Clang—!
The ancient golden sword traced a beautiful arc in midair, while the crimson spear bloomed like a rose of scarlet light. The clash between Servants moved at speeds ordinary humans could never follow. Magic power collided violently, as if invisible whirlpools shimmered within the void.
Cling—cling cling cling—!
The sound of metal striking metal carried far into the distance, sparks glaring vividly beneath the crimson sky.
The blue Lancer's attack speed was astonishingly fast. There was not the slightest trace that he had been grievously wounded not long ago, his body once covered in injuries.
"Wow, brother, weren't you supposed to be heavily injured by Master Hua? ...What a sturdy body."
Her movement technique was elegant yet swift. Excitement already flickered openly within Li Sushang's crimson eyes, and the sword techniques in her hand grew ever sharper.
Bang!
After deflecting another thrust, Li Sushang retreated several steps in succession. Her opponent pressed forward like a mad dog, suddenly making a short leap, using explosive leg strength and body weight to deliver a vicious knee strike.
Li Sushang's fingers aligned like a blade, striking head-on against Cú Chulainn's knee with a clang. In an instant, the ground shattered inch by inch, cracks spreading outward as air currents surged.
Whoosh!
Sensing that the blue Lancer lacked follow-up power due to being airborne, Li Sushang loosened her grip on the sword and pressed downward sharply.
Then, as the golden Han sword spun like a flying wheel and knocked aside Cú Chulainn's crimson spear, her freed right hand swung sideways like a pendulum.
Bang!
Accompanied by a crisp, audible sound of bones shattering, Li Sushang did not even glance aside. With a flick of her hand, she caught the spinning golden sword.
"Take it back!"
She slashed out, imprinting hidden force into the thrusting death-thorn spear.
Crack!
With his left arm hanging limply, after forcibly receiving the spear carrying that hidden force, a gurgling sound echoed from Lancer Cú Chulainn's chest. He planted the spear into the ground beside him, barely preventing himself from collapsing.
"That bizarre force technique... looks like I've stirred up a hornet's nest. As expected, you and Fu Hua share the same lineage."
With a crack, Lancer Cú Chulainn forcibly reset his dislocated, fractured left arm. Ignoring the internal damage caused by the hidden force, he clenched his fist, bulged his muscles, and assumed an attacking stance again, smiling with easy confidence.
"What a coincidence. I've already fought three of you, and every one of you uses the same style. Don't tell me all seven of you share the same master."
Cú Chulainn thought silently. This girl didn't look that old, yet her swordsmanship, movement, and experience blended seamlessly without the slightest stiffness—utterly smooth.
It wasn't as if ageless old monsters disguising themselves as youths didn't exist—his own teacher, for example... ahem. In any case, appearance could be preserved, but the youthful innocence in Li Sushang's eyes could not be faked.
At this point, the carefree look on Lancer Cú Chulainn's face had completely vanished. Though he appeared somewhat battered, his aura had visibly grown sharper and fiercer.
"To be precise, my techniques come from the lineage of Master Hua. It's normal you wouldn't know in this world. Allow me to introduce myself—chief disciple's disciple of Master Hua, designated successor of the School of Taixuan—Li Sushang. Brother, please go easy on me."
Holding the golden sword between two delicate fingers, Li Sushang tilted her head slightly, speaking after a brief thought.
"Master Hua?"
"Mhm. Fu Hua is my grandmaster. She's an immortal who's lived for fifty thousand years—her title is Master Hua."
"Eh?"
Even Cú Chulainn, a 'Child of Light,' froze for a moment. Then he snapped back, his voice rising sharply, "Fifty thousand years?!"
Converting Fu Hua's era into human history... the Paleolithic age? By that logic, Gilgamesh's title as the oldest king seemed rather questionable.
Wait—if that were true, wouldn't that make her even older than that old hag Scáthach?
His thoughts spiraled, and as a certain disrespectful idea surfaced, a strange chill ran through his body. Even the hand gripping the Gáe Bolg suddenly felt somewhat hot.
No way... Teacher?
Under Li Sushang's puzzled gaze, Cú Chulainn suddenly lowered his head like a startled deer, glancing around nervously as if something terrifying were watching him.
"I say, are we still fighting? I never take advantage of others. If not, I'll go find someone else."
"Fight! I can fight you all day!"
As if trying to shake off that unsettling feeling, Lancer Cú Chulainn bent his waist and legs, surging forward like a charging beast. Whoosh!—he shot out like an arrow.
