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IBHJ 1105
🕑 Added 2024-12-26 01:49:53 +0000 UTCShirou studied the armored figure, his brow creasing.
Guinevere spotted King Leodegrance in the first seat to the right. She opened her mouth to greet him, but her father's stern look silenced her.
The Apostle lifted her head, and a piercing gaze locked onto Shirou. The intensity of that stare surpassed any blade's edge or dragon's presence. While it explained why kings like Leodegrance sat frozen in their seats, Shirou remained unmoved.
"Are you Fujimaru Shirou, the traveler from beyond the Empire?"
A regal voice resonated from within the silver dragon armor.
King Leodegrance rose from his seat. "Apostle Pendragon, this person—"
"I did not address you, King of Camlann. Take your seat."
King Leodegrance stiffened.
"You wouldn't want me to repeat myself, would you, King of Camlann?"
"N-no, my apologies..." King Leodegrance sank back into his chair, sweat forming on his forehead."
Guinevere's hands trembled at her sides. Now she understood Uncle Camund's warning about Apostle Pendragon.
She had never encountered someone so intimidating!
"Shirou," Apostle Pendragon turned her piercing gaze toward him. "I've heard tales of your power—that it rivals an Apostle's, that you shot down a battleship and saved Camlann. I bring the Emperor's blessing with me, but the weak have no right to receive such honors. Perhaps you could demonstrate this power of yours?"
Shirou raised an eyebrow. "Of course, I would be happy to, but—"
"But what?"
"But strength isn't something you simply demonstrate. It must be tested in battle against a worthy opponent. So tell me, who will face me? Will it be you, Apostle Pendragon? Though I must say, you don't seem particularly strong."
The hall plunged into a deathly silence.
The gathered kings looked at one another with wide eyes, their faces frozen in disbelief as they stared at Shirou. No one had ever dared to challenge an Apostle before.
"Sir Shirou!" King Leodegrance lurched forward in his seat.
"Hahahahaha... Now this is interesting!"
Apostle Pendragon's laugh filled the hall as she leaned forward, her gaze burning with bloodlust. "I do enjoy those who speak their minds so boldly. I hope that sword of yours can live up to your words.
Pendragon slowly lifted her helmet, drawing Shirou's gaze. Her hair, a cascade of gold, framed a face that would stop a poet in his tracks. But it was her eyes that captured his attention – emeralds blazing with a wild, dangerous light.
Shirou's eyes narrowed at Apostle Pendragon's revealed face.
It can't be...
"Allow me, Morgan Pendragon, King of Camelot, to test your worth with my holy sword!"
Morgan!
His fingers curled into a fist.
Morgan reached for her waist and drew—yet nothing appeared in her hand. Still, he sensed the presence of a deadly blade.
No, it was more than just a presence.
The sword was real.
An invisible sword.
Shirou saw it then—the invisible sword blazing like a blood-red lion. The bloody outline burned against his vision, its true form revealing itself in crimson flames that writhed and twisted around the blade.
Morgan slammed her foot down, cratering the stone beneath her heel, and struck. Her blade carved a crimson arc through the air straight toward him. Her entire body flowed into the strike, turning it into a perfect killing blow.
"Shirou!" Guinevere screamed.
Shirou remained calm as the blade descended. He projected the Holy Sword Durandal, mana surging through his circuits as the legendary blade materialized in his hands. He set his stance, holding it ready to meet the strike and absorb the impact.
In the last moment before impact, his eyes widened. Something in Morgan's stance shifted—a subtle tell that made his combat instincts scream. Instead of blocking, he pulled back his sword and twisted away from the attack, his body moving on pure reflex.
Morgan's blade hit the ground with an earthshattering boom. The impact shattered the floor like glass, concrete and steel disintegrating under the force. The destruction spread outward for a kilometer, causing the ground to cave in beneath their feet, and buildings crumbled to rubble as support structures gave way.
The shockwave caught the gathered kings like toys, sending them flying through the debris-filled air. The roar of collapsing architecture and exploding ground swallowed all their screams.
Shirou looked at the devastation below with a grim expression.
How could Morgan possess such monstrous power?
In that final moment before dodging, he'd sensed it—Morgan le Fay, this "Apostle Pendragon" of Britain, wielded strength beyond comprehension. Her power surpassed giants and dragons, exceeded Artoria's, and matched Arcueid's. In pure attributes, her strength parameter would rank above A++, reaching truly catastrophic levels.
If he had met that strike head-on, his body would have been obliterated into a paste.
But this level of destruction made no sense.
This was her own territory—the heart of Tintagel!
