Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Long ago, a great calamity had fallen across the planet. So a small set of faeries were tasked with saving it, forging a legendary blade that would fell the beast and allow the continuation of life. This was the precise moment the two worlds split.

One would slay the monster, drive the gods back, and flourish into a rosebush named “Humanity”. Its thorns pierce its own petals but it would branch out in every direction imaginable. The poison would wither the stem just as fast as the buds could grow. Many would come to trim and care for it, but all would be rejected. Such beauty was to flourish by its own merit, selfishly and selflessly. Even while hidden deep within the cosmos of space, in its own little corner, it would attract many observers. 

The other had been less fortunate. The titan would ravage the land, rending life from the surface as the faeries slumbered and lazed about. They were ejected out from the other side of the planet and into the world they failed. In that vast sea that should never harbor life again, they found their way to survive. Exploiting the kindness of a god, they would survive. If humanity was a rosebush, the fae were but a single stem that bore not a single bud. Their fate was predestined and karma would fall to destroy them. 

Yet… a lone rose bloomed. It sprouted just at the top of the stem, thorns protruding off the sides. The rose would give birth to a new era entirely, the oppressed fae of the era deeming it the “Era of the High Queen”. The terror of the High Queen resonated through the land, each fae clan head bowing to her every whim. 

They cried out for mercy from these restraints and the world answered, not with kindness, but another attempt to destroy. A child meant to forge a sacred sword and correct this world back into nothingness. The Mirror Clan would speak of a prophecy that this child would defeat the High Queen and liberate them like they were long ago. 

That child washed up on the shore of a quaint town called Tintagel. 

A childhood of suffering was brought to a swift end after retreating into a forest far away. This Child of Prophecy was given time to live and learn. Her instincts sharpened, her spells more variable, and her will… Just as shaky as ever. Despite that, she was ready to set out on her pilgrimage.

“These last two millennia have been difficult…”

A beautiful woman, long blonde silky hair trailing behind her, spoke at a podium. Her wings glimmered behind her as light filtered through its delicate frame, shards of rainbow littering the ground. “We fae have stood oppressed for too long under a hateful queen! Our every action was put under a magnifying glass and burned under our twilight sun! Our life was drained away, forced to work for our own existence but… Those times are over!”

Cheers erupted from below, faeries and humans alike throwing things like confetti, food, even swords into the sky. Said swords would soon fall but are stopped in the air at the last moment. They fly around, as if following the breeze. The blades then dig themself in the ground in front of the podium, lined up as they released a faint light.

“So please, give your thanks to those who have saved our world!”

A small group of people climb up next to her. The rainbow winged fae smiles as she shakes the hand of the leader, this new faerie stepping up to the podium. Her green eyes scanned over her subjects. These people. These things… Her eyes closed, thinking back on her spring of memories before shouting.

“My name is Artoria! It is I who will lead you all next!”

… Some Fates are less desirable than others.

Chapter Text

It was a mistake in kindness.

Or chivalry, courtesy, amnesty, whatever you want to call it. She should have realized it at the time, that this mercy was against everything she had taught her. It was hypocritical, masked with the ideals of a queen. 

The queen had let this Child of Prophecy go when she was right in her hands. Sure, this wannabe hero saved a town, big whoop, but she is a traitor! A couple of worthless lives saved is nothing, that’s what the queen would say over and over again. She wasn’t winning anyone over with something like that. This Child of Prophecy would still aim for her throat, the people would still hate her, and those saved didn’t have the power to do anything either way. No, it had to be out of some sense of self satisfaction, but how could she have such a side to her? Why?

It wasn’t long after that the first bell rang and war had begun. The pilgrimage had finally come and the queen was ready to stand to completely wipe out this rebellion. Still, she didn’t do anything. As the queen remained on standby, her daughter didn’t question it. The queen, her mother, was the strongest beyond compare. She didn’t need to lift a finger, did she? If she did, she might kill everyone after all.

