Hesitation Leads to Defeat!

By now, he felt a sudden twinge of regret. He had been too reckless.

"I should have locked onto something first to slowly acclimate to the pain..."

He'd long realized Endless Trial wasn't limited to combat. Previously, he'd even considered secretly locking onto someone—perhaps Artoria—to produce a Subaru Natsuki–style death-and-return effect. Since using that ability in the simulator would pause real-world time, even if he did that inside the simulation, Artoria in reality would remain unaware of his actions.

Yet his attempt failed: Endless Trial could not lock onto Artoria. Unlike Subaru's simple perpetual return, Endless Trial's lock range had restrictions, and its targets had to meet certain criteria. He didn't fully understand these limits yet, but his tests suggested the trial's lock could only target hostile or aggressive beings—enemies who attacked him or harbored malice toward him.

Still, that wasn't a fundamental problem. Before entering this arena, he could provoke any creature into hostile intent and thus activate Endless Trial. Then he could self-harm incrementally, gradually adapting to pain instead of diving straight into a life-or-death fight...

He shook his head. Enough of these fantasies—he knew he would never bring himself to self-harm unless forced into utter desperation.

Fortunately, he had already maximized his capture range: even before crossing from the cell into the arena, he had locked onto his opponent.

So...

"Ugh—"

Even after reviving, the phantom pain lingering in his mind delivered a fierce jolt. He staggered, collapsed to his knees, clutching the iron bars. He pinched his right hand with his left, experiencing the dual sensation of touching and being touched with a bittersweet intensity that nearly moved him to tears.

He still felt remnants of the agony from the previous trial: his right hand had been twisted into a knot and torn off—pain that lingered despite no current injury. In that last fight, he had killed himself slowly; the foe had torn off his arm first, the instant agony nearly knocking him unconscious until his opponent, savoring the torture, finally let him end it himself. Even now, the memory of that torment urged him to catch his breath and recover.

Suddenly, the iron bars he was leaning on retracted into the ceiling. Guiliniweier didn't react in time and fell to the floor.

"Ha! Kid, what's wrong? Want to kneel and beg for mercy? If so, you shouldn't have agreed to this duel in the first place! Once you step into this arena, one of us must die!"

After lying prone for several seconds, he heard that familiar voice ahead. Without hesitation, he drew Heavenfire and shot himself in the head again. Then he revived once more to the moment the duel began, as the bars retracted into the ceiling.

This time, having recovered, he took a deep breath and regained his fighting composure. Yet as he watched the bars vanish, he hesitated briefly—then raised his pistol and shot one bar, breaking it so it clattered to the ground.

He picked up the iron rod, weighed its length and sharpness at the broken end, and nodded lightly:

"Good—this can serve as a throwing spear."

In a death-or-life arena, one must use every possible means.

When the duel resumed, Guiliniweier raised Heavenfire toward his rushing opponent but did not fire immediately. He deliberately aimed, paused a moment, then pulled the trigger. As expected, the fairy swordsman reacted and dodged sideways to avoid his first shot. Seizing that moment, Guiliniweier hurled the iron rod.

Compared to Heavenfire's weak effect on a fairy, an iron strike would hurt far more. That was why he had deliberately given the foe a chance to dodge: if the fairy first experienced Heavenfire's mediocre power repeatedly, it might simply ignore his shots. By contrast, a surprise iron throw could catch it unprepared. Unfortunately, unlike auto-aimed Heavenfire bullets, his thrown spear lacked precision, and though timed for minimal dodge options, it still missed.

He felt a pang of disappointment but quickly praised himself:

Don't be discouraged, Guiliniweier. At least now you're not blanking out under tension; you're consciously organizing tactics. You can plan.

He kept distance, firing Heavenfire to harass the fairy while observing its movements, etching its patterns into his mind. Real combat was far more difficult than mere simulation...

In the dark cell of reality, "Guiliniweier" watched the simulated version of himself—the AI-driven avatar—fighting with full control. After sharing memories with the simulated Saber-wielder version of himself, he knew it wasn't a simple AI; their consciousness had merged. Regardless, only by relinquishing direct control could he truly observe how he acted when facing mortal peril.

As a spectator, he saw clearly: although his opponent's strength exceeded his, the gap wasn't insurmountable. In prior simulations, he would have beaten this foe after a dozen or two attempts. But because this fight provided tactile, painful feedback, he could no longer employ a reckless "player" style to brute-force victory. To avoid having pain extinguish his fighting spirit, the simulated self resorted to a keep-distance, cautious tactic—an evasive, "cowardly" approach.

Or was it truly cowardice? After around twenty Endless Trial restarts, "Guiliniweier" was astonished to see the simulated self abandon ranged kiting and charge in close rapidly. He quickly understood why: Heavenfire's current ranged power was too pathetic. Even multiple hits could not inflict wounds that would meaningfully hinder the fairy. At best, they might build the fairy's rage. If he merely kited indefinitely, the fairy would eventually close in, and he would be cut down. Repeating that pattern dozens of times would exhaust both sides' tempers—and waste his own endurance.

"Damn it, useless Heavenfire—forget running, I won't run anymore!"

"Not running? Then come on!"

"Today I'll kill you, you stupid joke!"

After Endless Trial triggered again, driven by frustration and headlong rage, he yelled. He had become obsessed with being killed repeatedly. Thus, despite the obvious disadvantage of close combat, he charged in.

Battle is ultimately about raw fighting spirit. When that blood-boiling fury surged in his chest, he truly set foot on the battlefield, legitimately contending with his foe. Calmness is important, but a mortal duel isn't a logic puzzle. In a fight for life and death, one wrong step born of hesitation spells defeat. Holding back fosters fear; fear begets further retreat; retreat leads to loss of fighting will. Fighting spirit ties to one's bloodlust; anger can ignite it. The angrier one becomes, the higher adrenaline and blood pressure rise, dulling pain and suppressing other emotions, including fear. Though anger risks irrationality, in a split-second fight, an anger-driven strike often outpaces any other.

As the fairy lunged its claws at him, he met it head-on, not evading: his blade slashed straight toward its skull.

Zornhau (Anger Strike) of his supreme-style fifth form!

"Madman!" The fairy hesitated. If it continued its attack, even if it could kill this human, it would sustain grave injuries. But it held the advantage—no need to risk mutual harm. Thus it withdrew its claws and raised its great sword to parry Guiliniweier's strike.

Yet in that critical instant, hesitation meant defeat. Courage prevails in a narrow pass. Because the fairy faltered, Guiliniweier pressed the advantage. With a roaring whirlwind of blades—his "Windmill" technique—he flowed from strike to strike. Though not flawless, his furious rotation was faster than ever under rage's drive; the fairy could not perceive or exploit fleeting openings. Its defense, already shaky, collapsed further under successive blows.

Cornered, the fairy in desperation counterclawed, tearing into Guiliniweier's chest. But before its claw could extract his heart, his next slash severed its head in two.

At last, after many cautious trials, he obliterated his opponent with a reckless all-in.

In that moment, hesitation had been banished, and decisive fury won the duel.