Arthur watched as the enemy leader merged his domain with those of the three A4s, their powers collapsing into a single existence. The mana twisted violently, reshaping flesh and essence alike. When it stabilized, a warrior of ice hovered before him, radiating crushing cold. In his grasp, a spear formed, its massive icy head jagged and dense, pulsing with frozen power.
Arthur raised his hand. His twenty-fifth sword appeared, gleaming with golden light. Without hesitation, he hurled it forward like a simple arrow.
The icy warrior spun his spear in a wide, rotating arc. The golden sword shattered on impact.
That was exactly what Arthur wanted. Fragments of the broken blade rained down onto the forces of Count Errenor, dissolving into streams of light that wrapped around them. Soldiers gasped as strength flooded their bodies. Their muscles hardened, their mana surged, and their movements sharpened beyond their limits. From the beginning, that sword had never been meant to kill, it was created solely to empower his allies.
With the three A4 domains absorbed into their leader, Edgarth and the others were finally free to fight on even ground. Arthur no longer needed to divide his focus.
Now, his full attention rested on the warrior before him. Though the enemy stood at A5, Arthur did not underestimate him.
At that moment, the icy warrior charged.
Arthur extended his hand, and a long golden sword materialized in his grip. The spear struck first, crashing into the blade with overwhelming force. Arthur stopped it dead.
The warrior did not relent. He unleashed a relentless rain of attacks, the spear blurring into countless afterimages. Arthur met every strike, gold clashing against ice again and again. Shockwaves tore through the sky, and though they fought high above, the ground below trembled as if struck by earthquakes.
Frost crept along Arthur's blade. With a sharp crack, the sword shattered.
The enemy surged forward instantly, exploiting the opening, but Arthur was already prepared. A new sword appeared in his hand before the fragments had finished falling. He intercepted the next strike without retreating even an inch.
Arthur already understood the nature of that spear. Each clash froze the opponent's weapon from within, destroying it and leaving the wielder defenseless. Against most warriors, it was a decisive advantage.
Against him, it was meaningless. Arthur did not rely on a single blade. He had as many weapons as he needed. And the battle was only beginning.
The enemy shifted his stance and changed his rhythm. Each sweep of his spear became something different. One slash tore the air apart and birthed a frozen hurricane, its spiraling winds coating the sky in razor sharp frost. Another thrust fractured into hundreds of ice bolts that screamed forward like falling stars. Each attack carried a different way to kill.
Arthur stopped them all. A sword met the storm and split it cleanly. Another erased the bolts mid flight, the ice dissolving before it could reach him. His movements were calm, precise, almost effortless, as if he were testing the limits of his opponent rather than struggling against them.
"You cannot bring out those weapons forever," the leader said, his voice echoing like cracking glaciers as he raised his spear high.
The space behind him warped. A massive hand emerged from the air itself, nearly transparent, like a mirage made of frost and mana. Its shape was vague but immense, and it had a radiating pressure that bent the sky around it. Though it looked unreal, Arthur knew better.
One strike from that hand could erase the battlefield below. In response, the fortieth sword in Arthur's grasp vanished and behind him transformed into a hand just as massive formed from golden light, solid and radiant. A moment later, the forty first sword left Arthur's hand, expanding as it flew. The golden hand closed around the enlarged blade, gripping it like a divine weapon.
The two hands moved at the same time.
Sword met weapon in a deafening collision. The sky ruptured with light and sound, and even from so high above, the force tore downward. Soldiers on the ground were thrown from their feet, shields shattered, and the earth cracked under the pressure of a clash meant for gods.
Arthur's eyes flicked downward. This fight was becoming too dangerous for those below.
He knew it had to end, now.
Arthur raised his hand. Three new swords appeared.
One descended instantly, driving itself into the air beneath them. Golden light spread outward, forming a vast platform that severed the sky from the battlefield below, sealing the soldiers away from what was about to come.
The second sword moved behind Arthur, expanding and reshaping. It became a towering golden figure, silent, radiant, and overwhelming, standing guard at his back.
The third sword grew larger and heavier before settling into the golden warrior's hand.
Arthur exhaled slowly.
"It's your turn," he said calmly. "I know you can do more than this."
The enemy leader's face was frozen solid, sculpted from living ice, but his fury was unmistakable. The cold around him intensified, cracking the air itself. He raised his free hand and released an enormous surge of mana.
Behind him, a figure formed, just as massive as Arthur's, carved from storm and frost, its weapon already shaped and waiting.
Two titans stood behind their masters. The sky fell silent. And then, the real battle began.
As the two massive figures collided, so did the ones who commanded them. Arthur and the enemy leader crossed paths again and again in the sky, their weapons colliding with enough force to bend the air itself. Each impact sent rolling shockwaves downward, shaking the sealed platform.
Minutes passed in this exchange, though on the battlefield it felt far longer. By then, Arthur had already reached his forty eighth sword, and the golden light surrounding him had intensified to the point that his form was impossible to mistake. Four radiant wings spread from his back, illuminating the sky and casting long shadows across the frozen clouds.
