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Edison had done the math. He'd run the projections, checked the calculations, cross-referenced the data. Every angle had been accounted for. Every variable considered.
In theory—beautiful, perfect theory—if his opponent had been someone like Nero, his Noble Phantasm would have crippled her instantly. Completely. Nero's entire combat ability relied on Imperial Privilege, that bullshit skill that basically said "The Emperor can do anything because the Emperor says so." That was pure Mystery. Pure faith. Pure conceptual power. Edison's light should have stripped it away like tissue paper, leaving her as nothing more than a confused girl in an oversized dress waving a fancy sword around.
But unfortunately for Thomas Alva Edison, his target wasn't Nero.
His target was Lu Bu.
And that changed everything.
There was a fundamental difference between Western and Eastern Heroic Spirits in these kinds of games—a difference that Edison had clearly failed to account for in his grand strategy. Western heroes were what you'd call "Mechanism Monsters." They relied on specific legends, conceptual weaknesses, magical gimmicks, and narrative tricks. Kill them the "right way" and they'd fall. Try the "wrong way" and they'd be invincible.
Eastern heroes?
They were "Stat Sticks."
Lu Bu didn't rely on Mystery. He didn't rely on faith or legends or conceptual bullshit. He relied on the fact that his Strength stat was A+ and his weapon weighed four goddamn tons. He relied on the fact that he could swing that four-ton monster faster than most people could blink.
Edison's Noble Phantasm erased "Mystery." It stripped away the supernatural, the conceptual, the magical.
But there was no Mystery on Lu Bu's body to erase.
His Noble Phantasm, God Force, wasn't some mystical artifact powered by ancient legends. It was just a really, really advanced stick. The rest of him? Pure, unadulterated violence refined to its most perfect form. A martial art so perfected it could suppress an entire era didn't give a single damn about lightbulbs or patent lawsuits.
So when the blinding light of World Faith Domination washed over him like a tidal wave of civilization itself, Lu Bu didn't weaken.
He didn't shrink.
He didn't even flinch.
He just squinted slightly, his eyes narrowing behind his fearsome mask.
"Bright," Lu Bu muttered, his tone somewhere between annoyed and bored.
Up on the roof, Edison's face crumbled into a mask of pure, unadulterated terror. It was the expression of a CEO watching the stock market crash in real-time, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.
Lu Bu wasn't an idiot. Sure, he was a berserker-type warrior who solved most problems with overwhelming violence, but he understood strategy. He understood intent. Even though he felt no pain from the light show, he recognized what it was supposed to do.
The Lion-Man had tried to debuff him.
And failed.
"Very good!" Lu Bu's voice boomed across the battlefield, deep and resonant like thunder. He lowered his halberd slightly, tilting his head in what might have been genuine appreciation. "I don't know what that little light show was supposed to accomplish, but I'll give you this much—I admire your guts. Most people who try to ambush me die screaming before they can finish the attempt."
"You... you..." Edison stammered, his earlier confidence completely evaporated. He took an involuntary step backward on the roof ledge, his lion tail swishing nervously. "Don't get cocky! Even if my Noble Phantasm failed to affect you directly, you still have a weakness! You're a Servant! Your very existence is tied to your Master!"
Edison thrust a trembling finger toward the rooftop where Laomao—Lu Bu's Master—was currently cowering behind some air conditioning units.
"As long as I capture your Master, you're finished!" Edison roared, trying to inject some authority back into his voice. "Without a mana supply, you'll fade into nothing! You need him! That makes him your Achilles' heel!"
Lu Bu paused mid-step.
Then, slowly, deliberately, a wicked smile spread beneath his mask—the kind of smile that would make veteran soldiers reconsider their life choices.
"Oh?" Lu Bu's voice dropped to a dark chuckle. "Is that so? You think my Master is my weakness?"
He tilted his head, and that smile grew wider. More dangerous.
"Then please. By all means. Feel free to attack my 'weak spot.'"
