"Ahhh!!!"
Seizing the momentum from her sprint, Alcippe, blade in hand, transformed into a phantom as she surged forward. She mercilessly pierced into the controlled army of lost souls, her bone blade cleaving through the heart of the army, extending dozens of meters, and cleaving down the souls in her path. Though these souls should have been on their way to be reborn after death, that opportunity was now lost. However, Alcippe paid no heed to this. She only knew that anyone who stood against her was destined to meet their end.
Undoubtedly, Alcippe was an incredibly formidable warrior. Later on, she even became a demigod with a powerful divine presence. In terms of combat prowess, she could undoubtedly rival Artoria in her Servant form or maybe even surpass her. The more intense her combat intent, the more her presence, and other aspects soared. I had observed this in their previous encounter.
Perhaps Alcippe's divine essence was tied to battle, akin to that of a war god or a deity of combat, Ares was indeed her father.
But in the current circumstances, these distinctions were inconsequential. The countless lost souls surging forth from the portal of the Underworld had yet to react when Alcippe's blade swept through the air, generating a storm of blade-edged strikes that shredded the souls into fragments. Her speed and strength were at their peak as she moved through the army like a Valkyrie of slaughter, never pausing. All the souls in her path turned to ashes.
Meanwhile, the guards of the underworld, excluding a few who needed to maintain Bounded Fields and couldn't leave, wielded their weapons and entered the fray. However, their numbers—only a few dozen—were like meat grinders amidst the endless army of lost souls. Anyone who drew near was crushed. Magic circles spanning nearly half the sky appeared, followed by an eruption of Magical Energy bombardment that covered most of the battlefield, the echoes of explosions filling the air. Additionally, arrows fell like rain, all aimed at wide-ranging targets.
"Ahhh!!!"
Alcippe was a sight to behold, an unstoppable force as she charged forward, her blade a deadly extension of her fury. I watched as she became a phantom, driving into the heart of the controlled army of lost souls. Her bone blade cleaved through them like a devastating storm, reaching dozens of meters in length and tearing apart every soul in her path. They should have been on their way to rebirth, given a chance to move beyond death. Yet that fate was gone now. Alcippe didn't care. To her, anyone standing against her was already as good as dead.
I couldn't deny her skill—she was an incredibly formidable warrior. In pure combat prowess, I knew she could rival Artoria in her Servant form, perhaps even surpass her. I'd seen it firsthand in our previous encounter: the fiercer her intent, the more her presence and strength seemed to surge. Maybe her divine nature was tied to the battle itself, similar to that of a war god or deity of combat.
But here and now, such distinctions didn't matter. The masses of lost souls flooding out from the Underworld's portal barely had time to react before Alcippe's blade cut through, a relentless whirlwind of strikes that left nothing but soul fragments. She moved at full speed, her strength unyielding, transforming the battlefield into a path of annihilation. Each step she took erased souls, turning them into ashes in her wake.
Meanwhile, the guards of the underworld—a small number, given that a few were stationed to keep the Bounded Fields active—joined the fight. They were only a few dozen strong, but they tore through the lost souls like blades through flesh. Any soul that drew near was crushed. Magic circles flared, lighting up the sky with arcs that covered almost the entire battlefield, raining Magical Energy bombardment. The explosions echoed all around, while arrows poured down like torrents, striking across the field to ensure no one escaped the onslaught.
By this point, I finally understood why only two or three guards were needed to protect the spatial rift—the passage to the Underworld—from demon invasions. These guards weren't beings that sheer numbers could overwhelm. Each one was on par with a legendary hero in the outside world. They might not be mentioned in the stories, but here, within the Land of Shadows, they were invaluable, just as essential as Scáthach herself.
Yet, it wasn't only the lost souls we faced. Legions surged from the wide-open doors of the Underworld. Undead, succubi, skeletal soldiers—the lowest of the underworld's souls—were being used as cannon fodder, sent forward to their deaths in droves. But I could see the futility of it. Even an endless stream of these lesser souls couldn't break the defensive line formed by the guards.
