Grand Foreigner (Chapters 1- 200)

Chapter 173

Angrboda didn't even need to move to defend herself against the attacks of Berserker, Beowulf. Why should she?

Like Cainabel, Ainz, or even Baal, Angrboda was a being of a different nature, a different concept, a different level of existence entirely. Something that Beowulf could understand and feel better than other Servants.

"Strength is everything."

Without strength, one perishes. The good, the evil, even the temperate, only those with power can allow themselves to exist. Angrboda was a creature born of these principles, the principles of power as some constant, some all-defining value, the dividing threshold of possibility, the right to exist.

He who does not possess power cannot exist.

Angrboda existence arose from this very concept, and Beowulf could not help but appreciate it. To feel that in front of him, standing against him, stood not another Servant, but something greater, something as ancient as the very foundation of the Earth. A product of the ancient, unspoken truth on which the world was first founded.

He knows that he's wildly outmatched.

But what choice did Beowulf have? Surrender, retreat, flee, to accept defeat and die?

No, Beowulf was not willing to even entertain the idea. Beowulf was what he was, a Berserker, always fighting to the very end.

And to the very end he chose to fight.

And even when both of Beowulf's blades slammed into Angrboda, and when it did not even cause her to change her somewhat mocking but more contemptuous gaze, he struck yet again. Then once more. And again. Each and every blow was as ineffectual as the last, and yet he kept swinging his hands.

Each of Beowulf's attacks slammed into Angrboda's body fully, each causing her no discomfort, but Beowulf didn't, couldn't stop. When he realized that Angrboda wasn't even trying to defend herself, to dodge, not even willing to raise her hand in defense, Beowulf just kept punching, punching, and punching again.

Instead of being wary, defensive, or even thinking of running away, Beowulf put his every being into his fists, standing his ground, to strike the mountain in front of him. Even when his blades cracked, and was destroyed in a pitiful groan, he did not stop, continuing only to furiously strike again and again. When Beowulf suddenly realized that his weapon was literally crumbling in his hands, he did not stop.

Grendel Buster was Beowulf's third and final Noble Phantasm. The quintessence of all of Beowulf's primitive and ferocious power as a Berserker and a Heroic Spirit. A Noble Phantasm that he could only use after losing his weapons, the ability to achieve his legendary power that had crushed Grendel, his Mother, and the dragon at the end of his life with his bare hands.

An ability that reshaped all of Beowulf, an ability that perverted the understanding of 'weapons in my hands', replacing it with 'my hands are weapons'. An ability that awakened the primal power lurking within every living being, the unleashing of all the beastly fury and power of Beowulf as Berserker, as Hero, as Man.

Fully unleashed, his full strength in hand, a moment later, Beowulf's fists crashed into Angrboda...

And the sound of crunching bones could be heard

The pain was so surprising that even Beowulf himself grit his teeth as he heard the crunch and saw the bloody glow of blood pouring from his broken hands. He could see bone jutting out, its broken ends piercing his body from within, leaking out even more of his blood.

Beowulf using his full strength to hit Angrboda was like an ordinary man trying to break a wall of stone with their fists. Uncaring of pain and the limitation of his body, Beowulf had shattered his bones, and the strain of his muscles breaking his joints.