In another corner of the ruined battlefield, a savage roar that sounded completely inhuman tore through the air.
Atalanta, the Chaste Huntress of Greece, had been completely swallowed by the curse of Agrius Metamorphosis. Now manifested as a Berserker, her form was covered in dark fur and the wild mana of the Calydonian Boar. Abandoning her proud bow, she had transformed into the pure embodiment of rage.
With the speed of a tempest, Atalanta Alter dashed through the falling ash, locking her target onto the heavily armored knight who stood firmly defying her: Georgios, the dragon-slaying Rider.
"GRAAAARRGH!"
Atalanta lunged ferociously. She did not use elegant techniques or martial arts, but rather the pure instincts of a wild beast starving for destruction.
An ultra-fast barrage of attacks erupted. Her claws, infused with black curses, slashed from multiple directions, trying to tear through the gaps in Georgios's armor.
CLANG! CLANG! SCRAAATCH!
Sparks scattered into the air every time the sharp claws scraped against the holy steel. Georgios immediately raised his broadsword, Ascalon, gripping it with both hands as an improvised shield. However, Atalanta gave him no room to breathe.
The Berserker twisted her flexible body in mid-air, unleashing a series of incredibly heavy kicks. Her heels slammed into Georgios's breastplate, producing a deafening boom like a cannon. The force of the impact forced the Rider to skid backward, his steel-heeled boots gouging small trenches into the icy ground.
The moment she landed, Atalanta leaped forward again like a wild predator. This time, she unleashed a brutal flurry of punches cloaked in dark mana, mercilessly raining down on Georgios's defenses. Left, right, high, low—every strike carried absolute killing intent and the terrifying physical strength of a Berserker class.
Yet, amidst the storm of the wild beast's rampage, Georgios's eyes remained calm and unwavering.
"May the Lord forgive your tormented soul," Georgios murmured with a tone full of compassion.
An aura of absolute defense erupted from the guardian knight's body. As the possessor of the Guardian Knight (A+) and Soul of a Martyr (B+) skills, the greater the danger threatening him and his allies, the sturdier his defenses became. His steel armor shone with a holy luminescence, absorbing and withstanding every claw scratch, punch, and brutal kick from Atalanta.
BAM!
Atalanta clasped both hands together and slammed a hammer blow directly onto the flat of Ascalon's blade, creating a shockwave that shattered the hardened ground around them. Georgios's feet sank several inches into the earth due to the immense pressure, but the Holy Knight did not bow his head in the slightest.
The storm of Atalanta's beastly fury showed no signs of stopping. Overwhelmed by the curses of her transformation, the Berserker pulled back, converging all her corrupted Calydonian mana into her right claw. She launched herself forward like a dark meteor, aiming to punch straight through the holy knight's spiritual core in one definitive, lethal strike.
"It is time to end this tragedy," Georgios declared, his voice echoing with solemn resonance.
With a brilliant flash of light, a majestic white steed materialized beneath him. Bayard: Phantom War Horse (Anti-Unit C) neighed proudly, its magical hooves hovering just above the cracked ground. Georgios mounted the steed just as Atalanta's lethal, dark-mana-infused strike slammed directly into him.
BOOOM!
However, the devastating blow completely dissolved into harmless embers upon impact. Bayard's conceptual protection activated, completely nullifying the fatal attack for its master exactly once. Astride the phantom war horse, Georgios was now utterly impervious to harm, rendering Atalanta's subsequent wild, frantic swings completely useless against him.
Looking down at the frenzied Berserker with eyes full of pity, Georgios raised his broadsword high. His unshakeable faith radiated outward, forming a massive, ethereal cross in the overcast sky.
"O Lord, I entrust this body to you. Forgive this tormented soul," Georgios chanted. His holy aura locked onto Atalanta's chaotic, corrupted alignment. "Abyssus Draconis: Thou Shalt a Serpent Become (Anti-Army C)"
A divine judgment descended upon the beast. The conceptual transfiguration washed over Atalanta, forcibly altering her spiritual signature and reality itself. The dark, wild aura of the Calydonian Boar twisted and warped, growing spectral wings and phantom scales. In the eyes of the World and the laws of magic, the Berserker had temporarily been transfigured into a draconian being.