"Then come!"
"Ha—!"
With the spear held horizontally, his arm shook, and the entire shaft moved like a crimson venomous serpent. Without slowing, it struck aside the golden sword that was thrusting toward his throat—clang!.
Slash—!
Adopting an extremely aggressive exchange of injury for injury, a wound deep enough to expose bone appeared on Cú Chulainn's right arm, the artery torn open. Yet he paid it no mind. Bloodlust gleamed in his crimson eyes as overwhelming killing intent surged from his body.
Using the momentum, the spear tip extended two inches forward. With a shout, Cú Chulainn lowered his center of gravity, released the shaft, and hurled the crimson thorned spear straight toward Li Sushang's forehead.
"Such a 'mad dog' style... it reminds me of someone. But good—battle decides not only superiority, but life and death."
Li Sushang smiled as before. Judging the distance, she murmured softly, forming a sword seal with her fingers. Her index and middle fingers brushed along the blade, and azure brilliance instantly filled it. The three-foot blade shimmered like flowing water.
Buzz—!
The surging sword intent twisted the surrounding space as if a landscape painting were unfolding.
"Let the heart be the sheath..."
"Pierce—Gáe Bolg—Awooo—!"
Whoosh—!
At that moment, accompanied by a sharp, piercing sound, a purple blur struck the space before Lancer Cú Chulainn faster than he could move, kicking him away.
Boom—!
"Cú Chulainn, I've told you more than once—trading injury for injury is not to be taken lightly."
The purple figure landed, revealing a mature woman holding a crimson spear. An aura of queenly arrogance surrounded her, her slightly hoarse voice carrying a dangerously seductive tone.
This was a woman clad only in a translucent purple bodysuit. Her full figure was perfectly trained, graceful and balanced, with almost no excess fat anywhere on her body.
Decorated with fine golden ornaments, her flowing purple hair cascaded like a waterfall down to her waist. Her striking crimson eyes were captivating. She appeared no older than twenty-four or twenty-five, breathtakingly beautiful, every movement radiating a seductive charm.
The thin purple fabric clung closely to her body, draping over every elegant contour like a second skin. Beneath the translucent material, the fair, smooth skin of her slender waist, graceful limbs, and mature figure could be faintly seen, creating a hazy beauty that was even more alluring than direct exposure.
The soft sheen of her skin seemed to flow beneath the veil-like garment, while her tightly wrapped, mature, almost overflowing curves were outlined with breathtaking clarity. The combination of concealment and revelation gave her an irresistible charm, stirring boundless imagination with a single glance.
"Teacher... that feeling of being watched—it really was you."
"You were reckless. If I had been even a moment later, you might have died."
With a faintly indifferent expression, the cold and elegant woman glanced toward Li Sushang, who had not taken the opportunity to attack. Nodding as if confirming something, her slender fingers flicked lightly, and the crimson spear spun once at her fingertips.
The spear tip pointed at Li Sushang as she spoke, "You have the eyes of a true warrior."
...
"Disgusting beast!"
With a disdainful snort, Saber Mordred smashed her fist into the face of the armored creature composed of worm-like organisms. In the instant it was stunned, she followed with a downward elbow strike, slamming it to the ground.
The three-meter-tall Mgalekgolo, after being knocked down, immediately let out a piercing and agonized scream. Before it could raise the fuel cannon mounted on its armor, the crimson lightning in Saber Mordred's hand reduced it to dust.
Having finished her task—click click—her helmet automatically retracted into the armor. Resting the radiant Clarent on her shoulder, Saber Mordred muttered to herself, her gaze inevitably drifting toward the other side.
Her king.
Arthur!
Her hand holding the sword trembled. By her usual temperament, she should have gone straight across the Mion River to challenge Selene. But upon seeing that silver-blue figure, she stopped.
If this had been an ordinary Holy Grail War—without the memories of the Romanian Holy Grail War, without the 'fatherly' recognition and counsel given to her by Kairi Sisigou—she might have already drawn her blade and attacked.
That precious experience with Kairi Sisigou had given Mordred a slightly different understanding of her king.
"Hm?"
Sensing Mordred's aggressive yet hesitant gaze, Artoria, holding the holy sword released from Invisible Air and shining like the rising sun, slowly turned around.
"Sir Mordred, now is not the time for us to settle our conflict."
Still as holy as ever—so pure it felt almost unreal, as though she were not a king of this world.
