Scáthach walked calmly down the road, hands clasped behind her head, a slightly bored look in her eyes. The wind tousled her long purple hair as she recalled that morning.
"Kazuya was going to do something more fun, even if it's just politics… and I refused to go just because I wanted to take a walk alone," she thought, sighing. "I thought it'd be more interesting to explore a bit, but I'm almost dying of boredom now. I should've stayed by his side."
As she walked, she began to feel a slight tightness in her chest, a bad premonition. She paused for a moment, looking in the direction she sensed her master was. It was then that a distant, muffled sound reached her: a powerful explosion, strong enough to shake the very air around her.
Scáthach furrowed her brow slightly.
But before she could take a single step toward the city, a purple mist began to spread all around her. The space around her trembled, as if it were being torn apart.
"Hmph. What a cheap trick."
The mist engulfed her completely, and when her feet touched the ground again, she was no longer in Japan. The cold air and the smell of damp earth made her recognize the place instantly. The towering mountains, the gray sky… Scotland.
Her home?
Scáthach merely tightened her grip on the Gáe Bolg she had reflexively summoned. It was what saved her, for in the next instant, a deafening sound echoed above her head.
A spear of light streaked through the sky toward her, cutting the air with a sonic boom.
With a simple movement, she spun her body and dodged the attack, the tip of the Gáe Bolg deflecting the spear of light, which exploded against the ground beside her, opening a smoking crater.
"Attacking from behind? How rude…" she said, raising her eyes.
Above her floated a man. His body emanated an aura so intense that the surrounding mountains began to tremble. Rocks shattered, as if gravity itself were increasing with each second.
He was a man of striking beauty, with spiky blond hair shining like gold. On his forehead, a marked sun radiated an almost tangible power. His cold eyes were fixed on Scáthach, and the pressure of his presence crushed everything around.
Scáthach, however, merely raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"You've gotten stronger than last time…" she said in a low tone, the Gáe Bolg spinning lightly in her hand.
Her red eyes stared at him calmly.
"Lugh… the Celtic god of the sun."
Yes, the man before her eyes was one of her adversaries when she faced the Celtic gods at her master's request. Had he come for revenge? She wouldn't have been interested if he hadn't somehow grown stronger.
The man didn't respond, merely watching her coldly from above. Scáthach smirked, relaxing her shoulders.
"I hope you're prepared for my revenge…"
For someone like Lugh, that fight had been an unprecedented humiliation. He couldn't accept that he had lost to a woman he had always considered weak in the past, especially since she had died despite her potential. As the most powerful god in Irish mythology, known as the God of the Sun, God of Storms, and Emperor of the Sky, his defeat was unacceptable.
He didn't care about the subordinate gods who had been killed by the woman before him. For Lugh, only he mattered.
That was why he accepted the deal with that Devil and joined the Khaos Brigade. In exchange, he received an [Ophis Snake] that multiplied his magical energy more than tenfold and a prototype of an invention from that same Devil. With it, he could consume the dead Irish gods and absorb their powers, elevating his own power level to an unprecedented height.
Previously, he was already capable of rivaling the Ten Strongest Beings, even facing Thor on equal footing. But now, his power was so overwhelming that he had undoubtedly become one of the strongest gods among all factions. His strength surpassed even that of Indra, the Celestial Emperor of Hindu mythology, and was ten times greater than the combined power of the two Celestial Dragons.
Lugh slowly raised his right hand. A golden magic circle appeared behind him, expanding like a rising sun on the horizon. From within that circle materialized a multi-pronged spear, his faithful weapon, the Gáe Assail, now in his hands. Each prong of the weapon was enveloped in golden lightning, crackling with pure divine energy.
With his other hand, Lugh materialized a radiant sword that seemed forged from the sun itself. The blade shone so intensely that the air around it rippled with heat.
Without further warning, Lugh vanished from the air.
