Paradox Witch

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Mary

Divine Descending Denouement Hot Spring, Foreigner's Lowlands

@Sageage @Breo @ManyThings @Reflection @Seirei no Hai @Phonic @SSW @addamas

This looked like the place!

The walk over had taken a while, but she already knew the way from that time she'd had to come to this part of the city to make Miss Shaytanea, so it wasn't that bad really. Also, this time there wasn't fire everywhere, so that was a plus.

"Hi everyone! Are you all the magic people? I was supposed to find the magic peo-WAIT ANOTHER PENGUIN!"

Regardless, those present at the hot spring would eventually see the arrival of a ten year old girl.

In terms of presence, she was undoubtedly the weakest individual present. There was the trace of magical emanation from her, enough to gauge her as at least a magus or something along those lines, but she assuredly lacked Command Seals, the aid of a Servant, or the muscle strength of one who had gone through puberty.

Ignorant to any tension that might have been present prior to her arrival, the young girl practically sprinted up to the penguin doorman, a sunny smile on her face.

"Hiya, Mr. Penguin! I'm Mary, it's nice to meet you! I met another one of you, but Miss Carly-Beth wouldn't let me hug him because she said that would be dangerous."

Arms crossing behind her back, the girl paused for a moment, shifting her weight from side to side as she mulled over how to explain her presence.

"Um, I'm here for Miss Carly-Beth. She would have come here, but she's really really really busy right now! If I bug her when she's like that, I don't get any candy for the rest of the day! Oh, oh! She gave me some candy before I left, though. I still have a little, do you want some, Mr. Penguin?"

Evidently having gotten an idea, her eyes glinted as she uncrossed her arms, outstretching a hand towards the penguin with the palm facing up.

A small pile of dried oregano was offered to the bird.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

???

Information Unavailable, Fuyuki(?)

I...don't understand.

I can't understand.

I was so certain, I was all but decided, but...the look in those eyes. How was that alone able to dissuade me?

My mind is a jumbled mess. I can scarcely understand where I end and something else begins. You, I really wonder what you're thinking about all of this. Are you still laughing? Are you even still watching me?

I had every chance. I could have done it, then and there, but I didn't.

Why?

Those words, I was prepared to scream them out.

Pound. Pound. Pound. The drumbeat resumes. I drive my hands over my ears in an attempt to block it out, despite knowing that it is futile.

They're still screaming.

They're still crying.

They're still dying helplessly without meaning without wishes without will and I am here failing to act failing to accomplish anything why why why can't I force myself to move why won't I take that step why am I afraid when I've gotten this far I need to do this I have to close those thoughts off forget those eyes and forget those words because if I let them drag me down then more will suffer and die and they don't deserve that nobody deserves that so therefore therefore therefore-

I stare down at what my fingers have clenched around in a white-knuckle grip, my hand quivering from a feeling I don't have a word for.

It is something designed to hold wishes, and yet it is disgusting. It is something that calls itself holy, and yet that I can only find profane.

This damnable ■■■■■.

It's repulsive. Everything about it is repulsive. My very existence screams out in rejection of it. Simply touching it makes me want to vomit.

But...I can't destroy it. I can't. If I do that, then...

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

In, out.

In, out.

In, out.

That feeling of hate, still unfamiliar to me, bubbles up at my throat. I choke it down.

I...can't do it. Not yet.

I'm weak. I'm weak, if that was able to sway my heart this easily.

I'm not strong enough to dedicate myself to this. I'm not strong enough to have the willpower to kill myself to accomplish this.

So, please.

Whoever is listening, whether it's you or someone else...

Let me be strong, so that I can step forwards.

Let me stand tall, so that I do not break.

Let me turn my mind to steel, so that I can save the world.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Lucius Tiberius

Farmer's House, Shinto Town

From the remnants of Miyama, he had continued east. Regrettably, the bouts of combat he had sought to join seemed to have ended while he was dropping his Vassal off. A pity, he'd been hoping to join those, whether to find others worth fighting or to find others worth recruiting.

Well, no matter. The land of this city was only becoming his more and more by the second. The only places in Miyama left untouched had been the center of that riot he had taken his Vassal from the edges of, the forest that had yet to blossom, and that strange structure that roused his curiosity.

Ah, there was some sort of temple, as well, but he'd visit that another time.

Regardless, it had been time to move to the east, crossing the border of the river and sinking his will in as he went. For a Servant of his speed, it had not taken long before he had reached Shinto, and began the process anew.

