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The hero's figure vanished without a trace.
But the arrow he shot tore through the sky like a falling star in reverse—a meteor ascending toward the heavens instead of crashing down to earth.
"Hmph! It's just an arrow!" Zach's voice roared from within the artificial sun, desperate and defiant. "I'll use Moon Spirit Elixir to push it back!"
Clearly, this arrow was the last means Max and the others had to threaten him. If he could block this single attack, then victory in this Holy Grail War would be his.
Yes.
If he could block it.
[Speechless]: ...
[Crying_Emoji]: Tears in my eyes right now
[Archer_Supremacy]: Did Archer really just steal all the spotlight? Did you HAVE to be this cool?!
[Sudden_Realization]: I just noticed that nobody in this Holy Grail War actually seems to care about winning the Grail itself
[Hopeful_Harry]: This should be enough to take down Vritra, right?
[Worried_Wendy]: But I feel like the next fight won't be easy. Shuten-douji and Beowulf are both crazy strong
[Pragmatic_Pete]: It's fine, just kill their Masters. By the way, anyone here from Chen Ge's stream? Share some info—how's he doing over there?
Just like the daily rotation of the earth, when the scorching sun disappeared, a cool night sky arrived to take its place.
The temperature dropped immediately—not gradually, but all at once, as if someone had flipped a switch. The oppressive heat that had been slowly cooking everyone alive simply... vanished. Players who had been on the verge of heat stroke felt relief wash over them like a cold shower.
Max took a deep breath of the now-cool air and addressed his stream.
Through his explanation, the viewers learned about Arash's legend.
"Stella"—the Lone Meteor—was Arash's ultimate arrow. A Noble Phantasm that could only be used once each time he manifested in the world.
In Persian legend, Arash created the border between Persia and Turan with this single arrow. His shot tore across the earth itself, drawing the boundary line between two warring nations and ending a conflict that had raged for sixty years.
Its actual range? A terrifying 2,500 kilometers.
But this was a feat no human body could survive. The legend said that Arash's physical form disintegrated the moment he released the arrow—his entire existence consumed as fuel for the impossible shot.
In terms of Noble Phantasm classification, Stella was only ranked B++, categorized as an Anti-Army Noble Phantasm.
However, in terms of pure total energy output, it could rival Anti-Fortress Noble Phantasms. Or to be more precise... it should be classified as Anti-Country.
So how could a mere Moon Spirit Elixir barrier hope to block it?
Even if Vritra herself had stood directly in the arrow's path, she would have been completely annihilated alongside the sun—erased so thoroughly that not even ash would remain.
The artificial sun exploded like fireworks, scattering into brilliant motes of light that faded into nothing.
Night arrived as promised.
Lily stood on the ruined battlefield, tear tracks still visible on her cheeks. But as she watched the darkness settle over Fuyuki City, she raised her hands and wiped the moisture from her eyes.
Then, with a face equally as resolute as the hero who had just sacrificed himself, she gripped her golden sword and aimed it at Vritra.
The dragon had managed to commit suicide just before the sun was completely destroyed—a desperate gambit to trigger one final resurrection and restore herself to full health.
"You humans... you really can surprise me again and again!"
Vritra's voice boomed across the battlefield, equal parts impressed and furious.
"Then welcome your final trial! With all of you exhausted, facing a demon dragon with only one life remaining—which side will the scales of victory tip toward?"
The dragon spread her wings, her eyes blazing with challenge.
"Come! Break through this final trial, humans!"
"You evil dragon really love to hear yourself talk."
Beowulf stepped forward, cracking his neck with a series of sharp pops.
"Sorry, but with me here, none of them are going to die."
His lips curled into a savage grin.
"Since Archer already showed off how cool he could be... I can't let myself fall behind!"
Although there had been no communication between Beowulf and Arash from start to finish—no strategy sessions, no friendly exchanges, not even a single word—there was an understanding that transcended language.
Heroes recognize heroes.
Beowulf had witnessed that arrow. An arrow without a single impurity. An arrow shot purely for the sake of others, with nothing held back.
No hesitation. No regret. No second-guessing.
Just a man, a bow, and the absolute conviction that this was what needed to be done.
As his Master would say... it was "cool."
