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...
A violent storm, originating in the distant Pacific, swept across the ocean and reached the edge of Tokyo Bay in mere seconds, its fury churning the waters just three kilometers from where Lancelot stood.
Lancelot released his grip. The Holy Excalibur, wreathed in white flames, shot forth, hurtling towards the goddess with unstoppable force.
With a warrior's instinct, the goddess sensed the imminent threat to her life. Divine power surged from her, blasting holes in the ocean surface.
The displaced water coalesced into countless azure serpents, forming a multi-layered barrier in a desperate attempt to block The Sword's advance.
But it was futile. Excalibur pierced through the serpent shield, impaling the goddess's body.
Golden ichor, radiant and divine, spilled from the goddess's lips. Her eyes widened in shock, and she gasped, "The Sword of Divine Salvation!"
"Hanuman!" she shrieked, her voice filled with anguish, then dissolved into white sand, scattered by the wind.
The Holy Grail pulsed with a golden light as bright as the sun. The goddess's life force, channeled through Excalibur, flowed into the Grail, filling it to the brim.
Guinevere gazed at the overflowing Grail with ecstatic joy, gently caressing its surface, her face filled with rapture.
Just then, a whirlwind descended from the starry sky above Tokyo Bay.
The wind, originating from the gaps between the stars, swirled and coalesced before Lancelot and Guinevere, taking the form of a war god, his body wrapped in white cloth, his face hidden behind a crimson mask.
Guinevere lifted the hem of her black dress in a graceful curtsy. "You've done well, Hanuman. As expected of my Lord's right hand, you captured the goddess Circe in just six months."
Guinevere served the Steel Hero, the Last King.
The Hanuman, the God who served as his right hand, was not a subordinate God. Like Lancelot du Lac of old, he was a god who fought alongside his comrade. His valor was of the highest caliber, a true hero.
During the three years she had spent evading the capricious Haru's hunting avatars, Guinevere had dedicated nearly two years to summoning the Hanuman, hoping to turn the tables.
But even with his aid, she had been forced to flee under the relentless assault of multiple avatars.
Six months ago, while evading pursuers and searching for the Last King in Southeast Asia, Guinevere had stumbled upon Circe's location.
Circe, a Goddess of the Sea and a powerful witch, also possessed aspects of a serpent goddess.
While this aspect was relatively weak, combined with the earth's essence stored within the Holy Grail, it could rival, or even surpass, the power of an earth goddess. Therefore, Guinevere had dispatched the Hanuman to hunt her down.
It had been a wise decision. In this critical moment, he had delivered the final key to resurrecting the Last King.
"It has been fifteen hundred years, Hanuman. It is time to awaken our slumbering lord," Lancelot said, summoning his celestial steed. He extended a hand to Guinevere.
Guinevere placed her hand in Lancelot's and gracefully mounted the Pegasus. Together, they looked at the Hanuman.
The Hanuman nodded silently, then looked towards the sky.
"Hya!" Lancelot pulled on the reins, and the Pegasus soared upwards.
The Hanuman watched them ascend, then transformed into a whirlwind, following close behind.
...
High above the clouds, beyond the atmosphere, in the realm of orbiting satellites.
This was the edge of space, a harsh and unforgiving environment.
But those present were not normal beings. The two gods traversed the void with their divine bodies, while the witch soared effortlessly with her magic.
A small landmass floated before them, similar to a tiny island adrift in the vastness of the Pacific. It had hills and plains, but no vegetation or any sign of life.
It was an island of bare rock and soil, and at its center, a single iron sword was embedded in the ground.
The sword's was about a meter long, double-edged, and thick like a cleaver, but it was now broken and rusted. Despite being called a sword, its shape resembled more of a saber.
The Sword of Divine Salvation. The weapon of the hero who had vanquished the Devil King, forged from the strongest steel.
Guinevere leaped from the Pegasus and rushed towards the Sword of Divine Salvation. Overwhelmed with joy, she knelt before it, embracing the blade as if it were a priceless treasure, her hands gently caressing its rusted surface.
Time seemed to stand still as Guinevere meticulously rubbed away the rust.
"My Lord, do you sense it? Surely you feel it, the hero's destiny etched into your very soul. It is time to awaken."
There was no response. But the rusted blade began to vibrate.
Far below, storm clouds gathered, lightning flashed, and thunder roared. From their vantage point in orbit, even the sea of clouds seemed like a distant world.
Leviathan, the Heretic God, who was absorbing the earth's essence in the West Heaven Palace to heal Its wounds, shuddered, a sudden chill running down his spine.
"Not only that. Several abhorrent Godslayers have been born into this world. There is the old Devil King, like a ravenous wolf, and the arrogant queen who claims to be unmatched.
There is the witch, who brings nothing but calamity to the world. And there are five other youths - eight Godslayers in total, proclaiming this era to be their spring."
Lancelot stood beside the Sword of Divine Salvation, reciting the incantation. He paused momentarily, recalling the overwhelmingly Powerful Devil King, then continued.
"With such a gathering of Godslayers, the world is in its twilight. This is truly the age of the apocalypse."
A sphere of lightning materialized above Lancelot's head, shining like a miniature sun, then began to rise rapidly.
The ascending sphere suddenly expanded, growing to a diameter of over one hundred meters, matching the size of the floating island that had concealed the Sword of Divine Salvation for millennia. It crackled with electricity, sparks flying in all directions.
Guinevere rubbed the blade, chanting in a loud voice:
"We pray for the blade's rebirth, to pierce the darkness of this dying world, to vanquish the Devil Kings. O most revered blade of blades, edge of edges, you are the blade that slays Devil Kings. You are the white light of salvation. You are born to destroy all Campione!"
Lancelot waved his hand, and an endless torrent of lightning poured down from the sphere above, striking the Sword of Divine Salvation.
The ferocious attack was absorbed by the blade. Guinevere, standing so close, remained unharmed, continuing to polish the blade.
After hundreds of lightning strikes and thunderous roars…
Guinevere kissed the blade and chanted, "O. Holy King, who appears at the world's end, descend now!"
The Sword of Divine Salvation was restored to its former glory. After more than a thousand years, the once rusted and broken meter-long blade was now enveloped in a dazzling white-gold light, radiating a divine and brilliant aura.
...
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