Chapter 40 Sparring Match: Shirou Emiya vs. Richard I the Lionheart
Richard leveled his longsword.
Despite a flicker of surprise at having his True Name revealed, he showed no signs of rejection. On the contrary, he curled the corners of his mouth in admiration.
"This is terrible... it feels like I've already lost half my momentum just from the opening, doesn't it?"
"In that case, wouldn't it be fine to make it up in the battle to come?"
They moved simultaneously.
Leaping forward at equal speeds, they brandished weapons that felt like extensions of their own bodies. Sword met sword with a crisp ring, parrying one another.
Shirou shifted his footing, his second short sword following up to press the advantage, but the cold gleam failed to reach Richard, who retreated with a light-footed grace that was even faster, leaving the blade to cut through empty air.
The attacking short sword fell into a blind spot. Richard immediately lunged forward again, reversing the direction of his longsword to trace a dangerous arc of sword-light.
Shirou used his initial black sword to parry the high-speed thrust. Before Shirou could counterattack, Richard retreated two steps once more, widening the distance.
Two hands.
A basic understanding had already formed.
At this level—it would be steadily held back by Shirou's dual-sword defense, which touched the realm of divine skill.
The golden swordsman's techniques were elegant and powerful, making excellent use of an agility higher than Shirou's to display footwork as light as a phantom; it was difficult for Shirou to overcome him quickly. However, if things continued like this, in some distant round, Shirou would win.
That was, assuming Richard wasn't hiding anything.
As if declaring that he was only now getting serious, Richard's blade surged forward again, no longer retreating. Shirou focused entirely, deflecting the longsword time and time again while searching for the chance to land an unavoidable strike.
Every strike carried a heavier momentum than the last, yet possessed a paradoxical lightness. However, even so, the wall of dual blades remained a barrier the opponent absolutely could not breach.
Blade-light and sword-shadows were locked in an evenly matched tangle. But Shirou did not feel straightforwardly joyful. Because just like Shirou, Richard's expression showed no signs of strain.
—What kind of moves is this Heroic Spirit still hiding?
-
-
-
As the clash between the red-haired youth and the Saber began, Ayaka found herself unable to track their movements even in the initial stages.
There were only two afterimages—one red, one gold—stirring up a searing heat in the air, accompanied by sharp ringing sounds that made one's breath hitch.
Ayaka placed a hand over her heart, stepped down quietly from the spectator area on Saber's side, and glanced around. She discovered a different passage leading behind the Saber sitting in the other spectator section, so she stood on her tiptoes and crept inside.
Ayaka approached the other Saber, but before she could even get close, the woman turned her head to acknowledge her as if she had known all along, giving Ayaka a start.
"Do you have business with me?"
Saber spoke gently, though her eyes never left the clashing of steel.
"Um, Miss Altos? Is it really okay for them to be fighting like this?"
Ayaka suppressed her inner unease, her eyebrows drooping slightly into an "eight" shape.
To this, Saber simply replied: "There is no problem on Shirou's end. I trust him."
No further answer was needed.
Even against someone as strong as this Saber, Shirou would not be crushed by an enemy of this level. Saber had seen him fight until the very last moment even when facing Alcides.
Furthermore, his battles against stronger enemies seemed to have left behind something meaningful. These things were gradually being vented through this battle, where he had cast aside his reservations, becoming the fuel to grow stronger once more.
"If that's the case, why are you a bit angry with Mr. Shirou?" Ayaka asked, puzzled.
Hearing this, Saber's gaze turned complex. In a tone that seemed like a sulk to Ayaka, she said:
"I am not angry. I am merely reminding him of the fact that there are others by his side who can help him. If left alone, Shirou tends to develop many worries, resulting in him unilaterally deciding not to involve others."
Saber spoke with a hint of helplessness. Despite saying words that sounded like a grievance, there was no accusation, only a slight touch of reproach.
"If I may be so bold, you should also trust your Saber a bit more."
Ayaka's tightly shut lips trembled slightly. Without pausing to analyze the girl's feelings, Saber simply murmured as if struck by a thought: "Richard the Lionheart..."
The King of England.
'I see... ...Is he a kouhai of mine, then?'
.
.
.
"You're strong!"
Richard laughed, his mouth curling up roughly as his sword—scarcely different from the divine realm—flashed past.
He felt neither joy nor unease because of it. He merely poured everything into the steel, responding to his opponent's praise with the crossing of sword-guards.
The dark iron spat sparks as it rubbed together, followed by a total forward thrust. Sensing the imminent danger, the golden swordsman's wrist flicked, changing the angle of his blade to forcibly suppress the approaching cold light.
He even predicted the follow-up strike from the side, flipping his entire body upside down in mid-air to land lightly behind Shirou.
"Won't your companion join in? She doesn't look simple either!"
The golden swordsman bounded about, looking more exhilarated than ever. Shirou's cheek twitched.
'I have never seen someone proactively express a death wish.'
If Shirou and Saber truly started a tag-team match, Richard might be a King, but he absolutely wouldn't even know how he died.
'Would he win? He would die.'
Shirou hesitated for a few seconds, unsure of what to say. Finally, with a peculiar kind of gentle smile, he said: "Thank you for the offer, but I think my companion loves peace."
'It's a good thing my King Arthur is currently in "Girl Mode."'
Richard tilted his head, puzzled, and continued to charge.
The exchange so far had exceeded dozens of moves. For the golden swordsman, an increase in rounds likely held no special meaning for his techniques. But for Shirou, it was different.
The behavioral patterns were being etched into his "Mind's Eye."
His insight, which transformed instinct into actual theory, was calculating at high speeds, searching for the path to "break the Saber's evasion speed and strike into his bosom."
Finally, when Richard's right wrist lifted slightly to parry a blow... a path on the chessboard was suddenly illuminated.
The compressed internal time reached its end. With almost no preparatory movement—Shirou charged straight out.
A change in technique.
The black blade didn't strike the sword Richard had predicted and moved to block; instead, it shifted its form, guarding his chest while his rushing footsteps ground toward the fingers beneath the sword-guard.
Closing in at maximum speed before the golden swordsman, the long-awaited white blade swung with force.
To block the black blade and prevent his fingers from being cut, Richard was forced to reverse his sword, switching from a forehand to a backhand grip. The guard parried the black blade's path in the nick of time—but at the same moment, his own blade was held high, parallel to the ground, leaving his center wide open.
If the golden swordsman's hand had been just a few centimeters lower, the longsword's reach could have flicked the short sword outward in time. But there were no "ifs"; by the time the golden swordsman realized it, it was too late.
A winning blow—one that should have been impossible to dodge given Richard's spontaneous speed of recovery—was unleashed.
The two brushed past each other.
A scratch gradually appeared on Shirou's shirt, which already had a bullet hole. A piece of the hem detached from the main body and drifted down. The overtaxed shirt was finally completely ruined.
But that wasn't the point.
An attack that should have been impossible to evade at the predicted normal speed had been successfully dodged. Not only that, while the opponent was evading, he had released a counter-slash that had nearly touched Shirou.
Shirou's pupils constricted as he realized something.
His speed... increased?
Read ahead (60 chapters) by supporting me on buymeacoffee com/varietl or ko-fi edwriting