Skadi—as her name suggests, even without the protection of Britannia, she remains a swordswoman as powerful as a goddess.
With the cooperation of Gawain and the others, and with ample preparation, even Arthur ALTER—whose stats rival Arthur's—would be unable to escape for long.
That said, the Knights of the Round Table had already been defeated by Arthur ALTER once, and by now, it was likely that everyone was injured. Holding him back would not be easy.
"Don't wait. He won't come. And you, Roman, will die here."
Arthur spoke coldly. At the same time, magic power surged around him as he accelerated the recovery of his body. The Holy Sword of the Star shone brightly.
In his previous brief encounter with Arthur ALTER, Arthur had already obtained all the information he needed.
Based on the data copied from this world's record tape, Arthur ALTER could be considered complete.
It was likely that before the war with Rome officially began, all of Arthur's recorded data had been fully duplicated.
Thus, there was no need to explain the basics—such as physical condition or total magical reserves.
His opponent had demonstrated the Holy Sword of the Star, Magic Card: Wind, Telekinesis, Inch Power: Craniotomy, and more during the earlier battle. Their strength was exactly the same as Arthur's.
Although the Scabbard of Avalon had yet to be used, Arthur ALTER likely possessed it as well, since Manaka's gift of it to Arthur had also been recorded.
The same likely held true for unrevealed abilities, such as the Shield of Radiance and Word Spirit.
So Arthur made a judgment.
Defeating Arthur ALTER was impossible.
That's right—impossible.
With the same mindset, countless tactics and traps could be devised. But killing him—even at the cost of mutual destruction—was completely out of the question. Arthur, after all, always prepared a plan for survival before taking action.
Therefore, if the war continued at its current pace, only one outcome awaited.
On the other side, the Round Table would be annihilated, the entire British army destroyed. Rome would win by a slim margin, and Arthur would be forced to surrender.
Yes, no matter how carefully the possibilities were calculated, that conclusion remained unchanged.
And Arthur could not accept it.
So he decided to gamble.
As long as Lucius was killed in advance and the Holy Grail destroyed, the tide of war would—
Arthur said nothing. His eyes were as calm as a well—an expression Lucius mistook for confidence.
But Lucius wasn't a fool. Of course he noticed.
I can't die. Absolutely not!
If he were to die, it would not just be the end of him, but of Rome itself—completely.
I must not die!
Lucius charged forward.
He knew exactly where his strengths lay.
Close combat was his domain. Even though Artorius had entered some strange state that greatly enhanced his combat power, the gap between them had only narrowed, not disappeared. As long as he stayed close and defended against that bizarre punching technique, he could hold out until reinforcements arrived.
"Don't even think about running! Son of the Dragon! If you want to destroy Rome, then come at me!"
A pointless provocation.
Unfortunately, Lucius realized with despair that Arthur gave him no chance to approach.
Of course. If Lucius knew his own strength, how could Arthur not understand his own weakness?
Only a fool would use his weakness to attack the enemy's strength.
Arthur's advantage was clear—the Holy Sword of the Star.
A weapon on a celestial scale, utterly beyond the reach of Rome's technology.
With the output limit of the Holy Sword, the Emperor Sword in Lucius's hand could never hope to match it.
But—
"So that's it. You have to use both hands to fully charge it before unleashing its true power. Too late, Artorius! When it comes to regeneration speed, I'm faster!" Lucius cried out, elated at his sudden realization. He raised his sword with both hands, gathering magical energy.
Since he couldn't get close, he'd just use a beam attack instead.
It was true—Arthur's recovery rate, bolstered by the Holy Sword and its scabbard, far outstripped Lucius's in the past.
But self-recovery was a power reserved for those who transcended human limits.
And Lucius, the Roman emperor worshipped as a god, possessed this ability too. Moreover, with the Holy Grail's blessing, his strength now surpassed Arthur's. His wounds were also far less severe—Arthur had even lost an arm.
"The restrictions on the Magic Sword are lifted! Hahaha! At a time like this, the first strike decides everything! Even if I'm just one step ahead, I still win!"
Lucius curled his lips into a bloodthirsty grin. He brought the sword down violently, and red lightning split the sky, illuminating the earth.
Everything turned blood-red. Destructive energy surged toward the golden radiance.
It felt like eternity was born in a single moment.
"Bang——"
"Atmospheric Blades?" Lucius sneered at the sharp wind-blades hurtling into the red lightning. "It's useless!"