"Ah, a perpendicular one..."

And so, stretching into the night, he continued.

The Sword Emperor, the enemy of the war, would make Fuyuki his before the next daybreak.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Chiron [Lily]

Pelion’s Pub, Edge of Shinto

@Scallop

...

...

...

The bartender and the manager turned to face one another, as if to verify that they had both just heard the same thing.

"...heh..."

"...pff..."

"AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-"

-And erupted in raucous laughter.

"Someone fuckin' thinks it's ya daaaaaad-"

"Are they trying to trick us, or are they genuinely that dumb-"

"Why would we even fight 'im? We're his fuckin' family-"

"AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-"

...eventually, the laughter calmed down.

Eventually.

"Haha...aha...hoooooo. Alright kid, here's the rub of it. I, uh, I dunno if the guy who sent ya actually knows dis, but that ain't Zeus, that's some guy named Nicholas-"

"-Nikola."

"Yeah, that. Nichols Tassler."

"...close enough."

"Anyway, he ain't Zeusy. But, uh, see, I'm not really here ta fight shit. I'm just kinda here to mess around and have some fun. This Tassler guy, he ain't been one'a my customers yet, but he ain't done stuff ta get blacklisted like talkin' shit at me fa' no reason or tryin'a attack the staff, so I'm not really feelin' tryin'a kill him, ya feel me?"

Shrugging somewhat apologetically, the Divine Spirit briefly turned to fistbump the bartender, before turning back to the human.

"Uh, so yeah, ya can tell the guy that I'm not really interested unless this Tassler guy tries to fuck with me or my staff. Tell ya what, tho, I'll give 'im and the birdfucker a few free drinks if they stop by, ta make up for it. Same goes for you too, kid. We got the best stuff in this country, fuckin' guarantee it."

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Chiron [Lily]

Pelion’s Pub, Edge of Shinto

@Scallop

"Eh? Aren't today's magi s'posed to be, uh, keepin' that shit under wraps? Whatever, none of my business what they do."

Archer seemed reasonably confused by what the new arrival had to say, shrugging haphazardly as the bartender slid a fresh glass of wine over to him, one he downed without pause.

"Dunno who the fuck you're talkin' about, though. Only guy who's ticked me off got killed by some other fuck yesterday, so-" He cut himself off, eyes widening slightly as he snapped his fingers a couple times. "Oh! The birdfucker cosplaying as my hoor niece, yeah? I mean, their bar's gone so all's well that ends well, you feel me? Poison wata' unda the bridge."

It was unlikely that the poor guy had any idea what Archer was rambling on about now.

"Anyway, the kid's out at the mo'. He'll head back once he's finished his first practical, 's always good when shit lines up well like that."

...abruptly, something about the Archer's demeanor changed when that question was asked, the bartender straightening up in turn. Then, just as quickly, he returned to his prior state, Archer himself letting out a low laugh.

"Kill a god? Tough one, there, kid. See, just makin' people not believe in 'em won't kill 'em, and just makin' them wanna die won't do the job either if they're thorough enough. If you're goal's to not just weaken or stop a god, but to one hundred percent, totally kill 'em dead, well..."

"-Ending the world would do the job nicely."

The bartender interjected, his light tone breaking through the surrounding din. Archer turned around, quirking an eyebrow up in surprise as if to say 'the fuck was that, dude', before turning back to the human.

"...uh, yeah, that."

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Lucius Tiberius

New Roman Empire, Former Tohsaka Leyline

@Kyuuzen

At Prydwyn's remarks, he shook his head, a dull scowl forming on his face. "One of those monsters has taken up a fool's errand, the land cries out for as much. It must be fresh. The wiser of its kind know subtlety, and in that, they are strong. However, something like this is beyond you. The rabble are not worth handing effort to, and the puppeteer is something that it is suicide for you to face."

Lucius did not seem to plan on explaining beyond what he had said just then, regardless of if Prydwyn inquired further or not. At any rate, his dissatisfaction with whatever had caused this was evident; if he didn't consider such a task below him, there was little to stop him from eradicating the one responsible.

A feral grin split his face at the mention of the fight. "A worthy opponent, yes. If this war lives up to the standards he had set, then the world's judgment was undoubtedly a correct one."

Even restraining his speed so as to not inadvertently murder the human on the spot, the run back to the conquered fallen leyline took relatively little time. To call it a warzone was an understatement; the destruction here was nothing short of obscene. He'd expect to see something of this nature from the true name release of Florent.

