Without a doubt, both Sakumura Anno facing Shuten Douji and Miyamoto Musashi facing Minamoto no Raikou had fallen into grueling battles.
"This kind of power is simply unimaginable."
Watching everything unfold on the battlefield from outside it, Kotarou could not help but feel a shudder run through him.
Whether swordmasters or oni, the methods they employed were things one would normally never have the chance to witness.
This battle also concerned the lives and deaths of the villagers and children.
"There's nothing surprising about top-class warriors being able to do this."
"Didn't you say it yourself? Some people can even move mountains and drain seas. They're just fighting on a mountaintop right now, so what's so shocking about it?"
"Besides, neither of those two has lost their rhythm yet."
Perhaps because he was a swordsmith, Muramasa could at least be considered an expert. As such, he could see things the other three could not.
Sakumura had already been wounded, while Musashi looked as though she was being forced back step by step—but just as Muramasa had said, neither of their rhythms had been thrown into disarray. They still had an exceptionally clear grasp of their own strength.
"I believe they'll win."
Fujimaru Ritsuka could not make heads or tails of it—but that did not stop him from believing in his Servants and his good friends.
Sakumura flipped through the air, pulling Poison Feather from his chest as he spun and hurling it toward Shuten Douji. Then—
The tip of his foot landed on a dead leaf drifting through the air, and like an arrow loosed from a bow, he shot toward Shuten Douji at a speed the naked eye could not possibly follow.
Noble Phantasm—Release!
"Without heart, without thought; without thought, there is no sword. Casting aside all conviction, nothing