A short spear roughly 1.4 meters in length. Its true value can only be realized when paired with Gae Dearg, its original partner, and according to legend, its power increases even further if wielded alongside Moralltach or Beagalltach in a Saber-class state… but strictly speaking, right now, it is but a single spear.
The problem is that the one wielding that spear is a Servant.
—Rumble!!!
A thunderous roar, unbelievable as coming from a single spear, filled the center of the wilderness. Amidst the swirling dust, the yellow short spear spun in a dizzying blur, hacking at my body as if to shred it apart.
The spear, which had been drawing gentle downward arcs like a declining stock market graph, suddenly turned frantic, stabbing toward my core before instantly twisting its trajectory to swing upward as if to crush my lower jaw. As if a single incomplete Noble Phantasm was no hindrance at all, he was thoroughly devastating me—reduced as I was to the level of a mere 'excellent modern magus.'
"Left, below. The next attack will be a low sweep!"
Despite this, the only reason I was still alive was that he informed me of the direction of every single attack right before he struck.
I blocked the strikes with a minimal Shinra Tensei to conserve prana, and whenever I managed to slip outside the short spear's reach, I poured out attacks while my Magic Circuits burned white-hot.
The compatibility between the 'Yellow Rose of Mortality' and my Asura Path was, quite literally, the best. No matter what wounds it inflicted, I could simply override them with the 'regeneration' of the Asura Path rather than 'recovery.' I held the conceptual advantage, and Diarmuid, sensing this, continued to expose his attack radius while aiming primarily for fatal blows.
"Kh…!"
Even so, the scars on my body were steadily increasing.
The automated attacks enforced by Medb's binding supported him, allowing him to display a combat sense several times superior to mine—piercing through my defense or feinting to strike the opening behind it.
Even though I was focused entirely on 'defense,' Diarmuid's prowess far outstripped my own.
"…If it were Arjuna or Fionn, I'd have been dead a long time ago."
"I am… deeply sorry, Master. To have fallen to the enemy and committed such a blunder…"
"Don't worry about it!"
Minor injuries weren't the issue… it was the Magic Circuits overheating inside me and the dull ache beginning to throb in my Rinnegan.
Unlike usual, where I could keep the Preta Path active at all times to receive a steady supply of prana, my body was screaming as it forced empty Magic Circuits to keep running.
Yes, this was the overload of the Magic Circuits.
The Magic Circuits I had awakened thanks to the Witch of Fairy Tales and Aoko-nee were numerous enough to be considered first-class, but their efficiency was only maximized through the use of the Rinnegan. In reality, I was far lacking compared to those truly connected to the Root.
If Shirou Emiya is a handgun, Touko Aozaki is a missile, and Manaka Sajyou is a nuclear bomb… then I am exactly at the midpoint between Shirou and Touko-san.
In normal circumstances, I could spam Magecraft with greater efficiency than Manaka Sajyou thanks to near-infinite prana, but if I'm hit by an all-encompassing prana seal like this… at best, I'm at the level of a Lord of the Clock Tower, or perhaps lower. If I fought Kayneth during the 4th Holy Grail War right now, I would lose without question.
"But that doesn't mean I can back down!"
I began to feel a sensation like the tips of my fingers were charring.
My flesh was necrotizing as the price for forced Magecraft, and blood began to flow from my nose and mouth. But if I didn't push myself like this, it would be impossible to even hold my ground against Diarmuid.
Crack!
With a tearing sound, a hole the size of a finger appeared in the arm holding the yellow spear. A hollow-point bullet laden with Mystery had forcibly gouged into his shoulder.
"Splendid… but that is not enough!"
The panic was only momentary. With practiced ease, he switched the spear to his uninjured hand and wove dozens of yellow lines through the air. To avoid the short spear pressing in like a solid wall, I had no choice but to retreat two steps. The machine gun fire I unleashed to create distance was all parried away, falling uselessly to the ground.
"Take this!"
In that instant, a small bead I had hidden flew out from a slingshot mounted near my elbow. Holding the spear in a reverse grip with his uninjured right hand, he didn't shatter the bead but instead deflected it softly, sending it flying like a baseball. The bead soon vibrated and exploded, releasing an immense surge of frost.
Crack! Even the spear that deflected the bead—or rather, the Mystic Eye—seemed to have a few ice crystals form on it. Diarmuid quickly spun the spear to shake off the clinging frost. I didn't miss that moment and pulled out every remaining Mystic Code I had on me.
"They might be junk, but if there's no other use for them, I might as well use them here!"
Various Essences that Ritsuka and the Crypters had accumulated while rolling the gacha.
I had given the prime items to them, but since Ritsuka didn't know how to utilize the Essences themselves, I had taken everything except for things she could directly operate, like the motorbikes.