As the daughter lived a carefree life, she couldn’t help but notice a new sentiment brewing. What if this really was the beginning of a new time? Foolishness! How dare they even consider it a possibility?! Yet, that little bug in her ear kept buzzing and with her mother so busy as of late, she didn’t have anyone who she deemed worthy of being around. Even the human from the other world was constantly being pulled away from her for some sort of work. She was… alone.

There was one particular day though, as she aimlessly wandered about a ball put on the Muryan, the leader and sole survivor of the Wing Clan. She stumbled into a completely pathetic being who was trying to carry some drinks back to her friends. The theme of the dance was masquerade, which concealed all identities, so she couldn’t really see her face, but she was probably ugly. Poor girl was definitely just getting used for someone else’s gain. Something about this called for the daughter’s highest pity. 

Pulling the girl away, she decided it would be much more interesting for the both of them that they hung out together rather than the pitiable, sad girl returning to her friends. This did have some initial pushback, some vague words about how she was fine and that she had something she really had to get to, but she didn’t really care all that much because she felt great. Eventually the night DID come to an end and the depressing girl moped about not getting what she needed to do today, but the daughter only had to suggest the simple solution of “why not tomorrow?” and watched with glee as the light bulbs went off in her head.

After leaving the ball, she was able to get a good look at her face… At the time, she was annoyed. She wasn’t as ugly as she thought. The girl that screamed “country bumpkin”, on the other hand, looked pale. Oh! She must know who she is! Yet again, being around this hopeless girl really did raise her spirits, of course she was known! She was THE great daughter of the queen.

… In retrospect, that was the last high point she would have. The rebels had finally begun their final assault. At first, the daughter laughed at their attempts before she realized that the other Faerie Knights had turned to the other side. Then she realized the other clans had sided with the rebels and the Child of Prophecy as well. The human had disappeared. All that remained by her mother’s side was useless soldiers, Woodwose, and herself. In the grand scheme of things, her mother was all alone.

She begged her mother to allow her to remain at her side, to help her fight as she rose from the throne. All she was answered with was a gravity spell that stuck her to the ground and an order to look after the throne. 

It was difficult to view the ongoing battle through the window. The daughter saw flickers of hope as screams of despair began to become more and more frequent, but that could only last for so long. The glow of blue mana began to appear less as those screams began to morph into battle hardened cries. And eventually… an uproar in cheers.

If only back then, she had-

“Baobhan Sith.”

The daughter was interrupted from her writing as the sound of clanging bars echoed against the light tap of a certain girl. Her eyes pierced through her with pity, bleeding Baobhan’s soul against her “sympathetic” stare. “Leave.” She uttered under her breath.

Artoria Caster. The utterly unimpressive country bumpkin who rose to the throne. She opened the cell door just a crack to enter. “I… I have your food. I hope it’s more to your, uh, taste this time.” Baobhan stared back down at her journal, clutching at the edge of the book hard enough to rip some of the leather off.

“You do have to eat, you know.” Artoria said as she planted the tray down next to her journal.

…

“I-It’s pretty good this time! Mr. Mike made it, though I guess you don’t know who he is… I tried it though. It really is tasty and has a nice homey warmth to it instead of the normal extravagant stuff. I’m also working on my chocolate skills. I don’t think it’s amazing yet, but it’s getting better! I thought maybe it would be fun to… share some now and then, when I really get better, compare so-”

Baobhan grabbed the tray of food and threw it directly into Artoria’s face. It was irritating to hear her voice go on and on. More so when she wouldn’t even budge. Baobhan’s chair flew back into the cobblestone wall behind her as she flew onto her feet, her hands reaching out to grab Artoria by the neck. She wanted to hear her breath peter out and watch the life leave her eyes. Unfortunately, or fortunately for Artoria, this wasn’t the first attempt at this. Baobhan knew it too, eyeing the near-imperceptible gap between her fingertips and Artoria’s neck.

“Put the damn shield down and die! You have to die!” Baobhan cried as she tried to push Artoria back. The new queen obliged and took the steps back into the bars. “You! You killed her! Mother is gone! All of you deserve to die the worst deaths!”

