As Artoria and Heracles clashed, their violent battle sent shockwaves through the surrounding area, inevitably drawing the attention of others.
"Even from this far away, I can feel the intensity of that magical energy… Monsters, the both of them," muttered Alexander, standing atop a storm cloud of his own creation. His black coat whipped in the turbulent wind as he watched the battle unfold from a safe distance.
"It's almost laughable that such creatures are considered enemies," he continued with a bitter smile.
Like an outsider observing a grand performance, Alexander took in the scene before him.
"A hero-god praised by all, reduced to that form to fight. And even after such a sacrifice, he still can't defeat the King of Knights… The disparity in strength is downright despair-inducing. No wonder old man Voban didn't even get the chance to flee before being obliterated."
Through his sharp intuition, Alexander had identified Heracles as Artoria's opponent. The legendary demigod's fame was easily on par with Artoria's own.
"If they're both monsters, I suppose it's only fair that I, a mere human, resort to a few underhanded tricks."
He smirked, his golden eyes narrowing.
"A battle needs the right timing and location. That's what the Easterners taught me. And if I can't have the perfect 'timing,' I'll just have to claim the 'location.'"
Artoria and Heracles continued their fierce duel.
The smaller Artoria was repeatedly sent flying by Heracles' devastating blows, her lithe frame seemingly weightless against his overwhelming might.
Yet she adapted quickly, seizing opportunities amidst the chaos. When Heracles lunged forward, Artoria retaliated by unleashing a blazing torrent of light that cleaved the heavens and scorched the air.
The blinding stream of energy engulfed Heracles, splitting the sea in its wake.
However, the monster that Heracles had become simply charged through the torrent, ignoring its heat and force entirely.
Drawing upon her [Instinct], Artoria evaded his thundering punches by the slimmest of margins, countering with her sword. The cursed blade, wreathed in black flames, left another wound across his side.
Each of Heracles' strikes carried the strength to shatter the very atmosphere. For now, Artoria had no choice but to rely on her agility—dodging blow after blow.
No matter how powerful the attack, it was useless if it didn't land.
As their battle raged on, Artoria's mastery of her techniques grew sharper. With every clash, she refined her movements, gradually weaving her skills into a seamless flow.
Unnecessary motions vanished. Her strikes became more precise.
In that moment, Artoria was akin to steel, tempered and sharpened through her battle with Heracles.
Without drawing on the earth's energy, she was growing stronger—inch by painstaking inch. This newfound strength was wholly her own.
It wasn't rapid, but it was steady and undeniable.
Dodging another swing from Heracles, Artoria slashed once more, carving another deep wound across his body.
"The battle is decided."
Her voice was calm, her statement one of fact.
Heracles, covered in countless scars, roared defiantly.
At some point, the tide of battle had shifted entirely. Heracles could no longer land a single blow.
Artoria had transcended his technique, fully integrating her skills into a fluid and flawless form. She was no longer the same combatant who had first met him on the battlefield.
From a distance, Artoria observed her opponent, her gaze steady and cool.
"Look," she said, her tone unyielding. "I can reach your heart whenever I please."
In a blink, her delicate hand was pressed against Heracles' chest.
The demigod froze, his massive frame trembling slightly as he registered what had just happened. Artoria was now standing mere inches away, her palm lightly resting where his heart beat.
A split second later, Heracles' massive hand swiped at her, a hurricane-force gust following the motion.
But Artoria had already stepped away, her form vanishing and reappearing dozens of meters away.
"The distance between us means nothing to me. But to you, it's an insurmountable gap."
Standing with her sword casually resting at her side, Artoria's stance radiated an almost indifferent confidence.
Heracles let out a monstrous roar that echoed across the battlefield.
"Have you completely lost yourself to madness? A noble hero reduced to a beast... Perhaps that is the fate of all [Steel] Heroes who slay dragons."
A hint of melancholy touched her voice as she let out a soft sigh.
The very air quaked as Heracles, now fully consumed by bloodlust, charged at her with reckless abandon, ignoring his injuries.
Indeed, Cerberus—the guardian of the underworld Heracles had captured in his twelfth labor—was a beast with attributes tied to dragons and serpents. Despite its canine visage, the monster bore a serpent's tail and venomous snakes in place of fur.
Heracles, having absorbed the essence of Cerberus in his berserk state, inherited its formidable near-immortality.
But now, his regenerative ability was slowing. Wounds that had once healed instantly were beginning to linger, a sign that even his endurance was reaching its limit.
The time had come.
"It's time to end this."
Artoria suddenly vanished, leaving behind only a faint ripple in the air.
Heracles, consumed by rage, failed to comprehend what had happened. Before he could react, a devastating uppercut landed squarely on his chin, sending his towering frame reeling backward.
Retracting her fist, Artoria gripped her cursed sword with both hands, pouring her immense magical energy into the blade.
The blood-red runes etched into the weapon ignited, pulsing with an ominous glow. The intensity of the light peaked before being swallowed by an all-encompassing darkness, the blade now cloaked in pure, unrelenting black.
The cursed energy was so deep and suffocating that it seemed to devour all light and hope, casting an aura of despair over the battlefield.
"Disappear."
The blackened sword cleaved through Heracles' shoulder, its flames roaring as they consumed his body, reducing it to ashes.
When the darkness faded, the battlefield lay quiet under a star-strewn sky.
Unnoticed until now, night had fallen.
Artoria exhaled deeply, her sword dropping limply to her side.
"Ugh… My left arm hurts… Feels like the fracture's gotten worse…"
She winced, the searing pain in her injured arm now impossible to ignore. The prolonged battle had left her physically and mentally exhausted.
Heracles' durability had pushed her to her limits—his body was unnaturally resilient, even among [Steel] Heroes. She had nearly failed to cut through him more than once.
Among all the [Steel] Heroes she had faced—Nuada, Saint George, Siegfried—Heracles was undoubtedly the strongest.
The battle had drained her, leaving her visibly fatigued.
Still, the effort was worth it. Having slain such a powerful [Steel] Heroes, her own power would surely grow in turn…
"Wait… What is this…?"
A puzzled expression crossed Artoria's face as something unexpected began to unfold.
Suddenly, a voice—cold and commanding—resounded across the heavens and earth, reverberating through the air like an incantation.
"Wander in confusion! Cry in despair! Roam until death claims you! Behold, the labyrinth where heroes are buried—an inescapable tomb of legend!"
The sky, the sea, the winds, and the earth itself seemed to respond.
In an instant, the world around Artoria was reshaped.
From nothing, a colossal labyrinth materialized, its towering walls stretching endlessly in all directions.
Before she could react, Artoria found herself trapped within its twisting corridors, the Great Labyrinth swallowing her whole.
---
T/N: hes dead
...
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