Did she truly care so little for civilian lives?
"Just as I suspected..." Morgan rose from the ruins, her face flushed with excitement, her breathing quick. Her eyes held an unsettling gleam as she stared at Shirou. "You're no mere poet—you're a conqueror, just like me!"
Shirou's instincts screamed danger. He jerked his head back just as a flash of silver cut through the air, burning a few strands of his hair.
Morgan moved within striking distance in a burst of speed, her sword slashing in rapid succession. Shirou stepped away, moving like a butterfly. His footwork kept him just out of reach across the broken ground. "This is your own city. Do you really not care about destroying it?"
"If it lets me conquer what I want, why should I?" Her blade followed his movements, testing his defense.
"No real king would say that," he said, dodging another strike that split the fallen pillar behind him.
"The strong rule and take what they want—" Each word was punctuated by a slash that forced Shirou to react.
Morgan's eyes glowed red with excitement and bloodlust. Her body turned to cold light as she rushed at him.
He sighed, recognizing the familiar madness in her voice. This was exactly like Morgan when she stopped holding back her desires. Her true nature emerging, raw and unrestrained, just like in the stories of the witch-queen who brought Britain to its knees.
Shirou found himself missing the Morgan he'd first met in Britain—just as powerful and driven to conquer, but with restraint and a gentler side. That Morgan had changed too, eventually becoming the drug-obsessed Morrigan.
As Morgan charged toward him, Shirou waited for the perfect moment. He projected [Ig-Alima: Green Field Cutting Through the Thousand Mountains] above her head and sent it crashing down.
The massive 60-meter greatsword descended like a falling mountain. Morgan's Invisible Holy Sword whirled up a red storm as she swung it upward.
Inside the holy sword's invisible barrier, compressed wind and magical energy exploded like a roaring blood-red lion. The blast struck with a deafening boom, completely destroying Ig-Alima until not even dust remained.
Shirou landed on the ground. Morgan followed, her red eyes burning as they traced over every inch of him. "That was a Divine Construct made with Projection. To project Divine Constructs... incredible. You're incredible. My blood is on fire."
Shirou watched Morgan's wild expression and sighed. "I see there's no other way. You won't stop unless I beat you into submission."
He dismissed the Holy Sword Durandal and projected two slender light spears instead.
These weren't simple named weapons—they were Divine Constructs like Ig-Alima.
Gungnir!
Odin had once given Gungnir to him, and he'd passed it to Skadi. But with Odin's blessing, he could still project it. Though his version was much weaker than the original, it was still remarkably strong.
Shirou steadied his stance, his eyes locked on Morgan. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
He pushed off with explosive force, becoming a streak of light. Gungnir blazed white as he charged. Mid-sprint, he shifted the left spear to a reverse grip, creating an unpredictable angle of attack.
"Yes, come at me!" Morgan's face lit up with battle madness, her sword spinning into a wheel of light as she struck at him with crushing force. She followed through with three rapid slashes, each aimed at a different vital point.
Shirou's eyes gleamed. The spear in his left hand deflected her sword with a precise tap, then immediately swept up to parry her second strike. He pivoted on his front foot, letting him spin past the lethal strikes while maintaining his momentum. He twisted behind her, using the centrifugal force to add power as the spear in his right hand aimed at her neck. His left spear was already positioned to counter her inevitable defense. But Morgan lifted her ruby-decorated sword hilt to block, simultaneously stepping back to reduce the impact.
The weapons met with a clear ring.
"So spears are your specialty!" She laughed. "Fighting against dual spears brings back such unpleasant memories. Still, this might be enough to satisfy me."
As soon as these words fell, Shirou felt an irresistible force transmitted through the sword hilt, leaving him speechless. The impact traveled up his arms and rattled his shoulders, threatening to tear the weapons from his grip.
He'd struck at that exact spot because it should have been impossible to generate power from that position—the sword was too close to her body, with no room to build momentum. But Morgan had broken that rule completely. The crushing force was beyond what he could handle—the spear shafts burned against his palms, and his reinforced muscles screamed in protest.
This raw power reminded him of fighting Arcueid!
Shirou had no choice but to jump back. His circuits flared hot as he projected dozens of accessories designed for speed—enchanted rings, blessed anklets, wind-woven bracers—equipped them in rapid succession, and launched another attack.
Morgan's strength far surpassed Artoria's. Since no amount of reinforcement could match that power, he'd focus on speed instead. He struck from multiple angles, never staying in one spot long enough for her to use her full strength.
Metal rang against metal in rapid succession. Light and shadow danced through the ruins as their weapons clashed, throwing off sparks like lightning.