Ah, that just set his blood boiling anew.

A halfhearted toss deposited the magus onto the devastated ground where the Tohsakas had once resided, wracked by fire, rain, and lightning.

"You are to stay here unless you will die as a result, or until I permit you to otherwise."

The words did not even bear the facsimile of a request, simply spoken as fact that the Saber found it natural to be obliged. Of course, for Prydwyn it was something else, a monstrous pressure bearing down on him to execute absolute obedience. Even if he were to push himself to the utmost limits, disobeying that ability which stepped into the bounds of Authority was impossible.

...regardless, with his Vassal at least removed from a foolish death, his immediate concern was dealt with.

The land sang out. Magecraft from a Great God, cacophonies from an endless defeat. It was all so exhilarating.

Yes, that was the nature of this war.

Not fighting humans, gods, or monsters, but fighting heroes. Fighting those who became immortal, who transcended the limit and found eternity.

After all, if everybody is special, nobody is.

And so he departed for the east.

To take. To rage. To conquer. For all the good in the world was his to hoard. For all the evil in the world was his to consume.

---

Chiron [Lily]

Pelion’s Pub, Edge of Shinto

@Scallop

The newest addition to the bar would be met with an odd scene.

For instance, a fat, balding man doing body shots off of a deformed penguin.

For instance, a man in the corner who had just landed the bullseye on a darts board twenty consecutive times.

For instance, two men who seemed to be literally smoking, smoke pouring out of cracks in their skin like shattered pottery, pointing broken bottles at each other.

For instance, an immaculately dressed bartender who seemed to just be having a good day.

"Eh?"

The balding man eventually turned his eyes to the new arrival, quirking an eyebrow up in a skeptical examination as he looked the man up and down. Without warning, a bottle of sake appeared in his hand, haphazardly tossed the other's way.

"Welcome to the pub, kid. I'm tha managa' round here, what ya got fa me?"

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Lucius Tiberius

New Roman Empire, Einzbern Forest

@Kyuuzen

With Arturus defeated, his will spread out and sank into the earth.

Behold, the glory of the emperor, who builds godlike wonders.

Behold, the terror of the emperor, who conquers with a monstrous lust.

The forest sang as it was cowed under the force of the emperor. A beautiful sound. A terrible sound.

He laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

...but, this was not laughter at the opponent that had fallen. There was not an ounce of derision in his voice. No, this was a pure, unbridled excitement.

Deeper into the forest, there were some presences frantically flitting about. One Servant, and several others. The Servant lacked the strength of existence possessed by the Arturus he had just fought, and it wasn't hard to surmise that the humans near it were the Masters of the two Servants who had evidently been stationed here.

Ah, well, he was at least glad the second Servant had not interfered. It would have ruined his mood if someone had interrupted his fight, and that was something nobody wanted to happen.

Deciding to check on his Vassal, the Saber's mind stretched out to see his approach of the Native District.

The Native District that was currently embroiled in a riot.

...really, hadn't he said to avoid dying? This damned Vassal had evidently been given far too much freedom.

The other Servant was no Arturus, and the humans were mere humans, so there was no sense in tarrying any longer. Contenting himself by taking ahold of all the land in the forest that was not a part of that blossoming domain, he departed.

He cut through the Foreign District, and there he conquered all in his way. Rich lands, ones that reminded him of Arturus's Britain. A fallen leyline, one dyed in the colors of a foreign magus. Perhaps this Japan truly was worth taking.

...A strange structure, that reeked of primordial curses, a place where humans had gathered. Granted, he did not conquer the land of that one. After all, perhaps it could be a suitable exercise for his Vassal, since he seemed intent on wasting Lucius's time as it was.

Of course, that was merely one side of the coin.

'...someone with the qualification.'

Yes, this Fuyuki was truly interesting.

And so, he continued. From the forest to the Foreigner's Lowlands, from the Lowlands to the remnants of Miyama itself, and from there to the fringe of the Native District where his Vassal had departed for. Dominating the land as he went, the Servant cut a path through Fuyuki at a speed that only one existence in this war could outdo.

An amused grin cut across his face as he caught sight of the events in the Native District with his own two eyes. Even as he darted towards the location of his Vassal and his will again sunk into the land, he let out a sharp laugh.

