Eastern Orario Wilderness — War Game Battlefield.
The sky was torn apart by countless streaks of falling light.
They weren't meteors meant for making wishes.
They were an "infinite" rain of detonating magic swords.
Each blade carried enough mana to shatter stone. Each one was a carefully prepared, single-use high-explosive "shell" forged by Emiya Shirou specifically for this war.
If there were a certain clay-obsessed bomber watching, he'd probably be applauding with tears in his eyes:
Feel pain. Feel art. Art is—explosion!
Shirou didn't shout it out loud, but his heart was absolutely screaming it.
The first volley slammed into the Freya Familia fortress' defensive barrier.
The explosions came in an unbroken chain—like New Year's firecrackers, except upgraded into nuclear-grade insanity. Flames surged skyward. Smoke blotted out the sun. The earth shook so violently that even the spectators watching the live broadcast from Orario's walls—via divine mirrors—felt the tremor under their feet.
"…That's brutal," Hermes muttered, staring at the crystal display. "Is this really a war between adventurers? This is modern warfare—full saturation bombardment! Just how many magic swords did Shirou project?! Does he run an armory?!"
"Hah! Beautiful!" Loki pumped her fist, eyes wide with manic delight. "Blow it up! Blow it to hell! Turn that lovesick woman's nest into dust! This is the power of money—well, mana converted into money!"
But this was a world of magic and divine authority.
And against opponents of this caliber, raw firepower alone didn't decide victory—especially when the enemy was called "the strongest."
The smoke finally thinned.
The fortress… was still standing.
No—more accurately, above it floated a golden spherical barrier crackling with lightning. Every detonating sword that touched it was instantly disassembled and erased by violent thunder, as if swallowed by a miniature black hole.
Beneath that barrier stood a pale elf in white aristocratic attire, glasses catching the light, expression colder than steel.
"The White Fairy" — Hedin Selland.Level 6. Mage. And the Freya Familia's "brain."(Also notorious for his venomous personality and maxed-out sarcasm.)
"A tedious trick," Hedin said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His gaze carried pure contempt—as if he were watching cavemen throw rocks. "Explosions that merely pile up mana. No elegance. No beauty. This level of attack wouldn't even light my cigarette. Is this all the Loki Familia's new toy can do?"
He lifted his staff and flicked it.
The golden barrier burst apart, transforming into countless lightning serpents that lashed back toward the Loki Familia's lines.
"Everyone—anti-magic formation!"
Riveria Ljos Alf raised her staff. Emerald radiance surged, forming a vast wind-wall that caught the incoming thunder.
BOOM—!
Lightning and wind collided in a silent, terrifying exchange between two of Orario's highest-tier mages.
A draw.
But for the attackers, a draw meant the offensive had stalled.
"Tch. Figures it wouldn't be that easy," Finn Deimne said without surprise. If a single opening salvo could delete Freya Familia, they wouldn't deserve the title "strongest."
"Since long-range bombardment won't crack them," Finn snapped, spear aimed forward, his small frame erupting with the presence of a giant, "we proceed with the original plan!"
"Full assault! Push the line up! Crush them!"
"OOOOOOO—!"
Gareth Landrock charged first, a living siege engine. Tiona Hiryute and Tione Hiryute followed with Amazonian war cries that shook the air. Ais Wallenstein became a golden gale on the flank, ready to cut in like a blade.
The Loki Familia's core formation surged forward like a spear thrust—hard into the enemy front.
At the Freya Familia's forward line, four figures stood side by side.
They were small—only reaching an average adult's waist. They looked identical. Same armor. Same weapons.
Like NPCs copy-pasted from a template.
The Gulliver Brothers — the Four Warriors of Flame Gold.They were pallums. They were short.And together, they formed a terrifying combined force that could rival a Level 6.
"Big bro, the old man's charging in.""Second bro, let's flatten him.""Third bro, don't get careless.""Fourth bro—go! Show him height has nothing to do with victory!"
