Rage was like sulfuric acid, corroding Kayneth's heart.
He was a first-rate magus, and by all accounts, he should never lose his composure over emotions, especially in the face of a formal competition.
In fact, if this battle had been a duel between first-rate magi, where both sides gave their all, Kayneth wouldn't have been so furious. He would have admired and revered his opponent's techniques, calmly assessed their true strength, and wholeheartedly employed the appropriate magecraft to counter them—just like his confrontation with Sakatsuki at the Hyatt Hotel.
Such noble and dignified gentlemanly contests were the kind of "battles" Kayneth was familiar with. He had co all the way to this remote country in the Far East to compete with Tokiomi Tohaka, Zouken Matou, and the other four competitors for the right to obtain the Holy Grail.
But now—the wound piercing his right shoulder was stimulating his pain receptors. It throbbed incessantly as if mocking and humiliating Kayneth.
This resulted from a single shot fired by Kiritsugu Emiya from his beloved gun, the Contender.
It had nothing to do with magecraft or Mystic Codes. It was rely a laughable toy assembled from chanical parts, yet it had breached the barrier between mystery and reality, penetrated the defences of Volun Hydrargyrum, and left a wound on the Lord of the Clock Tower.
This wound was not sustained in battle. That act—it could not be called a "battle."
It was like stepping through a rotten floorboard; like knocking over a pot while cooking; like having mud splatter onto one's finest clothes. The opponent was a cowardly insect, unworthy of being called an enemy. Even the sight of him was an insult to Kayneth's eyes, nothing more than a pile of revolting trash.
Betting on the dignity of Lord El-lloi, he would never consider such a thing as a target for his "anger."
These were rely trivial matters, sothing to be laughed off as bad luck.
Even as Kayneth told himself this—the wound on his shoulder continued to scream. The searing pain tornted and gnawed at his pride.
Kayneth's pale face was as expressionless as a Noh mask. It was not the face of soone "angry," for Kayneth bore no hatred toward anyone. His rage was entirely directed at himself. He was simply furious at this abnormal situation.
"Impossible—"
His pent-up anger transford into a destructive impulse, transmitted to Volun Hydrargyrum. The rcury blade lashed out wildly, cutting and slashing at the walls of the surrounding corridor.
"Such lowly scum actually made bleed... Impossible! How could this happen!"
Kayneth, with the pace of a sleepwalker, pursued the fleeing Kiritsugu.
Doors blocking his path were not pushed open but shattered by the weight of the rcury.
Vases, paintings, ornate furniture—all the decorations within sight were severed and utterly destroyed. Along the way, there were nurous traps.
Whenever Kayneth's unguarded foot caught on a wire or stepped on a fuse hidden beneath the carpet, pre-set grenades would explode, and mines would scatter shrapnel in all directions. The instantly expanding rcury mbrane repeatedly blocked all attacks with ease.
The traps set by his opponent were like toys for children, so laughable that even Kayneth couldn't help but scoff. But as he mocked his opponent, he was also mocking himself for being wounded by such childish tricks.
Self-mockery cut into his pride like a razor, and the humiliation further fueled the flas of Kayneth's rage.
The Mystic Code he took pride in was not ant to deal with such despicable thods. His rcury was ant to intercept curses, deflect spiritual blades, and break through the flas, ice, and lightning of magecraft. It was a secret art that would bring his enemies to their deaths in awe and reverence.
So, what was this disgraceful state he was in now?
Fortunately, this humiliating chase was finally coming to an end.
No matter how vast the castle, the escape routes beca limited when fleeing upward. The rat had been driven to the end of the third-floor corridor. This ti, Volun Hydrargyrum accurately detected his location. The target seed to have given up, standing motionless, likely preparing for a final confrontation.
"A confrontation? No, this is not a confrontation. This is an execution, a slaughter!"
Kayneth's entire body trembled with cruel killing intent as he turned the final corner and arrived at the end of the corridor, facing his prey, who held dual guns.
"You didn't think your earlier tricks would work again, did you? Scum! The fact that you managed to wound wasn't due to your timing or a successful ambush. It was nothing more than an unreasonable coincidence."
The arrogant magus spoke with a sinister tone, slowly advancing step by step toward Kiritsugu. Beside him, Volun Hydrargyrum extended countless whips nacingly, swaying their sharp tips.
"I won't kill you quickly. I'll keep healing your lungs and heart, then slice you into pieces from head to toe. You'll die in pain, regret, and despair, cursing the Einzberns for daring to insult the Holy Grail War!"
Faced with Kayneth's declaration of execution, Kiritsugu felt no panic. Instead, he chuckled inwardly.
Good, very good—
By using Ti Alter to suppress his bodily functions, he had deceived the rcury's detection of body temperature and heartbeat, breaking Volun Hydrargyrum's tracking ability.
By using the Calico submachine gun's bullets to suppress the rcury's transformations, and then firing a Springfield bullet with seven tis the destructive power of a 9mm round to penetrate Volun Hydrargyrum and wound Kayneth's shoulder, he had broken the rcury's defensive capabilities.
As for Volun Hydrargyrum's offensive capabilities, when the rcury took the form of a whip, only the base moved at high speed to swing the whip, while the tip had no force at all. The speed and power of the blade's tip relied solely on centrifugal force. Such high-speed attacks also ant monotonous movents, so no matter how Kayneth attacked, he had never managed to hit Kiritsugu.
Thus, the three major abilities of Volun Hydrargyrum had been deftly countered by Kiritsugu. An ordinary person, upon realizing their trump card had been neutralized, would have retreated without hesitation.
But Kayneth did not. His rage had consud his reason, driving him to act like a maddened bull.
This magus's arrogance, his stubborn refusal to adapt to the changing tis, was the very weapon that would lead to his own demise.
And now, as a magus killer, all he needed to do was add fuel to the fire.
The Calico submachine gun spat fire, unleashing a relentless barrage of bullets.
"Fervor, i sanguis!"
After being shot in the shoulder, Kayneth was not foolish enough to use the sa thod of defence. He reconstructed the rcury's defences, abandoning the mbrane in favour of a pillar-like formation.
From the floor to the ceiling, countless inverted spikes rose like a dense bamboo forest, covering Kayneth's body and completely blocking the incoming bullets.
The bullets were stopped by the silver blades, bouncing between the spikes with deafening tallic clangs before losing montum and falling to the ground. Not a single bullet touched Kayneth's body.
But Kiritsugu showed no intention of changing his strategy. The mont the M950's magazine emptied, the Contender in his right hand roared. This single bullet's destructive power far surpassed that of the 9mm rounds, having previously pierced Volun Hydrargyrum's barrier and wounded Kayneth.
"You didn't think that trick would work again, did you? Scum."
Kayneth's mocking voice erged from behind the protection of Volun Hydrargyrum.
Unlike before, the pillar-like rcury offered far greater flexibility than the mbrane form. The mont the lethal bullet touched the silver spikes, all the other spikes closed in like a Venus flytrap, enveloping the bullet completely. The densely packed, needle-like spikes transford into a thick pillar in an instant, sealing off the .30-06 Springfield round.
This move fully demonstrated the versatility of Volun Hydrargyrum. The precision and perfection of this fluid manipulation magecraft could be considered the ultimate technique of the prestigious Archibald family.
However, at the very mont, as Kayneth El-lloi Archibald successfully executed this pinnacle of spiritual and technical mastery—his fate had already reached its end.
***
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