Saint Seiya, but Athena who disobeys?

As a god, He was also a warrior.

Out of utmost respect for his rival and friend, He drew his sword.

If the wind is the most representative embodiment of Ursragna's nature, then the warrior is its core essence. In Velesragna's hands, this is a sword forged from gold, a massive golden steel blade as tall as its wielder, a sword with two blades.

Seemingly sensing the biting cold, Seiya's eyes narrowed slightly. He seemed to sense the possibility of some terrible tragedy, but he was still not afraid.

"Athena, release your holy light to protect the warriors trapped in darkness. I swear, I will fear neither death nor evil, with every ounce of my strength, every inch of my will, and every wisp of my soul. I swear, I will use my soul and my faith to drive away all enemies that harm humanity and the earth!"

He recited the same words, but not incantations; they were prayers of faith. Then he walked toward Vereslana with the same pace.

He unleashed the Pegasus Meteor Fist once more, slicing through the radiance. The energy detonated, triggering a chain reaction of explosions, and the dazzling flames engulfed the Saint.

Ursragna's face showed neither joy nor sorrow, for in his hand lay the peerless divine sword, for the sword itself was a warrior. He himself was a god wielding the power of victory, capable of easily discerning the weaknesses and combat techniques of his enemies, achieving victory against all odds. Or rather, it was truly unbelievable that the human before him could fight him to this extent.

The moment He drew His sword, victory was already secured.

But at that very moment, whether it was Him, the Saint Seiya in the firelight, or even Erica, they all suddenly looked in another direction.

That was the white horse that Seiya had observed before. Now, he was finally attracted by the radiance emanating from the war god Urs Ragnar, and the god of the sun galloped toward him.

"Ha ha, good boy! You've returned to dedicate your power to me!" The war god Ursragna laughed.

But there was another person who reacted in kind to the approaching white horse.

That was Saint Seiya. At this moment, the stone tablet in his arms was burning hot. Seiya had now perfectly fulfilled the prerequisites for using this most ancient magic book. He had been carrying this stone tablet with him all along, even using his cosmos to protect it, all for this moment.

—The white horse represents the power that best suits oneself.

In that instant, the grimoire of the divine generation spewed forth blue flames.

At the same time, the boy's figure disappeared.

The exquisitely beautiful body, like a statue, vanished, replaced by a gentle breeze.

"It's a tornado!" Erica immediately realized, having witnessed it twice before—the sacred wind that had swept up divine beasts. This was also one of the boy's divine powers!

He actually stood between the blue flames and the white horse at that moment.

The tornado that the boy had transformed into immediately disappeared, but the galloping white horse crashed into the arms of the young war god and was successfully swallowed up. After burning for more than ten seconds, the brilliance of the sun burst forth from His eyes.

"Do you think I don't know your plans? Although you possess the insight of a Saint, I also hold the power of guidance and victory. As your final trump card, I have long been prepared!" Urus Ragnar, the God of War, laughed, completely unconcerned that one of his avatars had been taken by Seiya. What pleased him even more was that he had finally cracked the trump card in front of this friend who was also his enemy.

"Now that the divine power remaining in that stone slab has completely disappeared, what are you going to do now? Will you use my avatar to escape?"

Seiya felt the burning heat in his chest, which was the embodiment of the power of the wind and the traveler.

Indeed, no one should be underestimated, especially when the opponent is a god.

If one makes good use of this embodiment of wind that best represents Ursragna, it is indeed possible to escape, and even to run to any place in the world.

But Seiya smiled.

The last embers of life within him were still burning, and his smile made his choice.

A figure emerged from the dazzling flames, treading on the thunder and lightning. As he gracefully leaped into the air, the sky behind him erupted with the roar of a thousand horses. At that moment, Seiya's physical body broke the sound barrier and approached Urs Ragnar.

Ursragna raised his golden sword, the warrior's sword that cleaved through divine power clashing with the holy sword drawn from the distant other side.

"I see. You are a warrior who descended from beyond the realm, seeking Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war. Where your abilities fall short, the grace of the heavens will make up for them. Every Saint will have his own guardian constellation."

