"Clang—"
A sharp, metallic ring split the air. A gust of wind surged, and Artoria's Invisibility Cloak was torn to shreds. Beneath it, Gareth had hastily raised her shield to block the blow, and Artoria and Oberon were crouched just behind.
But even reacting to Gawain's warning, Gareth's response was too hurried. The force of the strike slammed her shield—and the three behind it—across the corridor, sending them tumbling like human tumbleweeds.
"So it really is you three…"
Gawain watched them scramble to their feet with a shake of his head. Inwardly, he was relieved he'd given a verbal warning before striking; with his current A+ strength and agility, that sneak attack could have ended them outright.
"I came initially just to see who rang the bell here," he said as he paced forward. "But it seems many Tooth Clan fairies outside tried to seize Oxford in Woodworth's absence—bold move. Were they your allies?"
"N-No… even if they were, so what?"
Artoria, seeing Gawain's intense gaze, felt anger rise. She squared her shoulders and spoke through a tightened throat:
"I know you're strong and fearsome, Gawain… but those fairies attempting to take Oxford now hold the advantage, right? If you're entangled here with us, they could consolidate their position and surround you. You'd be in trouble."
"…You really manage to choose the wrong answer every time. That's impressive in its own way."
Gawain sighed, shaking his head. "Suppressing that rebellion is my priority. Had you been smarter, I wouldn't need to eliminate you here."
He heaved a long sigh, then turned his arm—now manifesting as a gun barrel—toward Artoria and her companions.
"If you insist on opposing me, then your journey ends here."
He added coolly:
"Don't count on reinforcements, either—they all perished in the wide-area searches and sniping just now."
"And now, it's your turn."
With that, a beam of light shot from his left hand—actually a massive metal projectile hurtling straight at Artoria. The speed was beyond perception; she had no time to brace.
Fortunately, Gareth had anticipated trouble the moment Gawain raised that ominous arm. She pivoted and slammed her shield in front of Artoria. Only at the last instant did she realize it wasn't a pure energy beam but a huge bullet—more like a shell—its metal reflecting light so swiftly that it appeared as a luminous streak.
"Clang—"
The shell struck Gareth's shield with tremendous force. Her arms bent under the impact, and though she barely held on, the blast threw her backward, her shield thrust high and her body staggering into a brief paralysis.
Against an opponent of Gawain's caliber, even a momentary opening could be fatal. As Gawain's grotesque blade whipped through the air to finish her, a long sword suddenly sliced in from the side, striking his blade and deflecting his follow-up blow.
"What—?"
Gawain's eyes widened in surprise. How could a single slash reach that precise weak point in his attack? That angle was where a blade would be most effective—yet who could have anticipated it so perfectly?
He lunged no further, retreating several steps to distance himself. He fixed his gaze on the swordsman—only to see Artoria standing there, looking harmless.
How was this possible? Artoria here was no sword prodigy. In all previous simulations, she'd shown no aptitude for swordsmanship—indeed, Gawain had once tried teaching her but concluded she had no talent. And her expression now bore none of the fierce focus of a duelist; she seemed the same gentle Artoria. Could this be some bizarre simulation reward?
Gawain frowned, wary of hasty action. Meanwhile, Artoria felt a surge of relief: that sword had indeed been the key to blocking Gawain's strike.
[Self-Made Magical Attire: Lightning Light Blade]
Rarity: ?
Forged by its owner—who had a fateful bond with swords—this blade absorbed special qualities and destiny during its creation, producing a weapon that shouldn't exist in this world.
No matter how unskilled a swordsman you are, as long as you hold this blade, you will win any sword duel—even blindfolded.
In other universes its counterpart is called "Lightning Maru," unbeatable through advanced AI-calculated techniques; here, its invincibility comes from a powerful sword spirit and destiny.
Note: This sword guarantees victory in duels, but in deadly combat its myriad factors mean victory cannot be assured.
Indeed, when Artoria had mustered courage and drawn the sword, its effect exceeded expectations: with her minimal skill, she managed to bluff Gawain off-balance.
As she marveled inwardly at her own "talent," Gawain, after a moment's thought, advanced again. Artoria raised the Lightning Light Blade and met him head-on. Though his rapid, powerful attacks pressed her hard—each blow threatening—her sword responded, allowing her to parry and counterattack, even scoring shallow cuts on his body.
Imbued with new confidence, she taunted: "See my prowess? Still dare to look down on me, you fool?"
"You…" Gawain paused, then spoke: "So the secret to your newfound strength lies entirely in that sword. Your footwork and timing are all wrong, yet the blade guides you into precise counters. Interesting. It seems anyone grasping it could wield great power."
"What? Are you saying any pig holding this sword would achieve the same?!" Artoria snapped.
Gawain shook his head, a hint of regret in his eyes. He recognized that without her underlying B-level strength, even that blade wouldn't fully close the gap between them. He recalled in an earlier simulation he'd reached master-level swordsmanship—but alas, in this scenario he hadn't refined it fully, and in demon form his arm itself was the sword, preventing him from using his signature techniques.
Of course, he wouldn't share these thoughts with Artoria. Instead he replied: "I never said any pig could use it—that was your own words. And yet… isn't it you wielding it now?"
"Eh?" Artoria froze, then seethed: "You—"
Before she could finish, Gawain had already closed in. The Lightning Light Blade responded instinctively, rising to guard his centerline. Its tip pointed straight at Gawain; any further advance would impale him.
So Gawain allowed himself to be impaled. The blade pierced his chest in one swift motion.
Artoria's eyes widened in shock:
I've killed Gawain? I killed Gawain?
Her lips trembled, breath caught in her throat as she instinctively released the hilt. But in that instant, Gawain moved again—delivering a flying kick that sent her crashing into the wall, then crumpling to the floor. With her Endurance only at C, a single strike rendered her powerless.
From the ground, she weakly looked toward him, and heard Gawain say:
"How foolish, Artoria."
He wrenched the blade from his chest with the arm-blade, shaking his head.
"You had such a sword, yet never mustered the resolve to truly fight."
"The sword's spirit must weep for a master without the will to kill."
"How could you stand opposite me without the intent to end me?"
"If you face me without the resolve to kill, you stood no chance from the start, Artoria."
Later, seeing him turn to pursue Gareth and Oberon, Artoria lay on the ground and exhaled. Ironically, upon seeing Gawain still moving without visible hesitation or injury, she felt a strange relief—as if a weight had lifted.