Chapter 81. The Heavenly Moon-Slayer and the Demonic Earth-Sword! The Final Decisive Battle Begins
Orario, the plaza before Babel.
The midday sun beat down vertically, yet it failed to dispel the chilling air of slaughter permeating the square. This was no longer a bustling market; it had transformed into a coliseum for gods and heroes.
Hundreds of thousands of eyes—some through the broadcast of Divine Mirrors, others peering from behind distant buildings—were fixed on the two figures confronting each other in the center of the plaza.
On one side stood [King] Ottar, the man who had stood at the apex of Orario for decades, a living legend. On the other was [Senji Muramasa] Shirou Emiya, a man who had risen like a comet, soaring from Lv.1 to Lv.5 in a mere three months.
This was not just a match to determine a winner; it was a collision between the strongest of the old era and a monster of the new.
"Shirou Emiya." Ottar leaned on his brand-new black greatsword (the Great Sword of Supreme Black: Second Generation, rushed to completion by the Hephaestus Familia), his voice as steady as a mountain.
"Show me. Does your new blade live up to the Goddess's expectations?"
"Yeah, it won't disappoint you." Shirou's right hand hovered near his waist. It looked empty, but the experts present could feel something there—an invisible dragon coiled and waiting. "It was a rush job, but it's got quite a temper. Careful you don't get bitten."
"Words are useless." A sharp glint flashed in Ottar's eyes. "Let us begin."
Boom!
Before his voice finished echoing, Ottar had vanished. No—he hadn't vanished; his speed was simply so great that the retina retained only the image of a second ago, creating a frame-skipping illusion. This was the flash-step of a Lv.7—Shukuchi.
CLANG—!!!
A metallic impact loud enough to shatter eardrums exploded in the center of the plaza. A terrifying shockwave radiated outward from the pair, as if a thermobaric bomb had been detonated on level ground. The heavy stone slabs paving the plaza shattered instantly, turning into a cloud of swirling dust.
"He blocked it?!" In the distant spectator stands, Loki suddenly stood up, the wine glass in her hand crushed to pieces. "That kid... he actually blocked Ottar's opening strike head-on?!"
At the center of the dust, Ottar's greatsword held a downward-slashing posture, heavy as Mount Tai. And Shirou, using a single hand, held a tachi—dark red with lava-like patterns flowing along the blade—firmly parrying the giant sword.
[Divine Construct: Tsumukari Muramasa]. Finally, it revealed its true form.
So heavy... The ground beneath Shirou's feet had collapsed into a crater, and his arm muscles were strained to the absolute limit. Even at Lv.5, even with SSS-rank strength parameters, facing the monstrous strength of a Lv.7 felt like being pressed by a hydraulic press. If he hadn't activated [Structural Reinforcement], his arm would likely have suffered a fracture from that single blow.
But... A smile tugged at the corner of Shirou's mouth.
'It didn't break. Not even a chip on the blade.'
"Impressive." Ottar looked at the parried sword, a flash of admiration in his eyes. "To take a strike of mine... your capacity has indeed grown."
"But it is not enough!" With a flick of his wrist, the greatsword became light as a feather, instantly changing form into a black whirlwind sweeping toward Shirou's waist.
"Trace—On!"
Shirou did not meet it head-on. In a state of absolute strength disadvantage, clashing head-to-head is the act of a fool. He was a technician (though he had been looking more like a berserker lately).
His left hand grasped empty air. A short sword appeared out of nowhere. Kanshou: Throwing Version!
Clang! The short sword struck the crossguard of Ottar's greatsword with precision. Though it was instantly sent flying, it caused the greatsword's trajectory to shift by a mere three centimeters. Those three centimeters were enough. Shirou ducked low, letting the sweeping blade pass over him, while the Tsumukari Muramasa turned into a red streak of light, lunging straight for Ottar's abdomen.