They scattered like ghosts. War hammers and spears wove into a net of death, crashing into Gareth head-on.
"Hahahaha! Good! Four little runts!" Gareth roared, not slowing—accelerating. "Let this old man teach you what 'respect your elders' means!"
BOOM!
Heavy weapons collided with thunderous impact.
Gareth—one versus four—didn't give ground.
Every axe swing carried the force to split mountains, forcing the brothers to defend with everything they had.
It looked like a mythic warrior mowing through a battlefield in a musou game—pure, unstoppable brutality.
Elsewhere on the field—
A black afterimage tore across the chaos, faster than eyes could track.
"The Black Fairy" — Hogni Ragnar.Level 6 swordsman. Normally a gloomy, withdrawn type—until his sword left its sheath, at which point he became a fully awakened, middle-school-edgelord berserker.
"This is… the dark… vibration…" Hogni muttered, spewing incomprehensible nonsense—something about seals breaking and destiny collapsing—while swinging his ominous magic sword Dáinsleif.
His target was clear:
Loki Familia's backline.
"Don't think you're getting through!"
Tiona's twin blades and Tione's curved sword slashed down together.
Hogni's eyes flared red. His movement twisted in a way that didn't belong to normal human motion. He evaded, then countered—forcing both Amazons back with a single stroke.
"Offer yourselves… to the twilight… to the end…" he rasped.
"What is this guy even saying?!" Tiona shouted, baffled. "I don't understand a word! But he looks strong! Sis—let's beat him back into normal!"
"Shut up and focus!" Tione snapped, jaw tight. Hogni's swordplay was too strange. One slip and it would carve deep.
The battlefield locked into a brutal stalemate—soldiers against soldiers, champions against champions.
Everywhere, violent clashes erupted like storms.
And atop a high ridge—
Emiya Shirou stood, newly projected bow in hand, brow furrowed.
"So this is… a Familia War."
Not a dungeon raid against monsters.
This was human slaughter—tactics, willpower, and accumulated depth of strength.
"That white elf—Hedin—his defensive spell is absurd. Normal projections won't break it."
Shirou tracked the flow of battle, calculating angles, costs, and timing.
"To crack that barrier, I'd need a pinpoint breach on the level of Broken Phantasm… but…"
His eyes swept the field, searching for the greatest threat.
The man who still hadn't moved.
Then—
A faint whisper of air splitting reached his ear.
So thin it was almost nothing.
Mind's Eye (True) didn't even have time to scream.
Because that speed wasn't "fast."
It was beyond perception.
"Wha—"
Shirou's body moved on pure survival instinct.
He snapped his head back.
SSSHK—!
A silver spear skimmed past the tip of his nose, slicing off a few strands of red hair.
If he'd been slower by even a tenth of a second, his head would've been gone.
"Oh?" a voice purred behind him—half amused, half cruel. "You dodged."
Shirou spun.
A young man stood there—cat ears, cat tail, light armor, eyes like he was staring at a dying mouse.
"The Goddess' Chariot" — Allen Fromel.Level 6. The fastest adventurer in Orario.
"For a Level 3 piece of trash, your reflexes aren't awful," Allen sneered, twirling his spear and pointing its tip at Shirou's throat. "That the goddess even bothered looking at you… is infuriating. Like watching her feed leftovers to a stray dog."
"You want to steal the goddess' love?" Allen's killing intent spiked. "Then die right here."
He moved.
The world blurred.
His speed exceeded everything Shirou had faced—arguably even Ais in raw straight-line acceleration.
"Tracing shield!"
Shirou projected instantly.
Rho Aias — the Seven-Ringed Shield.
BAM!
One strike.
Four layers shattered at once.
Shirou and the collapsing shield were blasted backward, smashing through a boulder.