Words are light, and the power of words is light. On the battlefield, the key to victory lies in discerning the enemy's true nature.

If Seiya were a god, the moment Urs Ragnar cracked his true nature, his sword would have shattered his godhood and sealed his powers. But now, however, it's still possible to see through all of his power, including his strengths and weaknesses.

"You are Saint Seiya, and Pegasus is your guardian constellation. To fully unleash your power, you need to obtain the corresponding constellation's Cloth. After billions of years of such massive evolution, even the North Star is not eternally static; some planets have reached the end of their life cycle and become supernovae. In the course of billions of years of this enormous evolution, the stars also change positions to decorate the star map more beautifully."

With the essence of victory and the power of a warrior, the war god Veleslana possesses combat techniques similar to, or even more outstanding than, those of the Saints, capable of discerning enemy information.

"Therefore, the Saint Cloth is not eternal. Your fate and that of your kind are based on the destiny of the stars, their birth and death. The stars are mirrors reflecting the world. If the world changes, the stars will change, and the Saint Cloths symbolizing the constellations will naturally change as well. Now, you might as well look up and see that there is no guardian constellation, only the Death Star descending upon your head."

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This is the third update, albeit late; this chapter counts as yesterday's.

Two updates a day, but I'm going to bed now! My writing energy is about to give out!

Chapter Sixteen: Saint Seiya are unparalleled beauties, not to be missed!

With each word He uttered, thousands of golden swords took shape in the sky. They were swords, light, and words of power, shooting forth like a rainstorm as they approached the fleeing Saints.

But the Saint Seiya's face remained expressionless. He silently continued to burn his last vestiges of life to the fullest.

He moved with a speed almost imperceptible to the naked eye, wielding a holy sword formed from light, his elegance tinged with unwavering resolve as he resolutely faced the golden storm that was severing divine power. The drawn holy sword repeatedly clashed with the falling golden sword; his body, operating at full capacity, even emitted a mist of blood. Erica's vision was completely unable to capture the speed of his opponent's attacks; she could only hear the deafening clang of metal colliding and the continuous bursts of light.

Is this truly something a human could do, to meet the golden rain with a sword in hand? The sound alone was like the terrifying roar of Baal, the hammer-wielding being from hell.

Even though the golden sword that could sever a god's divine status was ineffective, the God of War still waited, because this world still had to follow the most basic laws of physics.

Only when the recoil left the Saint's arms bleeding profusely did he finally draw his sword. But in the form of a scepter, he uttered a new incantation.

"O Guardian of the righteous, I invite and dedicate myself to you alone. O Guardian of the righteous, I praise you and make my wishes known to you. O you who uphold the sky and shape the earth, you who grant victory and grace, I will exercise justice. Please grant me the right path and the light! Use the power of the Word Spirit to defeat the unjust and the evil! This is the law of victory!"

Calamity breeds dark clouds, within which lightning dances wildly. A terrifying thunderstorm descends, and this time, the sky full of lightning finally locks onto its target.

Golden lightning bolts, like chains connecting heaven and earth, rained down in endless torrents. At this moment, perhaps only death was the ultimate fate of the Saints.

When the thunder subsided, the war god Ursragna cautiously approached the battlefield.

To the boy, Saint Seiya was both a rival and a friend; to Him, the God of Warriors, Seiya was an unparalleled warrior. He was more charming than the most beautiful woman in the world, and more priceless than the most precious treasure.

Saint Seiya characters are such stunning beauties that they are an irresistible temptation for any god who governs war and struggle.

"I will make him my warrior, and I will snatch him from the hands of the foreign gods of the West." This is not just empty talk. Thinking of soon having Seiya as his warrior, the war god Urs Ragnar couldn't help but utter those words!

Now is the time to capture the other person's heart by transforming into a young boy.

But at the very moment when they were five meters apart, the young military genius suddenly stopped.