"Naive." Ottar didn't even move to defend. His muscles tensed instantly; that layer of seemingly ordinary skin was now harder than adamantite. A Lv.7's physical defense was a divine artifact in itself.
Puchi!
However, the expected sound of metal hitting metal never came. The dark red tachi sliced through Ottar's skin and muscle as if cutting through hot tofu, meeting zero resistance.
"What?!" Ottar's pupils contracted. Defense... was useless? No, it was cut! That blade didn't just cut flesh; it cut the very concept of defense!
"Haaah!" Ottar roared, his magic power exploding outward to force Shirou back. He clutched his abdominal wound, blood trickling through his fingers. Though the wound wasn't deep (he had used magic to shift his internal organs at the last moment), this was the first time since becoming Lv.7 that his defense had been breached at the very start.
"That blade..." Ottar stared intensely at Shirou's tachi. "Something is strange."
"This is 'Tsumukari'." Shirou flicked the blood off the blade, his gaze cold. "A demonic blade forged specifically to sever divinity, causality, and fate. Ottar, your 'defense' has no meaning before it."
"Interesting." Ottar lowered his hand. The muscles around the wound were squirming, stopping the bleeding at an incredible speed.
"Since defense is useless... I will simply overwhelm you with offense!"
Boom! Ottar's aura surged again. This time, he held nothing back. Black magic power swirled around him like flames—the precursor to using magic.
"Let us slaughter, Shirou Emiya!"
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Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield.
If the duel in the center was a clash of gods, the surrounding team battle was a luxury All-Star brawl.
Finn vs. The Gulliver Brothers. An internal war of Prum lights. Spears like dragons, the four brothers coordinating like a net. Although the Gulliver brothers had the numerical advantage, their combined attacks always missed by a hair before Finn's danger-sensing thumb (and the lingering rhythm of his brief Lv.7 experience).
"Dammit! Why can't we hit him! Are you an eel?!" the brothers shouted in frustration.
"Because you are too impatient." Finn dodged calmly, in no rush to attack. He was waiting—waiting for the single chance to kill in one blow.
Riveria vs. Hedin. The showdown of the strongest mages. Emerald storms and golden lightning clashed wildly in the sky. This was no longer a magic battle; it was a bullet hell game. Wide-area annihilation spells were thrown around like cheap trinkets, and the surrounding buildings had long since been reduced to rubble.
"Your chanting speed is too slow, old lady." Hedin pushed up his glasses, his venomous tongue in full effect.
"Who are you calling an old lady?!" Veins popped on Riveria's forehead, her staff glowing brilliantly. "I'll give you a taste of 'Wynn Fimbulvetr'!"
Ais vs. Allen. A race at the limits of speed. Golden wind and silver light crisscrossed the battlefield. The naked eyes of ordinary people couldn't even track them, seeing only sparks exploding in the air.
So fast... Ais panted, her light armor already showing several cracks. Allen's speed was truly superior to hers, but with the enchantment of Ariel, she could barely keep up the tempo.
"Not just slow, but weak, Sword Princess." Allen appeared in mid-air, his spear stabbing down like a meteor shower. "You want to protect that man with this level of strength? Don't make me laugh!"
The battle fell into a stalemate. Although the Loki Familia's strength had increased greatly under Shirou's buffs, the foundation of the Freya Familia was too deep. A lineup of executives who were all Lv.6 remained a wall difficult to climb.
At the top of Babel, Freya held her wine glass, watching the battlefield below. Her face showed no anxiety over her Familia's struggle; instead, it wore a sickly flush.
"So beautiful..." Her gaze remained locked on Shirou Emiya. "That blade... that dark red blade... are those the fangs you forged to reject me? Ah... it's wonderful."
Freya's finger gently traced the glass of the floor-to-ceiling window, as if caressing Shirou's face.
"But, it's not enough. This level of chaos... is not enough to make your soul bloom completely. You need more... stimulation."
