Clang, clang. The sound of weapons clashing rang through the air as the fierce battle seemed to tear it apart. Diarmuid, the great hero of Celtic mythology, truly lived up to his name.
Even without his strongest weapons, he could still keep Uchiha Iori on the defensive.
Cú Chulainn's spear techniques and Heroic Spirit Emiya's twin-sword techniques were, after all, best suited to their original wielders. When Uchiha Iori used them, they let him dominate weaker opponents, but against a true expert, his movements inevitably became a little stiff.
"Iori, you need to make Senior Cú Chulainn's techniques your own and turn his instincts into your instincts."
"You're not the same height, and your reach is different. Until you've made those differences instinctive, you'll have to adjust the parameters of every move."
"Against a powerful opponent, that kind of delay is far too obvious," Diarmuid scolded.
"If all you do is copy these techniques, you'll never reach the original wielder's level."
"Let alone stand alongside them or surpass them. Copying alone won't earn you the respect of the strong. You have to find your own path."
Uchiha Iori fended off Diarmuid's attacks while trying to digest the combat experience he had copied earlier.
"Thanks, but I've already decided on my own path. First, I'll learn from the best; then I'll consider how to find my own way. I'm not qualified to think that far ahead yet."
Though his tone was firm, deep down he felt helpless. If he could, Iori would have found his own path right away, but reality didn't give him much time to think or absorb what he had learned.
There was too little time. It was only his third day, and he was either fighting or on his way to another fight.
He could barely get used to his new powers. Where was he supposed to find the time to absorb and digest them?
"Sorry, I forgot you only arrived at the Hall of Heroes recently. I was out of line."
Diarmuid's tone softened with apology.
He had forgotten that Iori was a newcomer and had treated him like a Heroic Spirit who had been famous for ages.
Just then, Cú Chulainn's voice came from the side, breaking the tension of the battle.
"Hey, focus on the fight, Diarmuid. Stop holding back."
"Give the kid a good thrashing. He's no good—he took my spear and keeps trying to stab me with it."
At some point, Cú Chulainn had returned to the Hall of Heroes.
He had brought back plenty of food and wine, along with a mat, as if he were out camping.
He ate and drank while cheering Diarmuid on.
"Didn't I just stab you in the shoulder with Gáe Bolg, then try to stab you again with Gáe Bolg: Soaring Spear of Striking Death?"
"You already killed me once before that. Why are you still holding a grudge?"
Iori retorted, though when he thought about it carefully, he realized he really had been a bit of a jerk.
Cú Chulainn glared at him, furious, then grabbed a bottle of wine and hurled it at him.
"What else do you expect me to do? Should I let you pierce my body like in the myths and leave me to die on a pillar?"
Knowing he was in the wrong, Iori gave an awkward smile and nimbly dodged the bottle.
He took a deep breath, gathered his focus again, and continued fighting Diarmuid.
Diarmuid got serious too. He attacked in alternating strokes with spear and sword, his fierce assault leaving Iori little time to react.
After several exchanges, the two had grown familiar with each other's fighting styles.
"That's enough testing. Be careful—I'm going to use my Noble Phantasm now."
Iori spoke up, remembering the reason he had come today.
If Gáe Bolg: Soaring Spear of Striking Death lived up to expectations, he could recreate Minato Namikaze's famous moment, leaving his teammates to watch from the sidelines while he carried the whole battle.
"Beagalltach."
Diarmuid activated his Noble Phantasm, bolstering his defense. He held his spear and sword before him, choosing not to dodge and preparing to take the thrown spear head-on.
Iori balanced on one leg, holding the spear in one hand and bracing the other against the ground. He stretched his body to its limit, like a bowstring pulled taut.
In an instant, he gathered all his strength in his legs, lunged forward, then leaped high into the air.
He spun in midair, holding the spear in one hand and aiming the Demonic Spear at Diarmuid. Vast amounts of chakra gathered at its tip, red chakra streaming along the shaft and stirring the air around it.
"Gáe Bolg: Soaring Spear of Striking Death!"
Uchiha Iori shouted.
He gripped the Demonic Spear tightly in one hand, veins bulging. The enormous expenditure of magical energy twisted his face into a grimace.
With great effort, he hurled the spear. It streaked across the sky like a meteor, leaving a red trail behind.
Watching the scene, Cú Chulainn remembered when he and his friends had seen a meteor in their youth:
[As we watched the burning star, it wasted no time. It vanished in an instant, leaving behind only the faintest trace.]
[Many of my friends saw it as a tragedy, but a quiet premonition passed through my heart.]
["In the end, I'll be like that star—shining brightly at a young age, burning through everything, then vanishing without a trace."]
[When I came to, I found myself smiling. This was fine.]
[It was a good fate for a warrior.]
He had accepted this deep down from childhood, and when death came, he accepted it without hesitation.
Diarmuid, facing the incoming spear, had no time for Cú Chulainn's musings. He regretted his overconfidence.
Even if it was a counterfeit, and even if its wielder was far weaker than Cú Chulainn—
It was still a genuine Noble Phantasm release, a Heroic Spirit's trump card, a crystallization of a heroic legend elevated to its highest form.
If he had the magic sword Moralltach in hand, he wouldn't have worried about an attack like this.
Once he released the sword's power, he could fire a beam of light as well. In a head-on clash, he wouldn't be at a disadvantage.
But with only Beagalltach and Gáe Buidhe, he had no way to counter the thrown spear.
Nor could he escape its range before it hit.
"Damn, I hate this. It's just like when I was alive—misjudging how dangerous something was has landed me in trouble again."
Diarmuid sighed. At this point, all he could do was give it everything he had.
He poured his magical energy into his short sword and slashed at the oncoming Demonic Spear.
After a brief deadlock, Diarmuid was blasted away. A violent explosion erupted where the spear struck.
The immense blast obliterated dozens of meters of ground around it, leaving a deep crater.
"Cough, cough. Damn, now all the food I brought is ruined."
Cú Chulainn coughed and waved the dust away from his face.
"If you have time to worry about the food, you should check on Diarmuid instead. After taking that hit, he's probably in pretty bad shape."
Uchiha Iori sat on the ground. His chakra was completely drained, leaving him too weak even to stand.
All he could do was urge Cú Chulainn to check Diarmuid's condition.
"I'm still alive. Please take me to the Hall of Heroes for treatment."
"This was my mistake. I shouldn't have underestimated your strength. Next time, I'll bring my strongest weapons and fight you again."
Diarmuid spoke up.
He looked terrible. The arm holding his sword was twisted into a knot.
Half his body was cracked from the impact, and blood kept pouring from his wounds, forming a pool beneath him.
"Thanks to Beagalltach. If it hadn't strengthened my defenses, I'd probably be waiting to be resurrected by now."
Cú Chulainn picked Diarmuid up in a bridal carry, then turned to Iori and said:
"Looks like we've still got time. Come have a drink with us later. I'll introduce you to the Heroic Spirits who've recently arrived at the Hall of Heroes."
"Sure," Uchiha Iori replied.
Gáe Bolg: Soaring Spear of Striking Death really lived up to its B+ rank. Its power, range, and cost had all exceeded expectations.
Well, I can definitely put what I learned this time to use next time. As long as the Iwagakure Ninja aren't led by Ōnoki, this should be a sure win.
I wonder who'll show up at the Heroic Spirit gathering later, Iori thought.
My arsenal is itching for a fight.