In that instant, a murderous glint flashed in the eyes of the deathly silent Saint. He sprang up from the deep pit, his body radiating starlight. His cosmos was still burning, and his surging power made him move like lightning. A storm of golden bullets inflicted multiple wounds on him, but failed to deliver a fatal blow that would prevent him from continuing the battle.

Erica understood Seiya's tactics. He had been feigning weakness; he hadn't actually lost his ability to move, but was simply waiting for the God of War to close in so he could instantly kill him! If it weren't for His status as a God of War, wielding the authority of victory and being familiar with all kinds of battles, and His nature as a guiding god preventing him from danger, Seiya might have truly created a miracle. Now that the God of War had seen through his disguise, Seiya's already burning cosmos was surging even higher, pushing him to exert even greater force, trying to defy the odds!

But time stood still at that moment, and the golden sword pierced through his chest.

It was just the most ordinary and calm piercing, without any skill, as easy as cutting tofu with a butcher's knife. But the golden sword, symbolizing warriors and victory, pierced through the Saint's chest. Even the God of War carefully twisted and tightened it. The previously formed Word of Power pierced through every part of the Saint's body in the form of countless tiny swords of light.

The previous outburst had already caused the war god Ursragna a great loss, so how could he not be on guard against this move?

For victory, come quickly to me! Immortal sun, grant me a radiant steed. Spirited steed with magnificent hooves, bring forth the halo symbolizing your lord!

—The blazing sun overhead pierced through the clouds.

The last rays of sunlight shone on Saint Seiya, faintly tinting his blood-soaked, mangled body with a golden hue.

"Is it over?" Seiya opened his bloodshot eyes.

“It’s over, but it’s also a new beginning.” Ursragna smiled as he looked at his friend. “When you open your eyes again, you will stand by my side, far from evil, and from then on, the light of my Lord will shine upon you.”

Bring me that wine, which you might call a ruby ​​melted in a glass; it is like a drawn sword, gleaming in the midday sun.

If our life's breath has ceased, the sight of wine will bring life back.

Ah, if an eagle suddenly swooped down, snatched the wine, and carried it up into the sky, to a place where mortals cannot reach, who wouldn't shout, like me, "Well done!"

The war god Vereslana slowly recited this ancient Persian poem, his gaze fixed on the blood-soaked youth, guided by the promise of victory. Erica could no longer bear to witness what was to come—the white horse that carried the sun, its inevitable fate being annihilation.

The boy breathed deeply, his gaze sweeping over everything in the path of the white horse carrying the sun, leaving only their own world. Victory was assured, yet why did a strange sense of unease linger?

At this moment, the God of War seemed to sense something and subconsciously turned his head to look straight ahead.

That was the wind, the embodiment of wind that Seiya had taken in place of the white horse. The young war god instinctively wanted to get away, but at that moment he found that his arms were firmly bound by Seiya, and even the surrounding space was locked.

—The white horse locked onto Seiya, the wind locked onto the god of war. And Seiya opened his eyes, his gaze blazing.

"Of course it's not over yet! I can still burn! Prepare for Pegasus's final ultimate move—Pegasus Rolling Crush!"

"Rutama is Tuogoushi!" At this moment, the God of War finally couldn't help but laugh and curse.

Regardless of what He thought to himself, and no matter how unreasonable it seemed, at this moment His limbs were locked by Seiya's joint locks, and the surrounding space was sealed by the Incarnation of Wind.

Spin, jump, close your eyes.

Pegasus' ultimate killing technique: Spinning Shattering Fist.

At this moment, the white horse carrying the sun also fell between the two.

This battle between gods and men has now come to an end.

Chapter Seventeen: Saint Seiya, it's time for me to come and save you.

In Sardinia, every television station is broadcasting extensive news reports about the recent natural disaster.

Flights to the island have even been shut down, turning this isolated Mediterranean island into a paradise for the gods that can only be entered but not exited.

The atmosphere at the witch's house breakfast table became heavy today. Perhaps it was because two people were missing, perhaps because her previous spiritual vision had inadvertently glimpsed traces of a third god, perhaps because her magical power was depleted again, perhaps because of that battle?