She set down the wine glass. Her purple gown slid down, revealing skin as white as jade. She walked to the balcony, facing all of Orario.
In that moment, she was no longer the lazy Goddess of Beauty. She was the Queen who governed Love and Beauty, War and Death.
"Children of all Orario," Freya opened her arms, her voice echoing directly into the depths of everyone's soul through divine power. "Look at me. Love me. And then..."
[Charm] — Full Release.
Vring—
A pink, visible ripple radiated from Babel, sweeping across the entire city in an instant. This was not magic. This was Divine Authority. It was the Goddess of Beauty Freya, acting as the incarnation of beauty, launching an indiscriminate mental domination of the lower world.
There were no forced commands. It simply awakened the deepest adoration and desire in everyone's heart.
"Ah... Lady Freya..." On the battlefield, the adventurers who had been fighting suddenly slowed down. Whether they were members of the Loki Familia or the surrounding spectators, their eyes grew misty, and their weapons inadvertently lowered. Even Lv.6s with immense mental strength like Finn and Riveria felt a wave of intense vertigo, as if their souls were about to be sucked away by the figure atop the tower.
'So beautiful... I want to be by her side... I want to offer everything to her...'
This was the most terrifying thing about Freya. If she wished, she didn't need a single soldier to drive all of Orario into madness.
"Dammit... that crazy woman!" Finn bit his tongue, using the pain to force himself into clarity. "Everyone! Mental defense! Don't look at the tower!"
But it was too late. Aside from a few with high-rank mental resistance skills (like Ais and Bete), most mid-to-low level members had fallen. They began to turn their weapons, their eyes hollow, toward their own comrades.
"For Lady Freya... offer blood..."
"This is bad!" Riveria's face paled. If this continued, the Loki Familia would descend into internal chaos before the Freya Familia even had to act!
In the center of the battlefield, Shirou Emiya also felt that terrifying mental impact. In his mind, it was as if countless voices were whispering, telling him to drop his sword, to surrender, to go embrace that Goddess.
If he were his past self, he might truly have been unable to hold out. But now...
"Trace—Analysis."
Shirou's left eye turned gold. [Mind's Eye (True)] was at work. What he saw was not a beautiful goddess, but a distorted, massive pink storm of magic power filled with possessiveness.
"This kind of thing..." Shirou tightened his grip on the Tsumukari Muramasa. "You call this 'love'? Forcing others' wills. Trampling on their dignity. This isn't love at all. This is—a curse."
"Shut up! You old lady!" Shirou let out a roar. In that roar was his anger toward a god who played with human hearts so casually.
He raised his tachi. The red patterns on the blade erupted with a blinding light. One of the characteristics of this blade—[Severing of Fate]. It could cut not only flesh but also invisible links of magic power.
"Break... apart!"
Shirou swung his blade violently against the void.
Sliiiice—!!!
The sound of tearing silk filled the air. A red slash soared into the sky, cutting directly into the pink field of charm.
Boom!
The pink mist enveloping the plaza was like butter being cut by a hot knife; a massive crack appeared instantly. Then, the crack spread rapidly, and the entire charm barrier shattered like glass.
"Cough! Cough!" The people on the battlefield woke as if from a dream, panting heavily, cold sweat soaking their backs. "What happened to me... just now? I almost... turned on my own people?"
"That red-head..." Hedin pushed his glasses, terror appearing in his eyes for the first time. "He actually... severed the Goddess's charm?! How is that possible?! That was Divine Authority!"
"Nothing is impossible." Shirou stood his ground, his blade still trembling slightly. Cutting through Divine Authority took a massive toll on him. But he still stood tall, looking directly at the figure atop the tower.
"Your love is too heavy, Freya." Shirou's voice spread across the field through magic. "So heavy it makes me want to vomit. If you really want people to love you... learn to respect their will first!"