So that's what was going on. What an entertaining sideshow for the masses, but at the same time, it was far too lowbrow for his Vassal to engage with. Ending the riot, cowing the mob mentality and either restoring peace through clearing the people's minds or killing them would be something he could accomplish in a heartbeat, but he made no effort to do it.

A problem created by humans should be solved by humans, after all. This hadn't reached near the level that required a god to step in. He had no desire to dirty his hands with the tainted blood of one of those, as well.

Appearing at the magus's side without warning, Prydwyn found himself lifted into the air before he properly knew what was happening.

"Vassal, if you must test your might, do not do it against mindless violence of the populace. Find worthy opponents and match them."

Scolding the magus with an exasperated crease to his brow, the Servant took off with him, due south.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Lucius Tiberius

Red Dragon Round Two, Einzbern Forest

@Cu Chulainn

Ah, it was exhilarating.

Every second, every moment of this fight filled him with intense joy.

"Excellent, excellent! Maybe your Germany really is worth taking!"

His laughter was a constant assault, casting weight onto the battlefield. It was not the same as the overwhelming pressure of his presence, it did not have a true 'effect', but...to any who had fought with the weight of lives bearing down on their shoulders, that laugh was an affront to everything they stood for.

A declaration that the lives he fought for and the lives his enemies fought for, that the weight he bore, was something to be relished and drank from deeply.

Yes, for glory and for ruin, he fought.

Simply because it is worthwhile.

Simply because it is fun.

Simply because it is something he can do.

"Yes, you're the same! Someone who became an eternal being! Someone recognized as a god on earth!"

The steed was not a factor. It had not even arrived on the battlefield by the time Lucius had begun moving, after all. While a beast such as Falke could defeat a Servant in a 'marathon', it would undoubtedly lose in a sprint. And...in order to reach the site of the battle before Lucius's blow met its mark, it would need to cross a much more significant distance than the space Lucius had to cut through in even less of the time.

In other words, it would need to 'sprint' at a speed that utterly outclassed Lucius, not to mention the difficulty of sneaking past his own instincts. Given that, such a thing was pointless. For all his faith in his steed, it would not reach him in time; even if it did, dealing with such a thing was trivial at this stage.

"But, it's not enough, dragon king! Only the owner of my heart has the qualification to kill me!"

The Command Seal impelling Dietrich was certainly there, but the power was too spread out. Under Lucius's pressure, it would not even allow the Rider to match him in agility with its power, much less cope with the limit-breaking speed he now possessed. Perhaps, if he had directed the magical energy towards that jet engine-like capability of his, using it to direct the blade faster than he himself could move, there would have been a chance. Perhaps, if he has used that magical energy in another way, he could have made his blow serious enough that it would have disrupted Lucius's strike.

Perhaps.

But, even with the Command Seal, Dietrich was slower.

But, even ignoring speed, their instincts were matched.

And so, the outcome had already been decided. In order for his blow to meet its mark, Dietrich would have needed to move faster than Lucius could react. Against a faster Servant who further possessed instincts at the level of precognition, this was simply something Dietrich could not accomplish.

And so, overestimating his opponent to the end and angling himself to avoid a blow that would never reach him, Lucius closed the gap between the two Servants, and Florent cut into the Rider.

The curse, that primal destruction wrought from the cycle of death and rebirth at the hands of the Mother Goddess, penetrated into his spiritual foundation. Regardless of the damage of the blow itself, such direct contact with the sword made any chance of resisting its curse futile. There was, perhaps, a fraction of a fraction of a chance that Dietrich, heaped in blessings, would be able to avoid an immediate death, but...

The domination of Lucius's was still present.

With him weakened by that pressure, the curse battered against Dietrich's spiritual foundation.

With him weakened by the curse, the weight of domination amplified.

With him weakened by that pressure, the strength of the curse amplified.

A feedback loop wrought by the twin powers that tore down the hero's strength occurred.

Yes, regardless of his strength, regardless of his ability to resist that curse, it did not matter before the Sword Emperor. He would not even have time for a final strike, falling before his arms could move or his steed could reach the battlefield. Not that, even were this not the case, his opponent would grant him an ounce of leeway.

To the end, Lucius showed no sign of the battle being decided. Even as Dietrich's spiritual core shattered and he laughed in glee, he did not display an opening.

"Do not despair. We are gods, now. You will surely have a chance the next time we meet."

...Because, after all, even if this man was not the same as that Red Dragon, he was an Arturus nonetheless.

