If You Want to Kill Him, You’ll Have to Kill Me First!

That hand capable of shattering the universe finally revealed its true form before Scáthach.

It was not massive, nor did it emit overwhelming light, but to a being like Scáthach, it was as if she stood before an all-encompassing, heaven-encompassing power, Holy Right, a force capable of silencing everything.

It had been so long, since she last felt this sensation well up from the depths of both flesh and soul. That terrifying edge of death that made every cell in her body tremble, that primal heat that brought her so close to rapture… she nearly cried out in ecstasy.

This was the same thrill she had felt back when she was still human, still mortal. When she faced down gods in blood-soaked duels. That bone-deep understanding of life and death, found only through battle, through the ever-thin margin between existence and annihilation.

Fear was never shameful. Fear was not weakness. Fear was humanity's greatest instinct. It was by fear that mankind had survived, had learned to run from peril and chase after hope.

But once she attained enlightenment, once she and the Land of Shadows transcended the world, crossing to that realm beyond all things, that feeling had disappeared. She could no longer even recall it.

She had believed there was nothing left to pursue. That she would remain in quiet solitude, watching the world perish. For a warrior like her, growth only came through battle, but here, at the edge of the Abyss, there were no longer opponents worthy of her blade.

Those rare few who had crossed the Abyss had long since transcended.

Those who could not even see the Abyss were mere insects, clinging to the surface world, blindly struggling to survive.

And Scáthach, trapped in this liminal, almost pitiable place—too powerful for the world, yet unable to cross over—could only hone her Wisdom of the Abyss, a lonely sentinel standing at the world's edge, coldly watching the march of time.

Even if a planet were to be destroyed… even if humanity were to perish…

Nothing could reach her.

Not the screams of the dying. Not the prayers of the desperate. For someone who had "graduated from the world", she could do nothing but watch.

And so she waited.

Waited for the final curtain call. For the requiem of destruction to wash over even the world beyond. Only then could she finally walk the path she had always yearned for. She longed for death.

But now, she didn't have to wait. Because she had seen it.

The end of her own life, reflected in that Right Hand of All Miracles.

One step. Two steps. Three steps.

Scáthach walked slowly toward Roy, her eyes distant, drawn like a moth to divine flame. All she wanted was to set her decayed body alight… to let her mind dissolve into oblivion. But just as quickly, her gaze sharpened. Clarity returned. Resolve surged.

"…No. This isn't it. This is not the death I've been seeking. I seek a death where someone defeats me at my absolute full power, a death I can embrace with dignity as a warrior, walking into final darkness not in surrender, but in honor.

"...Foreigner, I've seen your strength, this power that could one day end me. But you still cannot wield it. You cannot force me to go all out. And so, I will wait. I look forward to the day when we fight again, and you push me to use my everything… and then, kill me."

She spoke with an awe-inspiring blend of anticipation and affection. As though she were confessing a long-held wish for a gallant hero to descend upon a rainbow cloud and whisk her away.

In her mind, the memory of that blue-haired man slowly faded, replaced by a blood-drenched silver-haired youth.

The Son of Light had lost his one chance to kill her, to claim her. Back then, she was still bound to the world. She was weak. Now he was no longer qualified, having become a Heroic Spirit, a hound of fate with no more teeth.

But here, beyond the world, in a place where even she had given up hope. She met him. An impossible man.

If this was fate, she prayed it would never fade. If this was a miracle, even a god-slayer like her would kneel and pray.

"You've stirred me, truly stirred me! My soul as a warrior screams for battle! My blood boils with joy! Foreigner, bear the burden of having given me hope. …But that burden is not one you can shoulder yet. So-"

So I will train you. Teach you. Temper you.

I will make you my life's greatest masterpiece. And then, in our final duel, I shall die in your arms.

"I await the day you kill me!"

She smiled then.

It was the most breathtakingly beautiful smile, but the half veil concealed it, denying Roy the sight.