Then came the Underworld's watchdogs: two enormous, three-headed hellhounds. They appeared with pitch-black flames rippling off their bodies, their red eyes glaring with an unnatural, chilling intensity. Like streams of black light, they charged directly at Alcippe, who held the front line. For her, any opponent—human or not—demanded her full effort.
She met the hellhounds' assault head-on, but the impact sent her sliding back a fair distance. Another hellhound lunged at her from the side, aiming for her head, arm, and waist with a triple-biting attack. But arrows flew from the distance, forcing the hellhounds to shift their attention. Despite being mere Underworld watchdogs, they were intelligent enough to recognize the threat. They swatted at the arrows with claws like steel, knocking them aside mid-flight.
But other warriors had already set their sights on these larger threats—the hellhounds were in for a full-on brawl.
Then, a voice rang out: "The path I tread shall turn into a realm of death, and those I slay shall all return to the Underworld!"
I turned to see a figure, clad in pitch-black armor that seemed to absorb all the surrounding dimness, stepping out from the gates of the Underworld. Riding a shadowy chariot pulled by four dark warhorses, he entered the battlefield like a divine harbinger, and as he passed, the ground seemed to wither, the sky dimming even further around him.
My pulse quickened, and I felt my spirit and momentum at their peak. With him driving the chariot, I knew I was ready to unleash everything I had.
"Heh," I muttered to myself, "let's vent some frustration on this one!"
The figure before me was unmistakably a deity of the Underworld; I could sense his divine nature through the sheer force of his aura. I just didn't know precisely who he was. But recalling what Scáthach had said, and with my Soul Synchronization and Mystic Eyes, I knew it wasn't impossible to slay a god.
"Stab and penetrate... Thrust and drill!"
I crouched slowly like a beast preparing to spring. The intense battle intent and killing aura I'd been holding back surged forth like a torrential storm. My overwhelming presence seemed to draw the attention of the Underworld's lord, who had just emerged. His dark eyes, steeped in the weight of countless death and rebirth cycles, bore down on me. But those eyes held no meaning—I'd experienced death too many times for that.
"Spear of Striking Death Flight."
I didn't hesitate. I was up against a god; holding back was pointless. Not that I doubted my chances of victory—in fact, my confidence had never been this intense. The magic spear honed in on its target, flashing forward like crimson lightning, aimed right at the heart of the Lord of the Underworld. A fierce hurricane erupted around him, and his black warhorses shrieked in response. The crimson tip of my magic spear flared as it struck his sword—a blade so dark it seemed to swallow light itself. Our clash was fierce, the collision crackling with power, but ultimately, his sword was deflected, sending him and his chariot reeling back.
"Rhongomyniad Fake—Broken Phantasm!"
As soon as my spear was deflected, I unleashed a projected Noble Phantasm. It pierced the lead warhorse's chest and exploded, consuming the entire chariot in its blast, flesh and earth scattering. Whatever advantage that chariot might have provided, I wasn't about to let it stay in play.
"Primordial Runes,"
"White Dragon's Embrace,"
"Jacob's Limbs Fake,"
"Reduced Earth."
I empowered myself with the runes, summoning draconic strength, and activated Reduced Earth, launching myself beside the Lord of the Underworld with the same fierce intent I'd used on Alcippe. My fists, burning crimson and fast enough to break the sound barrier, aimed straight for his head. He stayed oddly calm, though his sword flashed faster than lightning, clashing with the mithril gauntlet covering my fist. The impact was brief but devastating—the projected gauntlet shattered instantly, leaving my fist exposed, the bone visible through a fresh wound.
I executed a rapid retreat, cloaking myself in a mist of energy. Strangely, he didn't follow. Instead, he watched me with a hint of curiosity, his gaze meeting my calm, unyielding stare.
"This is bad!" I muttered, finally realizing just how vast the gap was between myself and this Lord of the Underworld. Sure, Martha and I shared some compatibility, but even with my simulated stance, I couldn't fully channel the skills she excelled at. The reason was simple: Martha was a savior who subdued dragons, possessing unwavering faith in God. I, on the other hand, lacked any belief in a deity, which prevented me from infusing divine power into my fists like she could.
There's no other way!