She took only one hand off of her neck to nail as many punches as she could into her stomach, which were absorbed effortlessly by the invisible barrier. The force was enough to rattle the bars behind Artoria, the chimes of despair uselessly humming into Artoria’s ears.

Tears began to drop to the ground. “Please…! Let me kill you…! There’s nothing left for me to do…! How… How could you do this?! I was finally happy, but you had to take her from me! Why?!” Baobhan was able to push out through sobs.

Artoria brushed some bits of mashed potato out of her face. Letting out a long exhale, she looked down at the poor crying girl. “I already told you, I didn’t kill her. It was-... Baobhan, please, listen.” She said, planting her hands on her shoulder. “I had to do it… But this is different. I know you hate me, but… I also know you’re not pure evil. You were kind to me back then too. I enjoyed myself. You don’t have to stop hating me, but I just want you to live without hurting anyone.”

Another thud is heard as another punch connects with Artoria.

With another sigh, Artoria pushes Baobhan back a step. “I read her memoirs. You were kind… in a past life. I know this time, you were wronged! But I understand! I… don’t really want to be here either. You don’t have to follow what the old queen said anymore. You don’t have to hurt people to protect yourself because I will protect you. I won’t let anyone-”

“Shut up!” Baobhan shrieked as she threw her first straight to Artoria’s face. “Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutup! You don’t understand! No one does! And I’ll never understand you either! How many damn times do I have to say it, you’re the reason that my mother is dead! I can’t stand seeing you, I can’t stand hearing you! Either let me kill you, kill yourself, or kill me! At this point, I don’t care!”

Artoria watched as Baobhan’s grip slowly lightened, her hands beginning to fall down as she landed on her knees. Sobbing, she dug her fingers into the ground over and over again, cutting her fingertips and dragging blood across the stones. “I… don’t… care…”

Artoria’s eyes couldn’t bring themselves to look down. She was scared that, if she did look down, she wouldn’t be able to accept the world she lived in. 

“... I’ll be back soon with your food. Please take care of yourself.”

Just as swiftly as she entered, Artoria left through the door in a hurry. Baobhan Sith fell back as she sat, looking up at the ceiling. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She was…

“She didn’t hurt you, did she?” A gruff and low voice spoke from just a cell over. 

“N-No… I didn’t think you would talk today…”

“That was worse than usual. I didn’t think she would be staying in your cell even half as long today.”

“I-It wasn’t a trick or anything… I-I’m really… so tired…”

“Hold fast, young Baobhan Sith. We must bide our time, she will return.”

“S-She’s gone… She’s gone… She’s gone…”

“Madam… Please.”

“... Y-You’re right. I’m sorry, Woodwose.”

“Do not apologize. I understand… Let us wait. The day will surely come for our return.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I can’t be. Within reason. However, there is a phrase that could make it possible.”

“W-What…?”

“Attendre et espérer.”

Chapter Text

“... I don’t wanna…”

Artoria's voice projected into the muffling pillow. She was exhausted from just the last month. It was from place to place, over and over again. These faeries wanted everything now that they had their freedom. Mostly the clan heads. Just last week, Muryan had asked her to help expand Gloucester. The week before, Aurora sent a letter wanting to discuss a newly established force against Mors filled with the previous rebel army of Camelot and spent the entire talk trying to poison her. It got exhausting watching Aurora stare daggers whenever she did take a sip and needing to chant under her breath to dispel the poison every time.

“You have duties now… C’mon, Artoria.” A deep voice spoke as she was picked up by the collar. He was probably the largest man in all of Faerie Britain, with a body made completely of muscle and snow white hair with blots of black. The newest to join the Tam Lin; Percival, despite not being a faerie.

Artoria clung helplessly to the sheets only for them to be cut from under her knuckles by another shorter knight, Melusine. It was a clean cut too, perfect round holes in the poor bed sheets as they fluttered back to the mattress. At least that caught the new queen’s attention, struggling out of Percival’s grip.

