Chapter 54. Nine Lives Blade Works! The [Great Feud] Begins!
Tower of Babel, Top Floor, "Folkvangr."
The air seemed to have been sucked dry. In the instant that Orario's strongest adventurer—[The Warlord] Ottar—swung that punch, time felt as if it had been pressed into slow motion.
There were no flashy magical light effects, no ear-splitting battle cries. There was only pure, ultimate violence.
That punch, carrying kinetic energy sufficient to shatter city walls and pierce through mountains, slammed heavily into the blooming purple flower of light in front of Shirou Emiya.
[Rho Aias (The Seven Rings that Cover the Fiery Heavens)]. This was the "Absolute Defense" used by the great hero Ajax to stop Hector's javelin during the Trojan War. In this world, it was the strongest shield, constructed from Shirou Emiya's mana and concepts.
However.
Crack!
The first petal shattered like a thin cracker the moment it came into contact with the wind generated by the punch. Immediately following were the second layer, the third...
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The shattering of each light shield was accompanied by a violent surge of mana. Shirou's feet sank deep into the bluestone floor; even through seven layers of defense, the permeating impact shook his internal organs out of place.
"Is this... the power of a Lv. 7?!" Shirou gritted his teeth, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. This wasn't a "trial" at all; it was a one-sided "crushing." Even if Ottar was only using fifty percent of his power, it was still the aesthetic of violence at the pinnacle of "God's Grace."
Fourth layer... Fifth layer... Sixth layer...
Purple shards scattered like wilting petals. The sense of despair increased exponentially as the distance shortened.
"I can't stop it." [Mind's Eye (True)] delivered the most cruel verdict. Even the final layer would absolutely fail to stop the residual power of this punch. If he continued to hold his ground, there would be only one result—he and the shield would be blown into dust together.
"Since the shield can't block it..."
In the split second between life and death, Shirou Emiya's eyes changed. It was a madness born from finding life within death, the instinct for a "turnaround" honed across countless battlefields belonging to the "Heroic Spirit EMIYA."
"Then... use a sword!"
"Trace (Sync)——Overload!"
Shirou abruptly dispersed the precariously crumbling seventh layer of the light shield. This was a suicidal act. Deprived of defense, he would directly face Ottar's iron fist that was capable of destroying everything.
"Oh?" A flash of surprise crossed Ottar's eyes. Giving up? No, that look... he's aiming.
In the 0.01 seconds after the light shield vanished, Shirou did not retreat. Instead, he took a step forward. His right hand gripped empty air, and the mana within his body flooded into his palm like a bursting dam.
He was projecting. Not an ordinary sword. But the weapon he had seen once before, belonging to the strongest hero in Greek mythology—the Unnamed Axe-Sword.
"I am the bone of my sword."
The massive stone sword took shape in his hand. Weight? Ignore it. Backlash? Ignore it. Shirou strained every muscle fiber to the brink of snapping, compressing all his mana into this single strike.
What he intended to do was not parry. It was—to cut down this fist.
"Trace—"
The image of that giant surfaced in his mind. It was the divine technique that surpassed human limits, capable of slaying even mythological monsters nine times in a single instant.
"Nine Lives!"
[Nine Lives Blade Works (Shooting the Hundred Heads: Blade Works)]
Swish!
Time stood still. At the moment Ottar's fist was about to touch the tip of Shirou's nose, nine slashes overlapped.
The first strike slashed at the wrist. The second at the elbow. The third at the shoulder... The ninth strike pierced straight toward the center of the brow.
This wasn't magic; it was pure high-speed swordsmanship. An explosion of nine attacks in one instant, meeting attack with attack to forcibly cancel out the opponent's kinetic energy.
"BOOM——!!!"
Fist collided with axe-sword. A terrifying shockwave centered on the two of them instantly swept across the entire arena. The ground collapsed, and debris flew. The surrounding members of the Freya Familia were even blown off balance by the air pressure.
"How is this possible?!" "He blocked it?!" "That red-haired brat... what did he do?!"
Dust filled the air. Everyone held their breath, staring fixedly at the center of the field.
When the dust settled—
Shirou Emiya was still standing. The axe-sword in his hand was completely pulverized, leaving only a bare hilt. His right arm hung limply at his side, clearly dislocated or even fractured. He was bleeding from his eyes, nose, and mouth—the physical toll of forcibly using a divine technique.
But he stood. He did not fall. He did not retreat a single step.
And opposite him, the tower-like Ottar remained in his punching stance. But on his indestructible fist... a red line appeared. It was a bloodstain. Though shallow, though it only scraped the skin, it was—indisputably—a wound.