With his target now marked as the ultimate enemy of his legend, Georgios shifted his grip on his weapon. The blinding, protective light surrounding his blade suddenly inverted, condensing into a razor-sharp, lethal edge. He reversed the protective power of Ascalon: Blessed Sword by Which Force Is Slain (Anti-Unit B). By shedding its absolute defense, it became a blade guaranteed to pierce through any armor, hide, or magical barrier.
Bayard reared back and charged. The phantom steed galloped forward with blinding speed, carrying the Dragon Slayer straight toward the roaring, draconian-marked Berserker.
"Sin is without form, yet it resides within us all!" Georgios roared, channeling the entirety of his mana into the reversed Ascalon. The blade ignited with a brilliant, conceptual light specifically tailored to eradicate dragon-kind.
"Interfectum Dracones: Dragon Slayer (Anti-Unit C)"
Rather than firing it as a long-range javelin, Georgios utilized the immense momentum of his charging steed to deliver a devastating, close-range slash. Atalanta threw her arms up to block, but it was futile. The holy blade, now possessing absolute armor-piercing properties, cleanly cleaved through her dense, cursed fur and draconian defenses as if they were made of paper.
The conceptual attack detonated upon contact with her spiritual core. A blinding explosion of holy light engulfed the battlefield, dealing massive, catastrophic damage to the "dragon" before him, violently purging the curses of the Agrius Metamorphosis from her Saint Graph.
The blinding holy light of Georgios's Interfectum Dracones faded, leaving behind a massive, smoldering crater in the icy ground. Atalanta's body was mangled, her flesh heavily scorched and the phantom draconic scales forcibly burnt away by the conceptual dragon-slaying strike.
Her spiritual core should have been shattered. But the Beast did not fall.
A horrifying, wet sound of flesh tearing and regenerating echoed through the smoke. Atalanta's body began to violently writhe and mutate. Her muscles expanded, her wounds stitched themselves together with corrupted black mud, and her presence swelled to a terrifying degree.
Personal Skill Activated: Self-Evolution (EX Rank)
Faced with the absolute defense of the Holy Knight and his devastating conceptual attacks, her body bypassed the normal limits of Self-Modification. She was hyper-evolving by the second, her physical vessel and Saint Graph forcefully adapting to overcome the specific obstacle in front of her. She completely shed the residual draconic alignment that Georgios had forced upon her, morphing into a monstrous form solely specialized in obliterating heavily armored, highly defensive targets.
However, this rapid evolution came at a severe cost. Because her body had over-specialized for the singular objective of killing Georgios, her mind and form lost all other applicability. She was no longer a versatile hunter; she was a living, breathing weapon of mass destruction locked onto a single coordinate.
"RRAAAAAGGGHHHH!"
From the depths of her corrupted mana, the Berserker manifested her beloved weapon—the celestial bow, Tauropolos.
But she did not draw back the string. Instead, in a display of pure, chaotic madness, her mutated flesh completely enveloped and consumed the bow. The divine weapon merged with her dark mana, turning her entire body into a grotesque, living cannon. Every single drop of her magical energy, fueled by her extreme evolution and raging madness, was poured into a single, devastating focal point in her chest.
"Tauropolos Skia Thermokrasia: The Arrow that Eclipsed The Somber Sky (Anti-Unit A)"
She unleashed it. It could not even be called an arrow. It was a massive, pitch-black ballistic missile of concentrated curses.
The blast tore through the air with a deafening roar, completely eclipsing the somber sky above them. Georgios, still atop Bayard but having already exhausted the phantom steed's one-time lethal nullification, immediately raised his shield and Ascalon, bracing his Guardian Knight and Soul of a Martyr skills to their absolute zenith.
KRROOOOOOM!
The dark missile slammed into the Rider, but it did not just explode—it splattered. The attack expanded into a massive sea of sticky, corrosive darkness that instantly devoured the surrounding terrain.
This was the true horror of The Arrow that Eclipsed The Somber Sky. It was not a kinetic impact, but a predatory substance. The sticky darkness surged around Georgios and Bayard like a living tar pit, aggressively trying to drag them into its void and forcefully absorb their spiritual cores.
"Ugh... Lord, grant me the strength to endure this encroaching shadow!" Georgios grunted, his holy armor glowing violently as it aggressively fought back against the consuming mud.