An enemy like this deserved to at least be acknowledged that much.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Carly-Beth

Za Boat, Harbor

In response to her Servant's concern, the homunculus shrugged lazily in reply. "Not from P.P., nah. Looks like we're getting invited to a big meeting. I'll send Mary. They'll all love her. Can't wait for them to throw a party in our honor for getting rid of that tree and stopping it from fucking up everything." She hummed out.

Kneeling down a bit towards the penguin, she offered a warm smile. "Hey, little guy, how'd you like to put on a mas-"

"Don't touch me, motherfucker. Get out."

"..."

...well then.

It seemed that the penguin wasn't very friendly.

Well, regardless, with Strategist's preparations done and her own auxiliaries finished, it was time to turn her attention to something infinitely more pressing.

"Elena, keep building the simulation. Anna, Harvey, Shaytanea, and Phil, come with me. Joseph, start work on what we discussed."

Yes, after all, Carly-Beth was not here to fight for the Holy Grail, to defeat the other Servants, or anything so ridiculous as that. No...

-She just wanted to make cool masks.

And make cool masks she would.

---

Lucius Tiberius

Red Dragon Round Two, Einzbern Forest

@Cu Chulainn

...it was only reasonable.

Even if they fought differently, even if they were different existences, they were the same sort of being.

A swordsman with the nature of a dragon, a human king who cut down such dragons, a peerless warrior blessed with instinct that entered the realm of precognition.

Was his sight of the man before him overlapping with the vision of that fight? Surely not, but there was something there.

Ah, the mount was getting closer. Not here yet, but closer.

And so, as Dietrich struggled to weather those blows, something was being pulled into Lucius’s form.

Yes, his opponent had assumed that his strikes were random, bestial, tactless. This could not be further from the truth. While the strikes were a flurry of blows that rained down on Dietrich, they were not random. He could not afford to toy with an enemy such as this.

This is a digression, but for one such as Dietrich, whose instincts were equivalent to precognition, defeating him in combat was nearly impossible. One would need to significantly outclass him to do so, a notion that was not a simple one given his abilities.

...however, even instincts could be fooled.

Yes, with eyes that could understand one's abilities and mesh them into a cohesive flow with others, with combat skill that was suited for overwhelming such absurd figures as the one before him, it was already decided.

When Dietrich leapt backwards to slash out, the Sword Emperor only felt dismay. But this was not dismay at the risk of being defeated.

"...not enough."

-Because, after all, Lucius's combat style possessed two tools that were of particular use against an enemy such as Dietrich, who relied on his instincts in order to cope with a stronger enemy.

First, instincts that were not one whit inferior to Dietrich's own.

Check failure: met.

And second...

Against an enemy of superior speed, whose instincts equaled Dietrich's own, had he truly thought he would be able to put distance between them? Surely not, and yet his instincts had told him that this was what he ought to do to take advantage of an opening. This was the natural result, given that bestial nature of his attacks, which Dietrich had no doubt taken into account.

This was the second component. A battle methodology that grasped the flow of battle and induced a check failure for the opponent, carefully calculated to form a momentary chance of victory. Something further augmented by Saber's own instincts and observational talent.

And it was thus that, at the same moment that Dietrich leapt back-

Lucius’s will reached inwards, and imposed on himself.

“Burst.”

There was no time to react. As if propelled by a Command Seal, the Saber shot forwards with a speed that far and away eclipsed even his initial charge. If it was not for his dominion over the land’s spiritual pulse, something like that would have likely killed his Vassal on the spot from exertion.

Even his baseline ability was enough to overwhelm Dietrich in a matter of speed, but this was something else entirely. A calculated opening done by understanding Dietrich’s abilities, slotting them into the ‘whole’ of the battle, using his instinct against him, exploiting the instincts Lucius himself had, and accomplishing a feat that only he had the aptitude for.

Even then, even though Dietrich was occupied with already moving and lacked the capacity to stop this blow, Lucius did not let his guard down for even a moment. He would never assume such things against an Arturus. Perhaps that horse would suddenly become capable of spatial transference. Perhaps Dietrich was hiding his own true speed. Perhaps there was an undetectable Servant with a knife at his throat.

...Nonetheless, that excess caution wouldn’t matter, in the end.

Before Falke had even reached the battlefield, the Rider’s heart would be cut open by Florent.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Lucius Tiberius

Red Dragon Round Two, Einzbern Forest

@Kyuuzen @Cu Chulainn

"Don't presume to order me, Vassal. If I choose to strike him down, I will."

