msmithbooks Chapter 63 Love Song and the Witch
Chapter 63 Love Song and the Witch
The air at the top of the skyscraper was torn apart.
That was the result of pure power and ultimate skill colliding violently in a narrow space.
Each swing of Hercules' axe and sword weighed more than a thousand pounds, and the small shock waves generated by the air pressure peeled away the layers of concrete from the rooftop.
Before the debris even hit the ground, it was shaken into even finer dust by the next impact, raising a gray-white mist in the neon-colored night sky.
The exposed reinforced concrete skeleton resembles a giant beast that has been skinned.
Arthur did not choose to confront them head-on; the footwork he had honed in the Land of Shadows proved surprisingly effective at this moment.
Each step was placed on the edge of the blind spot where Hercules' axe would strike, just half an inch away from the blade—half an inch would be enough.
The Dragon's Furnace was running at full speed, and scalding magical energy filled its veins, providing this flesh and blood body with explosive power that exceeded the limits of a Servant.
"Haaah—!"
Arthur let out a low shout and, in the blink of an eye, dodged the direct impact of the axe and sword.
He left a lingering afterimage in the air, but his true form had already appeared beneath Heracles's side.
The wind pressure condensed in the lake caused the blade to vibrate at a high frequency on its surface, like an extremely thin and sharp transparent membrane.
The sword's edge sliced into the bronze skin, leaving a deep, bone-revealing gash.
As it made its cut, the sword flipped horizontally, widening the wound by half an inch, and a burst of scorching blood mist exploded in the air.
However, the wound lasted for less than a second before the rolled-up flesh closed up on its own, the oozing blood was drawn back into the blood vessels, and the broken muscle fibers were rewoven.
"The Twelve Trials," Arthur whispered.
"Is this level of attack nothing more than an itch to him?"
Arthur felt the rebound in his hand holding the sword. The moment the blade cut in, something tougher than skin blocked the edge of the sword.
Hercules's spirit origin is constantly evolving in this high-frequency combat, trying to find a way to counter his sword techniques.
"Enough, what an ugly struggle."
Gilgamesh on the throne finally lost his patience to sit on the sidelines and watch the battle unfold.
He didn't dislike the battle itself; battles were fun, and the clashes between heroes were his favorite pastime.
But this battle wasn't pure; he resented this kind of "entertainment program" that was manipulated by others.
"Since that witch wants to see me play with this beast, I will burn her eyes out."
Gilgamesh raised his right hand, and the golden ripples behind him instantly expanded tenfold.
Unlike the casual shooting used against ordinary bastards, what emerged from the treasury this time were several top-tier throwing weapons that exuded both ominous black aura and divine radiance.
"Arthur, if you don't want to be crushed, step back!"
Before the words were even finished, a barrage of Noble Phantasms rained down like shooting stars.
This was not a random attack; the landing point of each Noble Phantasm was precisely calculated.
Gilgamesh's eyes saw through all of Heracles' possible evasion routes, and the Noble Phantasm's landing point sealed off every escape route.
Rumble!!
A terrifying explosion rocked the rooftop, sending concrete fragments flying like shrapnel, and the shockwave uprooted the water tanks from the roof.
Arthur retreated the instant Gilgamesh raised his hand, landing on the railing at the edge of the platform.
Dragon Eyes pierced through the smoke and dust of the explosion, revealing the scene before him.
As the strongest Heroic Spirit in Greece, Hercules was subjected to this almost devastating attack.
His chest was pierced by a spear, his left shoulder was embedded with a battle axe, and his right leg was bound by chains.
But he did not fall. Instead, he let out a deafening roar and threw his axe sword directly at Gilgamesh!
The axe-sword tore through the air with a force even more violent than when it was shot from the treasury. Gilgamesh did not dodge; he stood still, a slight smile playing on his lips.
A bronze shield emerged from the golden ripples behind them.
In Mesopotamian mythology, there is a primordial wall that can block any thrown weapon.
The axe struck the shield with a deafening clang of metal, then was launched into the night sky.
"Interesting." The vertical pupils of the King of Heroes reflected the muscle lines of Hercules' arm as he threw the object. "Even if you were brought here by someone, you are still a hero."
Just then, Arthur's dragon eyes caught a change.
The few broken purple threads on the back of Hercules' neck suddenly twitched violently before disappearing completely.
The Linglong Pavilion workshop is located several kilometers away.
Medea stared at the battle footage transmitted through the magic crystal, her fingers moving in the air, her lips moving as she wove more intricate magic threads.
The moment Hercules threw it, the burst of magical power, equivalent to a Noble Phantasm, was completely recorded by the capture array she had set up around the building.
Arthur's swordsmanship frequency, Gilgamesh's Noble Phantasm attributes, and Hercules' twelve-trial cycle.
This data is being automatically arranged and combined in her crystal ball.
"That's it... Fight, kill each other." Medea's eyes gleamed with a fanatical purple light.
"Arthur's extraordinary power... and the King of Heroes' inexhaustible treasures."