"So this is… Orario's fastest…" Shirou coughed blood, organs rattling. That speed made aiming impossible. Even Mind's Eye could only catch a smeared afterimage.
"Don't run!"
Allen stuck to him like a curse. The spear became a storm of silver light, swallowing Shirou's entire body.
"Damn… do I have to use that?" Shirou clenched his projected twin blades, ready to unfold his Reality Marble and gamble everything—
Then—
"GET LOST, YOU HEAT-DRUNK STRAY CAT!"
A furious wolf's roar exploded from the side.
A silver flash crashed into Allen's spear.
CLANG—!!!
Sparks burst.
Allen was shoved back several steps.
Standing in front of Shirou—
A feral back. Gray wolf ears. Silver boots. A face that screamed I'm in a bad mood and I want the world to know it.
Bete Loga — the Fierce Wolf.
"Bete?" Shirou blinked.
"Don't get the wrong idea, trash," Bete spat without looking back, voice dripping with classic tsundere disdain. "I just hate that cat. And besides—you're our 'prize.' If you get broken, Finn will nag my ears off."
"You call me a cat?!" Allen's forehead veins popped. His gaze turned murderous. "Homeless mutt. You think you can block me?"
"Try it!" Bete bared sharp fangs, flames igniting around his boots. "I'll yank every last one of your cat teeth out and turn you into a house pet—Hello Kitty!"
BOOM!
Wolf and cat. Speed against speed.
Two afterimages collided again and again—so fast their impacts shredded rock and trees into splinters.
Shirou exhaled, relief flooding his chest.
"…Saved."
With Bete dragging Allen into a duel, Shirou could rejoin the greater fight—
He raised his bow—
And the entire battlefield suddenly fell quiet.
Not the quiet of peace.
The quiet of something absolute descending.
Thud.Thud.Thud.
Heavy footsteps from deep within Freya Familia's fortress.
Each step landed on every heart like a drumbeat.
Both sides—mid-swing, mid-cast, mid-charge—stopped and turned.
The gates opened.
A man emerged.
No armor worth mentioning. No weapon in hand.
Just a simple martial outfit.
But the way he stood made him look like a mountain.
A wall of despair.
The "Mighty" — Ottar.Level 7. The apex of Orario.The strongest living being on this land.
Ottar ignored the chaos around him.
His gaze pierced smoke and distance and locked onto Shirou atop the ridge—precise as an arrow.
No hatred.
Only the indifferent focus of someone executing an order.
"The goddess commands," Ottar said. His voice wasn't loud, yet it carried across the battlefield.
"Bring him back."
"Alive."
Then he moved.
No wind-up. No flourish. No technique.
One step.
BOOM!
The ground where he'd stood detonated into a crater.
The next instant, he'd crossed hundreds of meters and appeared at Loki Familia's front line.
"Stop him!" Finn roared. "Gareth! Ais! Full power—block him!"
"ROOOAAAH!"
Gareth raised his tower shield, muscles bulging, defensive skill erupting—earth shifting like a living shell.
Ais unleashed her wind at maximum output, slashing from the side.
Two Level 6 strikes—enough to annihilate an army.
Ottar responded by… lifting both hands.
Left hand pressed onto Gareth's shield.
Right hand caught Ais' sword—by the blade.
"What?!" Gareth and Ais' eyes widened.
"Too light," Ottar judged.
Then he flexed both arms.
KABOOM—!!!
A shockwave exploded outward.
Gareth was flung back—shield and all—carving trenches through the soil.
Ais was whipped into the air. She landed cleanly, but her sword hand trembled.
One exchange.
One.
And he'd repelled two Level 6 elites.
That was Level 7.
That was despair given shape.
"No one can obstruct the goddess' will," Ottar said, not chasing. He simply kept walking toward Shirou.
Like a bulldozer.
Anyone who tried to block him was swatted aside and sent flying.
Unstoppable.
Unavoidable.
He closed in.