“Y-You…! You need to stop doing that! I can’t keep asking the caretakers here to sow it over and over again! They’ve already started asking questions and I have to keep being all vague and say ‘don’t question my activities’...! You know how that sounds!”

Melusine, in return, shrugged and stuck her tongue out. “Perhaps if you didn’t cause a scene every morning. You’re pretty terrible when you’re only half awake, you see. It is best to do something to wake you up completely!”

“And it’s been getting worse! I almost wish you’d just go back to the wake-up punches…” Artoria sighed as she slouched. She was ready to fall back over and onto the bed, but she was caught by the firm hand of the tall knight. “Not yet. You have to make a good first impression or they’ll just keep talking behind your back like they did with the previous queen. Give it at least a decade.”

Artoria looked up at him with a worn out flame in her eye. “... A decade is a lot…”

In a flash, Melusine grabbed Artoria out of his hold and pulled her along. “Come and get dressed already. The request I made today to the chefs is to die for. Aurora wouldn’t stop talking about it!” Artoria just decided to let go and allow herself to be dragged across the fine carpet of her new home. This wasn’t Melusine’s first rodeo dragging her like this either, taking a bit more care than the last time.

As they traveled down the hall, Artoria looked out the window to what was her new kingdom. Streets were bustling with new passion as change was sure to come with the new rule. Walls circled around a great void inked hole in the ground that felt like an ever expanding pressure on her. It made her a little queasy thinking that this was all her responsibility now.

Her mornings were always somewhat chaotic. Much of the staff was surprisingly not used to doing too much work. The previous queen, Morgan, had done much of it on her own from cooking to cleaning to just about everything. Her maids and cooks were around but were only used on rare, seemingly random, occasions. Most of the time, they were simply there to present themselves when she had a visitor or just live in the castle. It was odd too, because many seemed awfully meek.

The first order of business every single day after a bath was for Artoria to get dressed. With an intricate white dress with about a dozen different ornaments. A long blue bow was tied with a red flowing cloth knotting it together. Then came the cape and the armor and a half dozen other things to transform the simple girl into someone worthy of being a queen. This step is mostly handled by Melusine due to her swiftness and Artoria’s continued nervousness around asking anyone else for help.

Next was breakfast. Due to the lack of required effort before, most of the cooking faeries had no skill in actual cooking. That’s when Percival stepped in. He wasn’t an amazing cook, but he taught just enough to inspire a little more of innovation. Not every breakfast was delicious or… edible, but it was enough to get by. One in particular has seemed to step up to do some extra math for nutritional benefits, not that it actually affects faeries much.

Finally, Artoria is fit to step out into the world and have the ground she steps on worshipped by the populace, mostly to her own dismay. And while it’s not officially a part of her schedule, Artoria has needed to board a carriage every single day to meet with a Clan Head. And today…

“Territory talks with Spriggan.”

“This again?!” Artoria childishly whined as she leaned against the glass of her carriage. Percival only shook his head as he placed his clipboard down. The knight sighed, watching the light of the twilight sky paint the velvet red interior of the carriage a subtle orange. “Yes, we have to. At the end of the day, it’s indirectly our fault and duty to do something about it.”

“You don’t talk during the discussions.”

“I… am an advisor?”

“So advise, damn it!”

Artoria punched his shoulder, or rather his giant iron shoulder ‘pad’, letting out a gong-like sound as the sound reverberated. The driver glanced back with an expression of annoyance before putting his sights back on the dirt road ahead. After the two exchanged their glances, they laughed to themselves for just a moment.

“... Forgive me, Artoria. I’m no good when it comes to politics.” Percival spoke as watched the landscape move by. “I was taught in a few books, but mostly simple stories. You simply have a talent for it that I do not.”

“It’s alright, Percival. I’m the one who got the throne in the end, not you. These things are up to me, not you.” Artoria said as she tried to reach to pat him on the back before remembering how freakishly tall he was and awkwardly returned her hand back to her lap.

“... The burden shouldn’t be on your shoulders alone.” He spoke in a somewhat heavy tone, observing her eyes flicker dim for a split instance.