[Soul Synchronization: Scáthach]
Strength, agility, wisdom, and raw power surged within me. By fully analyzing Scáthach's soul, I could wield her abilities—and even tap into the wisdom of the abyss. This power was beyond anything I had ever dreamed of, and with it, I grasped the true meaning of bridging the gap between humanity and divinity.
Taking a steady breath, I felt my aura shift. It grew colder and more arrogant, and as I summoned the magic spear into my hand, I met the Lord of the Underworld's gaze with newfound confidence. He had descended to the ground, standing firm. "With a spear honed to perfection, even gods can fall before it!" I declared.
"Instead of following those self-righteous ones, you are someone who bridges humanity and divinity, nearing the realm of gods? I see… so that's why you stand in Hades' way... No, something's strange," he mused. A flicker of curiosity broke through his calm demeanor, as he seemed unable to grasp the reason behind my sudden transformation. "What's your connection to the guardian of the Land of Shadows?"
Having fought with Scáthach before, Hades quickly sensed that my aura and my entire demeanor resembled hers. Even the essence of my soul aligned with hers. I had clearly piqued his curiosity.
But that didn't matter. A thought crossed my mind, though: why didn't he refer to me as the Nemesis? Could it be because of my usage of soul synchronization? But now wasn't the time, I pushed that enigma away and commented, "Are all the folks in the Underworld as verbose as you?"
Despite my last two failed attacks, I wasn't worried. If anything, I felt exhilarated. Maybe the fierce spirit of this land had rubbed off on me, or perhaps I'd always harbored a longing for battle. Either way, I was genuinely ready to face a god.
"Though I, Hades, have come here solely as the Lord of the Underworld to challenge the queen of the Land of Shadows since you've blocked the path, you're the one I'll deal with."
"Representing my teacher in battle—now that's a tale worth telling. If you want to meet her, you'll have to live beneath the edge of my spear, Lord of the Underworld!" I cut off his words, raising my magic spear, prepared to strike.
"Very well!" he answered, the gravity in his voice matching the challenge in mine. "I accept your challenge, warrior of the Land of Shadows. Tell me your name!"
"I am Kara Zor-El!"
Hades, one of the gods from the Greek pantheon, had overthrown a cruel regime with his two brothers to divide their realms: the sky for one, the sea for another, and the Underworld for himself. As the god of death, he didn't just oversee the dead; he was also the god of wealth, holding dominion over all the gold and gems buried deep within the earth. This made him the richest of the gods. My knowledge of him in this universe was shallow, as I had focused my studies on the legendary heroes I might encounter in the Holy Grail War. Because of this, I had little insight into Hades himself, leaving me clueless about any weaknesses I could exploit.
But now that I thought about it, my teacher had some serious guts. Scáthach, despite being from Ulster, had somehow provoked a deity from the Greek pantheon. Could it be that, in her youth, she had taken down a god close to Hades during her travels, sparking a bitter rivalry? In a way, the Land of Shadows resembled the underworld itself—a natural battleground for rulers of the afterlife.
"Come forth and show me your power, Hades!"
"Then, O gods of Greece, slumber here!"
I gathered every ounce of energy, pushing it to its peak and channeling my might into my hands as I prepared to unleash everything I had. The magical energy swirling violently within the magic spear was enough to drain an ordinary mage of a lifetime's worth of power. With an intensity capable of cleaving heaven and earth, I surged forward, my resolve unyielding. The hurricane-infused magic spear shot down, with the crimson moon as a fleeting witness to the impending clash.
Hades's expression changed slightly when the dull tip of my spear suddenly ignited with a blinding light. Even he couldn't afford to take this attack lightly. His demeanor turned serious, his aura thickening with the essence of death itself. His blade sliced through the air, meeting my magic spear with a tremendous clash.
The earth shook.
...
General (POV)
Dark flames surged, spreading wildly across the battlefield. A massive rift tore open in the air, unleashing giant demonic beings into this realm. These creatures, like a legion of small giants, pushed forward without regard for their own lives, crashing into the warriors from the Land of Shadows. Their blood flowed in streams, staining the earth in dark crimson as they advanced with a reckless, suicidal determination.
