Chapter 99

The Lionheart's Resolve

The battle around the world raged on, but in the lands outside Konoha, where the very earth groaned under the weight of an overwhelming presence, a different kind of confrontation was about to unfold.

From a shimmering portal, stepping forth with the confidence befitting her status, Artoria Pendragon emerged, her royal blue cape fluttering behind her, her golden hair shining even under the dim light of the war-stricken skies.

Her purpose here was clear.

Naruto had called upon her.

Bound by their contract of alliance, Artoria and Naruto had sworn to stand by each other whenever one was in need. Though she had no intention of participating in the full-scale war, as her own kingdom required her presence, she had deemed this act within reason—

Freeing Konoha was within her limits.

Yet, as she gazed upon the barrier imprisoning the village, she immediately realized that this was no ordinary seal.

A colossal sphere of dark chains, twisted with malevolent chakra, stretched across the sky, wrapping around Konoha as if the very fabric of existence had been locked in a prison. The air was dense, suffocating, as if the weight of the very cosmos had pressed down upon the land. Even for Artoria, whose will was unbreakable, whose body was blessed with divinity and dragon's might—

She felt the pressure.

It was the kind of force that could crush mountains into dust, the kind that could tear lesser warriors apart with mere presence.

"Merlin."

At her call, the fabled Magus of Flowers, clad in his flowing white robe, stepped forward with a soft smile, his eyes filled with boundless wisdom. If there was anyone who could decipher this mystery, it was him.

But Merlin merely shook his head.

"I am unable to break it or even create a ripple."

Artoria narrowed her eyes.

That meant one thing—this was no ordinary seal. It was not something brute strength alone could shatter, nor could magic disrupt it. It had been crafted with a level of mastery surpassing even Merlin's.

"Take care of the distractions," she commanded without hesitation.

With a single step forward, she unsheathed her blade—

A blade unseen, hidden by the fabric of reality itself.

Excalibur.

The sword of the chosen King, the blade of humanity's hope, gifted by the Immortals themselves.

A golden aura surged through the battlefield as she gripped its hilt, her determination unwavering.

Without another thought, she moved.

In a single instant, her body accelerated to full speed, a golden comet of destruction, and she drove her blade into the barrier's surface, focusing all her power into a single, devastating piercing attack.

But the unexpected happened.

Her peerless attack, strong enough to cleave through armies, to level entire battlefields, met absolute nothingness.

Not only did it fail to pierce the barrier—it didn't even leave a mark.

Not even a ripple.

Instead, the energy vanished, consumed into an unseen void, redirected into space itself.

Artoria's sharp instincts flared, and she instantly leapt back, twisting midair as chains surged forth from the barrier, snaking toward her like starving beasts.

She did not hesitate.

With a single slash, Excalibur's golden brilliance tore through the chains, annihilating them into fragments of energy.

Her mind raced.

This was no mere chakra barrier. It was constructed with spatial interference, sealing not just energy, but the very concept of destruction itself.

And if raw force was useless—

She would turn to her ultimate defense.

Artoria's aura shifted, her very existence fading from reality as she activated—

Avalon.

The sacred sheath, the legendary sanctuary, a power that denied harm, denied decay, and placed her in a separate dimensional existence.

Using its properties, she touched the barrier once more, willing Avalon to interfere with its spatial laws.

And for the first time—

Something reacted.

A disturbance, a slight warping in space, a signal that this was the right path.

But before she could press forward, an unearthly voice echoed from the void.

"King of Knights, Chosen of Zeus, please leave this region and do not force my hand."

From the darkness, a shadow stepped forward—

A towering figure, cloaked in black, standing nearly three meters tall, its presence swallowing the light itself.

A skull mask adorned its face, the eerie visage of death staring down at Artoria, unyielding.

The very land beneath him seemed to rot, as if the essence of life itself recoiled from his existence.

Yet, Artoria did not falter.

She simply smiled.

"I am honored."

Without hesitation, she slashed—

A single, golden arc that bathed the battlefield in radiant light.

The figure stood unmoved, his voice calm, his presence absolute.

"This is a futile effort, and I apologize in advance for my rough treatment."

He tilted his head, as though offering his sincere regret, yet his words carried nothing but doom.

"My name is Mahito Uzumaki, and I am the Chosen of Lady Izanami, the Leader of the Temple of the Shinigami."

Mahito's voice was smooth, unwavering, his tone polite, yet his words sent a chilling realization through the air.

"Once again, apologies for the despair that you may experience. My lady has commanded and demanded the punishment of the rogue Uzumaki, and her wishes cannot be denied.

My lady's love is eternal.

She does not tolerate disobedient children."

The meaning was clear.

This barrier—this prison—was not merely a weapon of war.

It was punishment.

A sentence carried out by Izanami herself.

Artoria's eyes narrowed, but rather than fear—

She relaxed, her grip on Excalibur steady.

"I see," she said calmly.

Then, with a soft chuckle, she added, "But such a lady is not well-liked. You know, nobody enjoys those who force their love upon others."

And then—

She let go of her restraint.

A pulse of power erupted from within her, as her divine blood responded, as her heritage awakened.

Her lion armor gleamed, her dragon blood surged, and at last, the Ancient Dragon's Heart—

Albion's will—fully unleashed its strength within her.