“But it is.”

Before he was able to get another word out, the carriage stopped and Artoria had already opened the door and was on her way out. Her steps were slow but intentional, each step trying to send the message to all watching that someone of great respect had arrived. The chaotic chatter of the citizens subsided as the ringing of anvils chimed their last. Then… Cheers. Despite the political nightmare, the people of Norwich adored their new ruler more than anywhere in the entire world. It was her who saved their city just a year ago and it was her who allowed funding of numerous different projects after she rose to her position on the throne.

The previously soot-filled city was just as ashy as it had always been, but construction was underway as new schools were being made and renovations were done. Artoria had even allowed the city to expand its orders for the sake of farming to expand their trade opportunities. It was difficult not to cheer for the people of Norwich.

“Queen Artoria, welcome back!” They cried in a disjointed manner, their voices all over the place as their cheers continued. Artoria smiled, if only slightly, and raised her hand to quiet the crowd. They didn’t understand the gesture so Artoria simply cast a silencing spell to do so. “Forgive me, I am not only visiting today. However, I shall be able to soon this week.”

It was a little eerie to see them cheer harder but hear nothing. Regardless Artoria was able to clear a way forward with Percival as they looked up at a certain tower belonging to an infuriating man. “If you do want an extra opinion, I’m free to ask.” Percival uttered as they glared at the ever ticking clock. Artoria laughed to herself a little before taking a few steps forward at a brisk pace, “I will consider it. Still, I think I’ll need to do this on my own.” The knight let out a tired breath as they entered…

The halls were as decadent as they have always been, illuminated under the orange hue of the lights that led them down the hall. The walls wound in intentionally confusing patterns, but Artoria had gone through this headache before. There at the end of the hall, was a steel vault door, locks strung across its surface with chains and embedded into the wall. His old doomsday bunker turned into his office.

Artoria waved her staff and the chains became undone with a series of loud snaps. And when the two finally opened the door to the vault, they were treated to a distressful, yet slightly satisfying, sight. Spriggan, a man with skin as clammy as sandpaper and a face that was asking to be shattered like a vase, was being held up in the air by the collar. “M-My queen…! Assistance, please…!”

The man holding him up was usually a man of honor, albeit with a short temper. He towered over Spriggan normally, his large frame barely fitting in his formal attire, his mane flowing back in waves of white fur. His yellow eyes darted over to the entrance and… “Ah, you have arrived, Child of Prophecy.” Boggart, the former head candidate of the Fang Clan.

Spriggan was dropped to the ground like a rock and shattered a glass table on the way as the lion-faced man turned and kneeled before Artoria, his knee hitting the ground sounding like a crashing meteorite. “No need to kneel or call me any titles, Boggart. Just… please refrain from any physical violence.” Artoria bowed slightly as she took a seat on the couch, looking at her reflection in the shards of glass on the ground. “So then… based on my astute observations, I’m assuming you two haven’t come to an agreement yet?”

Spriggan scoffed as he picked himself off the ground, dusting his robes off. “Agreement? Hardly. Keep a better leash on this one, my queen. He’s more akin to a feral beast than any sort of authority.”

Boggart sat down, daggers in his eyes. “It is only you who I bare fangs towards these days. Both due to your insistence on taunting and your infuriating greed.” Immediately, Spriggan walked forward, directly before Boggart. He reciprocated the same stare. “Greed?! You disappear for a century and demand to take all that I have built in your absence playing rebel. You didn’t even come prepared with compensation! You should be thanking me!”

“Thanking you?!” Boggart growled out, “You have brought my home to the brink of destruction and you believe you are deserving of thanks, much less compensation!? … Where has your squeamish demeanor gone so suddenly? Do not think I will hesitate to free your skull from your spine if the need were to arise-”

“Boggart.”

“Forgive me, Lady Artoria.”

Spriggan chuckled to himself as he sat across from the Lion Faerie. “Serves you right. I thank you for leashing him, my queen.”

