Babel Tower, Top Floor — "Folkvangr."
The air felt hollowed out.
The instant Orario's strongest adventurer—Ottar the "Mighty"—threw his punch, time itself seemed to drop into slow motion.
No dazzling spell effects. No thunderous battle cry.
Only violence—purified, refined, and sharpened to its absolute limit.
That fist carried enough momentum to smash city walls and drill through mountains, slamming straight into the fully-bloomed violet flower of light before Emiya Shirou.
Rho Aias — the Seven Rings of the Seraph.
A "perfect defense" once used in the Trojan War by the great hero Ajax to stop Hector's spear.
Here, it was the strongest shield Emiya could build—woven from his mana and the Concept itself.
And yet—
Crack.
The first petal shattered the moment it met the pressure of that punch, crumbling like a wafer.
Then the second.
The third.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Each layer broke with a violent surge of mana backlash.
Emiya's boots sank deep into the blue stone floor. Even through seven layers, the transmitted shock still pounded his body hard enough that his organs felt like they'd shifted places.
So this is… Level 7 power?!
He clenched his teeth as blood leaked down the corner of his mouth.
This wasn't a "test."
This was a one-sided crushing.
Even if Ottar was only using half his strength, it was still the pinnacle of violence—"Divine Blessing" honed to its extreme.
Fourth layer…
Fifth…
Sixth…
Violet fragments scattered like dying petals. Despair multiplied with every inch the fist drew closer.
It won't hold.
Mind's Eye (True) delivered its most merciless verdict.
Even the last ring wouldn't stop the remaining force.
If he kept defending, there was only one outcome—
Shield and man alike, pulverized into dust.
If a shield won't stop it…
In that razor-thin instant between life and death, Emiya's eyes changed.
It was the madness of a man cornered—yet also the battlefield instinct of Heroic Spirit EMIYA, forged through endless wars.
Then… I'll use a sword.
"Trace—Overload!"
Emiya forcibly dismissed the trembling seventh layer.
It was suicidal.
The moment his defense vanished, he would face Ottar's fist with nothing between them.
"Oho?"
A flicker of surprise crossed Ottar's eyes.
Gave up? No—those eyes… were aiming.
In the 0.01 seconds after the shield disappeared, Emiya didn't retreat.
He stepped forward.
His right hand clenched around empty air as mana—like a dam collapsing—flooded into his palm in a roaring torrent.
He wasn't projecting an ordinary sword.
He was projecting the weapon he'd once seen—belonging to the strongest hero of Greek myth—
A nameless axe-sword.
"I am the bone of my sword."
A massive stone-like greatblade formed in his grasp.
Weight? Ignored.
Recoil? Ignored.
Emiya tightened every muscle fiber to the edge of tearing, compressing all his remaining mana into a single strike.
He wasn't blocking.
He was going to—
Cut that fist in half.
"Trace—"
In his mind, the giant's silhouette rose.
A technique beyond human limits—legendary swordplay that could strike down a monster nine times in an instant.
"Nine Lives!"
Nine Lives: Blade Works.
Slash.
Time truly froze.
At the exact moment Ottar's fist was about to touch Emiya's nose, nine overlapping cuts erupted.
First—wrist.
Second—elbow.
Third—shoulder.
…
Ninth—straight toward the brow.
No magic.
Just pure, hyper-accelerated sword technique—nine strikes compressed into a blink, attacking the attack, forcibly canceling momentum with momentum.
BOOOOM—!!!
Fist met axe-sword.
A terrifying shockwave exploded outward, sweeping across the entire arena.
The floor buckled. Stones detonated upward.
Even the Freya Familia members watching were blown off balance, stumbling under the gale.
"What the hell?!""He stopped it?!""That red-haired kid… what did he just do?!"
Dust churned.
Everyone held their breath, staring at the center of the arena.
When the haze cleared—
Emiya Shirou was still standing.
The axe-sword in his hand had completely shattered, leaving only a bare hilt.
His right arm hung limp—dislocated, maybe broken.
Blood streamed from his nose, mouth, and ears.
That was the price of forcibly copying a divine technique with a mortal body.
But he stood.
He didn't fall.
He didn't even take a single step back.
And opposite him—
Ottar remained in his punching stance.
Yet on his unbreakable fist…
A thin red line appeared.
A smear of blood.
It was shallow. It was barely a scratch.
But it was, undeniably—
An injury.
Ottar withdrew his hand, glanced at the mark, then at the wobbling boy in front of him.
For the first time, something like unease flickered in those brown eyes.
