"Just because you're a woman, don't expect me to hold back."
"Naturally. There is no distinction between man and woman on the battlefield."
"You've got guts!!"
Fandral lunged with his longsword, and Artoria met him head-on with Invisible Air. Ten, twenty, sharp, vicious blows flashed between them, sparks scattering wildly through the air.
"You're rather skilled yourself!"
"Tch! Damn you!!"
Though struggling against the invisible blade of Invisible Air, Fandral fought back with a torrent of ferocious, unrelenting strikes.
'I see. His swordsmanship is truly impressive. They call him "the Dashing" for good reason. But—!'
'Tch! I thought she'd be nothing special since she relies on cheap tricks like an invisible sword, but this woman has no openings and swings a brutally heavy blade! In that case...'
Even as he crossed blades with Artoria, Fandral regained his composure. He was a technique-type fighter, his forte a diverse array of sword skills and dazzling combination attacks. Artoria, by contrast, was a power-type who crushed her opponents with overwhelmingly heavy blows.
Yet at their core, both wielded the same kind of sword—a "rigid blade." For now, they were evenly matched, but the balance could tip in an instant with the slightest misstep.
With that in mind, Fandral made his decision and, using the recoil of a blade clash, leaped far backward.
"Oi! Have you no shame as a swordswoman!?"
"What? What are you talking about?"
"A sword is a part of a swordsman's own body! To hide it while fighting is nothing but cowardice! If you have any pride as a swordswoman, why not reveal your blade and fight honorably!?"
Even Fandral, one of the finest swordsmen in the Norse realm, knew full well he had no right to complain about whatever weapon an opponent chose on the battlefield. But the two were evenly matched. At this rate, they would get nowhere—so he spun a mental trap, launching a psychological attack.
He had only intended it as a throwaway ploy, hoping it might rattle Artoria and make her lose her cool. But it proved far more effective than expected.
"Hoh... Very well. If you can see my blade, you'll have no complaints, correct?"
A cold smile curling her lips, Artoria produced a single card from thin air. Upon it was depicted the figure of a swordswoman—Saber.
Artoria held the card out before her…
"Install!!"
As she intoned the keyword, the card blazed with white light, enveloping Artoria's entire body.
"Wh-What the hell!?"
Emerging from the white radiance was a lovely princess-knight. Her golden hair was tied into a ponytail with a large black ribbon. The white-based dress exposed her underarms and back daringly, and from beneath the knee-length skirt peeked white stockings held up by a garter belt. White-silver armor protected her vital points, and with that, the transformation was complete.
"Beautiful..."
As Fandral involuntarily breathed out, there stood a sweet, lovely princess-knight who embodied both the allure peculiar to a maiden and a sense of pure innocence.
"You should have no complaints now, correct, Fandral the Dashing?"
Artoria drew the golden sword belted at her hip and leveled its tip at Fandral.
"You... What in the hell are you?"
"I am Artoria Pendragon. Fuwa Kazuki's Queen!!"
Brandishing the golden sword, Artoria charged.
"Tch!?"
Dodging the blade that traced arcs of golden light as it pressed in, Fandral clicked his tongue in bitter frustration. While the Artoria up until now had swung a "rigid blade," the Artoria before him now wielded a graceful, almost dancelike "supple blade."
The sensation of facing an entirely different opponent left Fandral bewildered, and he found himself forced completely onto the defensive.
'Kh... A sword fitting for such a lovely appearance, but that only makes it more troublesome. That invisible sword from before was way better than this shit. But power-wise, the earlier one had more behind it. If that's the case—!'
Fandral tightened his defense and shifted his strategy to aim for a counter—strike in the single instant of an opening. But this was a mistake.
Fandral's greatest strength was his versatile, continuous assault. By stopping his feet and going on the defensive, he had cast aside his own forte with his own hands.
Worse still…
'Shit, this is bad! Her speed and sharpness keep increasing! At this rate!?'
Artoria's velocity ramped up to a level Fandral could no longer handle. Just as her blade's ever-sharpening edge pushed him into a corner, Fandral's eyes caught it clearly. Artoria's guard had dropped, perhaps from being too absorbed in her own attack.
"There—!!"
Seizing the opening Artoria had finally shown, Fandral unleashed a desperate, come-from-behind thrust. But as if she had read its arrival perfectly, Artoria evaded the thrust by a paper-thin margin. A few strands of her golden hair danced in the breeze.
'Shit, I was baited—!?'
Fandral realized, too late, that Artoria had deliberately created the opening and lured him into striking. That he had even noticed such a subtle gap—one an ordinary swordsman would have missed entirely—spoke to Fandral's high level of skill. But Artoria had factored even that into her trap, and she had ensnared him completely.
It was proof that Artoria now completely surpassed Fandral. The tip of her golden sword had him dead to rights.
"That was a sharper thrust than I anticipated. Well done, Fandral the Dashing. However, this ends now!"
And then Artoria shouted, loud and clear, the name of the holy sword in her grasp…
"Caliburn, the Golden Sword of Assured Victory!!"
The light unleashed from the golden blade—no, the Holy Sword—pierced straight through Fandral.
"Sorry... Thor..."
His longsword clattering to the ground, Fandral collapsed.
"Phew. That was my first time using it in actual combat, but it seems to work rather well."
Reverting to her original form, Artoria gazed at the Saber card in her hand and smiled.