To resist the absorption of this terrifying Noble Phantasm, an extremely powerful Anti-Magic skill was strictly necessary. Georgios channeled his unshakeable faith and his A-Rank Magic Resistance, planting Ascalon into the ground to create a desperate sanctuary of holy light, struggling fiercely to keep himself and his steed from being completely swallowed by the hyper-evolved beast's ultimate attack.
The sticky, corrosive darkness hissed and bubbled as it clashed against the golden barrier of Georgios's A-Rank Magic Resistance. The Tauropolos Skia Thermokrasia: The Arrow that Eclipsed The Somber Sky (Anti-Unit A) was not a mere attack to be blocked; it was a conceptual void, a predatory mire of curses desperately trying to swallow the holy light.
Bayard, the phantom steed, neighed in distress as the pitch-black mud crept up its ethereal legs. Inside the sanctuary of light, Georgios gripped the hilt of Ascalon with trembling, bloodied hands. His armor was heavily dented, his breath ragged. Even with his absolute defensive skills pushed to their very zenith, he could feel the terrifying pressure of Atalanta's Self-Evolution (EX).
Through the veil of the dark mud, he could see the Berserker. She had mutated into a grotesque, hyper-specialized monstrosity—a living weapon whose sole conceptual purpose was to break him. Because of that extreme specialization, her physical power was continuously rising to match his resistance.
If I remain on the defensive, the sanctuary will eventually fall, Georgios calculated, his mind remarkably calm despite the encroaching doom. Her evolution is locked onto my defensive parameters. Therefore... her own defense against a pure, unadulterated offensive is completely compromised.
"You have suffered enough, proud huntress," Georgios whispered.
He closed his eyes. In a move that defied all logic of survival, the Dragon Slayer voluntarily dropped his Guardian Knight (A+) and Soul of a Martyr (B+) skills. The golden sanctuary of light shattered, instantly allowing the sticky, corrosive darkness to crash down upon him and Bayard.
"GRAAAARRGH!" Atalanta roared in manic triumph, her mutated flesh surging forward through the mud to deliver the final, crushing blow.
But Georgios did not falter. As the dark curses began to aggressively tear at his flesh and armor, he channeled every single drop of his remaining mana—not into defense, but into the blade of his holy sword. The protective power of Ascalon was entirely reversed once more, condensing into a blinding, armor-piercing singularity.
"Bayard! One last charge!"
The phantom horse let out a valiant cry. Ignoring the curses melting its ethereal form, Bayard plunged directly into the deepest, thickest part of the dark mud, carrying its master straight toward the core of the hyper-evolved beast.
Atalanta, whose mind and body had completely sacrificed their versatility to overcome Georgios's shield, was entirely unprepared for a suicidal, point-blank spear.
"Ascalon: Blessed Sword by Which Force Is Slain (Anti-Unit B)"
Georgios thrust his broadsword directly into the gaping, cursed maw of the beast.
The reversed holy blade effortlessly bypassed the dense, corrupted mud and pierced straight through Atalanta's mutated chest, striking her spiritual core with pinpoint accuracy.
SKRREEEEECH!
A blinding, cross-shaped pillar of pure holy light erupted from within the sticky darkness. The sheer intensity of the divine energy acted as an absolute purge, incinerating the cursed mud from the inside out. The area-of-effect absorption of the Tauropolos Skia Thermokrasia: The Arrow that Eclipsed The Somber Sky (Anti-Unit A) violently collapsed, unable to contain the concentrated explosion of holy light.
The shockwave blasted the remaining hardened water into mist.
When the light finally dimmed, the terrifying beast was gone. The dark fur, the mutated flesh, and the chaotic mana of the Calydonian Boar rapidly dissolved into ash. Atalanta's true, uncorrupted form briefly flickered into existence as she fell backward. The madness finally left her eyes, replaced by a fleeting, peaceful clarity before her body shattered completely into golden spirit particles.
A few meters away, Georgios fell from his saddle. Bayard, having exhausted the last of its magical energy, faded away into the wind with a soft whinny.
The holy knight hit the ground heavily. His legendary armor was heavily corroded, and his Saint Graph was critically fractured from intentionally taking the brunt of the dark mud to land his final strike. He planted Ascalon into the ground, using it as a cane to keep himself kneeling rather than lying in defeat.