Blue, Red, and Black Keys scattered toward Diarmuid all at once. Before he could parry them with his spear, they exploded simultaneously, releasing massive shockwaves. Naturally, it didn't wound him, but Diarmuid closed the distance instantly. At the same moment he swung the spear at my face, he delivered a brutal kick to my lower body.
If I had to choose between my head and my leg, the choice was obviously my head. Along with a bone-deep impact, I was sent flying several meters before being slammed into the sandy ground.
Before I could even tend to my wounds, Diarmuid shouted, "Look out!" as the yellow spear came flying toward me. Reflexively, I cried out:
"Naraka Path!"
With a sensation of something being ripped from my body, the massive mouth of the King of Hell blocked the yellow spear. I immediately vomited a clump of blood, overcome by intense nausea.
"…Dammit, this really hurts like hell."
"…I apologize, Master. This is not my intent."
"Enough. Stop saying you're sorry."
Picking up the deflected spear, he bypassed the Naraka Path and aimed for my throat again. The demonic spear carrying an incurable curse lunged toward my chest, and I extended my leg to kick Diarmuid's right wrist. Predictably, my trajectory was read; Diarmuid trapped my foot under his armpit and struck my nose with his bleeding left fist. Then, with a sickening crack!, I felt the joint near my ankle being torn away.
No, it was actually torn off.
With the sound of snapping bone, skin and muscle were shredded, and my ankle detached as if severed by a saw. I screamed involuntarily from the agonizing pain, and Diarmuid looked at me in bewilderment, seemingly taken aback.
"Uh…?"
"Kaha! Yeah. This was one trick I hadn't shown you yet!"
There was no reason for Diarmuid to sever my foot.
He could have won simply by pinning my foot and stabbing Gae Buidhe into me. Why would he cut the leg and intentionally create distance? Indeed, I was the one who severed it.
"Even if the Magic Circuits are dry, my physical body is packed with prana…!"
"…You are as ruthless as ever. I've been…"
—KABOOM!!!
The explosion created using my 'foot' as the catalyst swallowed Diarmuid whole.
"Urgh, ah… Aaaaaagh! Fuck… it hurts so goddamn much!!!"
Bleeding from all seven orifices—eyes, nose, mouth, and ears—I slowly began to regenerate the area around my ankle while forcing my turbulent Magic Circuits to settle down.
Managing the prana flow made the bleeding worse, but I could at least endure it. However…
"…Right, there was no way you'd be finished by just that."
Covered in blood and scorch marks, with the right arm that had been holding my ankle looking like little more than a piece of charcoal, he nonetheless stood up, limping, still gripping his spear.
He had fought while being as considerate as possible, taking all my attacks and trying to avoid dealing fatal blows, but regardless, the opponent was a Heroic Spirit… Indeed, I hadn't actually expected this would be enough to kill him.
"But… honestly, this is getting tedious, you bastard. Wouldn't it be easier if you just died already?"
"…I am sor—no, you told me not to say that, so I suppose I have no choice."
"Yeah, that's better."
His injuries were severe even by Servant standards, but I had an intuition that the battle from here on would be the hardest part. Five minutes had passed since the fight began. It would take the Mad King twenty-five minutes to reach this location.
…Would I be able to defeat Diarmuid and escape within that time?
Before I could finish the thought, with a spirited shout, the blood-stained yellow short spear lunged toward my face.
He was wounded, and his spiritual core had likely taken a hit. I could feel that Diarmuid was no longer holding back for my sake. Since every attack was now a lethal one aimed at my life, I couldn't simply block them with Shinra Tensei; I had to deflect them by sacrificing non-vital parts of my body, like limbs, to slide the attacks away.
"…No, this isn't a matter of whether it's possible or not!"
I simply focused on the battle at hand.
In this wretched state, was there any Heroic Spirit, other than Diarmuid, I could even hope to face with any degree of confidence? Unless they were someone like Shakespeare or Andersen, it would be an impossible feat.
The spear thrust forward to create a point, swung to draw a line, and as the points and lines connected, they formed a massive plane that dominated the space without leaving a single opening.
Diarmuid's spearmanship originally reached its true height when using both Gae Dearg and Gae Buidhe simultaneously. The breakthroughs and gaps I could see with the kinetic vision of the Rinnegan were purely the result of Gae Buidhe being his only weapon.
Even so, he was growing accustomed to the absence of his other spear.
It was fortunate for me that he hadn't seen much combat since being summoned. If he had been used to fighting with only one spear from the start, I would have lost more than just a thumb—my entire hand would have been gone by now.
"…I suppose I should also consider it lucky it wasn't Gae Dearg. Take this!"
"Hmph!"
I intentionally tore open my wounds and performed the only Magecraft I could currently manage.
The secret technique of equivalent exchange, something closer to primitive ancient sorcery, which Atram Galiast had once praised and 'misunderstood.'
