In just a split second, Guinevere discerned Fairy Lancelot's intentions.
—She had realized that to break through his "Dual Blade Frenzy," she would have to force him to abandon his spear and switch to a weapon he was less skilled with. So she deliberately used "Dance of the Waterfowl" to bait him into relinquishing his spear and counter with the windmill-style swordplay she was more proficient in. Then, at the perfect moment, she suddenly switched back to "Dual Blade Frenzy," pressing him with its bug-like invincibility and evasion.
Though he quickly grasped her plan, he had no way to stop it.
Fairy Lancelot's feints were naturally much faster than his weapon switches. This was an inescapable gap and a fatal flaw in his combat strategy.
Guinevere had anticipated that Fairy Lancelot would figure it out—but not that she'd do so this quickly.
In fact, she had even maneuvered him away from the spear he had planted in the ground earlier, and then found an opening to destroy it completely, leaving him unable to retrieve it.
So then, how should he respond?
—Without even a sliver of hesitation, Guinevere continued to swing his sword and charged toward Fairy Lancelot.
At this point, the only thing he could do was trust himself—and trust his blade.
Shraaak—!
The sound of flesh being split rang out, and two more deep wounds appeared across Guinevere's body.
Yet he didn't reach into the system space to retrieve his backup spear. He simply continued to swing his sword.
Strike. Then strike again. And again.
No matter how many wounds he sustained, he kept slashing without a trace of doubt.
Faster... faster! The barrier he felt was just within reach!
His abdomen was ripped open by twin blades, his chest pierced by magic—but Guinevere didn't hesitate. He turned, and like a martyr embracing fate, charged once more at Fairy Lancelot.
Faster. Faster still!
Be it windmill or wave, every technique was ultimately limited by physical form.
Could he go even faster? Could he transcend?
In that instant of life and death, the cursed yellow mark he could never quite shake seemed to stir.
As the twin swords neared his throat, ready to behead him—Guinevere's vision changed.
—When Fairy Lancelot charged again, intent on ending things with one final decapitating flurry, she suddenly sensed a shift in the energy radiating from Guinevere.
It was difficult to describe, but it felt as though he had become... ethereal. Like wind, like cloud—unbound by physical form.
And in that moment—Lancelot realized she had been struck.
She hadn't dodged his blade.
What just happened?
As they passed each other, Fairy Lancelot glanced down at her waist, bewildered.
What happened? Did "Dual Blade Frenzy" fail to activate its evasion? But he was clearly using a sword!
Did he fulfill some unknown condition for his ability? Or was her assumption that only a spear could hit her entirely wrong?
While she pondered the mechanics and listened to system prompts in her mind, Guinevere finally exhaled with relief.
He had won his gamble.
[Ding! Due to the effect of "Unstoppable Momentum," your comprehension has greatly increased during battle. You're more likely to break through your limits.]
[Facing a foe far stronger than yourself, you have finally broken through the bottleneck of swordsmanship you glimpsed long ago.]
[Noble Phantasm: Supreme Art · My Style · Windchaser]
[Rank: A+++]
[After countless life-or-death battles and the absorption of centuries of swordmasters' knowledge, you've formed your own school. And in this clash with a legendary dragon, you've gone further—transcending logic, understanding the Dao through the sword. Your swordsmanship has now evolved into a Noble Phantasm.]
[Chase the wind. Become the wind. Merge with the wind.]
[All martial movement stirs the wind. By moving with the wind, none may touch you. Your sword becomes formless, an invisible gale—unstoppable, unavoidable.]
[All your attacks now have a guaranteed hit effect. You gain a permanent, single-target evasion state.]
With a light touch along his blade, Guinevere let out a deep breath.
Then, stepping forward, he stirred the northern winds.
Fairy Lancelot—so proud of her speed—couldn't even see his motion. She only felt a breeze pass by.
And then Guinevere was behind her.
A wound appeared. Blood spurted.
She'd been struck? How? When? She hadn't even seen him move.
"What... skill is this?"
Retreating quickly, Fairy Lancelot widened the distance, eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"A skill? You mean the name of the move?" Guinevere rubbed his chin in thought. "Hmm… how about... 'Forward Slash'? Or maybe just 'E-ternal Advance'?"
"'Haven't decided'?" Her eye twitched violently. "Wait—you mean…"
"Yeah, I just created it after that sudden epiphany… Yep! Let's call it the Way of the Gale."
Thinking of a certain champion from a popular game—one notorious years ago for being loved by kids—Guinevere suddenly chuckled:
"You know, he had some pretty neat moves. I think I could replicate a few now. For example... Steel Tempest!"
Without even raising a blade, Guinevere brought his fingers together in a sword-gesture and pointed forward. Instantly, the wind extended from his fingertip like a blade, slashing toward Fairy Lancelot.
No sword in hand, but... does swordsmanship require a sword?
Legend has it that at the peak of mastery, anything—grass, bamboo, stones—could be wielded as a blade.
So why not the wind?
Lancelot tried to evade with Seya Slash, but was shocked to find it failed—completely.
The wind blade pierced her side.
Gritting her teeth, Fairy Lancelot gave up on dodging. She raised her hand.
If her greatest technique—"Dual Blade Frenzy"—no longer granted evasion, then she had to change her strategy.
—End it all in one overwhelming attack.
Pushing through Guinevere's offense, she surged forward and reached out:
"In the name of the ancient dragon, summon lightning—form a blade!"
As her fingers clenched, crimson lightning crackled in her grasp, twisting into a massive blade raised high.
"Thunder! Cut down my enemy!"
"Thunderblade of Lancesanks!"
A moment later, a blade of lightning over ten meters long tore open the earth. Accompanying its cataclysmic descent, a storm of red lightning surged forth like a field of barbed wire.
Among it streaked a bolt of golden lightning—her second attack. With her offhand, she hurled the Thunderclaw Juzan at Guinevere.
But she didn't stop. Raising both hands, the gauntlets on her arms split open, revealing two brilliant golden blades—replicas of Arondight, the signature weapons of the Human History's Lancelot.
Though temporary, forged by her own magic, they were still deadly.
She poured everything into this.
"One strike. End it instantly."
"Art of Severance—commence."
As she chanted, magic surged around her like starlight, shimmering with overwhelming pressure.
Half of it blasted from her back to propel her forward; the other half converged at the tips of her blades.
"Connect, O Unknown Lake of Purity—Arondight!"
Her body became a streak of light—blazing past her previous lightning attacks—and with all three weapons combined, she stormed toward Guinevere.
Golden lightning mingled with red, flashes of blue flickering within. Sword, spear, and blade merged. Red, gold, and blue twisted into a cyclone of destructive magic.
If you can survive this—then show me.
She didn't say it aloud, but her intent reached Guinevere clearly.
"Tch… You've lost your mind too, huh? Giving up on evasion, betting everything on one clash?"
"—You really do underestimate me."
Raising his sword again, Guinevere prepared the one move he had kept hidden—the one he had never used, fearing Lancelot would dodge it.
But that didn't mean he couldn't use it.
Flames crept from his hand to the blade, engulfing it in roaring fire.
Then—BOOM!—a column of red flame erupted skyward.
The icy winds of Orkney, thousands of years strong, were blown away in an instant.
Like a volcanic eruption, heat exploded from his core. The greatsword in his hands was now wreathed in the inferno of a star.
And then Guinevere spoke four words:
"Heavenfire, Drawn Blade."