The buzzing sound of the insect swarm lingered by their ears; when the two stepped into this living room, they had already entered the monsters’ attack range.
Matou Zouken stood in the shadows, looking at the two below.
Even if the inferiorly-stats caster could react, facing the specially formulated insect swarm, the resistance she could make was extremely limited.
The lineage of Hereditary Pathogen Carriers might have some special magic, but as long as it was coordinated with Hassan’s must-kill Noble Phantasm, she could be instantly killed before it triggered.
“Checkmate.”
Matou Zouken curved his shriveled mouth corners, already unable to wait to taste what Surtr’s vibrant body tasted like.
Coincidentally, Surtr felt the exact same way.
Even facing Hassan’s Noble Phantasm, Surtr’s face still did not show any wavering expression, instead wearing an excited smile.
If the opponent kept hiding, she really would not know what to do; since they came out, then it was easy to talk.
A warm wind carrying a pungent odor blew abruptly into the chilly living room.
A sultry feeling invaded Matou Zouken’s body.
Clearly this body had long been desensitized to changes in cold and heat, but at this moment he still felt drenched in sweat.
What is going on?
Asking this doubt in his heart, but there was no need to think about it specifically, because the next moment, wherever his sight reached was completely dyed a blazing red.
Heat waves distorted the air, and surging flames instantly covered every corner of the living room with Surtr at the center.
The insect swarm let out mournful cries, turning to ashes together with the black mud they carried within their bodies under the scorching flames, emitting a pungent burnt stench.
The mightiness of the power made Matou Zouken’s heart run cold with fear.
You must know, those bugs were all meticulously cultivated by him using black mud, possessing very high resistances of all kinds, making it difficult for ordinary magic to cause them harm.
Yet they could not even persist for three seconds—what kind of fire was this anyway?
Subconsciously wanting to escape.
But a searing sensation came from beneath him.
Lowering his head.
A wisp of flame had already climbed onto his outer garment.
Like dry firewood meeting a blazing fire, the flames surged onto Matou Zouken’s body in an instant,
“Damn it!”
A miserable scream, and then there was no sound whatsoever.
They were merely maggots in a gutter; in the face of absolute power, no winds or waves could be kicked up.
This was merely a small interlude; Surtr didn’t even pay attention to Matou Zouken’s movements before the latter was burned into ashes by the stray flames on his own.
Her gaze fell upon the black-robed figure ahead.
Lævateinn was held in her hand, its blade piercing the ground, and the wide sword edge firmly pressed against a ferocious giant hand, preventing it from advancing even an inch.
Legend has it that Cursed Arm Hassan used an ancient curse from the Middle East and paid the price of his own right hand to obtain the arm of the evil god “Saitan”.
It could reflect the target of assassination in a mirror, and then use ether blocks to create a duplicate identical to the target down to the slightest detail.
If the duplicate was killed, the true body would likewise die.
It was an extremely advanced curse.
But unlike Cu Chulainn’s infallible spear, although Cursed Arm’s Noble Phantasm was basically a one-hit kill for humanoid creatures, it didn’t have any guaranteed-hit ability; to trigger its effect, one needed to touch the opponent first.
If he couldn’t touch them, it would be completely meaningless.
If she could still be outwitted after knowing where the opponent’s target was, she might as well go home early and wash up to go to sleep.
Seeing that the single strike missed, Assassin intended to retreat.
Unlike those flashy assassins who went on rampages, Assassin was a true assassin, and that red-haired fellow before him was obviously abnormal—not only did she pull out a greatsword that looked like a Noble Phantasm, but she also blocked his fatal strike.
He couldn’t go head-to-head.
The assassin’s intuition told him so, and that was what he did.
But someone who had long been prepared obviously wouldn’t let him escape just like that.
That three-meter-long right hand had now become a burden, and a palm wreathed in flames grasped the bamboo-thin arm.
A burning sensation washed into Assassin’s body, and then, an immense force came from the arm.
He struggled to resist, but to no avail.
Even Lancer would have to steer clear of Surtr’s formidable power; dragging an Assassin over was simply effortless.
Like a tattered rag at the mercy of others.
The dark figure was forced to fly toward Surtr’s direction, and a jade-like palm continuously magnified in his vision until the palm covered his head.
Boom!
The emaciated figure was embedded into the ground.
Crack.
His consciousness blurred in an instant, and the sound of either his mask or skull shattering came from his head.
But it seemed it no longer mattered either.
Flames rose in the palm, covering Assassin’s head and spreading to his entire body.
Until a reminder echoed in her mind, and the corpse before her had already vanished without a trace.
