Chapter 74: Soccer in the Holy Grail War

Even beings who can only repeat evil. Even if humanity itself has no value, the accumulated history is meaningful.

Even if mistakes are constantly repeated—as long as something can still be done with these hands, surely, there will be something that can be saved.

—Angra Mainyu

On the other side, since Jeanne had perfectly held back Jeanne Alter, Arthur was completely overwhelming Angra Mainyu before him.

Clang! Clang!

With the continuous attacks, Angra Mainyu retreated further and further. He seemed to have realized that he was no match for Arthur with his own power.

Finally, after being sent flying countless times, Angra Mainyu took the opportunity to disengage from close combat.

"As expected of King Arthur! You truly possess power that spans a world." Angra looked at Arthur before him. After countless clashes, his hands were already numb. His heart pounded relentlessly, but the situation was already too late.

"Speaking of which... you are not Angra Mainyu, are you?" Arthur's sudden words disturbed Angra Mainyu's mind.

"You—"

"I know that Angra Mainyu was originally just an ordinary young man in a small village. He wouldn’t be as crazy as you are. On the contrary, he still had a little kindness in his heart. But you..." Arthur shook his head. "I have never found any kindness in you!"

"To actually know Angra Mainyu so well... That’s right, I am indeed not him. With his pitiful strength, what use would I have for him?"

"So, you chose him?"

"That’s right. As the embodiment of world’s all the evil, if I couldn’t use Angra Mainyu, who knows how much longer I would have had to wait before manifesting!"

Angra Mainyu laughed evilly, as if complaining about his body’s energy, but his display was nothing but ugliness in Arthur’s eyes.

Trash.

Arthur didn’t want to wait any longer. He unleashed the Sword of Promised Victory once more!

"Caliburn!"

Another pillar of light erupted—the destructive energy cannon of the holy sword.

This time, Angra Mainyu grew afraid. He retreated continuously, his black mud forming walls one after another.

The light pierced through them—one wall, two walls—until finally, the last barrier shattered, and the energy blasted Angra Mainyu’s body apart.

Pop!

His form nearly turned to ash. This was the power of the Sword of Promised Victory.

Looking at the pile of black mud, Arthur turned away in disgust. But the moment he did, a black arm reached from the ground toward his back.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

A whirlwind appeared out of nowhere, reducing the arm to dust. Arthur spun around, unleashing another Wind King Hammer, shattering the reforming black mud once more.

The sludge collapsed and gathered again instantly. Angra Mainyu’s face emerged—just a head, yet Arthur could still sense the magical energy within. Though diminished, it meant Angra Mainyu was not yet finished.

Eyebrows, a nose, and a mouth formed on the head. Angra Mainyu’s eyes locked onto Arthur, a chilling sight.

"How is it, King Arthur? Having seen my power, how do you feel, huh? You can’t kill me! Give up—I am invincible!"

"Invincible?" Arthur smiled faintly, picking up the head and turning it toward himself. Despite his calm expression, Angra Mainyu felt an overwhelming malice.

"Invincible? Give up? Ridiculous!"

Arthur hurled the head onto the ground.

Thump! It struck the asphalt with a dull crash.

"What are you doing?!" Angra Mainyu screamed.

Ignoring him, Arthur stepped on the head, posing like a soccer player about to strike a ball. To him, the round object underfoot was no longer a head—it was a soccer ball.

"Everyone says to kick a head like a ball. I’ve never actually seen it. Today, I’ve finally broadened my horizons!"

"Hey! Stop! No—!"

Thump! Arthur kicked hard, sending the "soccer ball" flying into a utility pole. It bounced back, spinning 720 degrees before landing. Arthur delivered another long pass.

Whoosh!

The "ball" arced through the air and hit the ground again.

"I’m going to kill you!" Angra Mainyu raged.

Arthur wasn’t fazed. He strode forward. "What did you say? I didn’t hear clearly."

"Nothing," Angra Mainyu instantly denied. Regret consumed him—why had he provoked this monster? Now, instead of recovering, he was being treated like a toy.

"Nothing? Then I’m sorry, I didn’t do anything either." Arthur grinned darkly. Angra Mainyu swore that even as the embodiment of evil, he had never seen anything so terrifying.

Another kick landed.

"This kick is for Jeanne Alter!"

"This kick is for the blackened Artoria!"

"This kick is for little Sakura in the future!"

"This kick is for Irisviel!"

Bull Flick Tail! Scorpion Tail Sweep! Marseille Turn!

One classic soccer move after another was performed flawlessly. Unfortunately, there were no spectators—only a sentient "ball" suffering endlessly.

As for Angra Mainyu? Spinning, crashing, enduring a fate worse than death. If he could regret, he would never have provoked this devil.

But there were no second chances. His screams echoed through the streets, unheard and unheeded.

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