"Who the hell cares if you live or die, you lunatic?! If you want to die that badly, just kill yourself already!"

Roy, half-deranged and furious, roared.

"DROP DEAD—Beast777! I WILL SURPASS THE EVILS OF HUMANITY!!"

In a burst of rage, Roy hurled forth his Holy Right, and from that golden limb erupted a brilliance that illuminated the entire Land of Shadows.

"I'm sorry," Scáthach replied, chuckling softly. "I've tried suicide before. Unfortunately, it turns out I can't even kill myself."

Her gaze turned solemn. Wine-red eyes sharpened with focus and awe.

The moment Roy unleashed his right hand, its Light of the Right Hand locked onto her, bypassing all constructs of time, space, causality, and fate.

She, Scáthach, who stood at the zenith of humanity, could sense it better than anyone. Far more acutely than even Marquis Voban or Athena.

This right hand didn't operate on logic. It did not care for divine lineage, mystery rank, or metaphysical barriers.

Within the Light of the Right Hand of the Holy Right, there existed only two concepts:

"Stronger" and "Weaker."

And no matter how powerful you were…

It would always be stronger than you.

Once it designated its opponent as the "weaker," the Light of the Right Hand stripped away every conceivable condition of victory, leaving behind only inevitable defeat.

"So this is… a miracle of the Cross, is it? If I were using my full power now, even if I achieved a temporary enhancement in power, I would still lose.

"But alas… I am not using my full strength. And under the rules of this right hand, I am the one designated as the 'stronger.'

"…Yes, this is a hand capable of erasing me utterly. But you, Roy, are not yet able to control it."

Scáthach raised both of her spears, and in that moment, an even greater power than before surged from her body, an overwhelming aura that made the entire Land of Shadows tremble as if on the verge of annihilation.

The earth quaked. Fragments of stone lifted into the air, as though gravity itself had been cast aside. Even the thick, ever-churning clouds in the sky began to spiral into a terrifying vortex.

"Then allow me to put an end to your struggle!! Pierce through! Break through! —『Gáe Bolg Alternative: Soaring Spear of Piercing Death』!!"

Twin crimson lances streaked through the air, converging into a single point like god-slaying lightning. Their target: the colossal golden hand on Roy's right shoulder.

The two divine spears struck the palm of his Holy Right simultaneously.

Time, for an instant, froze.

Roy's Light of the Right Hand, unable to determine the upper limit of Scáthach's output, was forced, within the absolute binary concept of "strong versus weak," into the weaker position. In that moment, the hand disintegrated, breaking apart into golden dust that scattered into nothingness.

It wasn't that the mystery of the Right Hand was weaker than Scáthach's spears. Far from it.

But its wielder… simply had not yet glimpsed even the hem of Scáthach's robe at the edge of the Abyss.

BOOM——!!

A crimson light burst across the sky, painting the deathly still Land of Shadows in ethereal, hallucinogenic hues.

Caught in the aftermath of the twin spears' divine explosion, Roy's body was flung back. His vision went black. He collapsed into unconsciousness.

"Hah... it's been so long since I've felt this kind of intoxicating battle," Scáthach exhaled slowly, twin spears in hand. "Still… you're not quite there yet. But you've passed."

Her piercing gaze softened as she looked upon Roy's prone form.

With slow, elegant steps, her long, powerful legs carried her forward, closing the distance between them. But before she could reach him, a sudden flash of radiant light swept through the void, cutting between her and Roy like a divine blade.

"I won't allow you to kill him."

The voice was calm, clear and resolute.

"If you want to kill him, then you'll have to try killing me first."

Through the residual static and distortion of the astral world, the Holy Guardian Angel, Aiwass, materialized before Roy's unconscious body.

A shining halo glimmered above her head, and from her back spread a pair of luminous, illusory angelic wings which flickered with cosmic radiance.

******

(T/N: Good, I am getting back in the flow already.)