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Divinity, in the Type-Moon worldview, was genuinely difficult to evaluate.
It granted power — the boost to a Servant was significant and real. But the worldview also contained a disproportionate number of things specifically designed to counter Divinity, to the point where the attribute sometimes functioned as a liability. A double-edged designation.
What it was, without question, was the specific thing you needed to have any realistic chance against Achilles.
Because Achilles was not a simple opponent.
Beyond the chariot — Hurricane and Angry Waves, Undying Chariot — and the shield — Akhilleus Kosmos — the spear in his hand was also a Noble Phantasm. Named Spear Tip that Gallops Across the Sky, a wedding gift from the centaur Chiron to Achilles's parents, passed down to their son. Two abilities: an incurable curse on struck opponents, and the ability to establish a one-on-one dueling territory comparable to a Reality Marble — a domain where both combatants fought purely, stripped of everything external. The curse ability was sealed because Achilles had been summoned as Rider rather than Lancer. The dueling territory still functioned.
Beyond the spear: Comet Run, a speed enhancement Noble Phantasm sublimated from Achilles's own legend — the ability that made "fastest Greek hero" not a metaphor but a measurable fact. A battlefield spanning ten thousand miles, crossed in a single breath.
And the last, the one that ran through his entire heroic epic: Undying Flower of the Brave.
His mother Thetis had immersed him in the River Styx as an infant, granting immortality that manifested as a passive ability — nullifying all damage, rendering every attack that landed on him equivalent to a light tap. The ability could only be bypassed by opponents who possessed Divinity. And it could be broken by piercing his heel.
His heel had been pierced.
Lancer Artoria's final trajectory had seen to that.
Without the two Command Seals his Master had used to forcibly hold his Spirit Core together, Achilles would not have walked out of the labyrinth. He didn't have much time. He knew it. And from Artoria's posture — the invisible sword pointing directly at him — she knew it too.
Neither of them spoke about it. They simply began.
[Chat]: don't break up yet. there's still an Assassin group out there.
[Answering]: not enough time. the heel is pierced. Achilles knows he's dying. he wants to finish the war before he can't.
[Feeling_It]: they were comrades an hour ago. they saved each other. and now—
[Honest]: this is the adult world. cruel, but honest.
[Someone_With_Takeout]: my girlfriend just brought me food. I'm watching the final battle with snacks. I wonder if Artoria will do anything dishonorable.
[Jealous]: why don't I have a girlfriend bringing me takeout. this is capitalism's fault.
[Battle_Perspective]: fight. let the flames get fiercer.
The sword and spear made contact and the battle became something that required the chat to stop talking and just watch.
Achilles's spear moved like something that had given up on being perceived and simply appeared at its destination. Artoria's Instinct A read the trajectories before they fully formed and moved her body accordingly — a head tilt, a parry, a sudden close that brought her inside his reach. Her sword went for his throat. His spear blocked it. He pole-vaulted off the ground using both arms on the spear shaft and drove a kick into her chest.
Brief contact. They separated.
Achilles began to run. A whistle — the chariot answered.
[Chat]: he summoned the chariot
[Chat]: it's not fair, he gets a mount—
[Responding]: they didn't agree to ground-only rules. he's a Rider.
[Counter_Opinion]: if it were purely ground combat, Achilles has one spear and Artoria controls wind. ground Artoria has the advantage.
[Chariot_Support]: let them both fight with everything. that's the whole point.
[Both_Support]: Go, Achilles!
[Also_Both]: Go, Artoria!
The chariot at full acceleration was a different thing from the chariot in combat. It had done impressive things in the Columbus battle. What it did now, with Achilles driving it in the context of a single fight against a specific opponent, was something that created its own weather. Dust. Wind. The spear tip appearing from multiple angles simultaneously, each pass leaving a different problem for Artoria to solve.
Artoria solved them.
Not comfortably — she was managing a disadvantage, always slightly reactive, never quite able to establish the offensive ground she wanted. Invisible Air shifted to Wind King Hammer and nearly ended the fight in one strike. Nearly. The chariot was too fast for nearly.
Achilles was running out of time. His body showed it — small signs, the kind that only mattered if you knew what to look for.
Artoria was not running out of time. Her mana was low from Excalibur, but her condition was clean.
And then the white horse appeared.
A familiar whinny. From the edge of the flattened terrain, a rider — not a Servant, not a Master — came in at full gallop carrying a single passenger who jumped off before it reached Artoria.
The passenger was A-bro.
The horse was East Stallion.
"Mount up!" A-bro's voice carried across the arena. "This is your horse, right? That idiot Artoria told me to bring it to you — so don't lose!"
[Chat]: LANCER ARTORIA
[Chat]: SHE SENT THE HORSE BACK
[Realizing]: before she disappeared. she sent the horse to her Master with instructions to bring it to Saber.
[Completely_Done]: she sacrificed herself AND sent the horse AND left a message
[Official_Statement]: Lancer Artoria is the greatest person in this story.
[Counter]: Achilles said "I will not let anyone be sacrificed" and she—
[Done_Twice]: I know. I know.
Artoria looked at East Stallion.
The white horse looked at her.
It was not a Phantasmal Beast. Not a legendary creature. An ordinary horse with a degree of spiritual awareness — what the records would call a famous steed, and only that. No divine bloodline, no immortal backing, nothing that should have allowed it to keep pace with the sea-god's warhorses for as long as it had.
But it knew what it was carrying. A King. The weight of a legend that had shouldered an entire kingdom. And that knowledge — that specific honor — was worth everything a horse could give.
Artoria mounted.
The two sides balanced.
Achilles's face showed not alarm but excitement — the specific expression of someone who had been hoping for exactly this.
"What's wrong, Achilles?" Artoria called across the distance. "Your spear tip has slowed down. That's not like you."
"I was being too careful," he admitted, freely. "Old habit. I apologize." The excitement sharpened. "But not anymore. Let me show you what I actually look like."
He pulled the reins. The chariot burst.
East Stallion answered.
And in the flattened mountain that Excalibur had made into an arena, the King of Britain and the greatest warrior of Greece ran at each other with everything they had left.
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