The speed at which he moved was absurd: reaching Mach 15, fifteen times the speed of sound, the space around him distorted. The air was brutally compressed in front of him, generating a sonic explosion that devastated everything in its path, as if a bomb had detonated in midair.
Scáthach raised the Gáe Bolg she held with a cold smile.
"So you're coming at me with everything, hm?" she said, clicking her tongue.
Scáthach raised her other hand, and dozens of Gáe Bolgs appeared in the sky, materialized from crimson runes. The spears fell toward him like a rain of death, each carrying the curse that ensured the inevitable wounding of its target.
But Lugh was no longer the same as before.
From a few meters away, he spun the Gáe Assail in an arc so swift it seemed to trace lines of light in the air. Each of Scáthach's spears was deflected or shattered before it could even touch him, the lightning from the Gáe Assail detonating the cursed weapons in violent flashes.
In less than a second, he was face-to-face with her.
Scáthach raised the Gáe Bolg defensively, the blade firm against the god's advance.
The impact was catastrophic.
Lugh brought down the solar sword with all his strength combined with his absurd speed. The compressed air between them released a kinetic energy pulse so devastating that it triggered an instantaneous earthquake. The pressure, equivalent to hundreds of tons per square centimeter, collided against Scáthach, whose body was launched like an arrow.
She crashed through a mountain range kilometers away before slamming into the largest peak. The impact pulverized the entire formation, as if it had been wiped off the map. Dust and rock fragments were hurled dozens of kilometers, blocking out the sunlight.
Lugh landed softly where he had stood. The Gáe Assail still crackled with electricity, and his golden eyes gleamed.
"That was for striking me unprepared last time…"
On the horizon, the debris was still falling when a shadow rose from the dust.
Scáthach walked out slowly, dragging the Gáe Bolg by its tip. A dangerous smile crossed her face, and her red eyes burned with defiance.
"Heh… so that's what you've got now?" she murmured, using a few runes to strengthen her body and heal the pain from the impact.
Scáthach spun the Gáe Bolg, and the air around her distorted under the pressure of the power emanating from her body. In an instant, she vanished from the spot in a swift leap, leaving only a crimson flash.
Lugh didn't hesitate; the Gáe Assail spun in his hands while the solar sword sliced through the space ahead, creating arcs of light so bright they seemed to cut reality itself.
The clash came in the same second.
Scáthach's Gáe Bolg collided with the solar sword, divine sparks exploding like fragments of stars. The impact released shockwaves in all directions, shattering rocks and splitting the ground into deep fissures.
Scáthach stepped back for an instant, only to reappear behind Lugh. He, however, was already expecting her; the Gáe Assail spun in a lateral motion, releasing beams of golden lightning that sliced through the air like spears of light.
She dodged by mere centimeters, using runes to manipulate the space around her. Then, she delivered a precise thrust with the Gáe Bolg, aiming for the god's heart.
Lugh blocked with the solar sword, the radiant blade making the impact echo like thunder. The clash caused the surrounding mountains to tremble, but both had already moved again.
Their speed was so absurd that, to any ordinary observer, only two rays would be visible—one golden, one crimson—colliding and crossing the battlefield in unpredictable patterns. Each clash opened craters in the ground and devastated the surrounding environment, but neither seemed willing to back down.
Scáthach descended from above with a diagonal slash, only to be parried by a crossed block from Lugh's two weapons. He then spun his body and tried to pierce her with the Gáe Assail, but she used a rune to distort her position at the last moment, appearing beside the god and delivering a horizontal strike that made his solar sword vibrate as it blocked.
The battle continued.
A kick from Scáthach broke the wind barrier around Lugh, but he grabbed her leg in midair and hurled her brutally against the ground in a spin. Before she hit the ground, she launched the Gáe Bolg upward and used the weapon's momentum to reposition herself in the air, returning against the enemy with a vertical slash that forced Lugh to retreat two steps.
He roared, releasing an intense glow throughout his body. The gravitational pressure around him increased, cracking the ground and lifting debris that floated in the air.