"'Nine Lives'…"
He murmured the name.
As a man who pursued martial perfection, he knew what that legend meant.
He simply never imagined that a mere Level 3 human could "copy" that godlike craft through magecraft.
"Even if it was only imitation…"
Ottar's voice grew solemn.
"In that instant, your skill surpassed my power."
"…Did I win?" Emiya asked with a crooked laugh, tossing the useless hilt aside.
His vision swam. He was standing on nothing but sheer will.
"No."
Ottar shook his head, then stepped aside, opening a path.
"You took the punch."
"And you even made me bleed."
"By our agreement… you win."
"Haa…"
The moment those words landed, Emiya finally exhaled.
The thread of willpower snapped, and exhaustion surged over him like a wave.
His body swayed—he nearly collapsed.
"Careful."
A violet figure appeared beside him in an instant, catching him.
Freya.
The goddess had shed her earlier amusement and arrogance.
What remained in her expression was a feverish, bone-chilling love—so intense it prickled the skin.
"So beautiful…"
Freya's trembling fingers brushed Emiya's bloodied cheek.
"That brilliance in that single moment… brighter than the sun."
"That fang you bared against despair…"
"That unyielding soul…"
Her silver eyes shimmered, almost intoxicated.
"Ah… I think I…"
"I've truly fallen in love with you."
Emiya went rigid.
This feels more terrifying than Ottar's punch.
Is this what it means to max out a flag? Did I overcap her affection? Can I still reload a save?
"Um… Lady Freya," Emiya said stiffly, trying to pry his arm free from her embrace (the sensation was great, but survival mattered more), "since I won… does that mean I can—"
"Leave?" Freya supplied with a smile, eyes dreamy.
"Yes. Go home and eat dinner," Emiya answered with the simplest reason imaginable.
"Hehehe…"
Freya laughed, her voice echoing through the empty arena.
"Of course you may. I am a goddess who keeps her promises."
She released him and stepped back.
"You may go, Senji Muramasa."
"Th-thank you."
Emiya turned and, dragging his wrecked body, limped toward the elevator.
But just as the doors were about to close—
"However."
Freya's voice came again, soft—and suffocating.
"Remember this, Emiya Shirou."
"You are the 'raw gem' I discovered."
"Even if you belong to Loki for now…"
"One day, I will pluck you from her hands myself."
"No matter what methods I must use."
The doors shut, sealing off the goddess's gaze.
"Haa… I lived."
Emiya slid down the elevator wall and sat on the floor.
That was… genuinely nine deaths and one life.
Next time I'm forced into an S-rank dungeon like this, I'm bringing backup—even if it kills me.
"Shirou-kun!""Emiya-sama!""Emiya!"
The moment the blood-soaked figure staggered out, the "friend squad" waiting outside exploded into chaos.
"Oh gods—why are you hurt this badly?!" Hestia sobbed and threw herself at him. "What did that evil woman do to you?! Did she—did she—"
"N-no…" Emiya waved weakly. "We just… fought. I'm a bit tired."
"Idiot."
Ais walked up, said nothing else, and hoisted Emiya's arm over her shoulder.
"Home."
"Yeah… home," Lili echoed on his other side, supporting him too. She was still grumbling, but tears trembled in her eyes.
"Next time, you're not going anywhere alone! Ever! Absolutely!"
Emiya looked at these loud, messy companions—and smiled.
Sure, the process was terrifying.
Sure, he'd attracted a ridiculous amount of trouble.
But as long as he could still return to this place…
It was worth it.
Freya stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the boy leave—surrounded by others.
In her hand was a fragment of the axe-sword Emiya had projected, now shattered.
"Ottar."
"Yes, my goddess."
"Begin that."
"That…?" Ottar hesitated. "You mean…?"
"Yes."
Freya turned, silver eyes burning with a fire that could scorch the world.
"To claim him."
"To make him look at me—and me alone."
"I will declare a War Game."
"The opponent… is Loki Familia."
Ottar fell silent.
Then the Level 7 knelt on one knee and lowered his proud head.
"As you command, my goddess."
The wind rose.
Orario's fragile peace—its surface calm—was about to be torn apart.
Because of one boy's appearance…
A war between the two strongest familias was about to begin.
....
My Patreon : patreon/RuneA
If you want to read the novel in advance, you can subscribe for early access. I also have many more novels in my collection that you might be interested in
I upload ten novels a day, with 3 to 4 chapters per title depending on the length. If you're following a particular series, please wait your turn a little
If there's a particular novel you're enjoying on Patron, please give it a 'like' so I know to focus on it