Far away in the forest, Siegfried remained unaware that he had nearly been betrayed by his Master. After clashing with Sakatsuki and sustaining injuries, he flipped his demonic sword and plunged it into the earth to unleash a surge of magical energy, kicking up a thick cloud of dust to evade the arrows of the red Archer. At the same time, his wounds rapidly healed, and his aura surged, returning him to peak condition.
This recovery wasn't due to his Master's magecraft—though Sakatsuki's attack had struck Siegfried's chest, the true force had been transmitted through his back via penetrating energy, bypassing his invulnerability and dealing severe damage. Such injuries were beyond the healing capabilities of ordinary magecraft.
Siegfried's ability to recover in such a short time was thanks to his innate skill, a legendary technique as renowned as "Mana Burst"—"Battle Continuation: A."
[Battle Continuation: A]
The ability to withdraw from a battlefield mid-combat or reset the situation. It allows skill conditions to revert to their initial values and forcibly removes several negative status effects.
Undoubtedly, this causality-defying skill was among the most troublesome. Thus, Atalanta's arrows veered off course, Sakatsuki's magical bullets vanished without a trace, and only Siegfried's presence grew stronger, like a dragon awakening from slumber.
When the dust settled, what stood before the Assassin was an unscathed hero—the red Saber, Siegfried!
"Such a cheat-like ability…" Atalanta muttered through gritted teeth, her ears and tail twitching in agitation.
Now that Siegfried had fully recovered, the Assassin who was supposed to hold the front line had lost an arm… lost an arm… lost an—
Suddenly, Atalanta's eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at Sakatsuki.
At some point, his severed left arm had completely regenerated!
"Hm?" Sakatsuki flexed his newly grown arm, meeting her gaze with confusion. "What's wrong? It's only natural for an Assassin to have a few survival skills, right?"
Natural? No, this was anything but!
Even the usually emotionless Atalanta couldn't help but inwardly scream at the absurdity of it all.
Sure, Siegfried, as a top-tier Servant, having such a skill was understandable—but Sakatsuki was an Assassin! A class specialized in covert operations and assassination techniques, one that typically struggled in direct combat against other Servants!
Outdamaging a Saber was one thing, but how was his recovery speed even faster?!
"I don't think you even needed my help!" Atalanta snapped irritably before leaping to another concealed spot, leaving only her voice behind.
"Keep him occupied!"
"As you wish, dear Archer~" Sakatsuki drawled, turning his attention back to the wary Siegfried. No longer unarmed, he now wielded twin guns—one red, one black.
With a flick of his wrists, he fired. The muzzle flashes illuminated his battle-hungry eyes.
"My identity as an Assassin has been called into question, it seems. In that case…" He grinned. "Let's have another round, Black Saber!"
————
"Our Assassin is a monster too..." In another part of the forest, a warrior clad predominantly in emerald hues galloped across the terrain, taking in the battlefield where Saber, Assassin, and Archer clashed, voicing this lament.
The reason for saying 'too' was simple—he had also encountered the utterly absurd Black Faction's Assassin.
"Stop running away and face me properly, Rider!"
"For an Assassin to talk about 'facing properly'..." Muttering these words, the man hailed as 'the fastest among all heroes across all eras' didn't halt his steps. Even with his back turned to the enemy, he nimbly tilted his head to evade a gust of wind, though a shallow cut appeared on his cheek.
Under divine-infused attacks, Achilles' proud Noble Phantasm, 'Andreias Amarantos,' lost its effect. Even someone as arrogant as him had to focus seriously to counter Assassin's relentless pursuit.
"Honestly, an invisible weapon is just cheating!"
Despite loudly protesting, Achilles' spear technique remained flawless. Unable to gauge the reach of his enemy's weapon, he gripped his spear at its midpoint, wielding the short spear with such precision that not even Artoria's successive releases of Invisible Air could break through immediately.
Yet, with the interference from the wind blades, Artoria was closing the distance rapidly.