Arthur pulled back, creating distance between himself and his opponent, and the massive golden figure behind him mirrored the motion in perfect harmony. The giant shifted its stance, drawing its sword to the side with the tip angled toward the ground as an immense amount of power gathered along the blade. The light compressed steadily, growing denser and brighter until the sword glowed like a second sun suspended in the sky.
Then the giant swung upward.
A beam of concentrated golden light surged forward, and the giant itself vanished as it poured its entire existence into the attack. The icy giant reacted at once, thrusting its spear forward to block, and the clash of light and frost shook the sky violently. Even the enemy leader was forced to raise his weapon and shield himself as the force threatened to overwhelm him.
When the light finally faded, the icy giant was still standing, but its weapon had vanished completely.
A harsh laugh escaped the leader as he turned his gaze back to Arthur, but the sound caught in his throat when he saw the new sword already forming in Arthur's hand, its glow brighter than any before.
"How many swords do you have?" he demanded, anger seeping through his voice.
Arthur offered no reply. He brought the blade down, releasing a massive arc of light that tore through the sky. The leader raised his spear to block, but the giant behind him had no defense, and the slash split it cleanly in two. As the light dissipated, the leader's spear shattered, breaking apart into fragments of ice and mana.
Before he could recover, Arthur appeared above him, already holding his final sword. Without giving the enemy any time to react, Arthur drove the blade forward.
"Divine Rupture," he said calmly.
The sword pierced the leader's chest, and light erupted from every fracture in the icy armor as a scream tore free. The frozen shell around his body split open, and the leader was thrown out violently, crashing down onto the platform below while the remnants of his armor shattered into glittering shards.
Arthur hovered above, wings slowly beating, his expression unreadable as he observed the result. The enemy had survived the attack, though only barely. His domain was completely destroyed, and while he still lived, the battle had clearly turned against him.
...
On the ground, Ryan watched the scene unfolding above with wide eyes as a warm golden light wrapped around his body. Power surged through his veins, steady and overwhelming, and he did not need to ask who the figure in the sky was. He already knew.
"Law, who is that man?" a voice asked from behind him.
Ryan turned to see the short, broad figure of the dwarf standing there, his armor marked by battle and his hammer resting heavily against his shoulder. It was Nildrer Deepheart, the leader of their army, his sharp eyes fixed on the blazing form above.
Before Ryan could answer, the air stirred violently and a harpy like woman descended nearby, her wings beating once before folding beside her. A man hung securely in her claws, calm despite the situation.
"He is Arthur Caelum, the Creator's angel of light," Briva said, smiling toward the dwarf who had already begun to tighten his grip on his hammer.
"Briva?" Ryan said, staring at her in disbelief. "What are you doing here? And why do you look like that?"
"I'm a druid, remember?" she replied easily. "This is my form when I merge with my companion." She tilted her head slightly toward the man she was carrying. "And this is also our friend, Marco Grabner."
Marco gave a small nod. "Hello."
Nildrer paid little attention to the introductions. His gaze remained hard as he focused on Briva's words. "Arthur Caelum?" he repeated. "Then why are all of you here?"
"We are here by the order of the Creator," Briva answered without hesitation.
"The Creator?" Nildrer said, his face twisting into a puzzled frown.
Before anyone could explain further, Edgarth stepped forward, his eyes locked on the battlefield ahead. "You can sort that out later. The enemy is charging."
Nildrer followed his gaze and let out a short, confident laugh. "Fools. Without their leader and his domain, they don't stand a chance." He turned sharply toward a nearby soldier and raised his hammer slightly. "Blow the war trumpets."
The soldier nodded sharply and ran back toward the rear lines.
Nildrer did not wait for the trumpets.
Mana surged around his body like a living tide as he released his domain. His frame began to swell, muscle and bone expanding with a low, grinding sound. A deep red glow wrapped around him, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. In less than a minute, he stood as large as an elephant, his armor stretched tight against his body. Hot steam poured from his mouth and nostrils with every breath, hissing against the cold air.
Then the war trumpets finally sounded.
Their roar echoed across the battlefield, and Nildrer charged.
The ground shook under his steps. Trees in his path were ripped from the earth or shattered into splinters as if they were nothing more than twigs.
Marco stared, his mouth slightly open. "What the hell is that power?"
"That's Bloodrage and Berserk combined, layered on top of Mr. Deepheart's domain," Ryan said, already moving forward, mana flaring around him as he prepared to join the fight.
"Bloodrage?" Marco asked, still trying to process what he was seeing. "So he's a warrior?"
Ryan nodded. "Not just a warrior. He's the only one who could rival Elric Bourne of the Kingdom of Magic, the man said to be the strongest warrior alive." He didn't slow as he spoke, charging alongside Edgarth toward the enemy lines.
"Well, that was true before Mr. Paul showed up," Briva added lightly, watching them rush ahead.
Then she turned to Marco, her wings shifting as she crouched slightly. "We should join them too."
Marco swallowed hard, then nodded.
Briva grabbed him without another word and leapt into the air, her wings beating once as they rose above the battlefield, heading straight toward the chaos below.