"Enough games!"
Lugh raised both hands, and a colossal golden magic circle formed above him. The heat emanating from it was suffocating. In a matter of seconds, a sun was created—a body of flames and divine energy so intense that it instantly melted everything around it.
With a gesture, he hurled the star toward Scáthach.
She narrowed her eyes and activated a complex rune beneath her feet. The moment the sun collided with where she stood, Scáthach vanished in a crimson flash.
The subsequent explosion was apocalyptic. The ground evaporated at the point of impact, and an energy wave swept across kilometers, turning everything to ash.
But Lugh had no time to celebrate.
Scáthach appeared above him in the air, runes glowing across her body. With the force concentrated in a single point, she delivered a devastating kick to the god's shoulder.
The impact was so brutal that the air was displaced as if a meteor had pierced the atmosphere. Lugh was launched from the sky like a projectile, crashing into the ground with a force that opened a colossal crater, equivalent to the impact of a meteor capable of obliterating an entire city.
The earth trembled for kilometers around, and columns of dust and rock rose on the horizon, blocking the sunlight for a moment.
Scáthach landed softly on the edge of the crater, the Gáe Bolg firm in her hands, looking down at the devastation with her red eyes gleaming.
"Get up, Lugh…" she said in a low voice, a cold smile forming on her lips. "Don't think it's over."
She was eager to fight even more.
The thrill of a good fight had always been her passion, second only to a night of good sex with her disciple. Especially now, as she was far stronger than she had been in her Chaldea days, finding worthy opponents was difficult…
How so?
To explain from the beginning, a ritual originally existed to confront colossal catastrophes born from humanity's evils. This system eventually became the foundation for the Holy Grail Wars and the summoning of Servants. But even before this ritual was created, certain beings were capable of manifesting Saint Graphs and became archetypes for Servants.
Those born from the ritual: Grand Servants. Despite what the name implies, they are not necessarily superior to any other Heroic Spirit that might assume the same class. What makes these Servants so powerful is their Saint Graph.
Saint Graphs are the "body" for the Heroic "Spirit," the physical foundation that gives them form. A Grand's Saint Graph is countless times more refined than that of a regular Servant, allowing them to demonstrate far greater power than their peers.
As mentioned, the Grand ritual was the basis for the Holy Grail War system that underpins the existence of Servants. Heroic Spirits are summonable as Servants, but a Servant's strength is not always 100% of what the individual possessed in life. To facilitate the creation of the Saint Graph, Servants are assigned classes that restrict the appropriate aspects of their legends, meaning a Heroic Spirit may act as a Servant using only a fraction of what is recorded in their history. The location and recognition also influence a Servant's strength. Heracles is said to be essentially invincible in Greece, and King Arthur's fame allows Artoria to demonstrate much of her strength anywhere in the world.
In the case of Kazuya's summons, all the Servants he calls forth have their Saint Graphs in their most perfect form, and they all possess infinite magical energy due to their master having it as well, though they cannot use an amount beyond their own limits. This means they could use any of their abilities and Noble Phantasms without worry.
In terms of Fate/Grand Order, they were all at their final Ascension. Or more specifically, they could essentially use nearly all the power they possessed when alive, being almost a true Heroic Spirit and not a mere copy…
Lugh emerged from the bottom of the crater in a burst of dust and heat, hovering in the air like a wounded sun. He spat blood from the side of his mouth and touched his ribs, the sensation confirming a crack within. Some were broken, and pain radiated in waves. The glow of the solar sword faltered; he discarded it with a flick of his wrist, letting it dissolve into golden sparks. Then, he pulled the Gáe Assail close to his body and assumed a spear stance, shoulder slightly turned, the weapon extended forward like a ray.
Scáthach responded with the naturalness of one who breathes combat. The Gáe Bolg traced a short arc, positioning itself in front of her chest, tip low, elbow loose. The mistress of the Land of Shadows tilted her chin, assessing him with ruby eyes.