Golden cracks began to spread across his hands and face.
"Ah... It seems my duty on this stage has come to an end," Georgios murmured, a gentle, serene smile gracing his scarred face. He looked up at the somber, overcast sky, his mission accomplished. "May you find peace in the next summoning, brave huntress. And to the Master of Chaldea... the rest is in your hands."
With a final, quiet prayer, the great protector dissolved into a shower of golden light, leaving nothing behind but his holy sword, which lingered for a moment before fading into the aether. The fierce duel had ended in a mutual, honorable destruction.
! Rider, Georgios had been defeated !
! Berserker, Atalanta Alter had been defeated !
-
The deafening concert finally ceased, leaving behind a massive, smoldering crater and a cloud of dissipating smoke.
Elizabeth floated down, landing with a heavy thud. She leaned on her halberd, panting heavily. Her idol dress was tattered and she was covered in scrapes, but she had definitively won the clash.
Vlad III lay at the center of the crater, his body already fracturing into glowing golden spirit particles. He did not scream or curse his loss. Despite the overwhelming pain of his mortal vulnerability, he maintained his aristocratic dignity to the very end.
He looked up at the pink-haired dragon girl, a faint, weary, almost respectful smile crossing his pale face.
"A boisterous performance... entirely lacking in elegance..." Vlad coughed, his form rapidly fading into the wind. "But... it possessed an undeniable, terrifying power. Rule your stage well, little dragon..."
With those final, dignified words, the Lord of Wallachia dissolved completely into golden light, leaving the blood-stained battlefield behind.
Elizabeth let out a long, exhausted sigh, lowering her massive halberd. The adrenaline of her Sadistic Constitution began to wear off, leaving her battered but triumphant. She wiped a smudge of soot from her cheek and grinned.
"Hah... Finally. The harshest critic is gone," Elizabeth panted, spreading her draconic wings. "Now, where was I? Oh right, time for my encore—"
RUUUMBLE.
Before the pink-haired idol could even finish her sentence, the hardened water directly beneath her feet violently exploded.
A colossal, scaled monstrosity with a massive, spiked turtle-like shell erupted from the icy depths. It was Tarasque. Even though its master, the Rider Saint Martha, had already been defeated earlier in the chaotic war, her mythical beast had stubbornly remained anchored to the World. Stripped of its holy tamer, the dragon had reverted to its primal instincts, lurking silently beneath the illusionary ocean.
It had been waiting for the perfect opportunity. The exact fraction of a second when the victorious predator lowered her guard.
In the blink of an eye—so fast that it completely bypassed Elizabeth's draconic reflexes—Tarasque's massive jaws snapped shut over the idol.
CHOMP.
There was no scream. There was no dramatic final monologue. The giant dragon swallowed Elizabeth Bathory whole in a single, brutal motion.
But Tarasque did not just physically consume her; the ancient beast aggressively absorbed her Draconic aspect. Inside the pitch-black maw of the monster, Elizabeth's spiritual core was instantly crushed and assimilated.
This instantaneous execution perfectly bypassed the Dragon Witch's ultimate failsafe. Elizabeth possessed a unique resurrection ability, but it carried a fatal, conceptual flaw: the resurrection would only activate if she was consciously aware that she had been killed.
Because Tarasque's ambush was so sudden, absolute, and flawlessly timed from her blind spot, Elizabeth's mind simply never registered the lethal blow. There was no realization of death, and therefore, no trigger for her revival.
She was simply erased from the stage mid-breath. However, instead of dissolving into golden particles of light, the giant shelled dragon underwent a terrifying metamorphosis.
Inside its cavernous maw, the assimilated spiritual core of Elizabeth Bathory acted as a massive, hyper-concentrated mana battery. By violently absorbing the idol's Draconic aspect, Tarasque had forcefully bypassed the need for its master's mana to remain anchored to the World. The mythical beast's massive spiked shell darkened, pulsing with a volatile mixture of its own holy origins and Elizabeth's chaotic, demonic dragon blood.
Tarasque let out a deafening, earth-shattering roar. It was no longer a tamed guardian beast; it was a rogue, gluttonous predator fueled entirely by the primal urge to consume more of its own kind.
