Crazy Britain:They’re All Raising Me

"What the hell?!"

Granted, it was a relief that the Book of Truth and the System together finally revealed the enemy's ability—explaining why all their attacks up to now had been utterly useless—but the moment Guinevere saw the skill's description, he nearly went into cardiac arrest.

…System, do you even read what you're outputting?

"'Cannot be interfered with or harmed by any being who holds hope in their heart.' Are you f***ing kidding me?!"

Guinevere couldn't help but curse out loud.

"So basically, if you're not in complete and utter despair, your attacks don't do squat?"

Taking Guinevere's outburst as a genuine question, Bavanzi kindly paraphrased it for him.

"…Huh?" Artoria froze. "Then how are we even supposed to fight this thing?"

It was like the boss had a built-in grudge against them.

The group stood there, dumbfounded, staring at each other.

Just reading that skill description was enough to make someone feel hopeless—oh wait, hold on.

With a growing sense of despair gnawing at his heart, Guinevere experimentally slashed out a beam of light toward the shadow. Predictably, it did absolutely nothing.

How were they supposed to fight this thing? The enemy might as well be wearing a sign that said "God Mode: ON." It was like watching someone type in "whosyourdaddy" into the console and strut around invincible. There was just no way.

As they stood there, utterly stumped, a new tidal wave surged violently toward them.

Guinevere stepped forward. Drawing upon the limitless energy of the Grail, he swung the Sword of Victory and Oath once more, cleaving the monstrous wave in two with one brilliant slash.

But even a holy sword could part a natural disaster—it couldn't touch the Shadow of the Old Ones.

Though the shadow's movements were infrequent—like some oversized, sluggish game boss—when it did move, it wasn't slow at all.

By the time Guinevere realized the shadow was embedded within the surging tides, it was too late. The figure glided upstream against the holy light as if it were nothing, flashing into Guinevere's face in an instant. One hand reached out and slammed into his chest.

A torrent of destructive force burst forth from that palm, sending Guinevere flying.

It felt like he'd been hit by a speeding train. His insides shifted out of place, his armor—granted by the spirit of the Sword Saint—crumpled inward, and blood sprayed from his mouth and nose as he flew backward and smashed into the ground.

"GUINEVERE!!"

Bavanzi screamed. Her eyes instantly reddened. Without hesitation, she conjured a bloody arrow of pure magical energy and fired it straight at the shadow.

But her attacks passed through it like a breeze. Not a scratch.

The shadow turned toward her.

Artoria didn't hesitate. She grabbed Bavanzi with one hand, Mordred with the other, and bolted—trying to put as much distance between them and that damn thing as possible.

"Don't be stupid! Our attacks don't work on it! Don't throw your lives away!"

But dragging both of them slowed her down considerably. No matter how fast she ran, she couldn't shake the shadow closing in behind them.

Desperate, Artoria summoned her sword-staff again and launched it at the enemy.

Of course, she knew it wouldn't deal any damage. But maybe it could break up the waves around his feet, slow him down just a little.

No such luck.

The shadow suddenly slowed.

Then, it calmly reached out and caught the sword-staff.

With a flick of its wrist, it hurled the weapon back—faster than it had come.

Artoria reacted instantly. The four crystal spears hovering behind her surged forward to intercept—but the moment they touched the staff, they were blown away like twigs.

Her eyes widened. She hadn't expected that much power behind the throw.

That tiny misjudgment cost her the perfect window to dodge.

Just as the staff was about to impale her, Mordred broke free of her grasp. She pivoted, raised her greatsword, and stomped down hard, launching herself into a side-step that placed her directly in front of Artoria.

With a deafening metallic shriek, Mordred deflected the strike—but the sheer force of it still sent her hurtling backward. She crashed into Artoria, who then toppled into Bavanzi, and the three of them tumbled into a heap.

"Ow—ow ow ow..."

Artoria groaned, trying to push herself up. But then a chill ran down her spine.

A monstrous aura had settled over them.

The oppressive pressure was suffocating.

She clenched her jaw, forced herself upright, and summoned a surge of magic—but as she turned to face the shadow—

It was already there.

