At the center of the boundless ocean.
The originally calm surface was suddenly disturbed.
A storm tore through the tranquility.
This ocean, dubbed ‘Pacific,’ was no longer peaceful.
A hurricane was born here, forming a high-pressure cyclone that covered more than half of the Pacific Ocean.
The howling winds churned the seawater, forming waterspouts, giant whirlpools, and even inexplicable supernatural phenomena.
If this storm were to move onto the continent, it would undoubtedly bring a devastating blow, creating one of the top disasters in human history.
Even if it didn’t move, its mere existence here was a global catastrophe.
However, under the control of the King of Storms, they appeared extremely docile and did not rage outwards.
This was undoubtedly contrary to common sense.
But this was the power of a god, a realm that mortals could never reach.
And in that eye of the storm, Artoria, the one controlling it all, stood in a standoff with Gwyn.
A strange dance of two recurred here, as neither side was in a hurry to launch an attack.
Ultimately, Gwyn didn’t want to waste time pointlessly and was the first to initiate the attack.
He swung the divine body sword in his left hand, slashing out several arc-shaped golden sword energies.
Those golden arcs were neither fast nor slow; with Artoria’s speed, they would be easy to dodge.
But she did not dodge, just as Gwyn had not dodged Morgan’s attacks earlier.
The moment several sword energies hit her, a faint barrier flashed and vanished, and then almost all of these sword energies were reflected back.
Only one hit the barrier and disappeared.
It was precisely the effect of the scabbard, Avalon.
It is hailed as the strongest defensive Noble Phantasm in all of Type-Moon, capable of completely immunizing and reflecting attacks even from a Noble Phantasm of EA’s caliber.
Furthermore, the mana consumption is minuscule, so small that the holder doesn’t even notice the loss of mana.
Among all divine artifacts, it is a unique and supreme existence, a truly top-tier defensive Noble Phantasm.
Seeing this, Gwyn frowned slightly and swung the divine body sword to activate [Golden Retaliation], neutralizing the reflected golden arcs.
He searched through his memory; thanks to Avalon’s great fame, he had a deep impression of it and quickly remembered.
‘Avalon?’
‘A Lancer Saber with a scabbard?
What kind of underhanded thing is this?’
Beneath the helmet, Gwyn’s gaze gradually sharpened.
Though he felt it was a bit underhanded, he could see from that one golden arc that disappeared earlier:
Perhaps because in the world of Type-Moon, he was a noble extraterrestrial with a level of mystery even higher than the scabbard, allowing him to break through a small portion of its defense;
Or perhaps simply because he was strong enough that his attack intensity exceeded Avalon’s upper limit.
Or perhaps both.
‘I originally thought about holding back a bit to avoid causing too much impact and hurting the innocent, but now it seems I really have to show my true skills.
Otherwise, I might die.’
Gwyn thought to himself as he launched another attack.
The black-red flames that had condensed in his hand earlier, shaped like a long serpent, suddenly surged, instantly transforming into a massive fire snake dozens of meters long, which opened its huge maw to bite at Artoria.
This was on a completely different level compared to the probe just now.
Those golden arcs were just a casual swing, but this was a long-accumulated burst of deathly black flames sufficient to slay a god.
If the Knights of the Round Table from earlier were to take this move, they would all have perished.
Sensing the intensity of this strike, Artoria no longer stood still.
Instead, she raised her Holy Lance and pointed it at the pouncing fire snake.
The light lance spiraled frantically and completed its release in an instant.
A pure, flawless holy light roared out with a massive boom.
The black-red fire snake was completely submerged in the white light.
The light cannon released by the Holy Lance instantly covered hundreds of thousands of meters, piercing into the clouds.
The thick dark clouds gathered by the storm were ruthlessly pierced.
The winter sunlight spilled through the thin clouds, casting a hazy glimmer over the entire eye of the storm.
It looked breathtakingly beautiful.
But Gwyn, who took this massive light cannon head-on, could sense the destructive power beyond that beauty.
He was sent flying by this massive light lance, and when he reappeared, he was over a kilometer away, with wear and tear visible on his armor.
His health bar had mostly evaporated, with nearly 80% of his HP taken out in one hit.
This thing was light damage, and he hadn’t applied the corresponding defensive buffs, taking it purely through raw endurance.
This was the first time Gwyn had suffered such a setback; he hadn’t been this disheveled even against Morgan.
The state of nearly being one-shotted reminded Gwyn of the distant past.
Back then, he was just an ordinary Undead; aside from the Estus Flask, he had nothing.
Facing those powerful enemies, he was just as fragile, left at critical health by a single scratch from a boss’s attack, and dead by the second.
Having burned for too long, his level had dropped to 0.
Absorbing the souls of 99 great Lords of Cinder had only allowed him to recover to level 245.
It was a far cry from his peak of level 802.
—Though he could crush souls to level up at any time, he didn’t plan to do so.
That would be too boring; a battle of one-sided crushing wasn’t satisfying at all. Get faster updates on g.com.
In contrast, Lancer Saber had never been burned by the first flame.
After devouring the divinity and divine power of the Storm Goddess, she not only mastered the authority over storms but also elevated all her attributes to the level of a true deity.
And she wasn’t just any deity, but at least a Chief God.
After all, Artoria herself was no simple character.
She wouldn’t stagnate after obtaining such power; instead, she would continue to temper herself and become stronger.
For over fifteen hundred years, she had never slacked off.
Furthermore, in this Holy Grail War, she didn’t manifest in a possessed state like Ishtar Rin, but descended in her true physical form.
Rather than saying the Einzbern Family summoned her, it was more that she used the scabbard as an anchor to locate this place and forcibly descend into the world.
Therefore, compared to Artoria at this moment, Gwyn was far inferior in terms of base attributes.
“Because of this, my blood is boiling.”
Instead of being cowed, Gwyn became invigorated, gripping his greatswords with both hands and taking a ready stance.
He had experienced countless battles where the weak triumphed over the strong.
Every victory achieved by giving his all would grant him an unparalleled sense of accomplishment, leaving him utterly intoxicated.
“Battle is exhilarating!”
Gwyn charged forward again to engage Artoria in close-quarters combat.
With every swing of the two greatswords in his hands, he unleashed attacks of different attributes.
Sacred golden radiance and the lingering embers that burned everything.
The power of the first flame remaining on the spiral sword was now being stimulated.
Despite being incredibly heavy greatswords, they were as light as feathers in his hands.
A storm of slashes fell, forcing even Artoria to wield her long lance to parry, falling into a passive defense and unable to counterattack for a short time.
However, the scabbard within her continued to function at every moment.
Gwyn appeared to be overwhelming her, but he was the one getting hurt.
Most of the attacks were reflected back onto him by Avalon, causing his health bar to drop continuously instead.
Although Artoria remained in passive defense, not a single wound appeared on her body.
Even if a small portion of the attacks occasionally broke through Avalon’s interface and landed on her,
After being mitigated by her own defense, the resulting marks were minuscule.
Then Avalon would perform its other function—injury recovery—healing the marks in a flash.
It was impossible to cause effective damage.
Gwyn knew all this well, yet he still enjoyed it immensely, his offensive not slackening in the slightest.
There was no such thing as retreat!
Attack!
Onslaught!