The sky above me inverted unto itself—a serene night sky, once dusted with radiant stars, twisted into a canvas of devastation. Crimson and yellowish dust clouds swallowed it whole, a firmament forever denied freedom.
Beneath me stretched an endless, barren desert, bereft of any life or vitality. Swords. Long, short, eastern, western, named and unnamed alike were entombed up to the midpoint of their blades across it, stretching ceaselessly into the horizon.
It was...a graveyard of swords.
Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.
Enormous gears dwarfing buildings and monuments emerged into existence, their deafening clicks reverberating through the distorted space.
Archer stood far ahead, countless buried swords forming a chasm between us.
I was not alone. Medusa stood beside me, her stance shifting subtly closer as she surveyed her new surroundings.
Cú Chulainn lingered some distance behind Archer. Between the three of us, we had Archer covered from front and rear.
I studied this domain that had encroached upon reality, faintly intrigued by its inner workings.
Time was not on my side however.
Archer took two steps forward and wrapped his fingers around an ornately decorated double-edged longsword with a luxurious handle, half-buried beside him.
More swords tore free from the barren ground on their own, floating upward. Their tips rotated—half pointing toward us, the other half toward Lancer.
"How much time do you need to summon your Pegasus, Rider?" I asked, cancelling [Wind Blade].
The compressed wind sheathing my arm collapsed, rendering it visible once more.
"...Thirty seconds." Rider replied flatly, raising her stake-chain toward her own neck.
BOOM!
The sound barrier fractured before I could respond. Three swords screamed toward us.
A white French sword with a golden hilt.
A sword of light radiating orange-gold, its blade and hilt gilded.
A highly ornate, dazzling sword—less a weapon of war and more a symbol of royalty incarnate.
I absorbed their shape, blades, and aesthetics in a fraction of a second. A blueprint of their dimensional structure materialized in my mind. Their origins were laid bare.
Durandal. Excalibur Galatine. Caliburn.
The sword of Renown. The sword of the sun. The sword of assured victory.
All three were fully charged. A compressed beam of silver, orange, and gold raced toward me, rending space apart along its path.
Blood spurted from behind me as Rider drove the stake through her own neck without a flinch.
I threw myself forward, putting considerable distance between myself and the vulnerable Rider, dropping into a stance without pause. My hand pulled back. Black and crimson flecks simmered across my skin as the magic circles on my glove began to rotate.
I threw a punch just as that beam reached me.
BOOM!
My heels skidded back toward Rider.
Three meters. Two meters. One meter.
Onyx scales fell from my body like shedding doves. Bloody fractures webbed across my form.
I collided with Rider behind me. The compressed beam swallowed us both.
BOOM!
"Neiighhhh."
A Pegasus' cry tore through the light. A white, mythical horse with feathered wings drove itself against that beam, splitting it apart down the middle.
Rider held the reins. I stood behind her, balancing on her Pegasus' back.
More weapons hurled toward us.
A gold-and-silver unadorned longsword shining mid-flight. Merodach. Sword of Original Sin.
A sword whose hilt was adorned with the likeness of a lion. Sword of the Cypriots. Iskandar's weapon.
A scarlet longsword bearing the inscription Regnum Caelorum Et Gehenna—The Kingdom of Heaven and Hell. Aestus Estus. Nero Claudius' sword.
Noble Phantasms of a dozen legends roared toward us, synchronized with lethal precision.
[Wind Blade] ground to life as layers of compressed wind began sheathing my arm. I seized the spell mid-manifestation, stripped it to its bones, and realigned its components—modeled after another weapon I had glimpsed buried within this graveyard.
The Immortal Slaying Scythe. Harpe.
Wind slid down my arm rather than sheathing it, assuming the shape of an invisible scythe forged from compressed air.
I regarded the weapons nearly upon us. [Ultimate Farmer] awoke from its slumber, superimposing itself over [Ultimate Weapon Master].
My hand swiped—an eerie, perfect mirror of a farmer cutting grass. Sparks burst into existence as the Sword of the Cypriots and Merodach were deflected by mere millimeters from the Pegasus in motion.
Aestus Estus continued on. I brought the scythe up with both hands and plunged it down with the exact, brutal precision of a farmer cleaving open soil. Emperor Nero's sword was driven downward, slipping exactly between the Pegasus' legs, and buried back into the ground.
More Noble Phantasms screamed toward us from every direction.