"!!!"
Edison didn't need to be told twice. Whatever game Lu Bu was playing, the lion-man wasn't interested in finding out. He snapped his fingers sharply, and the useless spotlights vanished in an instant, their harsh illumination blinking out of existence.
As if they'd been waiting for exactly that signal, the mechanical soldiers that had been flanking the perimeter suddenly changed tactics. They ignored Maverick and Daisy entirely, pivoting in perfect synchronization and surging toward the building where Laomao was hiding.
Dozens of them. Metal feet clanking against concrete and brick. Optical sensors locked onto their target.
"Brother Bu!" Laomao's scream was high-pitched and terrified as he watched an army of terminators start scaling the walls toward his position. "Help me! Please! They're coming!"
Lu Bu moved.
Not quickly. Not frantically. With the casual ease of someone stepping out to grab the morning paper.
He descended from the main battlefield like a demon god dropping from the heavens, his armored boots hitting the rooftop beside his Master with a resounding BOOM that cracked the concrete beneath him.
SWISH!
The Sky Piercer flashed in the darkness, a blur of red and black.
Just like the robots on the ground level, the mechanical soldiers attempting to grab Laomao were instantly reduced to scrap metal. Arms separated from torsos. Heads flew off in clean arcs. Sparking wires and shattered optical sensors scattered across the rooftop like confetti.
Laomao let out a shaky breath of relief, his entire body trembling. "Oh thank god, that was clo—"
SLICE.
The halberd didn't stop after cutting through the robots.
The arc continued—smooth, precise, utterly effortless—and the blade passed directly through Laomao's neck with the same ease it had passed through the mechanical soldiers.
For a split second, nothing happened.
Then blood erupted like a fountain, spraying across the rooftop in a crimson arc that painted the concrete and the remaining robot parts in dark red.
Laomao's face was frozen in an expression of complete, utter disbelief. His mouth was still open from his interrupted sentence. His eyes were wide with the realization of what had just happened—though his brain didn't have time to fully process it.
His head slid off his shoulders with a wet, sickening sound and hit the roof with a heavy thud, rolling a few feet like a discarded watermelon before coming to rest against a ventilation duct.
Lu Bu caught the headless body with his free hand before it could collapse, holding it up high like a trophy.
He turned to face Edison, pointing the gruesome display directly at the lion-man in the sky.
"There," Lu Bu said, his voice carrying a note of dark amusement. "No more weakness."
Down in Maverick's stream chat, the viewers absolutely lost their minds.
[PlotTwist]: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
[Betrayal]: I KNEW IT! I knew Lu Bu would betray his Master eventually! But RIGHT NOW?!
[LoreMaster]: Calm down, noobs. This is high-level strategic play. Archers have Independent Action. If your Master becomes a liability or potential hostage, a Servant like Lu Bu—who has the Rebellious Spirit skill—will calculate that it's better to eliminate the hostage than risk being forced to commit suicide via Command Spell.
[Gamer]: Ruthless. Absolutely fucking ruthless. I love it.
[Simp]: If Laomao had used a cute female avatar, maybe Lu Bu would have hesitated.
[Goblin]: Shame about Laomao. Anyway, dinner time, boys.
[Question]: Wait, does anyone actually know what Edison's Noble Phantasm was supposed to do? Besides be a flashbang?
[Analysis]: Lu Bu has no Master now. Will he go full Berserk mode?
[Warning]: MAVERICK! RUN! A WILD LU BU IS LOOSE NOW!
As the chat had correctly pointed out, Lu Bu possessed the skill "Nature of a Rebellious Spirit." It was baked into his legend, part of his very core as a Heroic Spirit. Unless you had the overwhelming charisma of a true Emperor—someone who could command absolute loyalty through sheer presence—Lu Bu would betray you eventually.
It wasn't a matter of if.
It was a matter of when.
Edison had threatened to use the Master as leverage, to turn Laomao into a hostage and force Lu Bu's compliance through the threat of Command Spell suicide.