He was right.
The attack—powered by telekinesis and the Magic Card: Wind—lasted less than a second.
Destroy!
Destruction!
Crush!
But the flag still stood.
A black iris banner flared in the wind, and pitch-black flames erupted.
"[Roar, My Wrath (LEGRONDEMENT DU HAINE)]!"
Red and black collided, only to be swallowed by crimson lightning. Yet this was far from the true power of the witch. All the energy was absorbed, countered, and then dispersed.
"Wha—" Lucius's eyes widened.
What shocked him wasn't Jeanne d'Arc ALTER's aggression—but the fact that she was even here.
Servants on the British side with high magical energy consumption were supposed to be suppressed by the current barrier. Even Merry, a top-class mage and a Kalashnikov-grade magical gunner, had fainted from it.
According to Lucius's intelligence, after Jeanne ALTER defected to the British faction, she was immediately named the Seventh Seat of the Round Table. But Servants—being pure magic—shouldn't even be able to exist here.
Wait!
Lucius turned toward the golden light.
Could it be that this guy... But why?
Of course—false intelligence is the foundation of all tactics. If one couldn't even manipulate intelligence to this extent, forget executing any meaningful strategy.
Besides, Britain's barrier grew stronger with time and recognition. Jeanne d'Arc's new status, hastily granted, shouldn't have had any significant effect.
It was meant as a mere gesture—yet now, the payoff was huge.
If it were Arthur ALTER, he might have realized this and developed a counter-strategy.
But Lucius... was still too green.
"Bastard! You have no right to interfere with my battle against the Red Dragon!" the emperor snarled, charging his second beam.
"Too late!" Jeanne ALTER smirked. "Let him see for himself, Master!"
"EX——CALIBUR!"
"Red Dragon?"
The next moment, a torrent of golden light erupted.
This time, there were no spoilers.
Lucius, after a moment of stunned silence, seemed to accept his fate. He relaxed. He stopped resisting.
In that final instant, his eyes pierced the radiance of the Holy Sword and saw the figure behind it—
A youth with clear, gleaming eyes and a beauty like a flower in full bloom. Dazzling, brilliant, and breathtakingly radiant.
So, you still choose to defy me, Red Dragon.
But why? We're the same—dragons, outsiders, destined to be gods. Why reject that fate? With your intelligence, surely you see that humans are foolish, that they need us to rule them?
A disembodied voice echoed in his ear.
"People always make mistakes. Therefore, as a king, you must guide them to the right path. As a king, you must shape their hearts. As a king, you must be tolerant. Otherwise, what's the point of being king?"
...But, Red Dragon—how can you be sure your way is right?
This time, there was no answer.
Because there didn't need to be one. Arthur's eyes said it all.
Ah... This guy. He never questioned it. I see. I lost this time. But next time—
Time froze.
Relief and regret mingled on Lucius's face before the golden torrent erased them both.
"Ahem...! Pff—"
His arm—barely recovered, its flesh only just reformed—had turned a strange purple-black from the onslaught of magical energy. It even gave off the faint aroma of scorched meat. Arthur's already shattered ribs and organs had suffered even further damage from his reckless invocation of power.
The moment Lucius died, Arthur collapsed, coughing violently and spitting up blood.
Because of the severity of his injuries, the Word Spirit's suppression on his mind was forcibly lifted.
The pain surged into his brain like a lightning strike, nearly causing him to seize and convulse on the spot.
"Hey! Master! Are you okay?" Jeanne ALTER rushed over in a panic. She dropped to her knees and held Arthur, her hands fumbling urgently to assess his injuries. "Are you out of your mind?! You knew what condition your body was in! You dragged that pathetic frame of yours around just to channel such massive magical energy—you're insane!"
Black Jeanne hastily covered Arthur's wounds while bombarding him with scoldings. By the end, she was shouting every foul word she knew.
This guy—what an idiot!
If the end result was mutual destruction, then what meaning did victory hold?
To win is to survive. To succeed is to protect your own life and interests.
How could he not understand something so simple?
The more she thought about it, the more her frustration and grief mounted. Her voice trembled. Her expression twisted with helpless emotion. Tears welled up in her eyes.
Because to her knowledge, someone suffering injuries like these—even a hero—had no hope of survival.
She was unaware of the protection granted by the Holy Sword and its scabbard.
Arthur's injuries were regenerating at an astonishing rate. Slowly, strength returned to him.
But there was no time to explain.
