“The cursed sword of Danish King Högni from Norse mythology, Dáinsleif.”

“The scythe used by the hero Perseus to behead Medusa, Harpe, which nullifies immortality.”

“From Norse mythology, the demonic solar sword of the hero Sigurd, symbolizing ‘glory and ruin,’ Gram.”

“The thunderbolt weapon of the Indian god of thunder and rain, Indra, crafted by the artisan god Tvastar, Vajra.”

As Damien listed the Noble Phantasms with the familiarity of reciting heirlooms, Kiritsugu beside him was dumbfounded.

Is this the legendary wisdom of King Solomon?

Kiritsugu grew even more convinced of Damien’s identity.

Who else but the King of Magecraft, symbolizing wisdom, could identify Gilgamesh’s Noble Phantasms at a glance?

He didn’t suspect Damien of bluffing.

A being of such power had no need to deceive in such matters.

Of course, this was all Kiritsugu’s imagination, unrelated to Damien.

While Damien lacked Solomon’s wisdom, he had Violet, the Spirit of the World.

Through her power, Damien’s appraisal skill was unparalleled.

Anything that appeared before him… its origin and details were instantly known.

“How is this possible?!” Waver stammered below, his voice trembling.

It wasn’t just Waver; the other Heroic Spirits and Masters shared his shock.

A Heroic Spirit’s Noble Phantasms weren’t always singular.

Some wielded three or four superweapons akin to Noble Phantasms.

But even then, three or four was the limit.

Yet this golden-clad Archer seemed to possess an endless arsenal, drawing Noble Phantasms one after another, discarding them after use.

Counting from his earlier battle with Assassin, not a single Noble Phantasm Gilgamesh used was repeated.

“Can that sudden Heroic Spirit withstand this?” Someone wondered.

Gilgamesh’s power was so overwhelming that, for a moment, everyone forgot Shion’s origins.

Where did she come from, and why was she protecting Fran?

“Come!” Gilgamesh declared, giving them no time to ponder. “Let’s see how long those filthy hands of yours can hold out!”

At his command, the floating array of Noble Phantasms surged toward Shion.

The booming impacts shook the air, their explosive flashes banishing the darkness and illuminating the night sky.

Unbelievable… mere thrown weapons could unleash such devastating force?

Countless Noble Phantasms rained down on the warehouse district, reducing it to rubble as if carpet-bombed, leaving only devastation.

Yet Archer’s onslaught showed no signs of stopping.

The Noble Phantasms fell like thunder, as if intent on obliterating Shion and the entire district, strike after relentless strike.

The assault didn’t pause… it only intensified.

The reason was clear.

Under Gilgamesh’s barrage, Shion emerged unscathed, growing fiercer with each exchange.

Wielding a two-meter-long greatsword, she swung it with commanding force.

Chopping, sweeping, parrying.

Her simple movements perfectly countered Gilgamesh’s attacks, one after another.

From six Noble Phantasms to twelve, then twenty-four.

Shion moved with the grace of a stroll, like a butterfly weaving through flowers, cutting her way to Gilgamesh.

“Get…”

Shion leaped, raising her arms and swinging the greatsword downward with force. “Down!!”

“Damn it…”

The heavy blade descended with unstoppable might, forcing Gilgamesh to retreat, his face darkening as he dodged Shion’s slash.

Boom!

The greatsword struck the ground, its terrifying strength tearing through the warehouse district.

But it wasn’t over.

Crack! Crash!

“Damn!”

“Up here, kid!”

“Irisviel!”

The warehouse district, already strained by Gilgamesh and Shion’s clash, couldn’t withstand her final mountain-splitting strike and collapsed.

Everyone leaped to nearby containers.

Only Shion and Gilgamesh, descending from the sky, stood on the shattered ground, locked in their standoff.

“Fun toy. That was quite a thrill.” Shion said, relishing the intense battle that rekindled her long-dormant bloodlust. “Hey, shiny gold guy, got any more toys? Bring them out!”

“(?へ?╬)!!”

“Insolent fool!”

Gilgamesh’s rage reached its peak.

“To force this king, who should be gazed upon from below, to stand on the same ground as you!”

A deep furrow creased his brow, twisting his handsome features into a ferocious scowl. “Such disrespect cannot be atoned for, even with your death.”

“You mongrel, I’ll reduce you to ashes!”

Buzz! Buzz!

Golden light flared brilliantly.

The surrounding space warped again, revealing a new forest of blades.

The next wave of Noble Phantasms numbered one hundred and eight.

The spectacle silenced not just the watching Masters but even fellow Heroic Spirits like Iskandar, Artoria, and Diarmuid.

“What is this nonsense?”

“Counting the Noble Phantasms he’s already used, what’s with this Heroic Spirit?”

“Are his Noble Phantasms inexhaustible?”

In that moment, everyone felt the unfairness of the Holy Grail War.

Especially Lancer.

Why was he, with his dual spears and swords, limited to just two weapons in this war?

Yet this golden figure tossed Noble Phantasms like trash!

Where was the justice?

Diarmuid admitted to himself: I’m jealous. Is the gap between Heroic Spirits really this vast?

“Heh.”

From his vantage point, Damien overlooked the battle below, a pleased smile on his face. “Well done, Shion. Keep provoking him.”

—

Hi guys, Elenea here! I just want to announce that starting now I’ll be trying to focus on my own original fanfic, which I’ve been thinking about for the past few days (lol I really mulled this over briefly for a few days and decided I’m going to make it a full novel).

[Worse Than the Devil (DxD)]

Synopsis:

Devil.

An evil and chaotic creature, born from hell, which are often a scapegoat for humans. Blamed for the atrocities they themselves commit.

“The devil made me do it.”

A phrase always uttered by humans after committing crimes, casting blame and responsibility for their wrongdoings onto the devil.

But not all humans are like that, for there is one man who would gleefully commit atrocities that would be condemned by all of human history and accept the blame and responsibility for those wrongs with open arms.

His name is Michael, but in stark contrast to the meaning of his name ‘Who is like God’ he is not a devout man who draws near to God’s embrace. Instead… he is the one who sends lost sheep to meet God’s embrace much faster.

—

Btw, a quick note before you decide to read, if you have a heart as pure as glass, I suggest you don’t read this because it REALLY gets dark to early. The first chapter will give you a little idea of what I might explore later on in this fanservice harem-themed world like DxD.

Adios!

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep