Support me and be 30 chapters ahead of webnovel:
patreon.com/Draco_
For every 5 Patreon memberships I receive, I'll release 15 chapters all at once. Your support means a lot to me.
*****
Don't be fooled—though this sword cleaved an entire city in half, it might not seem that extraordinary at first glance.
But in truth, its physical destructive power was only one aspect of it.
From observation, the Sword of Promised Victory carried a potent light-elemental enchantment, giving it overwhelming dominance against dark beings.
At the same time, it also appeared to contain a faint trace of the "Instant Death" principle—a rule that could annihilate its target outright.
Sometimes, the true might of an attack cannot be measured by surface-level destruction alone.
For instance, a nuclear bomb might obliterate a city, yet fail to kill Wolverine. But if one were to cast the Killing Curse, it could erase his very soul in an instant.
So which is stronger—the nuclear bomb, or the Killing Curse?
Similarly, if he used Irene's divine spell Starfall of the Gods, its destructive power would surely surpass that of the Sword of Promised Victory.
However, if his opponent were Morgoth from Middle-earth, the result might not be that effective.
But should he strike Morgoth with this very sword, the Sword of Promised Victory, the damage dealt would far exceed Starfall of the Gods.
"Impossible!"
Just as Shirou Emiya and Rin Tohsaka were celebrating Artoria's victory, the shattered remains of Heracles suddenly began to reassemble. In moments, he was fully revived once more.
Illya turned toward George with a sweet smile.
"I told you—my Berserker is immortal. And your Saber seems to have spent all her mana on that last attack.
Looks like this bet... I've won."
"It's the Noble Phantasm Twelve Labors, granting a near-indestructible body. It nullifies all physical and magical attacks below rank B, and allows resurrection up to twelve times. In other words, to truly kill the wielder of the Twelve Labors, one must slay him twelve times consecutively."
"If I'm not mistaken," said Archer, appearing silently behind Rin, "he's none other than the demigod Heracles."
As a Heroic Spirit himself, he could roughly deduce another's identity once their Noble Phantasm was revealed.
He had been providing support from the shadows, but in this situation, there was no need for concealment anymore.
His arrows wouldn't even scratch Heracles's defense, not when that monster's resilience bordered on divine.
After all, while he bore the title of Archer, the bow was merely one of his many replicated weapons, not his true power.
So, revealing himself to share intelligence was the better option.
"This is insane!"
Rin and Shirou couldn't help but twitch at Archer's explanation.
The Berserker was already monstrously strong, and now they learned he'd have to be killed twelve times in a row just to stay dead. That was downright absurd.
"A Noble Phantasm with resurrection rules… intriguing. Quite worth studying."
George showed not a hint of concern. Instead, interest flickered in his eyes.
He could revive others through necromancy—using a vessel to recall a soul and rebuild its body—but that was an entirely different method.
This Noble Phantasm, however, applied the resurrection law to oneself.
If he could comprehend that principle, then even if his own body were obliterated, he could instantly revive—an incredibly useful trait in battle.
"Artoria, don't worry about your mana. Keep going."
Snapping his fingers, George sent a surge of energy through the bond between Master and Servant, instantly refilling Artoria's depleted mana reserves.
A Servant's power scaled with their Master's strength. The greater the Master's mana, the stronger the Servant could perform.
And since the Master could transfer mana directly, Artoria could now fight continuously without exhaustion.
Normally, a single use of the Sword of Promised Victory consumed over ninety percent of her energy—making a second strike impossible.
But George's mana reserves dwarfed Artoria's by hundreds of thousands of times, and his absurd regeneration speed meant he could let her fire her ultimate move endlessly as if it were a casual swing.
"It's full again!"
Artoria froze for a moment, feeling her magic instantly replenished.
Then she raised her sword once more toward the charging Berserker.
"Ex—calibur!"
The sacred light descended again, spanning tens of kilometers. Heracles was obliterated once more, vaporized without a trace.
"Let's see how many more times you can refill her mana!"
Illya scoffed coldly, though her tone wavered slightly.
It was clear this second Excalibur had only been possible thanks to George's mana transfer. But even so, the energy cost of that attack was astronomical.
Even a true god wouldn't have the mana to refill her eleven more times to unleash eleven more holy strikes.
"Keep going."
Ignoring Illya, George calmly watched Heracles revive once again and once more restored Artoria's mana to full.
"Among my many traits, an excess of mana just happens to be one of them."
Once. Twice. Thrice. Four times.
Each time George replenished her energy, Artoria unleashed another Sword of Promised Victory.
After eleven consecutive strikes, Heracles had been killed eleven times.
George turned, smiling faintly at Illya.
"Your Berserker has only one life left. Do you still want to continue?"
"Your mana... there's that much of it?"
Illya puffed her cheeks in frustration, glaring at George. At last, she sighed and spoke softly to Heracles.
"Return, Heracles."
To her, Heracles wasn't just a Servant—he was like a father, always watching over her. She would never let him perish completely.
Though eleven of his twelve lives were spent, the remaining one could be slowly restored over time with mana. As long as he wasn't fully slain, it was fine.
She had lost the bet, and even if she wanted to deny it, she couldn't hope to defeat George.
If she didn't want them both to die here, surrendering Heracles was the only option.
But doing so meant total defeat for the Einzbern family.
By rule, the family head would shut down all homunculus production and lead the remaining creations into eternal slumber.
Illya herself would quietly await the day she faded into the Grail.
"You win. I'll give you Heracles's Command Seal—but please, treat him well."
"Mr. George," Shirou spoke up as he approached the two, "you said earlier you'd grant me one wish."
"Then... could I ask you to save Illya?"
Illya was his foster father's daughter by blood, destined soon to vanish as the Holy Grail. How could he stand by and watch that happen?
He lacked the power to save her himself, so he placed his hope in George—who had just claimed he could extract the Grail from her and let her live as a normal human.
And conveniently, George had promised to fulfill one of his wishes.
"Since it's your wish," George replied casually, "of course I'll do it."
To him, this was hardly an inconvenience at all.
(End of Chapter)