Its glowing, reptilian eyes snapped toward the horizon, its senses locking onto a massive storm of mana raging on the other side of the illusionary ocean. There, the scent of dragon blood was so thick and intoxicating it practically choked the air.
Driven by insatiable hunger, the colossal shelled beast stomped forward, its massive weight cracking the ice with every step as it rapidly picked up speed, charging like a living, spiked mountain toward its next meal.
! Berserk Lancer, Vlad III has been defeated !
! Lancer, Elizabeth Báthory has been defeated !
Miles away, the sky was painted in apocalyptic hues of crimson and gold.
"ROOOOOOAAAARRR!"
The Evil Dragon Fafnir, a calamity of scales and toxic flames, unleashed a torrent of concentrated dragon breath that melted the very concept of the hardened water beneath it.
Standing dead center in the inferno was the Dragon Slayer, Siegfried. His silver armor was scorched, but his body remained unyielding. Thanks to his Armor of Fafnir: Blood Armor of the Evil Dragon (Anti-Unit B+ Rank) the conceptual defense gained from bathing in the very blood of the beast he was currently fighting—the lethal flames washed over him like a warm breeze.
"Your flames hold no sway over me anymore, Fafnir!" Siegfried declared, his voice cutting through the roaring fire.
He gripped the hilt of his legendary greatsword with both hands. The twilight jewel embedded in the weapon pulsed with immense magical energy, drawing in the surrounding atmospheric mana. He stepped forward, swinging the massive blade upward to deflect Fafnir's descending, house-sized claws.
CLANG!
The impact between the holy sword and the dragon's claws sent a shockwave that carved deep ravines into the battlefield. Fafnir recoiled, his crimson eyes narrowing in rage as he recognized the scent of his own blood coursing through the veins of the tiny human before him. Both combatants possessed the absolute pinnacle of the Dragon aspect—one by birth, and the other by a legendary curse of triumph.
"Let this strike sever our ancient ties!" Siegfried chanted, preparing to unleash the true name of his Noble Phantasm. The blade of his sword ignited with a brilliant, semi-circular wave of twilight ether. "Phantasmal Greatsword, Felling of the Sky Demon—"
But before Siegfried could swing Balmung, the ground beneath them began to heave and buckle violently.
RUMBLE! RUMBLE! CRASH!
Fafnir immediately halted his advance, his draconic instincts sensing a massive, incoming anomaly. Siegfried, too, lowered his stance, glancing to his right just as a towering wall of spikes and hardened scales erupted through the fog.
It was Tarasque.
The rogue beast did not slow down. Fueled by Elizabeth's absorbed mana, the giant turtle-dragon barreled directly into the dueling grounds with the momentum of a runaway freight train. It had no allegiance to Chaldea or the Singularity's creator. In its frenzied state, it only saw two massive, walking feasts of draconic energy.
Without hesitation, Tarasque snapped its massive jaws, attempting to bite down on Fafnir's extended wing while simultaneously sweeping its massive, spiked tail directly at Siegfried's chest.
At first, Fafnir paid it no mind. But when Tarasque's jaws pierced the Evil Dragon's immortal scales and drew black blood, Fafnir roared in both anger and shock. The mutation from Elizabeth's dragon aspect had elevated Tarasque to Fafnir's class in the monster-god hierarchy.
"What is the Saint's beast doing here?!" Siegfried grunted, forcibly canceling his Noble Phantasm to bring Balmung up as a shield against the incoming tail whip.
The sheer kinetic force of Tarasque's tail launched the Dragon Slayer backward, his steel boots skidding violently across the ice. Meanwhile, Fafnir roared in pain and fury as Tarasque's jaws locked onto his wing, the rogue beast aggressively trying to tear away a chunk of the Evil Dragon's flesh to absorb its power.
The legendary one-on-one duel of destiny had just been brutally interrupted, instantly transforming into a chaotic, three-way war of draconic supremacy.
In another corner of this ruined Singularity, far from the apocalyptic explosions of the dragons and the raging sea storm, a much more elegant yet no less deadly battle was taking place.
This was not a clash of mass destructive power, but rather a deadly dance between two immortal artists of the French court: Amadeus Wolfgang Mozart, the genius Caster, against Chevalier d'Eon, the Saber and master fencer with a dual nature.