At this moment, Mordred fell silent. Once, she had imagined countless scenarios of meeting her king again—would it be with lingering resentment and curses? Hatred and furious accusations? Or lamentation over her fate?
None of them.
Her king showed no emotion, only an impression of calm.
"Father... you really are pitiful."
Though she hesitated slightly, Mordred did not attack. She sighed, a trace of loneliness flashing across her face—so similar in features to Artoria's.
Even after forcing her king into such a position—cursing her, plotting against her, hating her—her king seemed to have never taken it to heart at all.
Giving everything for the nation, even personal emotions were a luxury—truly pitiful. Having come to understand her king and resolved her own inner conflict, this was how Mordred now saw it.
"Perhaps. Camelot, Britain—everything has faded into nothing. But this was the path I chose, and I do not deny it. Sir Mordred, I have never denied you, nor have I ever hated you. There is only one reason I did not pass the throne to you—you are not suited to be king."
With those words, Saber Artoria walked past Mordred and sprinted toward the heavily armed gathering point of the Sangheili forces in the distance.
"..."
After a moment of silence, Mordred suddenly slammed her sword into the ground, scratching her head in frustration. After a while, she raised her head, her eyes blazing with crimson lightning.
"Whatever. I've got no idea what to say anyway—let's just kill these ugly bastards first!!"
...
Rumble—!
So I've become the weakest link... how unpredictable life is.
At the center of the composite summoning magic circle, Waver let out a melancholic sigh. He pulled out a lighter, spun it in his hand like a trick, and lit the cigar in his mouth, exhaling a cloud of smoke.
Caring little for appearances, Waver plopped down onto the relatively intact remains of construction materials. The orange glow of the flame reflected off his increasingly 'detached' expression.
The Einzbern Master had barely escaped death and was effectively out of the fight. The head of the Tohsaka family was now possessed by a divine spirit—effectively becoming the main damage dealer on their side!
Fuyuki City had already become a ruin. There was no longer any concern about what could or could not be seen. Everything had been exposed anyway, and the civilians had likely already fled the city. Ishtar had no reason to hold back.
As if venting her fury over financial losses, her firepower and attack range were currently second only to the main battlefield across the Mion River—the clash between Gilgamesh and the leader of the enemy Foreigner faction.
Thinking this, Waver turned toward the numerous defensive Noble Phantasms Gilgamesh had deployed to protect the summoning magic circle, unable to help but marvel—so rich.
The King of Heroes, no matter which Holy Grail War he appeared in, was always among the strongest in human history.
As for the half-baked Shirou Emiya, he had practically ascended overnight. With his almost heaven-given projection and reinforcement magecraft, he fought with increasing proficiency, unleashing a barrage of blades that nearly rivaled Gilgamesh.
And as for Ritsuka Fujimaru—there was no need to mention him. Chaldea's core force, currently advancing toward the foreign god's location under the protection of multiple Servants such as Mash and Jeanne.
Before leaving, he had even specifically left Waver a communicator and entrusted him with overseeing the composite summoning magic circle.
"Ugh, Dr. Roman, hurry up! We still don't have enough manpower!"
Rumble—!
Another massive tremor interrupted Waver's thoughts. Before he could even turn his head, a second explosion nearly ruptured his eardrums, causing him to stagger.
When he turned around, he realized he wasn't the only one—many of the Sangheili Grunt soldiers had also collapsed in fright.
Without a doubt—it was the opposite side of the Mion River, Miyama Town of Fuyuki!
That disaster-stricken land had turned into a sea of molten lava.
Countless expelled debris had formed something like a wall, blocking Waver's view. All he could see was a towering mushroom cloud, as if a nuclear bomb had detonated.
The shockwave surged toward the coastal region, causing massive collapses, reshaping the shoreline, and raising towering waves.
Soon, the triumphant roars of those alien races echoed across the heavens, as if shouting 'victory.' Their morale surged as they charged like a tidal wave toward the defensive line established by the Servants.
Waver could see that Archer Atalanta and Chiron were already being overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the assault, their support and sniper fire beginning to falter.
"Sigh... if it were His Majesty, he could definitely turn this around..."
Cutting off another strand of hair infused with magical power, Waver felt a deep sense of longing.
At that moment, the communicator suddenly vibrated. "Quick! Quick! Waver, activate the magic circle! Reinforcements Da Vinci personally contacted have arrived!!"
At that instant, Roman's voice sounded like heavenly music to Waver.