His consciousness cut out nine times.
His heart stopped beating nine times.
In an instant, he had been effortlessly killed nine times.
Common sense told the Werewolf Youth that this was proof of the overwhelming difference in strength between them.
After all, even the weakest insect couldn't possibly be killed nine times in an instant!
"Are you kidding me? I would be because of this—"
Like someone unwillingly punished for breaking the rules, the Werewolf Youth gritted his teeth and forced himself to draw upon every ounce of strength in his body.
"Right. All of this is a lie. Even among my own kind, there isn't anyone who can defeat me.
These pains, this whole thing—all of it is a lie. This makes no sense. There can't possibly be a human stronger than me...!"
The time for thinking was over.
To fight once more, the Werewolf lay on the ground and stared at the enemy standing beside him.
"I... no, I... surrender..."
The instant he said those words, a strange, new pain suddenly erupted from the eight places where the Werewolf Youth had been struck.
It hurt! It hurt so much!
Like a stone stirring ripples, the pain that had originally been suppressed spread throughout his body.
At first, it was only a slight ache. Then it transformed into an unbearable agony.
This was also a first. Now, the Werewolf Youth's body was completely under the control of pain.
"Urgh... uuuugh...!?"
Beowulf endured the agony and raised his head, only to find Shirou quietly looking down at him.
Those twilight-colored eyes held neither killing intent nor even hostility. All they contained was a ruthlessness as cold as absolute zero.
Shirou had never intended to kill him from the beginning, and yet—he had killed him nine times.
"...Urk!?"
Beowulf suddenly felt