Lu Bu had simply removed the leverage.
Permanently.
Now, he was untethered. Free. A wild beast with nothing to lose and no one to hold him back. Without a mana source, he wouldn't last long—maybe thirty minutes of combat at full power before his spiritual core destabilized and he faded back into the Throne of Heroes.
But for those thirty minutes?
He was an unchained god of destruction with absolutely nothing restraining him.
"I am the Peerless Flying General, Lu Bu!" His voice thundered across the battlefield, carrying the weight of centuries of carnage and conquest. "The man who stands alone above all others!"
He casually tossed Laomao's headless corpse toward Edison like someone throwing out a bag of trash, the body tumbling through the air before landing with a wet splat on the street below.
"Those who wish to die," Lu Bu declared, raising his blood-soaked halberd high, "step forward!"
His spiritual pressure exploded outward like a shockwave, the sheer weight of his presence making the air itself feel heavy. The temperature seemed to drop. The sounds of the city faded into background noise.
This wasn't a skirmish anymore.
This was a Boss Fight: Phase Two.
Lu Bu turned his burning gaze toward Nero and Elizabeth, his eyes gleaming with predatory interest behind his mask. He needed a new Master to sustain himself—or he could just kill everyone on this battlefield before his timer ran out.
Either option worked fine for him.
"Master!" Nero shouted, her voice cracking slightly with genuine fear. For all her bravado, she could feel the difference. This wasn't the same Lu Bu from moments ago. This was something worse.
"Little Piggy!" Elizabeth shrieked, her usual playful tone replaced by barely-controlled panic.
"Give me a Command Spell!" they yelled in perfect unison, their voices overlapping.
They were desperate—and rightfully so. Nero had buffed her Strength to Rank B using Imperial Privilege, pushing herself beyond normal limits, but even with that enhancement, facing a full-power Lu Bu felt like a child trying to fight a tank. Elizabeth was barely standing; one casual sweep from Lu Bu earlier had nearly shattered both her legs, and she'd only managed to dodge at the last second.
Back on her rooftop, Daisy hesitated, her hand hovering over the glowing Command Spells on the back of her hand. She looked torn, uncertain, her eyes darting between her Servants and the monster they were facing.
But Maverick didn't hesitate.
Not for a single second.
His instincts—honed through countless PvP matches, endless hours of competitive gaming, years of split-second decision-making under pressure—were screaming at him. This was the moment. This was the play.
He raised his right hand high, the red geometric patterns of his Command Spells glowing ominously in the darkness like fresh blood against his skin.
"By the Order of the Command Spell!" Maverick's voice cut through the chaos like a blade, clear and commanding. "Saber! Open the stage! Use your Noble Phantasm! Now!"
The moment the words left his mouth, the magical contract activated with the force of absolute authority.
Nero's eyes ignited with golden fire, her entire being suffused with magical energy as the Command Spell's power flooded through her. The exhaustion she'd been feeling vanished. The fear evaporated. In its place was pure, overwhelming certainty.
She drove her crimson sword into the ground with both hands, the blade sinking deep into the concrete.
"Hear ye!" Nero's voice rang out across the battlefield, filled with imperial majesty and theatrical grandeur. "Behold my glorious Golden Theater!"
The world itself began to warp and shift around her. Reality bent. The laws of physics took a polite bow and excused themselves from the premises.
Rose petals—countless thousands of them—began falling from the burning sky like cherry blossoms in spring, except these were gold and crimson and impossibly beautiful.
"The applause never ceases!" Nero declared, her voice building to a crescendo. "This is the time for intoxication! For celebration! For the glory of Rome itself!"
The air shimmered. Buildings flickered. The street beneath them began to transform.
"Aestus Domus Aurea!"
The Golden Theater of the Flamboyant.
The ultimate expression of Nero's legend. Her Noble Phantasm. Her Reality Marble.
The world exploded into gold and crimson light.
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