Smack!
Altair's fist connected with Astolfo's face, swelling his adorable cheeks once more. In less than a minute of combat, Astolfo had been struck three times: once on the chin, once near the eye, and now across the cheek. His face now resembled a puffed-up pig's head.
This was why Astolfo had begged Altair not to hit his face. During their last clash in the forest, Altair had left both Astolfo and Frankenstein with swollen faces in record time. For some reason, seeing their cute expressions made Altair want to land a punch, just to see if they'd cry pitifully.
It was an experiment, really. If it didn't work, well, too bad for them.
Astolfo, now nursing fresh bruises, was the latest victim, looking utterly miserable with his swollen face, speech slurring.
"Why always the face? It hurts so much, waaah!" Astolfo whimpered, slumping to the ground in a duck-sit, clutching his lance with one hand and his cheek with the other, glaring at Altair with teary eyes.
Altair, cleaver in hand, pointed its tip at Astolfo, grinning like a wicked villain. Perhaps spending too much time with Mordred had rubbed off, his theatrics were on point.
"Got any last words?"
"I…" Astolfo began.
"Stop!" A voice shouted from behind.
Altair turned to see none other than the world's famed protagonist, Sieg, brandishing a sword with righteous indignation.
"Your opponent… is me!" Sieg declared.
What? This scene felt oddly familiar. Wasn't this the plot meant for Mordred?
In the original story, Mordred would clash with Astolfo, trounce him, and prompt Sieg to intervene. Sieg's aid would backfire, with Mordred impaling him. Yet, thanks to Siegfried's heart, Sieg survived, transformed into Siegfried, and unleashed his Noble Phantasm to trade blows with Mordred. Altair had called it blatant cheating.
So… had he now hijacked Mordred's role?
Mordred was busy in the next field, likely pummeling Frankenstein. Her Master must be panicking. Originally, Frankenstein was Amakusa's target, but with Amakusa absent and Frankenstein alone, she became Mordred's prey. Knowing Mordred, she'd rather hack at a Servant than mow down golems, where's the fun in that?
"Hey, Astolfo, you know this guy?" Altair asked, feigning ignorance as he glanced at Sieg.
"Uh? Yeah… I do." Astolfo mumbled.
"Is he a Black Faction magus?"
"No, he's not."
"A Holy Grail War participant?"
"Er… not exactly."
"Then what's his deal?" Altair pressed, feigning confusion.
"Uh…" Astolfo faltered, unsure how to explain the mess.
"Never mind. I can see he's not a Black Faction magus or Servant, yet he's meddling in the Grail War. That about sums it up, right?" Altair said.
"No, that's not what he means!" Astolfo protested.
"He's on this battlefield, pointing a sword at me. That's exactly what it means." Altair countered, turning to face the trembling Sieg with a serious gaze.
"If you join the Holy Grail War, you'd better be ready to die in it."
Altair advanced slowly, Sieg's hands shaking as he gripped his sword.
"Run!" Astolfo yelled, urging Sieg to flee.
Sieg stood his ground, opening his mouth to preach, but before a word escaped, Altair lunged. Dropping his cleaver, he dragonified his hands, seizing Sieg's sword with one and driving the other through Sieg's chest.
"Guh, " Sieg's eyes widened, staring at the hand piercing his torso.
"Sorry, I don't make rookie mistakes like skipping the finishing blow." Altair said, yanking his hand free, clutching a still-beating, mana-charged heart.
"This…" Sieg gasped.
"Your heart's mine now!" Altair tossed it into his spatial pocket, where time froze. Unlike Doraemon's bag, it couldn't hold living things but preserved items perfectly.
Siegfried's heart, brimming with his power and the essence of the evil dragon Fafnir, was too valuable to discard. It was prime research material.
Heartless, Sieg gaped at the bleeding hole in his chest, mouth moving soundlessly.
"Rest in peace." Altair said kindly, pressing his bloodied hand to Sieg's face and shoving his head back. Sieg collapsed, lifeless.
"Hey!" Astolfo cried, horrified at Sieg's caved-in chest, shouting despite his swollen face's pain. But Sieg didn't respond. The protagonist, robbed of his greatest asset, died before his story could unfold.
"Alright, the extra's gone. Your turn, Astolfo." Altair said, facing Astolfo, who struggled to his feet.
"Damn it, come on! I won't back down!" Astolfo shouted, fury overtaking him. He'd fought to save that homunculus, at the cost of their Saber, only for Sieg to die and his heart to be stolen. What was the point? "Just kill me already!"
Altair raised his cleaver, ready to oblige.
Before he could swing, another voice rang out.
"Enough!"
Really? Again?
Altair and Astolfo turned to see Jeanne d'Arc, the Ruler, brandishing her flag-spear, glaring at Altair with righteous anger.
"I've found you at last. I am Jeanne d'Arc, Ruler of this Holy Grail War. You, golden-haired swordsman, are no participant in this war, not even a Servant. You are the anomaly disrupting this Holy Grail War!"
Altair blinked, dumbfounded by her scolding.
What the heck? First, he'd stolen Mordred's script, and now Amakusa's?
***
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