Artoria could feel her eye twitch before she buried that burning feeling as deep inside herself as possible. It was not worth it. It won’t be worth it. But she could hope that it would one day be worth it. “Do not speak of Lord Boggart in such a manner. You two under my rule are of equal status. Now then, if you two have any new ideas or arguments…”

Boggart was quick to speak, his hand being raised. “My offering changes not. You will retain residence in MY city, will be offered a luxurious estate, and will be allowed to speak on important issues, but this will be my city as it always was.”

Spriggan’s face scrunched slightly in anger as he followed, leaning forward. “And my argument hasn't changed either. Get out of the Earth Clan’s city. Your problems today should be with Oxford, where your clan is. You’re far too late to disrupt the lives of my clan.”

“I… see.” Artoria glanced between the two. The situation was a headache for her. It was then when Percival took a step forward, replanting one end of his spear back against the floor. “There is room to compromise, is there not? It sounds like you two simply want sway in this city, so why not split the power-”

“Never.” Both feuding faeries spat out.

“To work with a man as slimy as him… It would taint my pride.”

“And it would negatively impact business if an honor-bound oaf like him were to have any say.”

Artoria felt like groaning, but was able to contain it before she could. “Perhaps there is some sort of competition you two could hold…? Might be a spectacle and better than battling this out with words.”

Boggart seemed to really ponder about this idea as Spriggan sprung up immediately. “I-I refuse! This case should be open and shut! This is my territory now, and it should stay my territory! The people are thriving, business is going well, and there no longer is a need for a man who wants to return things to what he believed was home!”

Boggart stood up, his teeth snarling, before Artoria raised her arm in the way of Spriggan. “Control yourself, Boggart.” She looked back to Percival and then to Boggart. “If you two could please leave us to discuss for just a moment…”

The Fang Faerie opened his mouth to speak but was cut off as Percival grabbed his wrist. “Please, sir.” Reluctantly, Boggart began to walk out of the room. “This isn’t the end, Spriggan.”

Soon, the vault closed behind them, the lights from the halls no longer illuminating the room, leaving the window and the dimmed out sky of Norwich on its own to do so. Artoria leaned forward.

“Your deadline is nearing, Spriggan…”

“Y-Your majesty, now, you must understand-”

“I don’t want this problem to spiral out of control and I don’t want it to go on forever.” Her green eyes almost seemed to shine in the dim room. “If they learn you were a human… deceiving them for hundreds of years, I wonder what they would do to you. Perhaps my programs may save you. Perhaps they won’t in time.”

Spriggan felt his skin begin to prick as his hands trembled. Artoria moved to her feet, her eyes not leaving his. “No matter what, your fate will be sealed and I won’t mourn it.”

Spriggan shook his head vehemently. He could feel his skin begin to warp slightly under the magical pressure that was blowing through the still air. Even if his mind told him he’d be fine, his body felt the need to either run or crumple in on itself. “I… I just need a little more time…! Any day now, that oaf will be convinced to move on! He-”

“Do not call Boggart an oaf. You are equals at best, he's your superior at worst. Now, please pay attention this time…” Artoria stood from her seat, the sound of her heels hitting the floor serving as a rhythmic background to Spriggan’s own frantic heart. “I don’t want you as a clan head. I don’t want you running Norwich. Yet, I allow this one chance for you to maintain… something. Consider it carefully. Boggart’s deal is a kind one.”

Artoria was just about ready to activate a spell from her staff when a wall suddenly collapsed, Artoria moving just in time to block Spriggan from the lightning fast debris. “Damn, that didn’t kill anyone? Guess I shouldn’t have expected it to… Especially not the big bad boss.”

The sound of a young man’s voice came from the cloud of dust left in his wake. His steps slow and deliberate, the sound of seasoned steel being drawn from a sheath playing a quiet melody as rubble settled into their positions on the ground.

Red hair, yellow eyes, and abs you could probably grind meat on. He tossed his blade in the air before catching it again. “What a weird feeling… Feels more wrong than usual to take your life… Hey, what’s your name?” He pointed at the queen.

