Artoria gripped Zhu Bajie's thick, fat neck tightly in her hand. Her eyes, deep and abyssal like an endless chasm, seemed to draw one's very soul into their dark depths if stared at for too long.
"It seems… you're not even qualified to dance," she murmured.
In a fleeting moment—so brief that Sun Wukong couldn't react—Zhu Bajie's rotund body shattered into countless specks of light, dissolving into the ether.
"What's wrong?" Artoria's voice was calm—eerily calm, almost to the point of being unnerving. "Didn't you say that even if Mordred called for help, you wouldn't complain? Well, I'm here to fulfill your expectation."
Her feral golden slit-pupils swept over Sun Wukong and Sha Wujing with an oppressive gaze that chilled them to their cores.
"Why the long faces?" she continued. "As a heretic god who has descended into this world, can you still feel anger at the death of your subordinate?
"Will you take that anger and charge at me? Or will you flee with your tail between your legs? Either way, the outcome is the same—you'll all die here, just as snow inevitably melts away."
A terrifying pressure radiated from Artoria, crashing down on Sun Wukong and Sha Wujing like an unstoppable tidal wave.
Under that crushing aura, the two rogue gods felt their very bones groan in protest, as though their bodies were on the verge of collapse.
"Big Brother, you need to run!" Sha Wujing cried, gripping his crescent-moon spade tightly and stepping in front of Sun Wukong with a resolute expression.
"If I fight to the death, I should be able to buy you a few seconds. Use that time to escape!"
He glanced over his shoulder at Sun Wukong, his gaze filled with grim determination. "As long as you survive, you'll have a chance to summon me and Second Brother again later..."
Sha Wujing's words sent a shiver down Sun Wukong's spine.
"Hey! Sha Bro, what nonsense are you spouting?!"
At the same time, Artoria frowned slightly, her expression hardening.
"A few seconds?" she repeated, her tone icy. "How amusing. I can't help but wonder… what could possibly make you think you could last even that long?"
As she spoke, Artoria raised her sword.
In that instant, Sha Wujing felt death looming over him, its presence vivid and inescapable.
It was despair.
Pure, unrelenting despair, sticky like a quagmire and suffocating like a dark abyss. It swallowed Sha Wujing whole, leaving him with the crushing certainty that no matter what he did, no matter how hard he fought, he could not escape his fate.
His mind faltered under the weight of that killing intent, teetering on the brink of collapse.
Before Artoria's blade could descend, Sun Wukong grabbed Sha Wujing and bolted, his speed unmatched as he fled in a desperate attempt to evade the strike.
But… it was futile.
When Artoria swung her sword, it felt as though time itself slowed to an agonizing crawl.
In what should have been the blink of an eye, Sha Wujing experienced it all in excruciating clarity.
First, his weapon and the hands holding it were obliterated. Then his forearms. His legs followed, piece by piece.
As the destruction climbed toward his torso, Sha Wujing's thoughts abruptly ceased. His head, too, was shattered, becoming nothing more than glimmering particles that dispersed into the wind.
With Sha Wujing dead, Artoria strode through the wreckage of the mountain, where she found the heavily injured Sun Wukong.
"Still alive?" she remarked, gazing down at him as though he were an insect. "Such stubborn vitality. Sometimes, a life that endures beyond its strength is nothing more than a waste."
"Heh!" Sun Wukong coughed out a laugh, blood dripping from his mouth. "Why waste your breath? I've lost. If you're going to kill me, just do it already. It wouldn't even be hard for someone like you, would it?"
Perhaps having accepted the inevitability of his death, Sun Wukong seemed resigned. "This descent of mine has been nothing but humiliating… Sealed away by some petty god from a tiny country for three hundred years, only to escape and run into a monster like you. Still, dying at the hands of someone as strong as you… at least I can live with that. What's disappointing is that I didn't get to flip this whole country's pantheon upside down before I went."
"Is that so?" Artoria said, her tone indifferent. "That's your regret, is it? Then allow me to share some good news with you."
Sun Wukong blinked, curiosity flickering across his battered face.
"The god who sealed you, Susanoo-no-Mikoto, is already dead. I killed him—just before I came here."
Sun Wukong stared at her in stunned silence, his expression frozen. Then, after a moment, he burst into raucous laughter.
"HAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHA! So that's how it is! That arrogant old fossil is gone, eh? HAH!"
For nearly two minutes, Sun Wukong laughed, his booming voice echoing through the sky. When he finally stopped, his face was lit with pure joy.
"This is the best news I've heard in three hundred years!" he said, his grin stretching wide. "Absolutely delightful! HAHAHA!"
Hearing that Susanoo had been killed clearly brought Sun Wukong great satisfaction.
The once-mighty Monkey King had been reduced to a tool by that god—a beast to be sealed and only released when the country faced threats from dragons or serpents. Each time he resolved the crisis, he would be sealed away again, like a monkey forced to perform in a circus.
If it had been someone like the Buddha who sealed him, he might have accepted it. But to be subdued by a minor deity from a tiny pantheon? The humiliation was unbearable.
Even the god-slaying Campione of China had been furious, vowing to kill Susanoo for bringing shame to their mythology.
It was no wonder Sun Wukong despised Susanoo so much.
The process of defeating Sun Wukong wasn't particularly noteworthy. Though his indestructible body protected him from most attacks, extreme heat—capable of melting steel—was its weakness.
And as a [Steel] God, Artoria could generate that heat with ease.
After her victory, Artoria could feel her strength growing exponentially once more.
Raising her hand and clenching it into a fist, she marveled at the immense power coursing through her.
The sheer force within her made her feel invincible, capable of anything.
I'm unstoppable… I can do anything… For a moment, her mind flashed to a familiar scene—The Herrscher of Knowledge shouting joyfully with her iconic grin.
With that thought, Artoria immediately calmed herself, suppressing any swelling pride. The Herrscher of Knowledge is a perfect cautionary tale, she reminded herself.
"Next…" Artoria muttered, her golden eyes narrowing as her aura intensified.
"I suppose it's time to meet my so-called 'prototype.'"
It was as if a slumbering dragon had finally opened its eyes, its overwhelming presence rippling outward and stirring the heavens themselves.
Even someone as cold and emotionless as Artoria couldn't help but feel a faint spark of anticipation at the thought of her next opponent.