Chapter 35. Backhanding a Projected [Divine Construct]!
Babel, the Highest Floor.
This is the place closest to the sky, and the domain closest to the "Gods." The air is filled with thin oxygen and a dense Divine Aura; an ordinary person standing here would likely faint from oxygen deprivation and mental pressure alone.
The headquarters of the Freya Familia—"Folkvangr."
At this moment, the Goddess of Beauty who commands Orario's strongest fighting force—Freya—lay languidly on a velvet-covered couch. She swirled a glass of divine wine as red as blood, her silver eyes, which seemed to contain the Milky Way, gazing through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows at the city below.
Or more accurately, she had activated her "Ultra-Long-Range Voyeur Mode," dead-locking onto the soul of a certain red-haired boy in the city who had just reached Level 3.
"Level 3... 'Senji Muramasa', is it?"
Freya whispered softly, her lips curling into a smile that was both enchanting and spine-chilling.
"His growth speed is fast. The brilliance of his soul is becoming purer. It is the color of steel forged in intense fire—even at a banquet of the Gods, it would be the most dazzling jewel. Compared to that pure, transparent little rabbit (though in this timeline he's still farming in the countryside), this soul, filled with a 'sense of experience' and 'the beauty of scars,' makes me... unbearably thirsty."
"However..."
The Goddess's tone shifted. The infatuation in her eyes instantly turned into a near-fanatical persistence, like a perfectionist seeing a piece of jade that hadn't been fully polished.
"It's not enough. Not dazzling enough. Not sharp enough. Being pampered like a treasure in Loki's lukewarm Familia, cooking and coddling children every day... such an environment cannot forge a true 'Divine Sword.' It will only turn him into a blunt knife—a kitchen cleaver only good for slicing vegetables (though his cooking is indeed delicious)."
She set down her wine glass and stood up. Her long purple dress trailed across the floor like flowing night. She stepped barefoot onto the cold marble floor, every step sounding as if it were treading on the heartstrings of others.
"Since Loki is unwilling to strike, I shall do it myself. In order to make him bloom, to make him the 'Partner (Odr)' who belongs only to me...
Even if it is hell, I will pave it for him with my own hands. This is... the privilege of being the 'Leader of his Fan Club'."
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Folkvangr, Deep Underground.
This is the forbidden zone of the Freya Familia—a massive underground arena filled with the scent of blood and mana turbulence. Countless scratches of varying depths remained on the walls, and dark red bloodstains had long since seeped into the grain of the rock, telling the tale of the many brutal slaughters that had occurred here.
Usually, this is the Shura's field where Familia members kill one another (a physical "baptism") to win the Goddess's favor. But today, there was only one spectator, and... one special "prisoner."
"ROAAAAR————!!!"
A deafening roar echoed through the arena. The sound was filled with tyranny, killing intent, and an extreme hatred for the living. The sound waves alone made the surrounding protective barriers hum.
In the center of the arena, a gargantuan, hideous monster was pinned down by several thick Orichalcum chains.
It had a skeletal body similar to a "Spartoi," but its bones were an ominous dark red, as if they had been soaked in a pool of blood for a thousand years. Its arms had mutated into two massive bone blades, and its back was covered in spikes like a grave of swords. More terrifyingly, it exuded a suffocating pressure. It was an aura that surpassed deep-floor monsters, faintly touching the realm of a "Floor Boss."
"Ottar."
Freya stood on the balcony, looking down at the monster as if inspecting an unfinished work of art.
"Here."
A figure like an iron tower stepped out from the shadows. Ottar. Level 7, "The Warlord," Orario's strongest adventurer and Freya's most loyal warrior. Before this man—who would destroy the world at a single word from his Goddess—any monster appeared almost cute.
At this moment, Ottar actually bore wounds. Though they were only shallow scratches, for him, who stood at the apex, it was already an incredible occurrence. Normally, a Level 5 couldn't even touch him.
"How is this child's condition?" Freya asked.