“Artori-”

His slash happened instantaneously, cutting through space and igniting the air with its raw speed. Even gods would bleed under its edge. So it was a great surprise to the man as the swing was blocked with some sort of invisible barrier. Artoria walked as he continued to apply force to the blade and extended her hand.

The swordsman flew out the side of the building. “Boggart, Percival, assist-”

“T-The walls are soundproof. They can’t hear you.”

“... You’re a worthless one, Spriggan.”

With that, Artoria leapt out of the opening and down onto the streets of Norwich. The punch seemed to have left a lasting impression on the man. “Gah… Right… Senji Muramasa, nice to meet you, kiddo…” He said as he stood straight up again. He created another blade in his other hand as it too became aflame. Projection magecraft.

“Artoria Caster, Queen of the Fae. What business do you have here, human? Why is it one as talented as you aims for my head?” Artoria spoke, throwing a few small gems in the air. The gems soon locked into place, hovering around in a lazy swirl.

“Ah, no particular reason of my own. Just trying to get by on some orders. I’m a blacksmith like this lot here, you see. I’d love nothing more to just get back to forging. Client isn’t having it though… Wants your head.” He raised one of his blades, pointing it at her as the two began to circle each other. Artoria could see he was ready to jump at any moment if she tried something.

“A blacksmith…? I suppose that would explain the projections… How about this client? Here I believed that my rule was quite liked.”

“Hm? Didn’t your Crypter tell you?”

“My… wha-” Another dirty trick. Muramasa dissolved his projection near instantly and grabbed a forging hammer behind him from a nearby anvil. A gem shot from the sky and directly at the hammer but that’s when she noticed a second. Did he grab one from behind her to trick her into believing there’d only be one? The hammers spun at the perfect angle, the gem stuck between their arcs and, with flames abound, smashed the gem between their two flat sides.

As the gem exploded with greater fervor than expected, the flames around the hammers were imbued into it, the entire section of the city catching fire. Bystanders who were curious enough to watch the battle from the sidelines were burnt to a crisp instantly. Artoria stumbled back from the sheer force of the explosion before she felt a shift in the air. “Tsumukari…”

It was an attack unlike any she knew of, with such a condensed spike in mana. Yet, there was at least one she vividly remembered… Frozen in place, Artoria realized she was going to die if-

“Muramasa!”

Deploying her shield in a split second, the flaming sword, now imbued with an otherworldly divinity, met her unbreakable shield. Sparks flew through the air as she watched her shield in slow motion begin to melt. It should’ve been impossible, her defense worked on a conceptual level to destroy all negative things. Still, the blade met her armor and then finally removed flesh from bone.

It hurt for an instant. Then her wound cauterized over. Then that burning spread across her very soul. With all her willpower, she tensed herself, screaming to just endure the pain. It was as if a burning hot rod had replaced the places where her nerves should’ve been.

The feeling finally dissipated as Artoria went flying into a wall, the hard cobblestone structure feeling like a soft mattress after that. “Y-You’re… How…?”

Artoria planted her staff in the ground and pushed herself up. “M-Morgan… Did she hire you? Did you have some agreement with her from beyond the grave? How else could you have possibly pierced Around Caliburn…?”

“Come on, little lady.” He sounded out of breath after that attack, his very body evaporating water into steam the moment it touched him. “You live in a small, small world. There are some big fish out there. Whoever this Morgan lady is doesn’t matter.”

She could feel her legs ready to give out from underneath her, but she clung on. These winged things were still watching. “Doesn’t matter… Hah. I agree.” She pulsed a small blast of mana through herself to shock her systems back into working. “The last thing I want is to hear her name in my era.”

The message from just two exchanges was clear to both. Muramasa cannot pierce through Around Caliburn with simple strikes. She held edge there and likely in strength judging from the effectiveness of a simple punch. However, his trump card seemed more than worthy of its status, being able to turn the fight around in an instant. He was clever with it too, so Artoria knew letting her guard down for an instant could mean death.

Their eyes narrowed. There was little more to be said.

The battle had only just begun.