Fate: Abyss of the Heart

Fractured Resolve: The Despair of Artoria

Vanitas, his patience finally eroding, narrowed his eyes in growing irritation as Artoria rose to her feet once again. Her determination, the way she clung to hope with every breath, was beginning to wear on him. He could feel the remnants of her resolve flickering like a dying flame, but it was a flame that had not yet been snuffed out. The mere sight of her defiance filled him with a dark sense of satisfaction—he would relish this moment. Now, he would show her true despair. He would obliterate her light once and for all, leaving nothing but ruin in his wake.

Taking a deep breath, Vanitas allowed the full weight of Angra Mainyu's power to course through him. The air around them thickened to the point where it felt oppressive, as if the very atmosphere was choking under the crushing force of his presence. Darkness pooled at his feet, swirling up to envelop him, fusing with his spear in a terrifying display of raw malice. The land itself seemed to recoil at his presence, the shadows stretching out like claws, ready to claim their victim.

He leveled his cold, emotionless gaze on Artoria, and in that moment, she felt as though his stare could kill her a hundred times over. It wasn't just the power radiating from him, but the sheer, unfathomable emptiness in his eyes—an abyss that swallowed all light and hope. Artoria's breath caught in her throat as she steeled herself, her heart pounding in anticipation of the imminent onslaught. She could feel the tension mounting in the air, as if the world itself was bracing for the storm to come.

And then, without a word, Vanitas moved.

His spear shot forward with a speed that defied comprehension. This wasn't the singular thrust she had grown used to; this was a barrage. A merciless, unrelenting rain of spear strikes that filled the air like a swarm of locusts, each thrust faster and more devastating than the last. The first few thrusts came at her with incredible speed, the spear tip flashing before her eyes as she barely managed to parry the strikes. The sound of metal clashing against metal rang out in quick succession, and the force behind each blow rattled her arms, sending shockwaves through her body.

But the assault did not stop. The speed of Vanitas's thrusts increased exponentially. His spear blurred, moving at near light speed, and Artoria could barely follow his movements, let alone block or parry them. Every muscle in her body strained as she was forced into a purely defensive stance, her sword flashing in a desperate attempt to intercept the incoming barrage. Each strike was accompanied by a burst of force so overwhelming that her feet dug deep trenches into the ground beneath her, cracks spider-webbing out from the points of impact.

The weight of the attacks became unbearable, each thrust feeling like it carried the weight of an entire world crashing down on her. The spear moved so fast now—faster than anything Artoria had ever encountered. What had started at 0.01 seconds now escalated to a terrifying 0.00000001 seconds between each thrust. The sheer speed and power behind Vanitas's assault made it feel as though she was standing in the middle of a violent hurricane, the spear's force growing heavier with every strike. It was relentless, a storm that sought to drown her in darkness.

Her breath grew ragged, her muscles screamed in agony, and sweat poured down her brow as she fought to keep up. But no matter how fast she moved, Vanitas was faster. Her vision blurred from the strain, and her arms trembled under the pressure of each blow. With every clash, the ground beneath her gave way, sinking her deeper into the earth, as though it too was being swallowed by the abyss Vanitas had summoned. It felt like she was falling, sinking into a bottomless pit of despair, drowning in the oppressive darkness that surrounded them.

Yet Artoria refused to give in. She gritted her teeth, her heart burning with a fierce determination that refused to die. No matter how dire the situation, no matter how much the darkness threatened to consume her, she would not let go of her light. Her hands tightened around the hilt of Excalibur, her only beacon in this storm of darkness. But even as she fought to maintain her ground, something shifted in Vanitas's eyes.

A cold smile crept across his face.

In the midst of the relentless barrage, Vanitas altered his stance. His spear, previously a blur of speed and precision, slowed for just a moment—long enough for Artoria to adjust her defense. But before she could react, Vanitas brought his spear crashing down with all the force of a mountain descending from the heavens. The impact of the blow was so immense, so devastating, that the very air seemed to split apart, a deafening roar filling the battlefield.

Artoria raised Excalibur to block the attack, but the sheer force behind Vanitas's strike was unlike anything she had ever faced. The moment the spear collided with her sword, a shockwave erupted, sending ripples through the ground and tearing through the air. Her arms buckled under the pressure, and for the first time in the battle, she felt something crack.

It was not the ground beneath her.

It was Excalibur.

A splintering sound echoed through the battlefield, cutting through the chaos like a death knell. Artoria's heart stopped. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she felt the sacred blade of Excalibur fracture beneath Vanitas's overwhelming might. A second later, the unthinkable happened—Excalibur shattered. The blade that had once been a symbol of her unwavering resolve, the sword that had carried her through countless battles, was broken. The hilt remained in her hands, but the blade, her last bastion of hope, had been utterly destroyed.

Artoria stood frozen, her mind reeling from the enormity of what had just occurred. Excalibur, her greatest weapon, her symbol of light and justice, was gone. The weight of the moment crashed down on her, and for the first time since the battle began, a deep, soul-crushing despair took hold of her heart.

Vanitas stood before her, unphased and unrelenting. He looked down at her with that same cold, emotionless stare, and in that moment, Artoria understood—her hope had been shattered, her light extinguished. She was alone in the darkness now.