"What's wrong, Rider? Fleeing like this is unbefitting of the Rider class. If you won't attack, then I will."
"Coward! Hiding your weapon is no skill at all!"
Achilles retorted. In that instant, Artoria's eyes beneath her black cloak sharpened. Invisible Air was unleashed once more, a gale propelling her forward as she channeled Mana Burst. The invisible holy spear descended from above with overwhelming force, striking toward Achilles like a bird of prey!
Boom!
A deafening impact rang out as Achilles blocked the attack. But Artoria, leveraging her superior parameters, pressed forward swiftly. With a powerful exertion of her arm, she dragged the holy spear across his weapon's shaft, drawing a trail of sparks as the unseen blade closed in on his face!
A warrior's instinct screamed danger. Achilles transformed into a streak of green light, retreating, but Artoria gave no quarter. She summoned another gale, her holy spear thrusting sixteen times in succession—each strike lethal!
"Gah!"
Unable to perceive the enemy's spear, even Achilles' desperate dodging couldn't save him from grievous wounds. His shoulder, arm, and cheek were all grazed, bleeding profusely. Worse still, his fingers had been struck by the spear's wind, leaving them drenched in blood.
For a warrior who relied on wielding weapons, this was a fatal injury.
Yet Artoria's assault didn't end. She crouched low, advancing step by step in a life-risking stance. The immense strength granted by Mana Burst allowed the king to swing her holy spear with relentless force, striking repeatedly at the weak points of Achilles' spear. Each impact sent numbing tremors through his arms, worsening his injuries.
Distance, distance, distance!
Achilles had never faced such a troublesome foe. Even if their spear techniques were evenly matched, the obscured form of his enemy's weapon made gauging distance impossible. If this continued, he saw no path to victory.
Summoned as a Rider-class Servant, he possessed as many as five Noble Phantasms, yet his inherent skills held no particularly extraordinary abilities.
Viewed from another perspective, the fact that a Rider without a mount could battle the Ruler-class King Arthur at her peak until now was proof enough of the valor of Achilles, one of the greatest heroes of Greek mythology.
"One last question." Artoria spun her spear, and Achilles blocked it once more by instinct. Ignoring his gradually numbing hands, he stared intently at his formidable foe. "That Noble Phantasm of yours—is it a spear?"
"Who knows? It could be an axe, a longbow—no, perhaps even a sword, Rider."
"Hmph, spouting nonsense, you assassin."
Even in this dire moment, the smile Achilles showed his enemy remained fearless.
"Heh, hahahaha... Isn't this wonderful, Black Faction's Assassin?"
Achilles' body trembled—not from shame, but from joy.
It was truly a blessing that this Holy Grail War had someone capable of wounding him—he thought so from the bottom of his heart.
Enduring the excruciating pain in his arm, the great hero of Greece twisted his body, raising his short spear to block the enemy's next strike, his voice ringing with fervor:
"To fight you, who can kill me, is fate itself! O gods of Olympus, grant glory and honor to this battle!"
A long, piercing whistle echoed as dazzling lightning poured down, coalescing into the forms of three magnificent steeds. They pulled a noble and majestic chariot, racing before the Red Rider, and the green-haired warrior leaped up, landing atop his chariot.
"Come, the battle isn't over yet! Here and now, let us fight to our hearts' content!"
"So, you finally deign to face me with your full strength, Red Rider!"
Faced with Achilles' challenge, Artoria's fighting spirit surged. As she watched the streaking light soaring across the sky, she couldn't help but recall another man who rode a chariot with boisterous laughter—
The King of Conquerors, Iskandar. Not being able to settle their duel to the death in the previous war had always been a deep regret for Artoria.
"Then, can you match him—no, surpass him?"
Her black robes billowed in the wind, golden hair streaming behind her. The undefeated King of Knights, victorious in countless battles, gazed at the rider, her saintly blue eyes brimming with exhilaration.
"Come, Rider of the Red Faction!"