He forced himself to his feet, straining to open his eyes and rub them with trembling hands, trying to clear his vision. It was futile. The wounds were too deep. Though he wasn't dead yet, recovery was impossible.
"Jeanne... Don't worry about me right now. I'm fine. Check Lucius's corpse. Is the Holy Grail destroyed? What about the barrier—has it fallen? Are the British forces still losing ground?"
"You—!"
In the end, Arthur received the answers he needed.
He exhaled in relief. His expression finally softened.
"Okay. You win. This battle is your indisputable victory. All that's left is to declare it. Let everyone know. Let them cheer for you. Since you're not dying, go and do what must be done—then lie down and rest already!" Jeanne ALTER emphasized her words, a hint of pain flickering in her eyes.
Even with his face contorted in agony, still he endured.
Why couldn't he just rest?
Unfortunately, it wasn't time yet.
"Rest can wait. Take me to Gawain and the others first. I... I'm worried." Arthur's voice grew anxious. Fearing she'd refuse, he quickly added, "According to my calculations, by the time we arrive, I should be almost fully healed."
Of course—it was a lie.
His internal organs, magic circuits, and skeletal structure were nearly destroyed from the magical backlash.
With magic power disrupted, the healing functions of the sword and scabbard could only operate at minimal efficiency.
But for naïve Miss Jeanne ALTER, those words were enough.
When she brought Arthur to the Round Table's battlefield and saw his bloodied form, she finally realized she'd been tricked.
Furious and helpless, she had no choice but to raise her flag and sword to shield him.
"Do you ever not lie?! God will punish you—absolutely! You'll go straight to hell!"
"That doesn't matter." Arthur forced a faint smile and looked toward the battlefield's center, where the five round tables and his clone were gathered. "It seems... things aren't going too badly."
Defeating Arthur ALTER was simple.
At the end of the day, he was still a Servant. Regardless of his contract with Lucius or the Holy Grail, now that both had been destroyed, his power source was gone. The only outcome was decline—possibly even complete dissolution.
Arthur's only fear had been that the already-wounded Round Table might perish trying to stop Arthur ALTER.
But the current result exceeded expectations.
No one had died. Instead, their strength had returned, and together, they had cornered Arthur ALTER.
"Heh~ As expected of my clone. You've managed to hold on this long."
At the sight of Arthur, ALTER suddenly leapt—but was quickly driven back to the center by Skadi's sword pressure.
"You still haven't given up? How stubborn. What are you even holding on to? Lucius is dead. The Holy Grail is gone. I'm here. You can't escape. Your magical power will fade. Your death is certain—isn't it?"
"Hmph! You think trash talk will work on me? You know better." Arthur ALTER scowled.
"Trash talk? No. I'm just reflecting." Arthur's voice was casual. "The Holy Grail copied my appearance flawlessly. My abilities, too. But your personality... that's a little too different."
"You—"
"You know what I'm getting at. If it were me, I would have abandoned Britain the moment I sensed danger. My life comes first. And if I were you, the second I saw me, I'd have turned and run. But you didn't. You charged at me. Isn't that enough of an answer?"
Arthur smiled.
Though his battered, bloodied body might've made his words seem weak—their weight landed.
Arthur ALTER wasn't listening anymore.
"You're saying... I was—"
"It's an undeniable fact. According to the Holy Grail's record, you were already dead."
Before Arthur could finish his sentence, Arthur ALTER raised his sword and cut off his own head.
Suicide.
Unable to accept the truth, he chose self-destruction.
After all, he was just a hastily forged imitation. Full of inconsistencies. Probably, he had sensed the flaws in his memories all along.
Even so—suicide...
Yes, they truly were two different people.
…Where is this?
When Arthur ALTER next opened his eyes, the battlefield was gone.
There were no corpses. No rivers of blood. No sky filled with lightning and screams.
Instead—a quiet room. Warm. Tidy. Though… oddly oversized.
He couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't even close his eyes.
All he could do was stare, thinking.
The sun set. Lights flickered on. And at last, a girl entered the room.
Was that... Manaka?
"Oh my, you're awake." The girl smiled gently. "Don't look at me like that. It's disgusting. Honestly, you pretending to be a prince was already bad enough."
She grimaced, stepped forward, placed a hand on Arthur ALTER's head—then lifted it.
In the next moment, a stuffed bear was tossed into the corner like garbage.
In that corner, dozens of identical dolls lay discarded.
-End Chapter-
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