The outcome of the battle, perhaps only God knows.

But for Erica, blown by a solar storm to the Bay of Orosle in southern Sardinia, she wandered aimlessly through the streets. If Milan's old friends saw her like this, they might find it hard to believe that the ever-present, ever-confident, Crimson Devil Erica was now wandering aimlessly like a stray dog.

Erica thought to herself, filled with regret and remorse. "The one who should have died is myself."

A foolish challenge to the gods, unaware of one's own limitations, should have ended in death. However, a truly qualified warrior stepped forward to confront the disobedient war god who defied mythology.

She no longer cared whether the God of War lived or died; what tormented her was the death of Saint Seiya.

That kind of fighting method, which burns out one's life force, inevitably means that one cannot live, nor can one ever live again. She couldn't understand how such a cruel tradition could exist in this world.

She clenched her fists, feeling no pain even as her nails dug into her palms. Perhaps she wanted to clear her head this way. Until, her senses were subtly stirred.

Although she is also a witch, Erica's talent in this area is far inferior to that of a knight, and naturally, she is nowhere near as powerful as Lucrecia, the strongest witch in all of Italy. Nor can she compare to her friend, who is of equal renown; she simply happens to possess this talent, nothing more.

But at this moment, Dong Xuelian sensed something closely related to herself.

The moment she saw the figure on the sea, she felt as if she had been struck by lightning.

Then he pounced on it without hesitation.

Three days ago, Sardinia, in the remote, secluded area near the sea.

In the forest, owls and black snakes roam the woods. These seemingly ordinary creatures are all of divine beast status.

An owl landed on the girl's shoulder. The mythical beast, symbolizing wisdom and victory in war, tilted its head like its master, looking at the nearly dried-up body lying on the dark sea.

Energy burned out, body burned out, life burned out, but even so, a sliver of life remained.

But this glimmer of hope was like a candle flickering in the wind, teetering on the brink of collapse.

The goddess of wisdom and victory, in her still immature form, gazed upon the warrior before her. With her memories and her wisdom, she could not ascertain what kind of warrior he was. Yet, her faith was undeniably real.

Soon, the goddess obtained the answer with her extraordinary wisdom.

"That must be a warrior who fell for my charm, that's for sure."

The young goddess wore an expression of self-assurance; though her face remained calm, the lightness of her steps revealed her inner state.

She had many names. Whether it was Gorgon or Medusa, they were just some of the names she had held in the past. But they all represented the same meaning: a title praising the Holy Trinity who had once ruled the Mediterranean.

—Athena.

Poseidon, the god of the sea, was her nemesis. At least that's what Greek mythology says. But she didn't hate the sea because of this, because both the sea and the earth were deeply connected to the essence she had been stripped of—the source of life. What she truly hated was the sun. The dazzling light, the radiant throne in the sky, were what truly displeased the Queen of the Night.

Seeing the boy who was carrying the sun on a white horse reminded Athena of the distant past.

The sun is also the flame of life, an indispensable element connecting life and death, and willingly accepting this light is the queen's duty. What remains in her hazy memories are her mother's sighs, her queenly shame, and the old woman's wisdom. In her fragmented glory, only the memory of rebelling against the sun, which belonged to her father—Zeus, the king of the sky—remains.

Athena looked at the withered body with increasing delight. Indeed! Without reservation! That's the charisma that Athena possesses!

Saint Seiya, it is time for me to save you, so please revive me!

The young girl, a goddess, bowed her head and kissed her warrior.

—It was a simple kiss, yet it was the immortal power that transcended the winter of death and led to the spring of hope.

For ancient people, creatures as enigmatic and mysterious as snakes were extremely rare. They constantly shed their outer skin, undergo long hibernations in winter, and then awaken in spring as if resurrected from the dead. Easily bridging the gap between winter and spring, they were seen as gods who grant immortality.

As she performed this miracle, Athena's form became elusive. Then, a night breeze blew by, and her figure vanished completely.

For Saint Seiya, it was like a dream.

That was a distant dream that should have belonged to me, or rather, to the Saint Seiya.