The air crackled, the ground trembled, the sky split apart from her sheer presence alone.

A being capable of standing against the Ten-Tails, a warrior blessed by Zeus, tempered in countless battles, and forged by destiny itself—

Artoria was ready.

And against her stood Mahito, the hand of Izanami, the guardian of the Uzumaki's fate.

A battle between two legends was about to begin.

Among all living beings, dragons stood at the pinnacle of evolution and power. They were not merely beasts of legend, but the ultimate predators, creatures that had long ruled the cosmos with their overwhelming might and wisdom.

Even in the Shinobi Solar System, where divine beings and celestial warriors roamed, dragons were considered among the strongest entities to exist. They were not originally natives of the planet—rather, they had arrived long ago, drawn by the presence of chakra, a phenomenon that had awakened and birthed countless new lifeforms.

Chakra had altered the balance of nature, creating creatures that were worthy prey for dragons. These apex hunters had descended upon the world, and for a time, they had reigned unchallenged.

It was only when the Sage of Six Paths appeared that their tyranny came to an end.

With his unparalleled power, the Sage tamed these great beings, forcing them to abandon their warlike ways and live in harmony with the world. Yet, even in their domesticated state, dragons remained beings of immense might and terrifying potential.

Their lifespan was immeasurable, stretching across thousands of years. Some of the greatest among them could grow to the size of planets, their bodies infused with an almost indestructible nature. They were highly resistant to all forms of supernatural power, including chakra, magic, and divine forces.

More than just brute strength, they possessed intelligence rivaling the greatest sages. Their knowledge of supernatural arts was beyond human comprehension, making them beings that transcended mortality itself.

Among these ancient titans, one dragon stood above all others—Albion.

For 10,000 years, Albion had roamed the universe, his scales shining like a sea of stardust, his wings blotting out the suns of distant worlds. He had been a conqueror, a sovereign, and a sage, but like all things, even he was not eternal.

His fate was sealed when he crossed paths with another Ancient Dragon, one of equal standing. Their battle had lasted centuries, shaking the fabric of space itself, and in the end, Albion had fallen, unable to recover from the wounds inflicted by his adversary.

Dying and on the verge of fading into oblivion, he sought a way to continue his existence.

And so, he chose a successor.

He chose Artoria Pendragon.

Recognizing her unbreakable will, her divine bloodline, and her potential to surpass all limits, Albion offered her his heart.

With that sacred inheritance, Artoria was no longer mortal.

Her body was still adapting, still evolving, but the transformation had already begun. Her immortal blood was awakening in full, pushing her toward divinity.

With her Lion Armor, the holy sword Excalibur, and the heart of a dragon, Artoria had become a warrior capable of standing against Juubito—the wielder of the Ten-Tails.

Yet, there was still more power waiting inside her.

To awaken it… she had to fight impossible odds.

Artoria gritted her teeth, ignoring the pain in her chest, and summoned the heavens themselves.

With a single thought, she called forth lightning, pulling from the very essence of the world.

A great storm formed above, crackling with divine energy, a force that transcended even the limits of natural law.

This was not mere elemental manipulation—

This was the will of a being surpassing humanity.

By borrowing power directly from the world, Artoria could exceed her limits.

One thousand percent.

She could summon forth ten times her own might while expending only a fraction of her own reserves.

The storm raged, the skies turning into a maelstrom of destruction.

Then, she summoned the wind.

A hurricane was born, its cutting edges sharper than the finest blades, slicing through the air at a molecular level.

And then, she unleashed the ultimate attack—

Dragon Bomb.

A power exclusive to the apex beings, a flame that devoured everything.

The storm, the lightning, the hurricane, the flames—all of it struck as one, a cataclysm that should have erased anything in its path.

But the moment the attacks collided with Mahito—

Death itself responded.

A presence that defied reality, a force that nullified existence itself.

The hurricane dispersed, the lightning faded, erased by a force beyond comprehension.

Only the Dragon Flames remained, managing to pierce through the veil of death—

But before they could land, Artoria felt a sharp pain in her chest.

Her body convulsed, her vision blurred, and then—

She coughed blood.

Her heart exploded inside her chest.

Her draconic regeneration struggled to repair it, but the damage had already been done.

"You aren't strong enough to fight me," Mahito's voice echoed, filled with regret, as he appeared beside her.

Before she could react, his hand touched her skin—

And then—

"The shape of the soul decides the shape of the body."

"And I can shape your soul."

The moment those words left Mahito's lips, a horrifying force gripped Artoria's very existence.

Her body twisted, her very essence reshaped against her will.

She lashed out, but nothing worked—her attacks phased through him as if he were beyond the concept of physical form.

She struggled, fought, resisted—

But within seconds, the transformation was complete.

Artoria stumbled, but something felt wrong.

Her body felt lighter, her stance awkward.

Looking down—

She saw hooves.

Her golden armor was gone, replaced by a pure white coat of fur.

Her form had been altered.

She had been turned into a horse.

A flawless, noble beast—yet a prisoner of her own body.

Mahito smiled, admiring his work.

"You look beautiful either way," he mused, stepping back.

Then, with a sigh, he added, "If I were allowed, I would have kept you as a mount."

His tone was genuine, yet the reality of his actions was nothing short of monstrous.

Artoria had been caged within her own body.

Defeated not through strength, but through absolute control over her very soul.