Bright flames illuminated the endless night.
As Guinevere strode forward toward the dock and the pitch-black sea beyond, the ground beneath his feet shattered. Scorching fire burst outward, reducing the dock's surface to ash, and the ocean before him boiled—hundreds of meters of waves consumed in flame, instantly stripping away their ominous hue.
Even so, the countless black hands pouring down had not been touched—only the shadow they cast toward the dock was severed.
But that mattered little. For this had been merely one step, hardly even a prelude to his true assault.
The moment his blade slipped free of its scabbard, it blazed like the brightest star in the night sky. He lifted the sword high overhead.
"Now, I press my life into the chamber—"
A torrent of crimson light shot skyward along the blade's point, slicing through the black heavens like a brilliant thread, the only beacon visible to every fairy watching.
In the next instant, a violent explosion swallowed the dock. Like a volcanic eruption, seething fire radiated outward from Guinevere's body, forging a vast, searing blast. The upward surge of heat tore a great hole in the dark clouds above, and the remaining clouds flared crimson.
That towering inferno seared itself onto every witness's vision, like a sun reborn in darkness. Viewed from afar, the ring of fire faded from a dazzling center to dim edges, resembling the rim of a volcanic crater.
The blast's raw destructive power swept away the black hands that had blanketed the dock. Though more limbs came on like moths to a flame, half of those emanating from the shadow above had been consumed by fire.
Had Artoria and Gareth not heeded his warning and withdrawn, they would have been caught in the blast and perished. As it was, though they stood as far back as possible, the surge of heat nearly knocked them over. Now they stared at the ruined dock in stunned silence.
Not only they, but even the hidden onlooker gaped in shock. No—this was nothing special! Many far greater attacks could match such devastation: a casual swing from Mother, or the full strength of that ape… Nothing to marvel at!
Meanwhile, Oberon on Branca hovered overhead, speechless at the sight:
"Incredible power… Where did Guinevere pull such a trump card? He's meant to be a mere drifter of pan-human legend. Is this the power of that auctioned artifact?"
"In any case, thanks to that blow, the docks weren't crushed outright. His core remains untouched and many black hands can still move, but the threat is greatly reduced. Our odds are no longer zero… Wait."
Just as Oberon comforted himself that Guinevere's strike had turned the tide, they saw him in the ruined center of the dock assume a slashing stance.
His blade, its brilliance at its apex, shattered—then a streak of light shot into Guinevere, enveloping him in radiant glow. At the moment the Named Sword "Siming" broke, the greatsword phantom he'd summoned solidified fully.
What did this mean?
Every mind froze. That "nuclear blast" had been a gambit of everything he had…
[True Name Unlocked—]
[Temporary Noble Phantasm Projection: Heavenly Flame Judgement]
[Rank: C]
[This temporary projection will vanish after full release.]
[Thanks to the user's heightened base attributes, this attack's classification upgrades to a "Territory-Destroying Noble Phantasm."]
Endless fire converged upon the phantom greatsword, extending outward in a blade of flame that threatened to slice the sky apart.
Then Guinevere stepped forward.
The protective glow of Siming's shattered blade flickered out in the inferno. Flames now licked across Guinevere's flesh, blackening his skin to charcoal and etching scarlet veins like flowing magma.
Excruciating pain pierced him—but it had bought a single, precious moment to strike.
He embraced the agony, resolved to protect and sacrifice in the name of justice. Sword in hand, bearing the burden of salvation, he stepped forward.
And then, he slashed.
"With this conflagration, I sever the unending!"
Guinevere roared as the blazing greatsword descended upon the towering black shadow rushing the dock.
The fire blade cleft through the obsidian sea and the despair atop it. The instant it fell, another cataclysmic eruption rocked dock and ocean—far more intense than before.
The earth trembled. The blast's roar rang as the world's own agonized cry, deafening all, splitting reality into stark light and dark. Anything caught in the flame was reduced to elemental lines. Witnesses flashed blind as if struck by a flashbang.
When their vision returned, they saw only a razed dock, the ocean's edges rushing inward, and the black storm overhead split open, revealing the thick sky beyond.