CLINK! CLINK! SWIIISH!
The blade of d'Eon's rapier darted like a flash of silver through the air. The attacks were incredibly fast, graceful, and flawless, targeting vital points with the precision of a royal assassin. However, not a single one of those lethal thrusts managed to pierce its target.
Every time the tip of the rapier nearly touched Mozart's neck or chest, a barrage of glowing light particles shaped like musical notes materialized in the air, clashing with the steel and creating a melodious chime like the pressing of piano keys.
"Marvelous tempo, d'Eon! An Allegro vivace filled with passion and killing intent!" Mozart laughed lightly, his luxurious coat fluttering as he stepped backward with rhythmic movements as if he were dancing. In his right hand, he held a conductor's baton, waving it with absolute precision to manipulate the surrounding mana. "However, your notes are a bit too stiff. Where is the art if you only pursue efficiency?"
"The art of the sword lies in its ability to protect what is precious, Amadeus," d'Eon replied with a cold and resolute androgynous voice. The Saber's eyes radiated absolute loyalty. "And right now, my duty is to ensure you do not interfere with my lord's path!"
With a perfect pivot of the heel, d'Eon dashed forward. Their Eye of the Mind (True) (C Rank) skill read the rhythm of Mozart's defense. The knight slid low across the icy surface, evading the barrage of sonic bullets Mozart fired, and then thrust the rapier from an unexpected low angle.
CRAAASH!
A sound shield shaped like a treble clef shattered into pieces. d'Eon's rapier managed to graze Mozart's sleeve, drawing a faint splatter of blood.
"Ah... A sharp touch," Mozart smiled faintly, not looking panicked in the slightest. He raised both of his hands high, as if standing before a massive, invisible orchestra. "In that case, let us raise the octave. I shall show you what true art is!"
Mozart's magic circuits flared brightly. The air around them suddenly felt heavy, vibrating with incredible magical resonance. The genius Caster began to play his fingers in the empty air, pressing illusory piano keys.
Personal Skill Activated: Protection of the Muse (False) (EX Rank)
A magical harmony erupted. Hundreds of sharp musical notes made of pure mana were fired consecutively at d'Eon like a storm of golden arrows. Every note carried a shockwave capable of crushing stone into dust.
d'Eon clicked their tongue. Realizing this long-range assault was too dense to evade with agility alone, the Saber decided to use their trump card. The elegantly dressed knight raised their rapier in front of their face, letting illusory lily petals fall around them.
"My gaze... my appearance... bear witness to the charm of my deadly dance!" d'Eon chanted softly, shifting their posture into something so captivating it could distort the opponent's mind. "Fleur de Lis: Sword Dance of Falling Lilies (Anti-Unit C)"
Instantly, the illusion of a giant blooming lily swallowed their battlefield. d'Eon's presence split into dozens of illusory afterimages dancing gracefully, causing Mozart's storm of musical note bullets to pierce through empty space. d'Eon's Noble Phantasm did not just obscure vision; it also forcibly lowered the enemy's defense and strength parameters through absolute mental charm.
From behind the vortex of illusory flowers, d'Eon's true form darted forward like a shadow, their rapier shining with the light of execution, aiming straight for the composer's heart.
"Checkmate, Amadeus!"
However, amidst that deadly illusion, Mozart actually closed his eyes. His smile widened into an eccentric expression purely dedicated to music.
"You are mistaken, Knight. A symphony does not require eyes to be enjoyed!"
Instead of retreating, Mozart swung his conductor's baton downward with full force, striking it against the empty space.
"Requiem for Death: A Funeral March For the Grim Reaper (Anti-Army B)"
A cosmic sonic explosion cleaved through d'Eon's lily illusion. It was the melody of demise Mozart's final masterpiece left on the verge of his death, now manifested as a Noble Phantasm. A soundwave filled with curses of weakening and suffering swept the area, instantly shattering the Fleur de Lis illusion.
The sound was hauntingly beautiful yet lethal. d'Eon let out a stifled scream, their body suddenly feeling as heavy as lead. The rapier, which was mere inches from Mozart's chest, halted in mid-air, their physical strength completely drained by the curse of the Requiem melody.
