The reversed holy sword radiated an endless abyssal black light.
The divine weapons, continuously transformed into streaks of lightning, surged toward Artoria. As she had stated, they lacked a soul, but their sheer destructive power had been pushed to the extreme. Each bolt carried enough force to obliterate a Campione's body entirely.
The incoming torrent of lightning bolts wasn't just in the hundreds—it was in the thousands! And that didn't even account for the weapons still extending out of the grid-like magic array, waiting to be fired.
Artoria poured a massive amount of magical energy into her blade, launching a relentless wave of slashes that unleashed black flames. The searing heat, more intense than a volcanic eruption, transformed the battlefield into a fiery purgatory.
Using [Instinct], she perceived the trajectory of the incoming weapons, neutralizing each one with precise strikes of black flames fueled by her overwhelming magical energy.
Even a Campione couldn't sustain this level of energy expenditure for long. Yet, Artoria showed no signs of fatigue. On the contrary, her presence seemed to grow stronger at an astonishing rate, a visible rise in intensity with every passing moment.
"So, you can absorb the earth's life force as well," Rama remarked, unsurprised. The intense heat that warped even the surrounding space surged toward him, sending violent gusts through his hair and clothing, though he paid it no mind.
Heat was the nemesis of [Steel], yet Rama was the mightiest of [Steel]. To melt his caliber of [Steel] would require the heat of a star.
The magma-like temperatures before him only served to refine him further.
As he spoke, Rama's own power continued to rise—at a pace that far outstripped Artoria's.
This escalation affected the weapons' destructive force as well, making each attack deadlier than the last. While Artoria managed for now, it was clear that she wouldn't hold out indefinitely.
After all, though the earth's energy replenished her magical reserves, it couldn't restore her stamina.
"That's because I am the true Last King," Rama declared confidently. "As long as the [Divine Savior Blade] remains in my hands, you will always be an imitation. And no imitation can surpass the original."
As if to prove his point, a bolt of lightning finally pierced through Artoria's web of defensive strikes, hurtling toward her head faster than she could react.
Bang!
Sparks erupted as fragments of black debris flew into the air.
At the last second, Artoria had donned her black mask—her appearance from her first Ascension. The lightning struck the mask, shattering half of it and exposing her left eye.
But it wasn't just the mask that was damaged. Blood trickled from a cut just above her eyebrow, running down her face and dripping from her chin.
"...Tch!"
Artoria clicked her tongue in irritation, her expression dark with resentment.
The onslaught momentarily paused as she crouched, planting her right leg firmly into the ground. With a burst of strength, she shattered the ground beneath her and charged straight through the rain of lightning toward Rama.
Rama's brows furrowed as he watched her reckless advance. The thought crossed his mind: Is she trying to get herself killed?
But what happened next made his eyes widen in disbelief.
A golden spear, aimed directly at Artoria's temple, was caught mid-flight by her hand. Using the spear's momentum, she spun her body, hurling the weapon to intercept a curved blade flying toward her from another angle.
In the same fluid motion, she deflected an incoming arrow with a slash of her sword, then leapt into the air, landing on a crimson spear to propel herself higher. Twisting midair, she narrowly evaded three daggers, then struck the tail of the arrow she had deflected earlier. The arrow collided with a massive sword, knocking it slightly off course so that it grazed her shoulder instead of landing a direct hit.
The sharp wind from the sword's trajectory grazed her cheek, leaving a stinging cut.
The ferocity of a dragon had been replaced by a performance of breathtaking precision. Artoria moved like a dancer on a battlefield of fire and blades, her movements a seamless blend of grace and daring. Each action was executed with perfect efficiency, wasting not a single ounce of strength.
Even Rama found himself momentarily captivated by the beauty and bravery of her movements. By the time he snapped out of it, Artoria was already upon him.
It wasn't without cost. Artoria's armor was in tatters, her long black dress now reduced to a shredded skirt barely covering her thighs. Her shoulders, arms, waist, and legs were exposed, marked with wounds and streaked with blood.
In truth, the injuries she had sustained were far worse than they appeared. Most of her wounds had already been healed by absorbing the earth's life force, but her resilience came at a price.
Now, only a short distance separated the two. For divine beings, this distance was meaningless—it might as well have been none at all.
At such proximity, both Artoria and Rama could see each other's eyes clearly.
Artoria shifted her grip, holding her sword in her left hand and bracing the blade with her right forearm.
Like a speeding locomotive, she barreled straight into him—not to slash, but to ram into him with sheer force.
Even Rama looked surprised, his body unable to resist the momentum. He was sent hurtling through the air like a shooting star, a trail of light marking his path as he soared into the distance.
The two crashed to the ground, forming craters in the earth a short distance apart. Rama was the first to rise, unharmed but visibly annoyed.
"You were trying to launch me into space to stop me from drawing energy from the earth. But it looks like you failed," he said, brushing off dust as he stood. "My fate is tied to this planet. Once I return to the ground, there's no way you can send me skyward again. It's a pity—you've injured yourself so much, yet you've accomplished nothing."
"No."
Artoria's voice was calm, her lips curving into the faintest trace of a smile.
"In fact, my goal has already been achieved."
"What?"
Rama frowned in confusion, his expression growing more alarmed by the second.
And then he realized.
He couldn't draw energy from the earth anymore.
How was that possible?!
For the first time, Rama's composed demeanor cracked, his face reflecting genuine shock.
He could sense the vast reserves of life force beneath the ground, yet it refused to flow toward him.
An unknown will was blocking it.
"Here's a little hint for you…"
Artoria smirked coldly, speaking as Rama stared at her in bewilderment and frustration.
"The land beneath your feet… is Britain."
---
T/N: artoria's dress...tattered...