When the dragon-fire came, he felt a tint of confusion.

Arturus was a dragon-turned-man, but he had never had that ability. Nonetheless, he treated it as though it was an attack from Arturus itself, even if it was a trifling one. While the power behind those flames was at least suitable to be of the dragon-class, the idea that something so halfhearted could truly strike someone with his speed and Instincts was a laughable one at best.

Weaving through the fire, the Saber was unhindered, his focus on his enemy all the sharper even as fire began to blossom in the forest behind him as he ran.

...ah, wait, that could be a problem, couldn't it?

As he ran, his will reached out, and dominated the flames. It wouldn't do if the flames spread to that other section of the forest before it was complete, and so the best recourse was simply to snuff them out. And then he saw him.

"Ah..."

Disappointing. That was the first thought to dawn on him.

The stature was imposing, the spiritual foundation dripped with the nature of a great hero, the sword gleamed with a great light. That resplendent armor, that strength of the dragon, there was no doubt that this man was a hero who could stand among humanity's greatness.

And yet, for all his excitement at facing the enemy before him, someone he could recognize just as easily as he himself was recognized, he felt a tinge of disappointment.

"You're not Arturus, but you'll do nonetheless!"

Just as his eyes finally landed on the Rider, though, that true name was invoked and light colored his sword. He felt the blade in his hands call out in hunger, a grin tearing his face in two. "Fine, fine. Wake up, Florent."

It would have begun the second Dietrich laid eyes on Lucius. A weight, an immaterial weight that nonetheless felt more palpable than anything else, pressed down on him from all sides. For a hero of his stature, that pressure was not crippling, but it was nonetheless significant. His movements were slowed, his strikes were weakened. This was what it meant to oppose the Sword Emperor.

...and at the same time, that almighty will of domination was imposed on the Rider's steed as well.

Lucius's mind whirred to life, taking in what he knew of the capabilities of the Servant before him as he closed the gap between them. Learn their abilities, imagine methods in which they can be used, and then devise countermeasures for each one. His mind could take the forefront, and his combat aptitude would be in charge of the execution.

To start with, that sword was a problem. His armor alone wouldn't be sufficient to cope with its effect; with Flora's protection amplifying it, though, it could possibly handle it. Besides that, if he released the true name then the other's attacks would be meaningless, but that was something against his ideals, so it wasn't even up for consideration. If that was the case, he was best off avoiding getting hit.

The armor was only relevant if he attacked in ways other than with Florent, which could certainly occur. So long as Florent was present, though, he could essentially ignore the defensive capacity of the Noble Phantasm. Well, unless the Rider did that, of course.

The steed was noteworthy, but he had ways of dealing with such things.

With that decided, at the same time as his will came down like a crushing wall on Dietrich, not giving him the chance to adjust to the sensation...

-Lucius burst out at full speed.

With unlikely great speed, Lucius’s figure had caught up to him right from under his nose. This was a speed that far and away exceeded Britain's Red Dragon, a man on par with Dietrich, even when supplemented by that Bounded Field of wind. To Dietrich, who had no such benefit, and was also vulnerable to the pressure of Lucius's will, there was an 'absolute disadvantage' in terms of speed.

Even if he had somehow managed to swing his blade before Lucius had closed the gap between them, that was no matter. A conceptual weapon of cutting only held sway if the object had a status of 'could be cut'. In the face of Florent's mystery and Lucius's own strength, deflecting such a blow was trivial at best. Of course, that didn't mean he was careless; after all, in his eyes, this opponent was a fitting stand-in for Arturus.

And then, laughing like a madman, the offensive began.

"How many blows can you endure?!"

To ordinary people, it could’ve been seen like the sword emperor’s weapon had disappeared. As he was just carving red streaks in the air. One, two, it swelled to an uncountable number in that short pause. Without warning, Dietrich was forced to weather a storm of blows from the other's unmatched strength.

But...

There was an opening. Someone with Dietrich's Instincts could notice it almost immediately, calling it to his attention as a way to survive. Lucius's legs, in spite of his torrential offense, were largely unguarded by his offensive which focused on his sword. If Falke moved to strike there, it would likely be too slow, but for Dietrich there was a chance he could take advantage of it to strike out. If timed properly, given what could be understood about his combat style, he could take the Sword Emperor's legs out from under him, giving him at least some reprieve from that demonic speed.

Of course, whether he would be able to do that was another matter altogether.