laughingstock for mankind.
Nearly every human held no hope whatsoever, unable to fathom how humanity could possibly defeat the gods.
They simply could not believe that the fragile human body—so vulnerable that a fall from a few meters could be fatal—could triumph over gods who could reshape mountains and rivers with a mere wave of their hands.
This despairing sentiment was now resurfacing.
No, it would be more accurate to say that a numb, hope-deprived emotion was returning.
Despair—at least that was an expression of emotion, whereas numbness was an even more extreme and dire reaction.
"Is this the power of the Spear of Victory?"
God of Conquest Adamas murmured, somewhat dazed.
Not only did it weaken the enemy's morale, but it also bolstered the morale of one's own side.
Suddenly, snapping back to his senses, his expression turned peculiar as he realized that his own spirit had been affected.
Thus, he felt that this unique divine weapon had an almost heretical quality—a weapon that forcibly distorted one's mind.
So, it seemed that pure physical combat couldn't win against the opponent, and instead, they intended to achieve victory through mental manipulation?
It gave off a rather underhanded impression.
Who would have thought that Zeus would resort to using such a thing, making him seem like a sore loser.
"Hmph!"
A cold snort came from Poseidon, for he had discerned the thoughts of his foolish elder brother.
This weapon appeared to influence morale, seemingly a special Sacred Gear that affected the mind.
But it wasn't merely a mental influence—it was more like an effect governed by causality.
As its name implied, the word "Victory" was the conceptual ability of this divine weapon; once activated, it ensured the inevitable outcome of victory!
The low morale on the human side was precisely due to the causal effect of certain defeat acting upon them, allowing them to experience in advance the feelings brought by their inevitable future loss.
His gaze shifted toward the Valkyrie—after all, she was only a demigod and had no true understanding of the gods' real depths.
Similar conceptual causality weapons existed in some pantheons as well, but they were never brought out unless absolutely necessary.
Thus, his attention returned to that King Arthur, whose sword also bore the word "Victory"—how audacious, as if unaware of his own limitations.
Still, to force Zeus to use the Spear of Victory, this King Arthur was truly unprecedented!!!
He had to admit that this King Arthur was a formidable enemy he himself could not match.
After all, Poseidon had challenged Zeus before, only to be defeated without even forcing Zeus to reveal his ultimate form, Adamas.
"Ninth, tenth, eleventh—release!"
Hm? What was this King Arthur doing? What release?
As he spoke these words, several patterns on the sword vanished, making the blade appear purer.
Then, the sword grew even more radiant, shining like a beam of light in the darkness—a guiding light leading humanity out of the shadows.
"Impossible!"
Poseidon stared intently at the sword.
The current radiance did not actually stem from the sword actively emitting a stronger light, but rather from the surrounding light instinctively gathering and converging upon it.
It was as if the light existed solely to illuminate this blade.
As a result, the convergence of light caused the surrounding space to dim, further accentuating the brilliance of this holy sword.
At the same time, the human side, which had seemingly lost its morale, was now regaining its confidence.
How could this be?
Did this mean the causality of [Victory] was being reversed?
Did that sword also possess the conceptual power of [Victory]?