Grand Foreigner (Chapters 1- 200)

Chapter 172

According to some theories, the word Berserker itself was related to the name Beowulf, perhaps even derived from it.

In other words, Beowulf's correspondence to the Berserker class was, in fact, absolute.

Like many heroes of his time, and especially for his people, Beowulf had won his fame for his strength in battle and for his character. Never a stranger to battle, but on the contrary, eager to encounter any fight he could, with a dignity unique to his character. Such was his nature.

If you meet a strong hero, fight him. No matter who was the victor or the loser, no matter how the fight with another Servant ended, Beowulf would accept both victory and defeat with dignity. And, if conditions permitted, would invite his recent foe to a great celebration in honor of their great battle.

Against monsters, however, things were not so simple.

No, Beowulf would have been more than happy to test his strength against some monster, dragons, giants, or even manticores, he doesn't care.

But against them, he could not, would not, accept defeat. There would not be any after-fight feasts either. Against a monster, only one of them would walk away alive.

Simply because that was his personality. As a Berserker he had lost some of the traits inherent in rational people, but he had not lost his instincts, the ability to distinguish 'man' from 'monster'.

On the contrary, his personality, sharpened by his battle rage and instincts, was able to determine this difference even better than that of other 'rational' people.

No beasts could hide from his gaze, no matter how beautiful or benign their exterior might be.

And so, Beowulf understood that the enemy before him was not human. In this case, her height or horns were only minor features, the same features would not have made him perceive Asterios as a monster. No, within Beowulf stood a clear understanding, on the level of his instincts as a Servant, a Berserker, a Monster Killer.

What stood before him was a monster.

Of the same cohort as Grendel, or his mother, or even the dragon he had killed at the end of his life - but...

Incommensurably more powerful.

Beowulf knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the monster in front of him was far beyond anything he had ever faced before.

His smile literally couldn't get any wider, the hole in his torso from one swipe from the creature not even a passing thought. His skill, Battle Continuation, allowed him to fight despite any injuries and any damage sustained, until his body was pulverized.

Did such a thing guarantee his survival? No. In fact, Beowulf was already dead. Whatever the outcome of this battle might be, he could only delay the moment of his death, not undo it.

But all that mattered was that his skill gave him the most important thing in the current situation: time.

"Hrunting, Naegling," Beowulf did not play games, instantly evoking the names of his swords, his Noble Phantasms. He did not have the time for it.

Hrunting, his twisted blade, capable of always striking the most perfect blow, growing stronger with every drop of blood spilled by the enemy that is drunk by the blade. Naegling, his second blade, resembling an enormous club, the blade designed solely to inflict damage.

A moment later, Beowulf lunged at his opponent, whereupon one of his blades instantly found the most ideal position for dealing the most damage. Automatically taking into account every possible action, every possible attempt to defend and counterattack. The second blade, on the other hand, delivered a sweeping blow from the side, not as gracefully, but all the more forceful.