"Strong. And... its growth speed is extremely fast, one might even say 'abnormal'." Ottar replied in a deep voice, his gaze locked on the monster. "It is a variant brought back from the depths of the 37th floor, the 'White Palace.' After devouring a large amount of high-purity
magic stones and undergoing rounds of 'feeding' (meaning beatings) from the Familia elites—including Allen, Hedin, and Hogni—it has evolved."
"Right now, in terms of pure destructive power, it is close to the upper tier of Level 5. And..."
Ottar paused, a glint of approval flashing in his eyes—the recognition of one strong warrior for another.
"It has learned 'Technique'."
"Oh?" Freya's eyes lit up. "Not just animal instinct?
Show me, Ottar. Let me see exactly how much weight this 'gift' I'm sending to that child carries."
"As you wish."
Ottar nodded and leaped into the arena. He did not draw the jet-black sword on his back; he simply took an unarmed combat stance. In that instant, the air seemed to freeze, the Level 7 presence making the entire underground space tremble.
"Release the chains."
At Ottar's command, the mages in charge of the mechanism released the restraints.
Clang!
The moment the chains hit the ground—
Swish!
The red-boned monster vanished. No, it was just too fast for the naked eye to capture. It became a red bolt of lightning, instantly appearing behind Ottar. The bone blade on its right arm, carrying wind pressure that seemed to tear space, slashed ruthlessly toward Ottar's neck.
The angle of the strike was tricky and vicious. It was no longer a beast's pounce. It was a "swordsmanship" honed through a thousand trials for the sole purpose of slaughter.
"Is this... mimicry?"
Freya narrowed her eyes. This monster was actually imitating Ottar's movements, and even the techniques of all the warriors it had seen. Its learning ability was like a cheater equipped with a "Sharingan."
"Hmph."
Ottar snorted. Without turning his head, he delivered a backhand knife-hand strike to the side of the bone blade.
Clang!
The sound of clashing metal exploded. The monster's attack was deflected, but unlike ordinary monsters, it didn't stagger from the counter-force. Instead, it used the reaction to weirdly spin its body in mid-air, the bone blade on its left arm thrusting like a drill toward Ottar's heart.
Chain attacks. Transitioning moves. Prediction.
The combat intelligence displayed by this monster was hair-raising. It was like a sponge born for battle, greedily absorbing every killing technique. If given a real sword, it might even become a Sword Master.
"Not bad."
A sharp light flashed in Ottar's eyes. He stopped merely defending and began to counter. Level 7 power erupted. A simple straight punch carried the momentum to crush mountains.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Man and monster traded blows manically in the arena. The monster's bone blades left white marks on Ottar's fists, while Ottar's punches shattered the monster's bones time and again. But the terrifying part was the monster's regeneration. As long as the core magic stone remained intact, its bones would reorganize in an instant, becoming harder and sharper than before. With every rebirth, it was "evolving" specifically against Ottar's attack patterns.
"Growing stronger as it fights... this is what a 'Trial' should look like."
Watching this, Freya's smile grew wider, and a sickly flush even appeared on her cheeks. She could already see the image of that red-haired boy facing this monster of despair—fighting with all his might, drenched in blood, yet still swinging his sword.
That was her favorite "color." And her most anticipated "tragedy."
"That's enough, Ottar."
Freya raised her hand.
Ottar instantly retracted his force and kicked the monster into the wall, the massive impact embedding it deep into the rock. He then retreated quickly to the balcony. The mechanism activated, and countless chains shot out again, pinning the monster—which hadn't yet regenerated—firmly to the wall.
"Grrr..." The monster let out an unwilling low growl, ghost-fires burning in its hollow eye sockets as it stared fixedly at Freya. It seemed to know that this woman was the ruler here.
"Don't look at me like that, child."
Freya gently stroked the monster's hideous bone spikes as if petting a kitten. This "Beauty and the Beast" scene, while aesthetic, was filled with an eerie sense of horror.
"You were not born for me. You were born for him."
Freya turned to look at Ottar.
"The Loki Familia's expedition is tomorrow, isn't it?"
"Yes. Intelligence shows their target is the unreached territory, the 59th floor."
"Very good."