Using blood, flesh, and bone… this primitive Magecraft, which refined prana from such sacrifices, was far from enough to regenerate my wounds, but it possessed more than enough power to strike my opponent.
Slowly, one by one, scars began to appear on Diarmuid's body as well. Of course, they were nothing compared to my condition. Two of my fingers were gone, an ankle was completely missing, and several long gashes were carved across my nose and chest.
Diarmuid, on the other hand, seemed unbothered by his scars, charging at me while ignoring everything except the injuries from the earlier suicide blast and the surprise hollow-point bullet. To begin with, resisting him with a dagger was a fool's errand; the wounds I managed to inflict with the dagger in my hand were mere scratches.
Knowing this, Diarmuid continued his assault, while I did everything I could to detonate my Mystic Codes, looking for any opening to slide the dagger into his flesh bit by bit.
When a hole was punched into my side, I managed a small nick on the back of his hand. When a piece of my ear was torn off, I managed to gouge into the bullet wound on his shoulder. These were trivial, insufficient wounds compared to the parts of my own body I was sacrificing, but as the minor and major injuries piled up, his heavily damaged body was finally slowing down.
"No… is th-this… because of the wounds…?"
"…That's right. Honestly, I thought you'd notice, but I guess the suicide blast really rattled you."
I reached my hand toward Diarmuid, who had dropped his spear due to paralysis, and shouted:
"Bansho Ten'in!"
"…Heh, haha… you are as thorough as ever. To think you'd even account for my final resort…"
"Of course."
One of the things I remembered about the Heroic Spirit Diarmuid was a scene where he fought after dropping his spear on the ground, only to kick it up and catch it later. Did he really think I'd miss that?
Even if he truly was on the verge of collapsing from paralysis, one should never expect common sense from beings known as 'Heroic Spirits.'
"Is this… poison?"
"Exactly."
The numerous artifacts I had received from Brishisan, and the Hydra Dagger among the many Essences I had summoned… and two people who could derive the best results from such items. The Witch of Fairy Tales and the Grand Puppetmaster.
Of course, no matter how talented those two were, it was impossible to create a poison that could paralyze a Heroic Spirit instantly. However…
"With your spiritual core damaged and injuries of that level… it should be effective enough."
It was a game of chicken in the truest sense.
Would I collapse first from prana depletion, or would Diarmuid kill me… or would the Mad King arrive before either happened? This was a gamble that could only have succeeded because Diarmuid held back, because he was ignorant of my methods, and because he was caught in that earlier explosion.
But that wasn't what mattered.
What mattered now… was that I had won, and we were out of time.
Vomiting blood, I concentrated my prana into my hand and hastily Projection-materialized a Gepárd anti-materiel rifle. Something that could pierce through his spiritual core in a single shot.
Diarmuid seemed to have no strength left to resist, or perhaps he had finally regained control of his body. He looked at me calmly and smiled.
"I see. Truly impressive, Master…"
[No, you're Cu-chan's watchdog, aren't you? A dog shouldn't bow its head to anyone but its owner.]
At that moment, I saw a burning flash from Diarmuid. The tattoo resembling thorns on his wrist—the one he had shown me before, saying it was what bound him.
The tattoo, glowing with a crimson light, suddenly covered his entire body and began to pulse violently. Finally, from the edges of the tattoos, something resembling red thorn-spears formed and began to wrap around his right and left arms.
Medb's curse—or rather, a binding similar to a Command Spell made via the Holy Grail.
"AAAAAAGH!!!"
"Diarmuid!"
"Stay back, Master! Hurry, get out of here as fast as you can…!"
I understood the situation.
I reached out, concentrating every last drop of my remaining prana, trying to activate Shinra Tensei immediately.
And in that instant… a massive crimson spear came flying toward me.
The massive spear, striking with its shaft, wrapped around me as if it were alive. At almost the same moment, a blinding light that seemed to swallow the heavens hacked away at Diarmuid, who was being consumed by that unknown binding.
"Indeed. Even if you've rotted, you are still at the forefront of the Restoration of Human Order. Not bad."
Purple hair and crimson eyes the color of blood.
Wearing a purple bodysuit slightly lighter than her hair—a sight that would make anyone feel bashful—she clearly displayed that she, too, was a warrior of Ulster.
"…It was hell trying to get a glimpse of your face."
"The feeling is mutual. So, do you intend to kill that Heroic Spirit?"
She asked me.
And I answered.
"Are you crazy?! I already threw Altera away as a pawn; if I can't take Diarmuid with me, I'm the one who loses!"
"Master…?"
I quickly pulled out a spear and a Mystic Code from the Naraka Path.
Gae Dearg, the Crimson Rose of Exorcism, which 'neutralizes' all forms of magecraft, and the motor-bike—the best means of transport I could deploy.
"Scáthach, your runes can heal injuries of this level, right?"
"Naturally."
"Then heal him while we move!"
"Master?!"
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