"Impress me, foreigner!"
Scáthach was being serious.
Roy was certain of that if he failed to satisfy her, the Queen of the Land of Shadows would definitely kill him here and now.
Scáthach and Roy's father, Aleister Crowley, stood at the same level of power. Scáthach had the ability to kill Aleister with a single strike, just as Aleister could shatter Scáthach in one blow.
But no matter who they were, they weren't opponents Roy could handle at his current level. These were beings who had reached the absolute pinnacle of humanity, existences that skirted the very threshold of becoming a Magic God.
One had reached the zenith of magecraft, an ultimate magician who had the potential to ascend to Magic Godhood but chose not to. The other was the mightiest warrior, whose peerless martial skill allowed her to step into the realm of divinity. In any world, beings like Aleister and Scáthach were those who shone brilliantly, so dazzling that none could ignore them, drawing all eyes with their mere presence.
I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die—I will absolutely die!!
Scáthach wasn't even using her full power. No—"full power" was far from the case. At best, her current level of engagement could only be described as "mildly serious." If the Queen of the Land of Shadows were to truly go all out, Roy was convinced he wouldn't even last a single blow. He'd be reduced to ashes in an instant.
If only she'd go all out... At least then I might have the slimmest chance to take her down with me...
Roy bit into his own lip, letting blood trickle down the corner of his mouth. Never before had he felt such a crushing, despair-inducing killing intent. The murderous aura emanating from Scáthach was one worthy of the description: mountains of corpses, rivers of blood, and countless piled bones. Just this aura alone was enough to make his teeth chatter, his very soul shivering in fear.
How many people has this woman killed?!
It wasn't that the gap between Roy and Scáthach was so vast that he couldn't even withstand her bloodlust. The real problem was that Roy's will wasn't as unshakable as he'd imagined. In truth, he was still just a nouveau riche of power, someone who had suddenly risen from an ordinary person to wield terrifying strength, without yet having faced the true trials of death.
Roy was convinced that if Scáthach truly unleashed her full power, and his Light of the Right Hand could accurately judge her output, then this right hand—which embodied all the miracles of the Christianity—would undoubtedly be able to defeat her. However, with Scáthach's godlike martial prowess, there was no need for any esoteric skill capable of piercing worlds or slaying true deities. Her ordinary attacks, those "auto-attacks," as one might call them, were already more than enough to kill him with ease.
"There's no time for contemplation or hesitation. On the battlefield, an opportunity lasts but a breath. Since you cannot devise a solution, then find it amidst the clash of steel, in the blood that surges in battle. Seek wisdom with your instinct as a warrior!"
The Queen of the Land of Shadows leapt high once more. The two crimson spears in her hands flickered like the tongues of venomous serpents, their tips radiating a cruel, icy gleam laced with the scent of blood.
It was as though she were both scolding and guiding him, offering not just critique but a lesson. A flicker of regret for wasted potential passed through her tone, yet her murderous resolve only deepened. "...Show me your strength and your courage, foreigner. This is your one and only chance!"
With a thunderous roar, her twin spears surged forth again, like twin dragons emerging from the sea, crashing down toward Roy with cataclysmic force.
To seek wisdom in the heat of battle...
Roy's lips parted slightly, an epiphany dawning on him.
Yes. He was a man who calculated before he moved, always searching for the optimal solution, carefully planning every step. To him, wisdom had always been synonymous with rationality. But if that were truly the case… how was he any different from Black Prince Alexander Gascoigne, the man he once slew?
Had he continued on that same path, his calculated mind might have kept him undefeated for a while, but inevitably, like Gascoigne, he would reach a dead end. When faced with an unforeseen disaster, an enemy beyond all comprehension, his intricate plans would collapse. And he would die. Powerless. Pathetically.
Just like now, with Scáthach, an opponent he never predicted. All his prior stratagems were rendered meaningless. He could no longer rely on cunning or intellect. Only his own will remained. In that unyielding resolve, he had to find that one-in-a-thousand—or one-in-ten-thousand—chance of victory.
This was the essence of Shingan (Mind's Eye)—the art of seeing the path to victory, no matter how slim, and bringing it into reality. To master it, one must possess a will that can endure all pain, can be unyielding and indomitable.
In that moment, Roy finally understood. Anticipating an enemy is wisdom. But in moments of chaos, when all sense and reason are lost, being able to instantly grasp the way to triumph, that too is wisdom.
So let his mind ignite. Let his body blaze. Amidst this scorching heat, in the crucible of battle, he would seize the one flash of brilliance that could save him!
Since I am now a God Slayer... then let me truly live up to that title!!!
"I am the King! I am the Tyrant! I am the one who slays gods!!"
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa—!!"
Roy let out a roaring battle cry. If he was a King, if he was a Tyrant, if he had once slain a god with a mortal's body, then even if he were to die, he would die gloriously. Without regrets. Only then could he be worthy of the title Campione—God Slayer!
"Holy! Holy! Let my radiance flood the heavens and the earth!"
Wings of angelic light unfurled behind him. Roy burst into incandescent flames as he activated the Authority of Godspeed. As the old adage said—of all martial arts in the world, speed is the greatest. Even if he couldn't match Scáthach in technique, as long as he possessed absolute velocity, he could reach invincibility.
"Good!!"
Seeing Roy suddenly gather his courage, choosing to fight even against an overwhelming foe, seeing the eyes that once flickered with fear now burn with a will to die fighting, the Queen of the Land of Shadows offered her approval with a single word.
Ah, how long had it been since she last felt this thrill, this joy of slaughter? The rush of blood through a body long decayed, the flood of spirit into a soul dried and hollow, this spark of anticipation and excitement…
How many years had it been since she last felt alive?
It was a number she could not quantify. Though the Wisdom of the Abyss could easily calculate the passage of time, Scáthach deliberately chose not to. For to count those years, alone, outside of the world, in this Kingdom of Shadows, would only deepen her sorrow. It would blur her final memory of passion and thrill.
Ever since that Irish Son of Light stepped foot into this land of eternal darkness, this world had known no life beyond her.
She had hoped that man might grant her the death she longed for. But he too was ultimately bound by fate, and had now become a glorious Heroic Spirit. And the dead could never triumph over her, the Queen of the Dead.
He was destined to be only what he was. Yet of all she had encountered in life, the one named Cú Chulainn was the closest anyone had come to fulfilling her wish.
And even he, at the final moment, had let his courage be worn away.
Heh. Now that she thought about it, how ironic. A son of Lugh, the God of Light, who came to her, a woman of a land without sun, to seek martial wisdom. Truly ridiculous.
Tch, and here I was, just lecturing someone else about not letting their mind wander on the battlefield... yet here I am doing the same.
Scáthach returned from her thoughts. Beneath her mask, her peerless, hauntingly beautiful face curled into a helpless, self-mocking smile.
"…Look at me, truly rotting. Truly old."
Foreigner... let me witness your measure. Let me see your courage. Even the 'Wisdom of the Abyss' cannot foresee the fate of a Godslayer. Will you walk further than that once-chained hound? Will you... surpass him?