The distant shadow of Calamity lay two-tenths its former size, weakened and wavering.
"My gods…"
Oberon gasped, mouth agape.
"Unbelievable… Could such power exist? Was that strange-world armament from the auction truly so potent? Or… is this his final self-destruct trump card?"
He shook his head decisively.
"Never mind that—now is our moment to finish Calamity!"
With that, he leapt from Branca, reforming into human shape as he darted toward Artoria, shouting:
"Artoria! Gareth! Ready yourselves! The Hands of Calamity are at their weakest! This is our chance! Our odds exceed seventy percent!"
"But—" Artoria began, only to be cut off by Oberon:
"No buts! Do you want Guinevere's opportunity wasted? He said it's all on you two! We must focus on Calamity—"
This time, Artoria snapped back:
"Stop ordering me around, Oberon!"
Oberon froze, stunned. Artoria pleaded urgently:
"Guinevere! I can't find him! After the second explosion he disappeared—must've fallen into the sea! He's probably near collapse! We have to find him first! Nothing else matters more—it's the top priority!"
"...Fine." Oberon glanced at the slowly recovering shadow and calculated its regeneration. "But we only have five minutes! If we don't find Guinevere within that, we must engage Calamity again—our odds will drop below fifty percent!"
Artoria didn't respond—she dashed toward the water, reckless. Calamity could wait: Guinevere's life was her sole reason to save this broken Britain. Without him… what meaning remained?
She reached the shattered dock's edge and combed the waves desperately. Fortunate skies now cleared by Guinevere's flame, her visibility was excellent. She spotted him: his unconscious body tumbling near shore, and a black hand stretching toward him.
"Stay away from him!" she shouted, unleashing a thick pillar of magic that obliterated the creeping hand.
Had she hesitated, she would have missed him. No sooner had she struck the limb than she dove in, intent on reaching Guinevere.
But she sank immediately, choking on seawater. In her panic, she'd forgotten she couldn't swim.
"Honestly… idiot. Don't jump in if you can't swim," a voice scolded.
Artoria sputtered until a small hand shot through the water, seizing the back of her neck and hauling her upward—lifting her head above the waves.
Weary, she looked up to see a palm-sized white figure perched atop a great white moth, gripping both her and Guinevere, speeding toward shore. Only Guinevere's head remained above water—given the tiny rescuer's size, that was all it could manage.
Seconds later, the pair were deposited on the beach, where Gareth—already waiting—pulled them fully to safety.
"Cough! Ob… Oberon?" Artoria coughed and peered at the white sprite.
"It's me! You haven't seen this form before—my scout shape for gathering intel—"
Oberon began, but Artoria turned away, rushing to Guinevere's side. Embarrassed, he fell silent.
Artoria pressed on Guinevere's chest to expel water, tears falling as she saw his charred skin. She recalled human medics using mouth-to-mouth on drowning victims; she drew close but froze, unsure how.
"Enough of this! You clearly don't know rescue breathing! Get out of the way!" Oberon snapped, pale. He shoved her aside.
"I'll do the mouth-to-mouth. You and Gareth handle the remaining Hands of Calamity! Don't let them interfere!"
Artoria wiped her tears and turned to see the last tendrils of Calamity nearing the wreckage. She nodded and steadied herself:
"I won't let them get within an inch!"
Yes—now she, too, would fight Calamity! Guinevere had burned like a star for her; she would become the light he believed in.
Her mana surged with unprecedented speed.
Looking back, Oberon saw Artoria and Gareth had already driven off the remaining shadow. He drew a deep breath and began chest compressions and rescue breaths on Guinevere.
Soon, Guinevere coughed up a mouthful of seawater and began breathing weakly but steadily. He was safe.
"Ugh… so gross. Why was my first kiss not with Titania, but with a stinky man?" Oberon muttered.
"Oh? Unsatisfied with your patient? Then kill him—your first kiss would still be yours!" Artoria snapped.
"Don't be ridiculous—your logic is even grosser!"
As they bantered, Oberon looked up sharply. A man with slicked-back hair and a few strands hanging over his forehead stood before them, smiling pleasantly.