And Beowulf understood "cool." He'd spent his entire legendary life chasing that feeling—the rush of facing impossible odds and coming out on top. The satisfaction of putting everything on the line and winning anyway.
Arash hadn't won, exactly. He'd sacrificed himself. But somehow, that made it even more impressive.
Since his fellow hero had been that cool, then he—the late arrival to this party—needed to properly show off his own cool side too.
Beowulf didn't regret ignoring his Master's pain and loneliness. William Zhang's situation was unfortunate, sure, but Beowulf wasn't the type to dwell on regret.
But "no regrets" didn't mean "no anger."
The fury burning in his chest couldn't be hidden. Couldn't be suppressed.
Since he'd already arrived at this battlefield, he would offer compensation in the only way he knew how.
Looking at the exhausted faces around him—Lily barely standing, Shuten-douji conserving what little energy she had left, Max breathing heavily—Beowulf made his decision.
I'll handle the cleanup myself.
The twin swords in his hands ignited with a crimson glow, blood-red battle spirit radiating from his entire body as his fighting intent reached a boiling point.
Vritra's giant tail came sweeping toward the group like a building-sized baseball bat.
Beowulf simply swung the hammer in his hand with everything he had.
SILENCE.
For a single heartbeat, it felt as if the entire world had been muted.
Then the explosion hit.
The shockwave was so violent that everyone's eardrums suffered immediate damage. Max clapped his hands over his ears, but even that couldn't block out the overwhelming pressure.
But eyes don't lie.
There was no flying flesh. No scattered dragon parts. Only an eerie, sublime tranquility that existed in the aftermath of absolute destruction.
Not just Vritra's tail—the ruins where that mountain-sized appendage had been located had transformed into a crater so deep it looked like a nuclear bomb had detonated.
Everything caught in that blast radius had been reduced to dust floating in the air.
[WTF_Walter]: What the HELL?! What kind of weapon IS that?! That's way too broken!
"That's why I don't usually use them," Beowulf called back, as if he could hear the chat. "But if my opponent is someone like you? I can destroy them as much as I want!"
Beowulf had manifested with three Noble Phantasms this time.
The short hammer that had just exploded was the B-rank Anti-Personnel weapon called "Naegling"—the Iron Hammer Snake Crush.
According to historical records, Naegling wasn't actually a hammer but a short sword. But rather than a proper blade, it was more like a club-shaped object forged from solid steel.
This weapon had been created with one singular purpose: to hammer things to pieces.
It had no cutting edge. No elegance. And it carried a significant risk of being destroyed after a certain number of uses.
But such a weapon possessed one terrifying characteristic: it would unleash catastrophic damage the moment it shattered.
Essentially a small nuclear bomb.
So after evaporating an area roughly one-eighth the size of Fuyuki City, a massive void of charred flesh appeared where Vritra's tail had once been connected to her body.
The smell of scorched dragon meat filled the air.
That's... actually kind of appetizing, Max thought, then immediately felt disgusted with himself. What the hell is wrong with me?
But Vritra refused to surrender.
Even with a chunk of her body literally vaporized, the dragon's eyes still burned with defiance. Her movements were sluggish now—clearly in tremendous pain—but her will to fight hadn't diminished at all.
Although the two fleshy wings on her back were comically small compared to her massive body, they could still provide enough lift for brief aerial movement.
So as Vritra endured the intense agony and beat her wings with desperate strength—
The breath that could destroy all things in this world came sweeping down from above, aimed directly at where Max and his party were standing.
A torrent of pure annihilation.
But facing such a terrifying offensive, Beowulf said nothing.
He simply tossed up the long sword in his other hand... and then punched the hilt with his fist.
WHOOOOSH.
Like a meteor streaking across the sky, the sword shot forward and collided directly with Vritra's destructive breath.
Another violent explosion rocked the battlefield.
The night sky, which had only just returned to peaceful darkness, became as bright as day once more.
At the center of the detonation, a devastating storm spread outward in all directions.
Lily drove her sword into the earth just to stay anchored. Shuten-douji did the same. But even that wasn't enough—both of them were lifted completely off the ground, sent tumbling through the air by the sheer force of the blast.
But Beowulf?
The Dragon Slayer seemed completely unaffected.
He charged straight through the chaos, directly toward where Vritra was falling from the sky.
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