They charged.
The first clash was a crossing of golden and crimson lines that exploded in the air. Their speed surpassed the hypersonic regime so easily that the concept of "Mach" became irrelevant; the atmosphere around them ionized, forming luminous halos and plasma cones that dissolved into dry thunderclaps. The Gáe Assail sparked solar flares as it met the Gáe Bolg, and each contact produced a flash that vitrified the ground dozens of meters below, as if arc-welding torches were sweeping the landscape.
Lugh thrust in a rapid sequence, three stabs at quadrant angles, trying to break her guard through phase variation. Scáthach responded with minimal economy: a half-step into the line, the shaft of the Gáe Bolg pressed against her forearm, deflecting the multiple prongs of the Assail with a touch that turned force into nothing. She countered with an upward strike that grazed the god's chin; golden blood vaporized before it could fall, reduced to mist by the temperature of the compressed air.
They vanished again. To the naked eye, only two continuous lines remained: one golden, one red, intertwining in concentric ellipses that sliced through valleys and peaks like wet paper. Each change in direction formed pressure fronts that traveled like small earthquakes; the impact energy of a single step was equivalent to the detonation of anti-armor munitions.
The mountains, once proud ramparts, began to crumble, carved by shockwaves, melted by stagnation heat, and pulverized by atmospheric shear.
"You're not going to tell me that's all you've got?" Scáthach taunted, appearing to Lugh's left the exact moment he anticipated an approach from the right. The tip of the Gáe Bolg bit into his shoulder with a wet snap; the cursed contagion spread through the tissue like a command written in fate. Lugh twisted his torso, the Gáe Assail swept an arc that shattered the space with lightning, and the counterattack caught Scáthach in the thigh, but a rune that appeared there deflected the blow thanks to her foresight ability.
They separated in the same pulse and collided again. Lugh, furious, began interspersing the spear with open-palm strikes, each amplified by a pressure pulse. The air in front of his hands turned white, the compression so high it released flashes; the ram pressure there was enough to flatten a mountain like clay. Scáthach responded in counterpoint: small runes lit up in her tendons; the force was redistributed through her body like a circuit. Her counterstrikes were precise, seeking the micro-gaps between the multiple prongs of the Assail.
"Admit it, Lugh. You're slower."
"Go to hell, woman! I'll kill you!"
She made him chase her in an impossible curve. The maneuver drew a vortex of wake so intense that the slope below imploded inward, as if an invisible hand had pinched the terrain. Lugh locked the curve on the heel of the air, switched the dominant hand on the Gáe Assail, and fired a beam along the shaft's axis; the shot pierced the dust and struck Scáthach in the flank. The energy broke through her runic barrier and burned the tissue beneath her skin, a ring of smoke expanding behind her in silence before the thunder arrived.
She didn't retreat. She charged through the beam's line, used the flash as a curtain, and appeared under his guard, so close that the shafts of their weapons crossed in the lower third. A hip twist, a push against the base of the Gáe Assail, and Lugh's axis was shifted a few centimeters—enough for the tip of the Gáe Bolg to pierce his triceps and pin him momentarily in his own inertia. Lugh roared and broke the bind with a pulse of light that carbonized the air.
The landscape continued to vanish. Entire mountain ranges were reduced to milky glass; the specific energy released with each clash far exceeded what was needed to melt granite. The dust formed columns that rose with thunder, only to be swept away by return winds generated by their own movements. The horizon became a shallow dish of molten rock.
Her [God-Slaying] skill helped deal additional damage to Lugh, giving her a significant advantage. But she couldn't deny he had become dozens of times stronger than before…
Lugh gained vertical distance, trying to catch his breath, but Scáthach was already there. The tip of the Gáe Bolg feinted at his neck and, in truth, pierced obliquely through the side of his torso. The sound was like tearing cloth. The god retreated with a numb arm, blood streaming in lines that boiled. He countered with the base of the Assail, striking like a hammer against her jaw; the impact reverberated through her spine, and for a moment, the world spun in two colors.