"As long as Hercules can force them to reveal their 'True Name Release,' the magic-capturing arrays I've set up around the building can forcibly strip away that concept."
Her tongue lightly licked her lips. "That's an offering that even the gods would covet."
However, just as Medea was about to initiate a further incantation, her fingers froze in mid-air.
"Hey, Miss Witch with huge breasts."
A sweet voice suddenly rang out in her workshop.
Medea turned around abruptly and saw a young girl in a white dress sitting on the head of the precious stone statue in the workshop.
She was idly swinging her slender legs.
Her sapphire-blue eyes curved into crescents, and she smiled, but the smile was so sweet that it could send chills down the spine of anyone who saw it.
"It's very impolite to peek at someone else's 'Prince' in battle."
Medea's body stiffened instantly. As a magician from the Age of Gods, she hadn't even noticed that someone had infiltrated her absolute territory!
"Satya...Aika?!" Medea's voice was filled with sharp killing intent, and her staff instantly gathered lightning powerful enough to evaporate a forest.
"Don't be so angry." Aika smiled, but there was no smile in her eyes.
Arthur is playing the "Protect the City" game right now, and I don't want to disturb his fun.
He was so focused; he caught the big guy's axe and dodged the golden rain of magical artifacts.
He must have thought he did a great job, blocking a berserker without anyone getting hurt.
He must have been thinking, 'If I can lure him to a no-man's land, I can unleash my full power without restraint.'
Aige jumped off the stone statue and stepped barefoot onto the stone floor of the workshop. With each step, the impregnable magic barrier of the Linglong Pavilion made a crisp cracking sound.
"but."
Aige stopped walking. She stood in front of Medea, only a step away from her. She tilted her head, her long golden hair slipping down her shoulder.
A genuine expression finally surfaced in those sapphire-blue eyes.
Suddenly, a pure, unadulterated, transparent, and deadly cold, like absolute zero, appeared in the air.
"If you want to hurt him with these underhanded tricks..."
She reached out and gently touched the tip of Medea's staff with her index finger. The magic crystal on the staff dimmed instantly upon this touch, and the workshop fell back into darkness.
"I'll take your Master," Aika smiled, "and all life in this house."
She moved her index finger away from the tip of her staff and pointed to the underground magic room beneath the workshop floor, where the head of the Linglong Pavilion resided.
"They're all in the past now."
That was absolute pressure from the very source.
Medea discovered that she could not mobilize even a single wisp of ether.
Her proud divine magic seemed like a fantasy that had never existed before the girl in front of her.
……
On the top floor of the building, the battle reached its climax.
Arthur keenly noticed that the strange purple threads that had been wrapped around Hercules had suddenly broken.
"The support has been cut off?" Arthur's heart skipped a beat. Although he didn't know who did it, this was a golden opportunity for him.
"Hero King, please stop!" he shouted, then closed his eyes, gripped the sword hilt with both hands, and held it horizontally in front of his chest.
"I will use my sword skills to forcefully push him away from this area! Please do not use your Noble Phantasm at this time to interfere with my magic trajectory!"
"Hmph, you're three thousand years too young to teach me how to do things!"
Although Gilgamesh was sarcastic, the golden ripples behind him did indeed subside somewhat.
"Do as you please. If you are torn to pieces by this beast, I will consider building a magnificent tomb for you with that holy sword."
Arthur adjusted his breathing.
"—Wind King's Hammer!"
It's not about cutting, but rather about releasing compressed air that has been stored up to its limit in an instant.
A columnar shockwave, over ten meters in diameter, exploded in front of the sword in the lake, striking Hercules head-on with enough force to overturn a large hurricane.
Without Medea's magical support, the berserker finally lost his balance under this attack, and his heavy body plummeted towards the distant deserted port area.
The Wind King's Barrier on the Sword in the Lake completely dissipated after this attack, and the sword returned to its calm, lake-blue state. The outlines of the golden patterns on the hilt still faintly glowed.
Arthur didn't linger. He looked at Gilgamesh and nodded slightly. "Excuse me. I must ensure that he rests in peace before anyone gets hurt."
Having said that, the silver knight leaped into the night sky, chasing after the falling black shadow.
Gilgamesh stood on the devastated rooftop, watching Arthur's retreating figure, and looked down at the last glimmer of light from his holy sword that lingered on his fingertips.
"Even during battle, you're thinking about the safety of those bastards...?"
He looked down at the city below, the neon lights still flashing, the cranes in the deserted port standing still, and the stevedores who had gone home an hour earlier.
No one was injured, and Arthur kept everything under control between the top floor of the skyscraper and the rocky beach of the deserted harbor.
"...What a hopeless fellow, but that's precisely why that sword shines with a light in your hands that even makes this king tremble."
He tilted his head back, looking towards the distant Satiao Mansion, a playful smile curving his lips.
"This final scene looks like it's going to be even more spectacular than I imagined."
He turned and walked back to the edge of the platform. The golden throne was still there, but the back of the chair was covered in concrete dust. He frowned, reached out and brushed the dust away, then sat down.