One strike had decided everything.
Durandal had lost—utterly.
From that last exchange, Durandal knew—this wasn't a battle. It was a demonstration.
She panted, her smile fading into bitter realization.
They weren't in the same league.
"This is no longer sustainable," Otto said gravely, his virtual projection flickering above the battlefield. "Bianca, Rita—by my authority as Overseer of Schicksal, I order you to retreat."
Rita glanced at the devastation around them and sighed softly.
"Lady Durandal… let's go."
But before they could move, a voice rang out—clear and unyielding.
"Leaving already? That's a bit rude, don't you think?"
Xingyue lowered her barrier, her gaze fixed on Otto.
He said nothing, but his clenched fists betrayed his frustration.
"No matter," Durandal said, tossing her golden hair as she retrieved Abyss Flower. "If this guest wishes to fight to the end, then I shall accompany her."
"That's more like it," Xingyue replied with a satisfied smile. "It's always been unfair—me defending, you attacking. Now it's my turn."
Durandal froze.
Rita's eyes widened.
They realized something chilling: Xingyue had been on the defensive the entire time. And the most terrifying detail?
The ground beneath her feet—still covered in untouched grass.
Even under Durandal's full-power assault, Xingyue hadn't moved an inch.
Now, under everyone's watchful gaze, the girl who embodied their fear shifted her stance.
She reached into her cloak and pulled out… a silver-white rifle.
The battlefield fell silent.
Cocolia, watching from afar, glanced at the autocannons on her mechs, then at the rifle in Xingyue's hands. The contrast was absurd.
Otto's emerald eyes narrowed.
A rifle? Against Bianca?
He leaned in, studying the weapon closely, hoping to glean something—anything—about Xingyue's true nature.
Durandal blinked, confused.
She tossed her golden curls and asked, "Is Your Excellency underestimating me? Firearms are useless against a high-level Valkyrie."
Her meaning was clear: your fists could block Abyss Flower. That rifle? It's a joke.
Even C-Rank Valkyries had basic shields and armor. Small-caliber bullets were irrelevant.
And she wasn't just any Valkyrie—she wore Bright Knight: Excelsis, Schicksal's fourth-generation Godslayer armor.
Bullets? Missiles? Unless they were Honkai fission bombs, they were laughable.
Durandal had slain high-level Honkai Beasts with her bare hands. Bullets were for foot soldiers.
Schicksal ruled nations because of Valkyries. Armies were ants before the moon. Disobedience meant annihilation—delivered by dimensional strikes.
But Xingyue didn't flinch.
She raised the rifle with an indifferent expression and pulled the trigger.
Pew—
A beam of white light shot out.
Crack.
Durandal's right arm jerked back.
Her armor—pure white, forged from Schicksal's finest tech—shattered.
"What?!"
Gasps echoed across the battlefield.
Durandal stared at her arm in disbelief.
Everyone rubbed their eyes, trying to make sense of it.
A rifle—no, a laser rifle—had shattered Godslayer armor.
Even for a laser weapon, this was absurd.
Xingyue licked her lips, her smile curling upward.
Serves you right for looking down on firearms.
Why use fantasy like weapons when you have a gun?
How else was she supposed to dominate MH Y?
That shot? It dealt hundreds of thousands—maybe millions—in damage.
Unlike Durandal's skills, which barely scratched a few thousand.
Of course, the rifle was a rough replica—Xingyue couldn't forge weapons properly. She'd built it from memory, using materials from her own body.
Ordinary materials couldn't handle that kind of power.
Still, the results spoke for themselves.
She raised the rifle again, eyes gleaming.
Durandal didn't wait this time.
She darted across the battlefield, her footwork leaving afterimages in every direction.
Xingyue's grin widened.
A moving target? Even better.
As the saying goes: beyond five paces, the gun is fast.
Within five paces? The gun is fast—and accurate.
Durandal, having witnessed the destructive power of Xingyue's mysterious firearm, could only rely on agile footwork to maintain distance. She darted across the battlefield, dodging laser bursts with precision—but never daring to close in.
Meanwhile, Xingyue's eyes, shimmering like stardust, calmly tracked every possible route Durandal might take. Her mind mapped out trajectories, her rifle already pre-aimed.
To Xingyue, Durandal's swift movements were slowed to a crawl—like watching a leaf fall in slow motion.
Bio~ bio~ bio~
With zero regard for martial etiquette, Xingyue unleashed a wide-area bullet spray.
Are you kidding? she thought. With this much ammo, why bother aiming?
The battlefield erupted in chaos.
"Damn it—what kind of weapon is that?! It's automatic?!"
The sheer absurdity of the scene shattered the worldviews of every faction present.
Durandal couldn't dodge the barrage in time. Lasers struck her armor, tearing through the fourth-generation Godslayer plating. Sparks flew. Her body was riddled with wounds.
When Xingyue finally lowered her rifle, satisfied, the strongest Valkyrie of Schicksal stood bloodied and bruised—her once-pristine form now marred by battle.
Durandal wiped blood from the corner of her mouth, her grip tightening around Abyss Flower. Her eyes burned with the fury of a cornered beast.
Seeing this, Xingyue casually switched her rifle into a blade. Her stance shifted—no longer playful. She was done toying with Durandal.
Hm?
Suddenly, a sharp whoosh sliced through the air.
A scythe—Rita's—came from behind, aiming for Xingyue's neck with lethal precision.
Clang!
The moment the blade touched Xingyue's skin, time seemed to freeze.
She didn't move. Didn't flinch.
Rita's scythe, forged with Schicksal's highest technology, failed to leave even a scratch.
Xingyue turned her gaze toward Rita.
A boundless darkness surged in the maid's heart. Her body trembled uncontrollably. The scythe slipped from her grasp.
She collapsed to her knees, head bowed, breath forgotten.
"It seems your subordinate isn't very clever, Miss Bianca," Xingyue said coldly.
"Let me teach her a lesson."
She grabbed Rita's head and drove her knee into the maid's abdomen.
Thud.
Rita spat blood and crumpled to the ground.
Her body trembled. She turned her head, forcing a smile through the pain.
"Lady Durandal… I'm sorry… cough…"
Blood spilled from her lips.
"My strength… this is all I have left. I'm truly sorry for holding you back."
With those final words, Rita closed her eyes and fainted.
Even in defeat, she smiled.
"Herrscher… of… the… Sea…"
Durandal's voice trembled with rage.
"I'll fight you… to the death!"
Pfft—
She coughed blood, clutching her abdomen.
Her body screamed to collapse, but her eyes remained locked on Rita.
She knelt, one knee to the ground, spear trembling in her grip.
She had to protect her adjutant.
But her movements were sluggish—infinitely slower than Xingyue's.
The sea-haired girl reached out, grabbed Durandal's golden locks, and pulled her close.
Their faces were inches apart. Breath mingled. Eyes locked.
"It's boring fighting you like this," Xingyue whispered. "You're not even using your full power."
She tapped her lips thoughtfully, then smiled—strangely, eerily.
Her hand gripped Durandal's face.
And then, softly, deliberately, she whispered:
"Op~ti~mize…"