Capitalizing on this absolute opening, Mozart elegantly sidestepped. He snapped his fingers, summoning a giant musical note from the ground that slammed into d'Eon's chest.
BAM!
The French knight was thrown violently backward, the rapier slipping from their grasp and clattering across the icy surface. d'Eon fell to their knees, panting heavily, unable to stand any longer under the crushing pressure of Mozart's echoing death music still vibrating through the air.
Mozart walked closer, crossed one arm over his chest, and bowed respectfully like a conductor at the end of a breathtaking performance.
"Bravo, d'Eon. Your dance was truly a captivating masterpiece," Mozart said with a warm smile, letting his Requiem melody slowly fade so as not to kill the knight.
"However, on my stage, I am the one who decides when the music stops," Mozart declared with a warm smile, letting his Requiem melody slowly fade so as not to completely destroy the knight's spiritual core.
He turned his back, believing the duel was definitively over.
"A beautiful composition, Amadeus..." a weak, trembling, yet undeniably resolute voice echoed behind him. "...But a knight of France never yields the final act."
Mozart's eyes widened. He spun around, his baton raised instinctively.
Despite the crushing weight of the death curses and the severe damage to their spiritual core, Chevalier d'Eon forced themselves to stand. Their elegant attire was torn, and they were breathing heavily, but their eyes burned with an unwavering, blinding loyalty. As they picked up their fallen rapier, golden cracks began to violently spread across their face and hands.
d'Eon was intentionally shattering their own Saint Graph, converting their very life force and existence into pure magical energy.
"My life belongs to the monarchy! For the glory of France, and for my lord!" d'Eon shouted, completely ignoring the Caster's warning. The androgynous knight poured every last drop of their dual existence, their memories, and their soul into the slender blade of the rapier.
The air did not just vibrate; it completely shattered. The gentle, illusory petals from before transformed into a raging, blinding storm.
"Witness the ultimate sacrifice! Fleur de Lis: Profuse Blooming of Fluttering Lilies (Anti-Army B+)"
This was the true, desperate manifestation of their Noble Phantasm, elevated to an Anti-Army (B+) classification. It was not a mere mental interference or a debuff. Millions of glowing white and gold lily petals erupted from d'Eon's blade, each one transformed into a razor-sharp, physical blade of concentrated mana.
The petals formed a catastrophic, blooming cyclone that completely engulfed the battlefield.
Mozart swung his baton, playing the most frantic Presto of his life. Barriers of sound and walls of musical notes materialized in rapid succession, but they were instantly shredded to pieces by the overwhelming, suicidal torrent of lilies. The sheer volume and conceptual weight of d'Eon's life-fueled strike entirely drowned out the lingering curses of the Requiem.
SLASH! SHRED! PIERCE!
"Ah..."
Mozart dropped his baton as the storm of bladed lilies tore through his final magical defenses. He did not scream. As the lethal petals pierced his spiritual core from a dozen different angles, the genius Caster simply closed his eyes, a serene, almost tearful smile gracing his lips.
"To be drowned in such a breathtaking finale... Magnifique, my dear knight..."
With those final words of praise, Amadeus Wolfgang Mozart's body shattered, dissolving into a flurry of golden light that was swept up and scattered by the raging storm of flowers. The great composer had been definitively defeated.
As the Caster's presence vanished from the World, the storm of lilies slowly subsided, leaving the icy terrain deeply scarred and littered with glowing, fading petals.
In the center of the destruction stood Chevalier d'Eon.
They lowered their rapier, the blade crumbling into dust in their hands. The golden cracks on their body had completely consumed them. The price for unleashing an Anti-Army Noble Phantasm by burning their own Saint Graph had come to collect its toll. They had won the duel, but their vessel was irreparably destroyed.
"I have cleared the way... My duty... is fulfilled," d'Eon whispered, looking up at the somber sky with a gentle, satisfied smile.
The loyal knight closed their eyes, and without a sound, their body dissolved into a shower of golden spirit particles, peacefully fading away into the wind. The beautiful, deadly dance between the two French legends had ended in a tragic, yet glorious, mutual destruction.
! Berserk Saber, Chevalier d'Eon has been defeated !
! Caster, Amadeus Wolfgang Mozart has been defeated !