"Good," she gave a bloodthirsty smile, her teeth stained.
Lugh tried to capitalize. He advanced in short bursts of flight, each following the line of least drag his divine instincts pointed to, and wove a sequence of six strikes crossing orthogonal planes. The fourth hit; the Gáe Assail entered Scáthach's abdomen and exited at the same angle, carrying a hot gush. She locked her diaphragm through sheer technique, held her breath at the point, and denied her body the reflex to buckle. In response, she delivered a pommel strike with the blunt end of the Gáe Bolg between Lugh's eyebrows; his vision burst into stars, and his guard opened for a heartbeat.
It was enough. Scáthach ripped her spear from her abdomen with a spin that sealed the wound's edges through runes, healing herself completely. In the same fluid motion, she traced a short arc that cut Lugh's biceps to the bone. The Gáe Bolg's curse ran through the limb, sabotaging divine recovery; the fibers wouldn't close immediately.
Lugh concentrated energy in the Gáe Assail until its multiple prongs vibrated in harmony; the surrounding air resonated, a forced resonance that cracked the rock plates on the surface. He launched a thrust that, alone, swept kilometers ahead, carving a channel in the ground like a river of lightning. Scáthach intercepted with the shaft at a minimal angle, and the energy spilled to the side, hitting the last intact rampart in the region. The mountain didn't explode: it evaporated, leaving behind a cloud of mineral vapor that condensed into glass as it fell.
The fight plunged into a shorter, more brutal rhythm. Shoulder to shoulder, elbows, knees, steel, and curse. Scáthach marked Lugh's hip with a cut that affected his balance; he retaliated with a hook from the shaft that cracked her clavicle, the runes quickly healing it.
Finally, Scáthach took the lead for good. She planted the base of her feet in the air as if stepping on an invisible mat and executed a sequence of four moves in zero time: parry, bind, axis displacement, short thrust. The Gáe Bolg entered between Lugh's already broken ribs, found the path "that must be wounded," and followed it. The god choked, his body locking up for the first time.
He responded with a burst of light that forced her to leap back, but the retreat was her choice, not necessity. Lugh hovered, his chest heaving with effort, blood steaming on his skin. The advantage was Scáthach's; the field, a desert of glass, bore witness. And the air still vibrated with the echo of the clash of two rays.
Lugh closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply as the Gáe Assail spun in his hand. He knew he needed something to end it all. The air around him began to glow in golden hues, condensed mana particles so dense that the atmosphere crackled with electric discharges.
"I'll incinerate you, you damn bitch…"
The sky tore open as a colossal magic circle appeared, covering nearly the entire horizon. It was so vast it seemed to swallow the very curvature of the dimension. From it, an artificial sun, incomparably larger than the previous one, began to form. The thermal energy generated was already melting the battlefield's surface into bubbling magma; the radiation pressure and resulting solar wind tore fragments from the ground, like a mini-extinction event on a global scale.
Scáthach merely tightened her grip on the Gáe Bolg, feeling her skin burn. She immediately activated her Noble Phantasm.
Gate of Skye!
Behind her, space twisted and opened like a gigantic tear. The Land of Shadows revealed itself in the physical plane, a world of infinite darkness. The negative gravity emanating from the portal was so immense that any living or inert matter within its range was sucked inside—the air, the dust, the mana particles. Scáthach modulated the Noble Phantasm's target with deadly precision.
Lugh's sun descended.
The impact with the Gate of Skye was cataclysmic. The false sun's thermal and gravitational power met the voracious hunger of the Land of Shadows, which absorbed everything insatiably. The collision created a shockwave that spread at nearly 40,000 km/h, flattening mountains hundreds of kilometers away; the entire dimension was collapsing. The atmosphere around the battlefield was practically torn away, creating a local vacuum zone before being swallowed by the portal.
