"Weak... far too weak. Still not enough. Not enough. Not nearly enough.
A demigod. With that blade buried inside the tip of your sword, who could you possibly cut?!"
A flat voice, carrying a faint note of disappointment, rang out calmly.
And yet it landed like a comet strike, making the Amazon queen in the middle of her frenzy come to a sudden stop.
She let out a roar of indignation.
As her divine blood boiled, tangible flames of blazing red aura formed by her vital force began burning across her body, spreading outward like a shockwave across the ground around her.
The earth beneath her feet cracked open.
Boom!!
Another strike, and then crack!
The weapon in Penthesilea's hand broke apart completely.
And yet it still could not leave even a single drop of blood on that golden figure.
"Still a little short. Keep going..."
Boom!!
Another fist tore through the air, but after landing on his body, it was perfectly blocked by the divine equipment.
"The force of your attacks has grown weaker. Is it because you lost your weapon?
If this is the extent of what you can do, you might as well give up.
Or are you counting on..."
Boom.
Night suddenly swept the spear out in a powerful strike, and a direct flat thrust shot forward like a meteor aimed straight at her head, forcing Penthesilea to dodge in a hurry.
But she dodged without fully dodging.
When the armor shattered, what was revealed first was a head of silver-white hair scattering in the air.
And when Night got a clear look at the face beneath, that lovely and slightly delicate face, pitiable and beautiful as a fairy.
He paused for just a moment.
Not because of the other party's appearance.
It was because this Amazon queen with her hair now scattered loose looked a little like Melusine of the neighboring Type-Moon World.
That one who played with Accelerate Synchro. The Albion Dragon.
And combined with that wild fighting style...
"Are you also a dragon?"
For some reason Night could not help but inquire.
A dragon? What did that mean?
Penthesilea pressed her hand against the cheek that the wind of the spear's thrust just cut open and was now bleeding.
And the heroes around them, upon seeing the helmet knocked off to reveal such a beautiful face that stirred a protective instinct, were stunned.
That powerful hero who defeated the king of Sparta and Odysseus one after another actually looked this adorable?
The men's gazes were involuntarily drawn to her in admiration.
The look in their eyes grew warm, but it was still controllable.
In the past, a face like that would certainly have drawn far greedier stares, but with Night's beauty of a flawless jade as a reference point before them, the heroes at this moment could actually remain calm and continue paying attention to how the battle unfolded.
On the other side, paying no mind whatsoever to those heroes' filthy gazes, Penthesilea's eyes at this moment held only that golden figure.
She stared hard at the other party, like the twelve signs of the zodiac that could never be surpassed.
Like mountains and seas that could never be shattered, a crushing pressure that filled one with despair.
This time Penthesilea gritted her teeth.
She kept her eyes fixed on Night for a long time yet did not take one more step forward.
When she realized one thing, that no matter what she tried, with her current strength she could not injure this man in the slightest.
A thought, that she could not win, began to take deep and stubborn root in her mind.
Only at this moment did she realize how foolish she had been before, judging someone entirely by their appearance.
Unable to help it, she said quietly through gritted teeth. "Talking about dragons... compared to me, are you not far more like a dragon yourself, you monster?"
Though Penthesilea's voice was very small, Night still heard it and suddenly laughed.
He casually tossed his weapon aside and drove it into the sand.
Heh, haha... hahahahahahaha!!
First a quiet laugh, then by the end no longer holding it back at all, laughing out loud freely, as though he heard something very amusing.
That manner made Penthesilea feel both furious and unbearably flushed and ashamed.
Throwing down his weapon and laughing that freely without restraint, completely dropping all fighting stance.
Did that mean he no longer considered her an enemy at all?
Could she not even give this man the smallest remaining trace of pressure or threat?
"You threw down your weapon. Are you giving up and admitting defeat?" When Penthesilea asked a question that even she found absurd.
Obviously...
The one who should be admitting defeat was herself.
And then suddenly, a hand covered in a gauntlet came down on her head and gave it a firm ruffling.
After messing up that beautiful long hair, its owner spoke.
"What are you saying... my true weapon has never once left my body.
If you cannot understand this, you will never be able to defeat me.
Just because you lost your weapon, just because your attacks grew weaker, are you already starting to despair?
Tell me. Queen of the Amazons.
You are standing here right now, able to fight and survive. What is the reason for that?"
.....
Penthesilea dodged away from Night's continued head ruffling and looked at him with a cold stare. "What do you mean?"
"I am asking you. The thing you rely on to live, the thing you treat as your greatest dependence. The thing that, after such a long and grueling battle of bloodshed, still allowed you to stand here alive.
What do you think it actually is?"
Penthesilea was shaken.
!!!!!
She grasped at something in her heart but could not put it into clear words.
At the same time, the entire battlefield fell silent, and everyone instinctively found themselves thinking about the same question.
Then they heard the man press further. "Is it the sword? Is it the spear?
Is it the shield? Tools that the weak forge to arm themselves so they can defeat enemies far stronger than themselves, tools to make their own power greater.
That is right. The power of divine equipment is indeed formidable and wonderful.
Just like someone as weak as myself, after being strengthened by divine equipment, can even suppress a powerful demigod like you."
Though Night's words did not sound pleasant.
What did he mean, even a powerful demigod like you can be suppressed?
Penthesilea's face flushed red with fury.
Just where was she supposed to be powerful?
In the same breath, he called her powerful and beat her up and ruffled her hair. (Hashirama Senju from next door gave this a like!)
But by now she also somewhat understood what Night meant as the man spoke.
"Unlike me, who needs divine equipment to display this kind of power, you, who can tear apart sky and earth with your body alone!
Why are you... so... weak?"
When those last two words, "weak," came again.
Penthesilea's face went suddenly pale.
However, the man didn't stop.
"Just because your weapons are at a disadvantage, you are ready to give up? Even when the strong use the weapons of the weak, those weapons cannot show their true worth.
And yet you, who possess such a powerful battle instinct and a body to be envied, have not yet been struck at the root. Why have you lost your will to fight and fallen into such low spirits?"
Penthesilea: "...Because..."
At this moment she murmured and found herself with nothing to say.
Was it because no matter how much effort she put in, she could not injure him, and a battle so utterly devoid of any visible hope was making even her lose the will to fight?
When facing a monster who could simply lock away all damage, there was no joy in battle whatsoever!
.
.
.
(End of the Chapter)