[ Defeated Assassin ]
[ Reward: Primogems × 100 ]
[ Killed Crest Worms: 210 ]
[ Reward: Primogems × 21 ]
[ Current Primogems: 421 ]
Too few.
Never mind the bugs; although Assassin wasn’t considered strong, a Servant only gave 100 Primogems, which was far less than the mission rewards.
‘ Why is there such a big difference between kill drops and mission rewards?
‘
Surtr asked in her heart.
[ After all, this system’s main business is granting wishes, and kill rewards are just a side bonus. You can understand it as the difference between missions and treasure chests. ]
The system explained.
Fine.
Surtr accepted this explanation, though she had no other choice anyway.
However, if that was the case, she wanted the Holy Grail more and more.
” Medea, go keep watch outside and don’t let that old bug’s true body escape.
I’m going to find the source of the black mud.
”
Surtr instructed Medea.
That black mud stuff was too dangerous; it was better to burn it all away as soon as possible, lest she be backstabbed by it at some point later.
With Medea keeping watch outside, there was no need to fear that the old bug would escape.
” Ah, oh.
”
Medea nodded dumbly, as if she hadn’t recovered her senses yet.
The battle just now was too fast; from start to finish, it had been less than thirty seconds, yet a Servant was killed by her own Master, and the surrounding swarm of bugs was reduced to ashes along with him.
Although Assassin wasn’t considered strong, he was still a genuine Servant.
And the swarm of bugs—under the enhancement of the black mud, even Medea would have to go through some trouble, yet they were burned away so easily.
Looking at the flames full of destructive aura around her.
True to her name, she wasn’t called that for nothing.
” Did you really hear clearly?
”
Seeing the other’s dazed appearance, Surtr reached out and waved her hand in front of her.
” Yeah, don’t let the old bug escape, right?
I remember.
”
” That’s good.
Be careful and don’t get backstabbed by those bugs.
”
Surtr reminded her.
” Rest assured, Master.
”
Medea’s tone revealed confidence; now that she knew the opponent’s methods, dealing with them wouldn’t be a difficult task.
”
” Oh, right, if possible, try to leave his final blow to me.
”
” Even a mosquito’s leg is still meat, after all.
”
” The final blow, you say?
I understand.
”
” Please be careful as well.
”
Although confused, Medea had no objections and transformed into spirit particles, disappearing from Surtr’s field of vision.
After watching her leave, Surtr turned her gaze toward the house.
Pulling out Lævateinn, surrounded by flames, she walked toward the place where the malice was thickest.
In the basement of the Matou Family, Matou Zouken’s hunched body reappeared on the high platform.
From his appearance, no changes could be seen, but his aura was far more withered than before.
Although theoretically, as long as his true body didn’t die, he could live on forever.
But that was only in theory; every time a clone was killed, it would consume his few remaining vital forces, making him, who was already gasping for breath, even weaker.
The fear in his heart caused him to subconsciously appear in the safest place of the entire mansion.
” What on earth is that flame?
A mystery passed down from the Age of Gods?
”
Matou Zouken’s tone carried a tremor; he definitely didn’t want to experience the pain of having his soul scorched again.
The enemy’s combat power was even stronger than he expected, but it didn’t matter—there were still plenty of bugs, and he also had Assassin.
The opponent was a Servant; as long as they were hit by the opponent’s Noble Phantasm, no matter how great their ability was, they had to—
His thoughts came to an abrupt halt.
As if the pause button had been pressed, Matou Zouken’s body stagnated in place.
Just moments ago, his contract with Assassin had vanished.
Are you kidding me?
How long has it even been?
An Assassin possessing high agility and Presence Concealment was actually killed without even having time to use a Command Seal…
What kind of monster on earth is she?
Having all his swarms of bugs burned to a crisp, Matou Zouken had no way to see the scene on the ground, but his intuition told him that this must have been done by that red-haired woman.
The pain of being scorched by flames still seemed to linger on his body, and Surtr’s image expanded infinitely in Matou Zouken’s heart due to fear.
The wooden staff in his hand tapped the ground uncontrollably, exposing his inner unease.
Ten years of arrangements had vanished like smoke before they could even play a role.
Resentment?
Without a doubt, but there was even more fear of the unknown and of death.
He had to escape.
Matou Zouken was undoubtedly afraid of death, otherwise he wouldn’t have survived stealthily for over five hundred years.
But how was he to leave?
Outside there were two “Servants”.
” Tap, tap…
”
The moment this thought appeared, footsteps came from above, and a sweltering heat rushed over Matou Zouken’s body once more.
Have they arrived?
Matou Zouken looked toward the intersection, his body instinctively retreating backward until he reached the edge of the high platform.
Looking down, there was the surging tide of bugs below; looking up, there was the ceiling that had already cracked.