The warriors of the Land of Shadows met them head-on, blades flashing as they fought back. Corpses piled up like hills, but no demon broke through their line of defense; the warriors held them back, ensuring none could enter their realm. Among them, Cú Chulainn fought with a dark spear given to him by his teacher, his body covered in blood, resembling a true hellhound as he impaled any demon foolish enough to challenge him. Though he was the son of Lugh, the sun god, Cú Chulainn didn't have the powers of a deity. Yet, as a child of light, his body generated endless magical energy, like a powerful magic furnace that never wore down.
While he mainly supported the other warriors, plugging any gaps in the defense, Cú Chulainn was a force to be reckoned with, able to confront even demonic lords with pure skill and raw strength. His spear flashed through the air, slicing through demons double his size, bones, and flesh scattering as he moved seamlessly to the next target. Warriors around him couldn't help but admire his style; Cú Chulainn was the embodiment of the legendary Irish hero, now a bloodthirsty "mad hound."
Suddenly, massive hands reached from the rift, gripping and stretching it open even wider. Like ancient beasts, enormous demons stepped out, shaking the ground with their weight. As Cú Chulainn prepared for the new threat, a massive battle axe flew toward him with earth-shattering force. He raised his spear just in time, but the sheer power of the axe nearly shattered his arms, sending cracks through his bones and tearing his skin. The axe's blade hovered less than two centimeters from his forehead, its sharp edge already cutting his skin, and blood streamed down his face.
"Get lost!!"
Summoning every last bit of strength, he let out a battle cry and managed to push the axe back, though he was forced to skid a distance, leaving deep furrows in the ground. His fierce gaze locked on the demon lord before him, a giant compared to Cú Chulainn. A wild grin spread across his face. Although he struggled to keep up with Scáthach, he understood the essence of Scáthach's brutal training: pushing himself to the brink of death. Ordinary training wouldn't help him; only Scáthach's merciless methods could unlock his true potential.
This demonic invasion felt like his true test, the final challenge from Scáthach. He knew that if he failed, he wouldn't be able to leave the Land of Shadows. None of the other warriors—some even stronger than him—intervened because they understood this was his ultimate trial. It was his chance to prove the results of two years of harsh training. Even though he wasn't yet strong enough to defeat a demonic lord, he had to give it everything he had—and perhaps use the technique Kara had hinted at.
The Primordial Rune
He wasn't as skilled with runes as Scáthach or Kara, but he had mastered ten rune symbols. Following Kara's advice on their sequence, he embedded them into his magic spear. Without hesitation, Cú Chulainn thrust the spear into his own chest.
This shocking move stunned the nearby warriors. As one of Scáthach's favored apprentices, would he really end his life like this? Even if he was frustrated at being knocked back, would he actually take such drastic action? Of course, such thoughts were absurd!
"Follow me! Face me! Become—me!"
Scáthach had put tremendous effort into crafting this spear, using remnants of a fearsome sea lord. She hadn't removed its fierce, wild spirit, making it a true magic spear. Inspired by a certain eccentric's advice, Kara had suggested this plan to Cú Chulainn, which he was now enacting.
Words couldn't fully capture the transformation that took place—Cú Chulainn radiated a savage, bloodthirsty aura. Pulling the spear from his chest, he was unrecognizable. His face bore crimson marks, his limbs were cloaked in bone armor, dyed blood-red, and sharp bone spikes jutted from his back, forming a strange tail. His spear was now ringed with dark spikes and brutal hooks.
"What a wild form… but now, Kara's going to have a hard time defeating me!"
It seemed he didn't even view the demonic lord before him as a major threat; instead, he was thinking back on past encounters with Kara.
"Come on! Let's make this a real fight!"
With a fierce grin, he launched himself like a cannonball, transforming into a brutal mad hound. Each step left craters in the ground as he broke free from spatial limitations, appearing instantly before the demonic lord. Although the demon had braced itself, Cú Chulainn's strength had escalated far beyond its expectations.
Boom!
Sent hurtling like a missile, Cú Chulainn tore through the oncoming demon ranks, leaving a trail of deep craters before finally stopping. As he regained his footing, he wasted no time—his barbed spear, dripping with dark energy, thrust forward.