Scáthach felt her mana being drained to keep the portal stable, but with her master sustaining her, it was merely a breeze on her face.
Lugh roared as he poured what remained of his strength into the sun. He knew he was losing mana rapidly because of the strange portal behind the woman, but he also knew that failing there would be the end.
Then, finally, the Gate of Skye consumed everything. The false sun vanished into the Land of Shadows, which closed with an empty thunderclap. The silence that followed was almost deafening, the kind of silence that comes only after an apocalypse.
Scáthach stumbled forward but maintained her posture. Lugh was panting, hovering with difficulty, his mana nearly depleted.
She smirked. "Was that it? Your last card?"
"Shut up…!" Lugh tried to charge, but his speed had drastically dropped. Scáthach advanced like a crimson blur, and the first strike with the Gáe Bolg pierced his guard, opening his flank.
The god retreated, but she didn't stop. In the blink of an eye, Scáthach was behind him, the reverse tip of the spear striking his spine with enough force to dislodge vertebrae. The air was forced from Lugh's lungs, and he barely had time to block the next attack.
The Gáe Bolg pierced his thigh, the curse running through his veins. "I see that even having grown stronger, it still wasn't enough, Lugh."
Lugh attempted a desperate counterattack with the Gáe Assail, but Scáthach dodged with a spin of her body. She trapped the god's spear with the shaft of her own weapon, pushed it downward, and delivered a knee to his chin. The impact created a circular shockwave, further fragmenting the already ruined ground.
Lugh fell to his knees but still resisted.
"Finish me already… if you have the courage…"
Scáthach walked toward him, each step echoing in the colossal crater they had created. "You talk as if you had a choice."
She spun the Gáe Bolg with lethal grace and struck Lugh's shoulder, tearing through muscle and bone. The god howled but didn't fall. Scáthach then delivered another blow to his abdomen, enough to make him spit blood and nearly lose consciousness.
"You… were never a match for me."
Finally, she spun the spear one last time and struck Lugh's chest with the blunt end, sending him flying dozens of meters away. His body hit the ground with enough force to open a new crater.
Scáthach approached slowly, the tip of the Gáe Bolg gleaming.
"As appreciation for the good fight you gave me, I'll use my strongest attack…"
The warrior raised the spear above her head and, with a delicate spin, invoked something older and more terrible. The air around her twisted, and multiple spears began to emerge from nowhere, floating in circles. They were all similar to the Gáe Bolg but with a more primitive design, bearing runic markings that glowed purple and exuded a power that seemed to cut through the very soul.
"Gáe Bolg Alternative: Soaring Spear of Piercing Death!"
The spears orbited Scáthach like predators, each aimed at Lugh. He tried to move, but his legs gave out.
The first spear shot forward with a high-pitched sound, weaving the space around Lugh. He was lifted into the air, trapped, his body pierced by invisible threads that locked space-time itself. Hoarse screams escaped his throat, but nothing could break the prison formed by the initial spear.
Scáthach then advanced with the original Gáe Bolg in hand, spinning it and pinning him with a precise strike to the chest. The space around him cracked, as if bound by invisible chains. Lugh was trapped, with no escape possible.
"And now…"
She stepped back a few meters, the other spears still orbiting. One of them, longer, sharper, and glowing intensely, stood out from the circle and floated before Scáthach. It was the second part of the Noble Phantasm, the one capable of piercing anything. She gripped it with both hands and concentrated all her remaining mana.
"…you will be pierced by death."
Scáthach launched the soaring spear with superhuman force. The air shattered in a boom, as if the atmosphere had been torn in two. The speed was so great that it formed a vacuum tunnel in its path.
Lugh raised his eyes one last time, the golden glint clouded by pain and belated realization. "No…"
The spear struck his heart, piercing his body as if it were paper. In the next instant, the impact disintegrated the prison holding him aloft, but only because there was nothing left to hold. The Celtic god of the sun was transfixed by an energy that prevented any regeneration…
Lugh's body fell to its knees, his eyes still open but without light. His wounds refused to heal, and the alternative Gáe Bolg pulsed in his chest, the curse eroding what remained of his soul.
