Shinji Matou At Your Service

Chapter 120: Deadly Struggle

This is an internal war between Celtic heroes.

It is a duel between masters of spearmanship.

On one side is the unrivaled first spear of the knights of Fianna, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne.

On the other side is the Queen of the Land of Shadows, Scáthach, who has stepped into the realm of gods as a human and has slain multiple deities.

The surging magical power shakes the atmosphere.

The clashing spears scorch the cold winter night.

Each step they take breaks through the ground.

Each swing of their weapons creates a gust of wind that topples walls.

But the figures of the two amid the collision are elusive, making it difficult for either Shinji or Kenneth to capture them.

Lancer is ranked as the swiftest among the seven classes of Servants, and the Servant known as Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, whose true name is Lancer, lives up to that class. His Agility attribute is the highest in this Holy Grail War—A+.

However, this highest attribute is not unique. Another person possesses the same speed as Lancer, and she is the current opponent of Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, Scáthach, who manifests as the Assassin class.

The battle between two powerful warriors who have reached the limits of Servant speed is the reason for this spectacle.

The sound of the north wind echoes lowly.

The violent acts that defy the laws of physics make the atmosphere scream in hysteria.

The abandoned factory is shrouded in the raging gusts of wind, suffering merciless destruction, and gradually being reduced to ruins.

Only five minutes have passed, and the reinforced concrete structure chosen by Kenneth as a stronghold collapses with a thunderous roar.

Yet, the two humanoid monsters causing all of this remain unfazed, standing atop the debris, confronting each other without showing fatigue.

Scáthach casually twirls a spear flower in her hand, her lips curling into a provocative smile.

"The renowned knights of the Fianna Order truly live up to their reputation. If it weren't for that tragedy, you would have surely mastered the 'God Slayer'."

Diarmuid Ua Duibhne responds with a similar smile. It's hard to imagine the refined and gentle him wearing such madness, even with a touch of ferocity.

"You flatter me, Queen of the Land of Shadows. Compared to you, I am far inferior. Your mastery of the spear, honed to the extreme point of being capable of slaying gods, truly amazes me. If you were also a spear-user like me, I would have been wounded or dead under your spear."

"No need to be modest, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne." Scáthach shakes her head slightly. "We both know that the strength of a warrior cannot be judged solely by skill. Inherent qualities are also an important factor. Strength is strength, no excuses, and no 'what ifs'."

To assess the strength of a warrior, one must consider their heart, skill, and physique, judging them comprehensively.

Regarding the "heart," both of them have experienced countless battles, both holding the determination to deliver a fatal blow, single-mindedly focused without a clear advantage.

As for the "physique," there is no doubt that Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, who manifests as Lancer, has a considerable advantage.

However, Scáthach's "skill," honed from ancient times until the present, compensates well for her disadvantage in attributes. Overall, the two are evenly matched.

Diarmuid Ua Duibhne nodded with understanding. He certainly understood this principle, but he couldn't help but feel a bit regretful. If only the true form of this ancient figure were in the Land of Shadows, he could witness the true "Spear of Godslaying," which is the highest realm that every warrior who practices spear techniques dreams of.

Scáthach also felt a sense of regret. The legendary Diarmuid is known for his proficiency in dual swords, dual spears, and a single blade. However, by only showcasing his dual spears, Diarmuid cannot fully display his true strength.

However, as soon as these thoughts arose in their minds, they were cast aside by both of them simultaneously. It was meaningless to think about such things. Instead, they focused on how to achieve victory.

"Come again!"

"Good!"

Then, the two, both wielding spears, stepped forward simultaneously, exuding an almost tangible aura. Even though they were dozens of meters apart, Shinji and Kenneth could still feel the pain of their faces being grazed by sharp objects.

The ensuing clash became even more direct, intense, concise, and chilling.

After five minutes of probing, the two master spear users gained a deep understanding of each other's techniques.

There was no need for further probing or any reservations. They only needed to exert all their strength to kill their opponent.

Stronger, faster, more ruthless.

Both continuously swung their weapons, engaging in a fierce exchange of attacks and defenses.

Diarmuid's long spear was powerful and heavy, while his short spear was elusive and unpredictable. The coordination between the two, one long and one short, was seamless.

Although Scáthach only wielded a single spear, in her hands, it seemed to possess spirituality. Every part of the spear, whether it be the tip, the blade, or the shaft, emanated infinite possibilities, seamlessly transitioning between offense and defense.

They intertwined and clashed, the three magical spears colliding and sparking countless fiery trails, blooming into a chaotic spectacle.

Legendary Noble Phantasms wielded with superhuman strength and speed clashed, with their velocity even surpassing the speed of sound.

It was unclear whether they had gone through ten rounds or a hundred rounds.

Scáthach had a wound on her waist.

Diarmuid's chest bloomed with blood.

The physical injuries did not slow down their attacks but made the battle even more perilous. Like two wounded beasts, they completely unleashed their ferocity.

At this moment, even if the Master were to command them to cease fighting with a Command Spell, it would be difficult to suppress the boiling fighting spirit of these two heroes.

The forehead, the throat, the heart—wherever it was fatal, the spears aimed there.

The spears thrust incessantly, leaving no room for even a sliver of opportunity.

Rapid thrusts at high speeds left no afterimages.

The two swiftly moved within a tiny range, unleashing dozens or even hundreds of attacks within a single breath.

If either side fell slightly out of rhythm, it would be the arrival of the Grim Reaper.

Blood continued to drip from the bodies of the two Servants—perhaps from their arms, thighs, backs, or even their cheeks.

In this fast-paced battle, Scáthach had no opportunity to release her Noble Phantasm's true name, and Diarmuid's Red Rose of Exorcism was unable to unleash its special effects.

The strategy chosen by both Diarmuid and Scáthach was a deliberate decision. They opted not to use their Noble Phantasms and instead relied solely on their spear techniques to determine the winner.

As the battle progressed, the amount of blood flowing from both of them increased. The striking red color of Diarmuid's armor and the black color of Scáthach's tight-fitting attire blended due to the bloodstains.

Suddenly, with a clang, a beautiful rose-like spear fell to the ground—the Red Rose of Diarmuid.

This was a technique invented by Scáthach, transitioning from a straight thrust to a sweeping strike aimed at Diarmuid's wrist.

It was a blow that Diarmuid couldn't dodge. The Red Rose was a long spear, and its transformations were not as quick as the short spear. Although Scáthach's impromptu move didn't carry much force, the strike hit its mark accurately. Diarmuid's nerves were injured, causing him to lose strength in his right hand and lose his grip on the Red Rose, just as he had wounded Saber a few days earlier.

Unlike a few days ago, Diarmuid didn't feel anxious or in pain because of losing the use of his hand. Instead, he revealed a smile that seemed to suggest victory was within his grasp.

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