Ahead. Behind. Left. Right. Diagonal.
Rider freed one hand from the reins; a stake-chain materialized within her grip.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
I wielded my invisible scythe one-handed, rotating it in a full circle above Rider and her Pegasus, redirecting most of the incoming Noble Phantasms.
Some still slipped through. A stake-chain traced in my free hand, parrying a weapon from my flank.
Rider's own stake-chain had deflected three by now.
I balanced on a single leg, both hands occupied, and tapped my heel against Rider's elbow—a slight push just as her chain connected with another weapon, jerking her hand upward.
That motion sent the weapon she was deflecting into a neighboring one, altering both trajectories simultaneously.
The rain of Noble Phantasms did not cease. Injuries accumulated across my body, Medusa's, and even her Pegasus'.
We had halved the distance to Archer. Half still remained.
That was the moment Artoria's voice resounded in my mind.
...Master.
...
..
.
Artoria stood on their home's roof, gazing at the boundary field Medea had erected—shaking relentlessly under a ceaseless assault.
Heracles stood at its edge, raining blow after blow upon it like a madman. Countless magic circles flashed and went dormant with each strike against a now visible, ethereal dome composed entirely of interlocking magic circles.
Saber... I cannot hold on much longer. Medea's slightly fatigued voice echoed in her mind. Each circle Heracles destroyed, another replaced it seamlessly... yet, it was only delaying the inevitable.
Artoria did not respond. Instead, she assessed her surroundings with the regal calm of a king.
[Mana Burst] stirred with a tranquil presence. Her strength surged upward, reaching unfathomable heights.
Golden threads of victory across her vision slowly converged into a singular, brilliant path, one that ended at a golden pillar connecting the sky and earth.
She reached through her bond with her Master.
Master... Permit me to use my Noble Phantasm.
Beneath that regal composure lay an absolute certainty of victory.
...
..
.
Master... Permit me to use my Noble Phantasm.
Artoria's voice resounded in my mind.
I stood on the back of a Pegasus. Noble Phantasm after Noble Phantasm rained toward Rider and me like hail.
My hand holding the scythe rose toward the sky of Unlimited Blade Works.
Beneath Gott Mitt Uns. Beneath 158 distinct magic circles. Beneath my white glove.
A circular mark blazed with blood-red radiance, its light eclipsing everything else.
So... I responded. From within Unlimited Blade Works. From beneath an unending deluge of Noble Phantasms.
"Permission granted. Drown everything under the radiance of Promised Victory."
A Command Seal. One of three. Burned.
And a pillar of blinding light connected the dome of Fuyuki with the earth below.
...
..
.
***
[200 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter]
[5 chapters ahead on P@tr3on = [email protected]/Not_Aaryan]
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[Ultimate Farmer]: Daisaku Bandai's Talent. Izuru is a flawless farmer, being able to create and produce food enough to feed a thousand people per day. He also has perfect knowledge and research of the best crops to plant in a certain climate.
[Ultimate Weapon Master]: An OC talent I created. This talent represents his absolute mastery of every cold weapon in existence.
[Durandal]: It is the holy sword favored by Roland and one of the many Noble Phantasms stored in Gilgamesh's Gate of Babylon.
[Excalibur Galatine]: It is a shining sword that Gawain possesses. A sister-sword of Excalibur, also originally owned by the Lady of the Lake, but it is not as well known as a holy sword and rarely mentioned due to having its legend hidden in the shadow of King Arthur's holy sword. While Excalibur collects the lights from the planet, Sir Gawain's holy sword is said to represent rays of heat from the sun with a Pseudo-Sun contained in its hilt.
[Caliburn]: It is a holy sword that is the symbol of a king, pulled from the stone of appointment by King Arthur under the guidance of Merlin. With the words "Whosoe'er pulleth out the sword of this stone is rightwise king of all England" engraved in a golden inscription on its hilt. It looks similar to Excalibur, which she later received from the Lady of the Lake, but it is a different sword and its characteristics as a Noble Phantasm also differ.
...
[Authors Thoughts]
I just had some inspiration and wrote this one too. Goodbye everyone!
...
Note: So... Some people say Excalibur Galatine is a divine construct due to the psuedo-sun in it's hilt. While some say that it was a mere Holy Sword in the Lady of the Lake's hands. It was never specified if it was a divine construct or not. Just consider the one appearing here as a normal Holy Sword. As for the psuedo-sun... this one ofc doesn't have it.