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As Diarmuid unleashed Moralltach's True Na, the Demonic Sword pulsed with an azure light. A wave of cerulean magical energy spread outwards, engulfing half of the Einzbern forest, transforming the ground into a simulated sea, a domain designed for sweeping, wide-arcing attacks.
It was a Reality Marble of sorts, a Bounded Field created by the Demonic Sword, a manifestation of Moralltach's full power.
The surface of the blade shimred, images of the deep ocean appearing, the pressure of the abyss amplifying the Sword's power a thousandfold.
The blade, its edge gleaming, was enveloped in a churning wave, the air around it distorting.
Diarmuid swung the Sword with all his might, unleashing a devastating attack towards Saber, who was still charging Excalibur.
The air ripped apart, transforming into a wave, a crashing tsunami that raced towards Saber, its montum building, threatening to crush everything in its path. The simulated sea beneath them churned and roiled.
Diarmuid, his magical energy depleted by the attack, felt a wave of weakness wash over him. But his face was calm, a confident smile playing on his lips.
Moralltach, by unleashing the power of the deep ocean sealed within its blade, could engulf his enemies, the Sword's energy mimicking the crushing force of a tsunami.
But that wasn't the reason for his confidence. It was the Demonic Sword's unique property, activated by releasing its True Na—the nullification of physical defenses.
To defend against Moralltach, one had to use magecraft. And doing so not only doubled the magical energy expenditure but also fed that energy directly to Diarmuid, replenishing his reserves.
That was how he'd earned his legend, the tale of single-handedly slaying four thousand warriors.
To Diarmuid, Saber's earlier, impenetrable defense must have been the result of so physical enhancent, a Noble Phantasm, perhaps. And his Demonic Sword was the perfect counter.
Even if she managed to block this attack, it would drain her magical energy, which would then flow into him.
Victory was within his grasp.
The wave crashed towards Saber, her ahoge twitching frantically. Her A-rank Instinct scread at her—she couldn't block this. If that wave touched her, she would be severed.
Her face hardened. She stopped channeling her magical energy into Excalibur, instead focusing it on the scabbard within her, her voice echoing through the simulated seascape.
"Avalon!"
A six-sided, transparent crystal, radiating a brilliant light, enveloped her—the barrier of Avalon, an EX-rank Bounded Field, a fortress that repelled all outside interference, a sanctuary untouched by the World's Filth.
The wave struck the barrier, its power dissipating like a fla extinguished by the ocean. A higher mystery, a more powerful magic, nullified a lesser one. Diarmuid's A rank attack was useless.
"Now!" Saber's eyes narrowed. The energy she'd channeled into Excalibur, now transford into light, though only a third of its full power, was still more than enough to kill Diarmuid.
Whoosh!
A beam of light, a concentrated blast of pure energy, erupted from Excalibur's tip, tearing through the air, the earth, everything in its path, hurtling towards Diarmuid.
"Damn—!" That was all Diarmuid had ti to think before he was engulfed by the light.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A series of explosions rocked the courtyard, a thick cloud of dust and debris obscuring the battlefield.
Saber, her face pale, swung Excalibur, the wind from her swing dispelling the dust, revealing Diarmuid's form.
He lay sprawled on the ground, his body twisted, a massive crater, ten ters wide and three ters deep, at the end of a scorched path carved into the earth.
"He blocked it?" Saber murmured, seeing Diarmuid still clutching his broadsword and Gáe Buidhe. "He used his Noble Phantasm to shield himself from Excalibur?"
"I thought sacrificing Moralltach would be enough—but your Noble Phantasm—it's powerful. A rank, perhaps?" Diarmuid's voice was strained, a wry smile on his face.
Saber nodded, confirming his assessnt.
"And now having exhausted all my magical energy—this duel is yours, King Arthur," Diarmuid said, his voice filled with regret.
Saber raised Excalibur, preparing to deliver the final blow.
"Before I die, could you tell what was that barrier? The one that blocked my Noble Phantasm?" Diarmuid asked, his voice filled with a quiet curiosity.
"Avalon. The Everdistant Utopia. An EX-ranked defensive Noble Phantasm," Saber replied.
Diarmuid's eyes widened in shock. "Your scabbard? But—I thought you'd lost it! The legends say you shouldn't even have it!"
"Haru found it. And returned it to ." Saber glanced at Haru, who was waving from inside the castle.
Diarmuid's gaze followed hers, his eyes fixed on Haru, who was now grinning mischievously. His lips twitched.
"A fair fight? , with an A rank Noble Phantasm, against an EX-ranked defensive Noble Phantasm—That's a hopelessly fair fight..."
He'd never had a chance.
He had mocked Lancelot last night, using his faith-boosted power to overwhelm him, and now—he'd been repaid in kind, defeated by Lancelot's Master wielding an EX-ranked Noble Phantasm.
Saber's face flushed slightly. She, too, felt a pang of guilt. This hadn't been a fair fight. The difference in their Noble Phantasm's ranks had been insurmountable.
But in a way, it had been fair. They'd both fought with their full power, their true forms unleashed. If anyone was to bla, it was Diarmuid himself, for not having better upgrades.
"End it," he said, closing his eyes.
The holy blade of Excalibur pierced his heart.
A peaceful smile touched Diarmuid's lips as he faded away. At least—he'd died a warrior's death, loyal to his Master.
"My apologies, Master. I have failed you. The Grail—it is beyond my reach..."
I leave the rest to you, Magus Killer. And to you my friend—Lancelot...
The Lesser Grail in Haru's hand pulsed as it absorbed Diarmuid's soul.
Haru's eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on the Grail.
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