Chapter 127

The world lit up as the sword released the stored magical energy within, an expanding globe of golden light reaching out and consuming Berserker's body. Berserker was captivated by the sight, her entire vision filled until all she could see was the golden mana rushing out of the sword, her body embraced by the flux of energy encroaching the hallways walls, ceiling and floor, eating away at the concrete as the mineral was vaporized.

In an age long past, a man by the name of Alcides became heralded as a great hero favoured by the gods, acquiring great renown as he racked up achievement after achievement, accomplishing deeds thought to be so difficult that no mortal could succeed at them, going where no man had gone before, slaying titanic beasts that went unchallenged for years. Eventually, he became recognized by the gods after numerous years of incredible feats, with one of the most famous being the Twelve Labours. His life was immortalized as story, passed down to generations and generations of humans until his legacy spread to every corner of the globe. He would come to be known by a different name, and it passed into grammatical use as well, the term "Herculean effort" coming to stand for an enormous amount of effort that was almost inhuman.

A great hero often used equally worthy weapons, and Hercules was no exception. He wielded tools of great make and origin, the Nemean Lion's pelt, the sash of Hippolyta the Queen of the Amazons, the noble steeds the Mares of Diomedes and many more. In particular, he had several weapons that legend recorded him using, though in some renditions he might not have done so, while in others he used another one that didn't appear in the other editions. The list included Harpe, the immortal slaying blade, the Hydra poison tip arrows and the olive wood club he famously used to bludgeon the Nemean lion before wrestling it. However, there was no questioning that his greatest weapons were his strength and wit in combat, the combination of instincts, skill, a tactical mind and purely ridiculous levels of immense strength gave him an edge in fighting that no weapon could provide him with.

Yet, in a few more obscure tellings of Hercules and his deeds, it was mentioned that the god of smithing, Hephaestus, or his Roman equivalent Vulcan, forged a sword without peer for Hercules, granting it to the mortal for use. Eventually, this sword was passed down to others after Hercules tragic death, going through the hands of many people, until it reached none other than King Rions, King Arthur's enemy during his earlier years, also said to be a giant in some sources. After defeating this particular enemy, who asked for King Arthur's beard as a decoration to complete his trophy of eleven kings' beards that he had killed for a complete number of twelve, Arthur had taken his sword, and supposedly loaned it to Gawain.

Of course, for Caster, who originated from a different timeline, Marmyadose was still considered to be one of her weapons, and indeed was one of the catalysts she favoured the most, a sword of great power that could always be relied on when she needed it's raw power. It was also forged by a God of Fire in her case, and it's power was the real deal, possessing divinity imbued into it's very essence by the creator, granting it status and ability unrivalled by any other sword, at least of those created by human hands. Whenever Caster released her energy through it, mana funneled into the catalyst, the sword retracing to its origin from the flames as it heated up, until it briefly reached the temperature of the forge that birthed it, the surface glowing a molten white. This was followed by the release of said energy as a brilliant, blinding golden white that seared and consumed everything in its path, a cleansing of light that purged Caster's enemies. There was no weapon more powerful than that blade in Caster's arsenal in terms of brute force, carving holes into the very earth itself in an effort to vanquish those that stood in her way.

There was no time to think.

Berserker swallowed the paste in her mouth the moment she saw the blade starting to manifest, her throat chugging down the bitter slimy mixture mixed with her saliva, a nutty and sweet tastes hugging her tongue as her brain released a mixture of endorphins that told her, this was amazing. Before it even passed her throat, the Altreactor was already revving up, warming the engine to accept the latest offering to her stomach. The chestnut paste was instantly consumed, processed, and refined, Berserker's eyes turning a shade of opal with a tinge of scarlet rimming the iris, her body shaking momentarily before it became as still as a statue. The veins popped on her forehead, neck, arms, hands, legs and everywhere, like a bodybuilder working out and flexing, before turning back to normal all of a sudden.

Lifting her head, she saw the energy blast heading towards her, coming in slow motion. If it hit her, she was certain to die, and leave this world, leaving her Master to fend for herself. If there was anything that spending time with Assassin taught her, it was that she would protect the things she valued.

Her enhanced senses and mind, now in the peak of her prime, her condition beyond anything she had shown earlier, observed, calculated and executed her best method of survival and victory.

Further away, Illya winced, her body swaying suddenly in the middle of talking to the magi from the Clock Tower.

"Miss Einzbern!"

Flat caught her, but she brushed off his hands, though she still offered a nod of appreciation.

"It's nothing, just my Servant."

Deep down, she wondered who it was she was fighting to make her go all-out like that.

Without announcing anything like she sometimes did, her body moved, performing the necessary movements to block everything. If her opponent was using a weapon of the gods, then all she had to do was surpass the divine.

A hundred, no, a thousand strikes, all in the blink of an eye.

Blackhole Infinity Strike (Instantaneous Shadowless Blade 2nd edition).