Top floor of Babel. Freya watched the boy who had severed her charm, her expression frozen. It wasn't anger. It was an unprecedented, soul-piercing shock.
"He rejected me. He even... negated my Divine Authority. With that blade forged by a human."
"Haha... Hahahaha!" Freya suddenly burst into laughter—a laugh so violent her whole body trembled, a laugh that brought tears to her eyes.
"Wonderful! This is... the partner I wanted! This is the man who can stand by my side! Only this kind of arrogance that can negate even the gods is worthy of my love!"
"Ottar!" Freya screamed toward the battlefield below. "Take him! By any means necessary! I want him! Now! Immediately! If you lose... you don't need to come back!"
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Center of the battlefield. Ottar heard the command. He slowly raised his head, and in his brown eyes, the original calmness had vanished. In its place was the resolve of one willing to turn into a demon to fulfill his mission.
"Since the Goddess desires it so." Ottar's aura climbed once again. This time, it wasn't just a magic explosion. His body began to expand, his skin turned dark brown, and two massive
tusks protruded from his mouth. Beastification. This was the racial skill of the Boaz, and Ottar's final trump card as the [King].
[Beastification] — All parameters greatly increased. [Hildis Vini] — Charging.
"Shirou Emiya." Ottar's voice became deep and raspy, filled with the roar of a beast. "This next strike... people will die. If you don't want to die, bring out all your trump cards. Otherwise... this will be your grave."
Rumble! The earth crumbled beneath Ottar's feet. The greatsword in his hand had become a black sun, radiating an aura of total destruction.
"Are you for real..." Shirou smiled bitterly. Looking at the Lv.7 who had completely turned into a monster, he knew ordinary methods were useless. Although Tsumukari Muramasa could sever divinity, facing this kind of pure physical destruction, clashing head-on was still suicide.
"If that's the case... then I have to use that."
Shirou took a deep breath. He slotted the tachi back to his waist (even without a sheath). Then, he slowly spread his hands out to his sides.
"If I can't win a duel... then let's make it a group fight. Even if it's a group fight of just me."
I am the bone of my sword.
The magic circuits in his body were no longer overloading; they were—fully open.
Steel is my body, and fire is my blood.
The surrounding air began to distort. Red sparks danced in the atmosphere. The ground of the battlefield began to char, and the sound of countless gears turning echoed in the void.
I have created over a thousand blades.
Ottar did not interrupt him. Perhaps his pride as a warrior made him want to witness this boy's strongest strike.
Unknown to Death. Nor known to Life.
The massive magic fluctuations made all of Orario tremble. Hedin, Hogni, Finn, Ais... everyone stopped what they were doing and looked toward the center of the battlefield.
Have withstood pain to create many weapons.
Yet, those hands will never hold anything.
Shirou snapped his eyes open. In that moment, the phantoms of countless Heroic Spirits seemed to appear behind him.
So as I pray...
Unlimited Blade Works!!!
BOOM—!!!
The world was rewritten. The ruins of the plaza vanished. In their place was a boundless wilderness shrouded in a crimson sunset. Upon the earth stood tens of thousands of swords. Every one of them was a legend. Every one was history.
"An Reality Marble?" Ottar looked at the absurd and magnificent sight around him, a flash of shock in his eyes. "This is your... Unlimited?"
"Welcome to my world, Ottar." Shirou stood atop a hill of swords, countless Noble Phantasms hovering behind him. In his hand, he once again gripped the Tsumukari Muramasa. But in this world, this blade received an infinite boost.
"Here... all swords obey my command."
Shirou waved his hand.
"Go!"
Shu-shu-shu-shu-shu!!!
Countless swords rose from the ground, turning into a torrent of steel as they rushed toward the strongest King.
This was the violent aesthetics of quantity and quality. This was the Iron Throne built by a mortal to challenge the gods.
"Come!" Ottar roared, swinging his black sun to meet the onslaught.
The final decisive battle reached its true climax at this moment.
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