Fifty meters.
Shirou stood atop the ridge, watching the monster approach.
His hands trembled—not from fear.
From excitement.
"So this is… the strongest in the world."
He inhaled. His magic circuits roared to life.
He didn't retreat.
He stepped forward.
"Trace…"
This time he didn't project a weapon.
He placed both hands on the ground.
"If you're a wall of despair…"
"Then I'll build you a maze."
"System Call — Terrain Modification!"
Using projection magecraft to forcibly alter the terrain—
"Rise!"
RRRRUMBLE—!
Massive sword-blades erupted from the earth—not to strike Ottar, but to interlock and stack, forming a towering fortress of steel between them.
Ottar stopped, staring at the sudden mountain of blades.
A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.
"…Interesting."
He clenched his fist.
"Then I'll break it."
BOOM!
A punch shattered the sword-wall.
He didn't stop.
Punch after punch, he carved a path through the steel mountain by pure brute force.
On the far side, Shirou turned and shouted to Finn.
"Captain! I can't hold him long! Use it—only by breaking the balance do we have a chance!"
Finn stared at the approaching catastrophe, thumb twitching hard.
Normal numbers meant nothing against a Level 7.
To win—no, to even keep Shirou alive—they needed a single point capable of confronting Ottar head-on.
"Ais… not enough.""Gareth… too slow.""Then only…"
Finn's eyes landed on Shirou.
The man of infinite possibilities.
"Haruhime!" Finn roared, making a decision that bordered on madness.
"Yes!"
The fox girl, trembling in the rear, lifted her staff with shaking hands.
"Give it all to Emiya!"
Haruhime froze. "All… to Shirou-sama?"
Then she understood.
Not a party buff.
A single concentrated miracle.
"I understand!"
She drew a breath, fox ears rising, golden tails fanning out.
She poured every last drop of mana—and her gratitude, and her devotion—into the spell.
"Grow Up!"
A pillar of gold shot across the battlefield like holy lightning and struck Shirou square in the back.
His body jolted.
This wasn't a normal boost.
This was forced ascension—an elevation of the vessel itself.
A container already maxed at Level 3—all stats SSS—was cracked open.
Mana boiled like magma. Bones snapped like popping beans.
[Current Status: Level 3 → Pseudo Level 4.]
But it wasn't merely Level 4.
With an SSS foundation, this pseudo Level 4 carried weight that rivaled an ordinary Level 5.
And paired with Unlimited Blade Works…
Shirou exhaled a breath of white.
The world changed.
Slower. Clearer.
Even Ottar's motions—somehow—felt less impossible.
"So this is… what leveling feels like."
RUMBLE—!
The final sword-wall collapsed.
Ottar stepped through the wreckage, dusting off his clothes.
He looked up at Shirou standing amid the ruins.
For the first time, something like interest flickered in his eyes.
"Oh?" Ottar sensed the shift in Shirou's presence. "That fox's sorcery."
"Something like that," Shirou replied.
Light flashed in his hands.
The twin blades—Kanshou and Bakuya—formed again.
This time, their edges were wrapped in visible currents of condensed mana, like tangible pressure.
"Ottar," Shirou said, looking down at the apex predator of Orario. "You said if I could take one punch and stay standing… I'd win."
"Last time I barely held."
"But this time…"
Shirou vanished.
He reappeared above Ottar's head.
Twin blades fell with the force to cleave mountains.
"I want to see… if I can make you take one step back!"
"Come."
Ottar didn't dodge.
He didn't meet blades with fists.
Instead, he drew the great sword that had remained sheathed until now—
The Over-Black Sword.
KRAAAANG—!!!
Black greatsword and black-and-white twin blades collided.
The shockwave emptied everything within a hundred meters—air, dust, loose stone—blown clean into nothingness.
The Strongest Level 7versusthe Strongest Pseudo Level 4 in history
Round Two—
began.
....
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