"..." Ottar withdrew his fist, glanced at the scratch on the back of his hand, and then looked at the swaying youth before him. For the first time, an emotion called "wavering" appeared in those brown eyes.
"Nine Lives..." Ottar whispered the name. As someone who pursued the pinnacle of martial arts, he naturally knew the meaning behind that legend. But he hadn't expected a mere Lv. 3 human to "copy" a technique from the divine realm using magecraft.
"Even if it's just an imitation..." Ottar looked at Shirou, his voice becoming solemn, "In that instant, your 'skill' surpassed my 'power'."
"Did I... lose?" Shirou dropped the sword hilt and asked with a pained smile. His vision was blurry now; he was only staying upright through sheer willpower.
"No." Ottar shook his head and stepped aside, clearing a path.
"You took the punch.
You even... made me bleed.
According to the agreement, you win."
"Phew..." Hearing those words, Shirou finally let out a sigh of relief. Once the string of "willpower" snapped, exhaustion instantly overwhelmed him. He wobbled, nearly falling over.
"Careful." A purple figure appeared beside him instantly, supporting him.
Freya. This Goddess of Beauty no longer had her previous playfulness or arrogance. In its place was a near-fanatical, spine-chilling... affection.
"So beautiful..." Freya reached out, gently caressing Shirou's blood-stained face, her fingertips trembling.
"That brilliance just now... it was almost more dazzling than the sun. Those fangs striking back from despair... that unyielding soul...
Ah... I think I've...
Truly... fallen in love with you."
"..." Shirou's body stiffened. This feeling was more terrifying than facing Ottar just now. Is this what they call "Successful Flag Collection"? Did I just max out her favorability? Is it too late to reload a save?
"Um... Lady Freya." Shirou spoke with difficulty, trying to pull his arm out of the Goddess's embrace (it felt great, but his life was more important). "Since I won, does that mean I can..."
"Leave?" Freya smiled, finishing his sentence with a dazed look in her eyes.
"Yes, go home for dinner," Shirou gave an extremely simple reason.
"Hehehe..." Freya laughed, her voice echoing through the empty arena. "You may. I am a Goddess who keeps her promises."
She let go of Shirou and stepped back.
"You may go, Senji Muramasa."
"Tha... thank you." Shirou felt as if he had been granted a general amnesty. He turned around and, dragging his broken body, walked step by step toward the elevator.
"However."
Just as the elevator doors were about to close, Freya's voice came again.
"Remember, Shirou Emiya.
You are the 'unpolished gem' I discovered.
Even if you belong to Loki for now..."
"One day, I will pluck you with my own hands.
No matter what means I have to use.
The elevator doors closed, cutting off the Goddess's suffocating gaze.
"Phew... I survived." Shirou leaned against the elevator wall and slid to the floor. This was truly a narrow escape. From now on, I'm never coming to this "high-level dungeon" alone again.
-
-
-
Outside Babel.
"Shirou-kun!"
"Emiya-sama!"
"Emiya!"
Seeing the blood-covered figure emerge from the gate, the "friends and family group" that had been waiting at the entrance instantly exploded.
"Heavens! How did you get hurt like this?!" Hestia lunged forward in tears. "What did that wicked woman do to you?! Did she... did she...?"
"N-No..." Shirou waved his hand weakly. "Just had a fight... I'm just a bit tired."
"Idiot." Ais stepped forward and, without a word, draped one of Shirou's arms over her shoulder.
"Yes, let's go home." Lili supported Shirou on the other side. Although she was complaining, tears were already welling in her eyes. "I'm absolutely never letting you run off alone again! Absolutely!"
"Let's go home."
Looking at the noisy companions around him, a smile curled on Shirou Emiya's lips. Although the process was terrifying, and although he had attracted incredible trouble... as long as he could return here... it was all worth it.
-
-
-
Top Floor of Babel.
Freya stood by the window, watching the youth being escorted away by the crowd below. In her hand, she held a fragment of the already shattered axe-sword Shirou had projected.
"Ottar."
"I am here."
"Launch 'that thing'," Freya said, bringing the fragment to her lips and giving it a light kiss.
"That thing?" Ottar paused. "Do you mean...?"
"Exactly." Freya turned around, her silver eyes burning with a fire sufficient to incinerate the world.
"In order to have him.
In order to make him look only at me.
I shall declare—a [War Game].
The opponent is... the Loki Familia."
Ottar remained silent for a moment. Then, he knelt on one knee and lowered his proud head.
"As you command, my Goddess."
The clouds were gathering. The facade of peace in Orario was finally being torn apart. Because of one youth's appearance, the war between the two strongest Familias was about to begin.
Read ahead (40 chapters) by supporting me on buymeacoffee com/varietl or ko-fi edwriting