Scáthach approached slowly, stopping before her defeated foe. She grasped the shaft of the spear still embedded in him and murmured:
"Sleep, Lugh. Your legend ends here."
She pulled the spear out in one motion, and the final curse spread.
Lugh died.
Scáthach took a deep breath, feeling the thin, hot air of the distorted dimension. Each breath was heavy, as if the oxygen itself had been consumed by the collapse of the titanic energy released moments before. Her eyes scanned the empty horizon. The entire dimensional region had been obliterated in their final clash.
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to control the exhaustion burning her muscles and draining her vital energy. The consecutive use of her Noble Phantasms, including the Gate of Skye, had pushed her Saint Graph to its limit.
It was a satisfying battle…
She raised the Gáe Bolg and traced a runic pattern in the air. The space before her vibrated, its edges tearing into a pulsing crimson circle of energy. The [Gate of Skye] opened once more, revealing a direct passage to the physical world.
"I need to get back…" she murmured softly, feeling urgency grow in her chest.
With a graceful leap, she crossed the portal and emerged into the night of Kyoto, exactly at the same point where she had been torn from reality earlier. The cool, damp city air enveloped her like sudden relief, but she didn't pause for a second.
Shup!
Her body turned into a crimson blur, moving through the streets at such absurd speed that the air displacement left small sonic booms around her.
At the same time, her mind sought the connection with Kazuya. Scáthach focused, channeling a thin stream of mana through the mental link that always bound them.
"I'm coming…"
________________
(A/N: Good afternoon, everyone!
This part of the original 24k-word chapter (the next one is the last) brought one of the battles I was most excited to write so far. Seriously, I think it's among the best in terms of details and intensity – I really want to know what you all thought!
Taking the opportunity, I wanted to comment a bit about the Saint Graph of Kazuya's Servants. Thanks to the Third Magic, practically all of them (except Shuten Dōji) have reached an absurd level of power – the kind that could "easily destroy the world." Karna is an unparalleled monster, and Edmond isn't far behind, though his power is more conceptual than destructive. Jeanne, for example, has an EX-rank Noble Phantasm and a Conceptual Weapon capable of annihilating anything in existence, as long as she believes in it. As for Jalter and Salter… they are true demons on the battlefield. Artoria Lancer, not to mention, with her Holy Lance, can literally destroy the world (she can undo the textures of the Nasuverse, which is absolutely insane), and as you saw, Scáthach is also OP. Her Gate of Skye tanked an attack capable of destroying the world from Cu Chulainn Alter in the Fifth Singularity, though she ended up blown to pieces on the sidewalk. With Kazuya's infinite magical energy and her perfect Saint Graph, this became even more absurd.
With Kazuya's infinite magical energy, all the Servants become even more insane, surpassing even Counter Guardians (like Emiya himself) in prana reserves. At the very least, almost all of them reach continental level, with the exception of characters like Mata Hari, who, even enhanced, wouldn't be "that OP."
In summary: Kazuya is surrounded only by Top-Rank Servants, all with more perfect Saint Graphs and limitless magical energy.
Now, about DxD, from what I've been reading and watching.
Low-Class Beings can destroy buildings.
Mid-Class Beings can destroy multiple buildings.
High-Class Beings can destroy mountains.
Ultimate-Class Beings can destroy entire cities.
Maou or God-Class can destroy countries.
Super Demon Class and the Ten Strongest Beings in the World: Can destroy multiple continents and even the world itself.
Great Red, the Beast of the Apocalypse, and Ophis, I believe, are at Star level, and the Diabolos form of Issei and Vali at the end was implied to reach universal level.
The ExE Gods are all universal level; one of them slapped Great Red and left him completely blown to pieces on the sidewalk.
💬 And hey — want to just read ahead a bit?
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