Freya pulled a magic stone emitting a strange purple light from her bosom. It wasn't an ordinary magic stone. It was a catalyst she had asked an "old friend" (likely Ouranos or some being with divine power) to specially craft, containing fragments of God's Grace and the aura of "that thing (Spirit)."
"Feed this to it." Freya threw the stone to Ottar.
"Then, drop it onto the path the Loki Familia must take. The 24th floor? No, too shallow. The terrain there won't restrict it. The 37th floor... the 'White Palace'."
"That is the depths of the labyrinth, the starting point of despair. Let it wait there. Wait for the arrival of 'Senji Muramasa'.
This is the first 'Love Letter' I've written for him."
Freya's face wore a smile that was "Yandere" to the absolute limit. It was a smile so beautiful it took one's breath away, yet so poisonous it chilled the blood. This was likely the legendary "Heavy Love ."
"Shirou Emiya. If you can overcome this 'Trial,..
Then I will admit that you are qualified... to be loved by me.
If you die..." Freya's gaze instantly became cold and heartless, like a glacier that had never melted.
"Then it simply means the brilliance of your soul was nothing more than that. Broken toys are not worth collecting."
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Meanwhile. Twilight Manor, Backyard.
"A-choo!"
Shirou Emiya, who was currently maintaining weapons, suddenly let out a massive sneeze, and a chill ran down his spine. The iron hammer in his hand nearly struck his own finger.
"What's wrong? A cold? Or is someone thinking about you?" Lili asked with concern nearby, holding a freshly organized list of expedition supplies covered in various potions and food ingredients.
"I... I don't know why, but I suddenly feel like I've been targeted by some kind of massive carnivore. And it's the top-tier predator kind that's in heat—hunting season." Shirou rubbed his nose. [Mind's Eye (True)] hadn't sent an alarm, but the warning bells of "Male Intuition" were ringing frantically.
"Probably just an illusion. Maybe I'm just tired lately." Shirou shook his head, forcing down the unease in his heart and refocusing on the work at hand.
It was a new "cheat" he had specially prepared for this expedition. A blade made of a special mineral dropped in the Dungeon called "Obsidian Steel," combined with "Hard Beast Horns" he found on the 24th floor. He used [Projection] technology to repeatedly fold and forge it, and finally had Haruhime help apply a trace amount of "Curse Magic"—
[Pseudo-Magic Sword: Mountain-Slasher (Igalima - Prototype)].
"While it can't compare to a true Divine Construct, the hardness and sharpness of this sword have already surpassed the scope of First-Class Armaments."
Shirou gripped the hilt. The blade was entirely pitch black with no unnecessary decoration; only the edge shimmered with a heart-stopping cold light. Unlike the "disposable consumables" of projection magecraft, this was a truly existing, physical sword. It could withstand the overloaded operation of [Structural Reinforcement] and could serve as a firing vessel for [Broken Phantasm] (though it would be a bit of a waste).
"With this, plus my Level 3 stats..." Shirou swung the greatsword, the sound of the air being torn apart was muffled and powerful.
"Even if I encounter a Floor Boss, I should be able to put up a fight."
He didn't know. In the depths of this Dungeon, a "Malice" specifically bred to kill him—more terrifying than a Floor Boss—was waiting for his arrival.
It was a death notice from a Goddess titled as a "Trial."
"Emiya-sama! Captain Finn is calling for you!" A Familia member ran over to deliver the message, interrupting Shirou's thoughts. "He says it's for the final confirmation of the expedition formation, and... the arrangements for 'that matter'."
"Coming."
Shirou put away the sword and slung it across his back. The sunlight spilled over him, casting a long shadow.
"Lili, let's go too. Your task for this expedition is quite heavy, you know."
"Yes! Lili will work hard not to hold you back! For the money... no, for Emiya-sama!"
Whatever lay ahead—be it the fangs of monsters or the pranks of Gods—the man named "Senji Muramasa" was prepared to draw his sword.
After all, for an "Ally of Justice" who once crawled out of a hell like the Holy Grail War, "Trials" were merely daily quests. Even if it's a Goddess's love, if it dares to stand in the way, he'll cut through it for you to see!
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