Chapter 6 -:6 Heretical Knowledge

Chapter 6 -:6 Heretical Knowledge"Unfortunately for you, I'm not in the mood for any of your bad jokes." The youth known as Kiba Yuuto muttered, Shirou's eyes widening as a magic circle appeared before the blonde, a sword manifesting itself in his hands. "That's perfect!" the clearly insane priest, Freed Sellzen, cackled, waving his own weapon overhead, the rest of their conversation fading from Shirou's consciousness, the very fall of the rain against his skin halting as the Faker's eyes locked onto the two blades, scanning them, taking in every minute detail of their existence. In the back of his mind, impossibly large gears ground into action, the sound of Forging Iron echoing in their wake as the Blade Works welcomed two more additions to his inner world. "■Judging the concept of creation..." •It was a Demon Sword, born from its master's desire to consume Holy Energy. •It was but a part of the whole, a mere fraction of the original, broken & remade by mortal hands. "■Hypothesizing the Basic Structure..." •A two-handed longsword, designed to overpower foes yet allowing for high-speed movement. •Its basic shape resembled a long Kris, a light, one-handed longsword designed for swift strikes. " ■Duplicating the Composite Materials..." •While not forged by mortal hands, the base metals were identical to that of a regular sword. •While divine metal served as its core, base metals had been added to give the shards new life. " ■Imitating the Production Process..." •No hand had ever forged this blade. It had been born from its master's will made form. •Originally forged by divine hands, it was restored through the use of alchemy and blessed Metals. " ■Sympathizing with the Experience of its. Growth..." •Countless times this blade was redesigned, re-forged, until it had assumed its current form. •Few possessed the qualifications for it to acknowledge them as master & so few had wielded it. "■Reproducing the accumulated years..." •While the blade itself was fairly young, it had stood by its master's side longer than any other... •It was old; it was new, its current form mere decades old, its legend reaching back centuries. " ■Excelling every manufacturing process..." •Its name is Holy Eraser, and it would defend its Master by devouring the accursed light that shunned him, submerging those who wielded it in Eternal Darkness. •Forged anew, it stands ready to cleave apart the darkness, to bring the light of God down upon the damned. Though reduced from days of yore, all who aspire to Glory know its name, the greatest of Holy Swords... "Excalibur...?" Shirou breathed alongside Freed's crowing, the Faker's eyes widening in disbelief, unable to comprehend the sheer blasphemy of the sight before him. Excalibur was no mere 'Sword', it was a Divine Construct, the pinnacle of Holy swords, a Last Phantasm, forged by the Planet itself as the crystallization of mankind's prayer for 'Victory'. Guarded by Fairies, it had been entrusted solely to the hands of the Proud Once & Future King of Knights by the Lady of the Lake, who reclaimed it following his death. It was Saber's most iconic Noble Phantasm, the very symbol of her Legend, so closely tied to her True Identity that she'd been forced to conceal it beneath a sheath of wind, for all who laid eyes upon the Sword of Promised Victory instantly knew its name, and through it the one King deemed worthy to carry the dreams & pride of every warrior, past, present & future who laid eyes upon it. It was not something that could be 'Broken and Re-Forged' so easily. To even imagine something strong enough to shatter the Sword of Promised Victory, which by its very name signified that it could not be beaten, was blasphemous. How then, could the sword before him exist? Even if he chose to close his eyes and block his ears, his Inner World, that beautiful, haunting field of Unlimited Blades beneath a cog-filled sky, had burned its existence into his very soul. It was (NOT) Excalibur...and yet there was no way it could (NOT) be. It was but a portion of the whole, a fragment, an echo, an offshoot that had garnered a tale of its own through the actions of humans. Much like how Caliburn was descended from Gram, which in turn was descended from Merodach, so too had this sword seemingly descended from the Sword of Promised Victory. Its name was Excalibur Rapidly: The Holy Sword of Heavenly Flash. Sёarᴄh the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. And it did not appreciate being wielded by a heretic like Freed Sellzen. The sound of clashing steel snapped the Faker out of his thoughts, blinking just in time to see the two swordsmen lock blades, Holy Sword & Demon Sword struggling against one another. "You know, your shitty face is getting even more messed up." Freed sneered, his tone smug, a stark contrast to the look of fury on Kiba's normally smiling features "It's starting to look like it was made to be the prey of this Holy Sword, Ex-Cali-bur~!" "Shut up!" Kiba snarled, forcing the priest back before raising Holy Eraser before him, tendrils of darkness erupting from the Demon Sword to envelop its foe as he called out its name, only to be rent asunder by the Holy Aura coating the blade. "Yeah, sorry." Freed sneered mockingly, the insane priest looking hardly apologetic at all as he straightened up once the light faded away "That little trick's not gonna work this time, Shithead." "I'd be insulted if it did." Kiba shot back, his tone equally smug even as he trembled with repressed rage "That was just a test to make sure you weren't talking out your ass..." he readied his sword with a glare "Now that I know that's the real thing, I won't hesitate to break you AND your sword!" "Whoa-there!" Freed exclaimed, backing up hurriedly whilst fending off Kiba's assault. For a moment, it actually looked like the blonde was pushing him, his Demon Sword coming round in a two-handed swing that by all-rights should have severed the priest's wrist from his arm, only for Freed to sneer mockingly, somehow managing to lean back to avoid the swing, delivering one of his own even as Kiba struggled to right himself, the Blonde crying out in agony as dark smoke burst from the resulting wound to his upper arm, dropping to his knees with a grimace. Don't forget powerstone..