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In order to counter Mordred's barrage of certain fatalities, Michael quickly estimated the appropriate number of forces needed to fend off those hundred heavy and fast blades and executed the right technique for it. 

"Fuck! Thousand Slice!" 

To provide the right response to Mordred's Level 8 Hundred Slice, Michael answered him with Thousand Slice, a Level 10 Sword Art technique. The weaker with superior technique versus the stronger with inferior moves. 

Ching! Ching! Ching! Ching! Ching!

A storm of blades occurred in the hallway as the two swordsmen exchanged blows. Their battle was so furious that it produced gushes of wind in the area that almost blasted Sabrina. 

Even though they used two different techniques, the difference between their strengths and experiences made the outcome almost the same. For Michael to deflect a single swing of Mordred's Zweihänder, he needs to slash his Swiss saber with it ten times. That was why he executed a higher-level technique than the same one. 

Uriel, on the other hand, could not do anything but watch. She knew that even if she attacked the opponent in his blind spot, Mordred would still have the leeway to respond to it. As she watched, Uriel recognized how powerful Mordred could be. 

Ching! 

Once the tempest of blades was subdued, both Michael and Mordred continued their exchange using pure swordsmanship. Neither of them used a technique, and they had been dancing with each other to show off their swordplay. 

Both of them were intending to strike their opponent's vitals, but the blades of their swords intercepted the strike before they hit the target. Even after a minute since the engagement of their exchange, neither of them had landed a hit on their opponent yet. 

However, there were some things that Michael noticed about himself and his opponent. Matters that put Michael in a state of anxiety and worry

Firstly, even though he had been activating Godspeed since the start, Mordred was still able to catch up with his speed and reaction time. Michael even concluded that Mordred was still holding back. 

Mordred was superior to Michael in many aspects, such as physicality, level, stats, sword skills, number of techniques, and experience. Before the fight could start, Mordred had all the bets on winning. 

Secondly, in the matter that Michael worried about the most, Mordred still did not use a technique higher than Level 8. Upon his analysis, not only did Mordred have Sword Art with a proficiency of 10, but he reached the divine level and got Divine Sword Art as well. To top it all off, his proficiency was Level 2. 

As of now, Michael and their main body, Raphael, only have Divine Sword Art: 1. Even though Mylene cheerfully praised how early Raphael achieved the ultra skill, it was still not enough to match up with Mordred. 

Lastly, Michael noticed that there was something off with his sword. Due to the difference between the materials used, Michael's saber had been gradually chipping away as mithrill was an inferior metal compared to Mordred's orichalcum two-hander. 

If the fight continued, his sword would undoubtedly give up and break. But with his current disadvantaged situation, he doubted if his sword could endure the damage before the fight ended.

Ching! 

And all of a sudden, Michael was about to witness the thing he did not want to happen the most. Because after a mighty swing of his huge sword to fend off Michael a few steps, Mordred then brandished his sword before executing his next move. 

"Let me end this quick. Thousand Slice." 

In an instant, Mordred swung his heavy sword a thousand times at an imperceivable speed, making his slashes filled with extreme sharpness and tremendous momentum. It would be imaginable if one strike of it could cleanly and frighteningly cleave a large boulder in half. 

Michael just showcased that technique to deflect Mordred's Hundred Slice earlier. He had to think thoroughly about what he could do to counter that infinite barrage of massive destruction. 

His Divine Sword Art technique was only Soul Slash, so it would be worthless if he could not land a blow. The Absolute Severance of the Ultimate Arts was quite risky if he could not protect his body. 

Raphael did not bless his clones with all of his abilities, and each of them was limited to using some. Only Azrael, the sixth incarnate, was granted the Ultra Skill: Ruler of Death among the clones, and the Ultra Skill: Overlord of Sins prevented itself from being distributed to others. 

(Tsk! There is no option left for me!) 

With nothing left to do, Michael resorted to using an ultimate power to add up with his move. If he could not protect himself while on offense, he just had to simply do both. 

"Thousand Slice!" 

In a flash, Michael instantly wrapped his body with the Impregnable Fortress of the Ultimate Arts as he was replicating Mordred's technique. As he did, Michael maximized his personal limit of Godspeed to further increase the speed of his blade by several folds. 

Michael used that technique to counter Mordred's Hundred Slice, and he used it again against the same technique. A normal Thousand Slice would be ineffective against Mordred's rendition. But Michael had a remedy for that. 

Mordred used the weight of his sword and his speed to create momentum no one else could withstand. Momentum was a matter of mass and velocity, and all Michael had to do was increase the velocity of the lighter saber to deflect the heavier Zweihänder. 

Crack. 

However, as soon as their blades met, something literally snapped. In the suddenness of the moment, Michael honestly forgot to involve his sword in the defense, and it was snapped in half due to the force of the collision. 

"Oh, shit!" 

With his sword broken, all the strikes from the Zweihänder perfectly landed on Michael's body. And due to the perfectness of Mordred's swordplay, his strikes made Michael leave airborne for a second without being blasted. 

Thud. 

After the thousandth slash hit, Michael's body dropped to the floor and he fell to his knees. But Mordred widened his eyes upon seeing how Michael's supposed shredded body was still as perfect as before. 

"How?! How are you still unscathed?!" 

"I wanted to ask that too, my old friend." 

Suddenly, a new male voice rang in the hallway. Hearing that, Mordred, Michael, Uriel, and Sabrina looked out for the source and saw a man standing at a certain distance with his arms folded.

The man in front of them was as robust as Mordred, but he was around six feet nine. He had lustrous black hair and intimidating eyes of the same color. He might have looked in his forties, but he was still in his prime. 

Mordred narrowed his eyes upon seeing the man because he knew who he was—a person who had actually been close to him before. Glaring at the man, Mordred turned his body toward him, put his sword on his shoulder, and uttered his name. 

"Gilbert..." 

"Long time no see, Mordred." 

The Guildmaster of the Adventurers' Guild had arrived on the scene.