Its hand was outstretched. Coming straight for her face.

...I'm screwed.

Frozen in place, every nerve screaming, Artoria couldn't move. But then—a deafening boom.

A block of metal, massive as a pillar, slammed into the shadow from the side.

For the first time, the Shadow of the Old Ones was knocked back—forced to stumble several steps—and its terrifying aura flickered slightly.

Artoria's eyes widened. She finally looked up.

Standing before her was a massive, three-meter-tall steel colossus—an iron golem straight out of legend.

And from within it, Guinevere's voice rang out:

"Yes! It works!!"

Mordred and Bavanzi had just gotten back to their feet. Their eyes turned to the steel giant—and both of them blinked in surprise.

"Wait... Isn't that the iron golem Babbage used to pilot?!"

Exactly.

The one that had once pushed Mordred to her limits with raw, brute strength.

It was the original Chaos Machine Soldier—Babbage's pride and joy.

This, too, was part of Guinevere's war plan—the final ace he'd mentioned during the strategy meeting.

Because in the dream world, Babbage's armor hadn't been classified as an integrated part of his being. So after he was defeated, the armor remained.

And before Babbage faded away, he'd told Guinevere: Though damaged, the armor's core systems were intact. If someone skilled in machinery could repair it, it could still be used.

So Guinevere had asked for Chaldea's help—specifically, Da Vinci's technical expertise. And since he himself had spent this entire simulation dabbling in inventions and engineering, he was more than capable of handling the repairs.

With their help, he'd successfully restored the golem, loaded it into his system's storage, and carried it all the way here.

Originally, he'd planned to save it for when he needed backup before the final battle against Marjory.

But things had gone smoother than expected.

Until now.

Facing an enemy immune to the attacks of any hopeful being, Guinevere had taken a gamble:

Would an unthinking, soulless machine be exempt from that passive?

Turned out, it was.

"Artoria! I'll take point! You support me!"

Activating the golem's back-mounted steam boosters, Guinevere rocketed toward the shadow.

From their earlier skirmish, he'd gauged that this shadow wasn't some full-fledged manifestation of evil. It wasn't a true "Beast." Its power was a cut above Demon Pillar Barbatos, but nowhere near despair-worthy.

The real problem was that stupid "Anti-Hope" passive.

Remove that, and Guinevere could probably handle this shadow solo.

So now the question was: Could the golem defeat it?

With its B+++ Strength stat, each step Guinevere took shook the earth. He raised the hammer—an iron titan's strike—and brought it crashing down.

The waves surged again. A ten-meter-high wall of water rose to meet him.

But before it could reach the shore, Mordred sprinted forward. Crimson lightning crackled around her blade as she brought it down in a single arc—cleaving the tsunami clean in half.

Meanwhile, Artoria raised her hand. Her four crystal spears hovered around Guinevere, flashing with light. Her blessings took hold.

The golem surged forward—faster now—steam billowing from its vents. The hammer howled through the air.

The shadow moved. For the first time, it defended.

Raising both arms in a rudimentary guard, it braced.

The hammer struck.

The ground caved in. Fissures cracked across the rocky wall. But that was it.

The shadow's arms held. It barely budged.

"…You've gotta be kidding me."

Guinevere barely had time to finish his sentence before the shadow lunged forward—slamming its body into the golem like a freight train.

It looked ridiculous. Like an ant trying to topple a tank.

But from Guinevere's perspective?

It was horrifying.

A dull BOOM rang out, and the golem was launched backward. The ultra-dense armor that had withstood Mordred's fiercest attacks caved in.

The shadow charged again. A punch—brutal and unadorned.

Guinevere countered with his own. But when steel met darkness, the golem was thrown back. Plates shattered. Joints cracked.

It was just a shadow.

Just a fragment.

A creature that could only control tides and nullify hopeful intent.

But Guinevere had misjudged one thing:

Its physical power was absurd.

Only minutes into the brawl, his golem was on its last legs. One more collision—clean, direct—and it was sent flying.

The earth quaked.

And then—boom.

The iron colossus crashed into the ground, leaving a crater in its wake.