[Evaporation of Reason: D]
Reason has evaporated, leaving no secrets intact. Revealing allies' true names and weaknesses, forgetting crucial things—these have become curses in themselves. This skill also incorporates 'intuition,' allowing the user to sense the most favorable course of action in battle to some extent.
It is because of this skill that Astolfo appears so unreliable, even capable of forgetting the true name of his Noble Phantasm.
Fortunately, the Trap of Argalia in Astolfo's possession is not a Noble Phantasm that requires its true name to be invoked. Merely holding it grants him A-rank Magic Resistance.
With the aid of his Noble Phantasm, Astolfo effortlessly crossed the rushing moat with the homunculus, navigated through the disorienting forest, and traversed the treacherous mountain path.
"Pretty great being with me, right?"
The homunculus was already exhausted just from walking, but Astolfo's constant chatter along the way ensured they never felt lonely.
The forest, steeped in darkness, was eerily silent. Apart from the faint rustling of leaves whenever the wind blew, not even the chirping of birds could be heard—was this a countermeasure against familiars? The forest was unnaturally saturated with bounded fields.
"Ahh, this brings back memories… this atmosphere! Did you know? I was once turned into a tree!"
Laughing, he gazed up at the sky and recounted past failures. It was said that Astolfo had committed just as many fatal blunders as he had glorious adventures.
He lost every single jousting tournament he participated in; he fell into magical traps multiple times; the reason he had painstakingly obtained on the moon had evaporated without him even realizing it.
Yet, Astolfo had never been disheartened. The very concepts of failure and defeat simply did not exist in his mind.
"For example, being turned into a tree was actually quite peaceful—surprisingly nice, really. Birds would perch on my hands without fear, and animals, whether deer or wolves, would lean against me."
Surely, no one else would think like this? An ordinary person turned into a tree would despair. But the paladin named Astolfo had always lived his life with such optimism.
"So, how do you want to live?"
Suddenly, Rider posed the difficult question. The homunculus had been asked the same thing by Archer before, but back then, mere survival had been the goal, so they couldn't give an answer.
The pitch-black forest… yes, their life was this darkness itself. No purpose, no goal, not even the certainty of survival.
Rider's heartfelt words resonated within the homunculus' small soul. If only they could truly escape… if possible, they wanted to talk freely with Rider to their heart's content, the homunculus thought.
Then, abruptly, Astolfo came to a halt. He tightened his grip—it hurt a little. The homunculus lifted their gaze to see Rider's strikingly androgynous profile, now tense, and ahead of them, a silver-haired swordsman, a woman in black robes, and the creator clad in white-gold uniform—the one who had fashioned them as mere 'expendables.'
The magus who created the homunculus became the final obstacle preventing its path to freedom.
"Saber, Assassin, restrain Rider. Surely you can manage that much?"
Without even exchanging unnecessary words, Gordes directly issued the command. Siegfried and Artoria silently stepped forward, restraining Astolfo from both sides. The homunculus that had been leaning against Rider collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, its inorganic eyes peering at the humans before it.
At this moment, no one knew what would happen next. Artoria, who had glimpsed fragments of the outcome, remained silent.
She was waiting—waiting for the Master who was about to arrive.
————
Shortly before Astolfo and the homunculus were captured
"What...?!"
Vlad III stared in astonishment at the young man blocking his path, gripping his spear with desperate strength.
To cross hundreds of meters in an instant, react within a fleeting moment, and possess the resolve and courage to block a thrust barehanded—only an assassin who fulfilled all these conditions could protect the red Archer like this, intercepting Vlad III's certain-kill strike.
But if it was just him, it still wouldn't be enough...
In the span of a thought, Vlad III withdrew his spear, drawing forth a trail of crimson blood, then thrust again!
Sakatsuki had exhausted the last of his magical energy in the Displacement Magecraft, leaving him unable to project any more weapons. With only his bare hands, he endured thrust after thrust—his arms pierced, his chest torn open—yet his face showed no expression. He stood firm, shielding the emerald Archer behind him in a sanctuary of his own making.
Artoria's warning had been timely enough, but once again, the Assassin-class vessel held Sakatsuki back, leaving him so vulnerable before the attacks of the Voivode of Wallachia.
The agony of being speared through raged like a tsunami in his mind, ravaging his nerves and shattering his will. Yet despite such torment, Sakatsuki's eyes remained bright, fixed on Vlad III's every move. The moment the spear's momentum faltered slightly, he finally projected a dagger—and without hesitation, drove it into his own chest!
Thud!
His heart was pierced without resistance. Blood surged backward, forcing Sakatsuki to cough up crimson, staining his black robes. Yet his arm remained steady; only the faint twitch of his brow betrayed the agony he endured.
A Servant's heart being pierced would mean death. Even if Sakatsuki's dagger hadn't struck too deeply, it still pushed him to the brink of demise.
"You...!" Atalanta was speechless in shock. From Vlad III's sudden assault to Sakatsuki's heroic rescue and now this act of self-harm—all of it far exceeded the Archer's comprehension.
Yet opposite Sakatsuki, Vlad III was even more horrified, even more incredulous than she was!
For after the Assassin stabbed himself, the Voivode of Wallachia could no longer sense the piercing concept rooted within his body!
As the wielder of Kazikli Bey, every strike from Vlad III's spear implanted the concept of "already pierced" into his enemies. Then, stakes would emerge from their hearts outward—an undoubtedly fatal attack.
Yet the young man before him seemed to know everything about his Noble Phantasm. Before Vlad III could activate Kazikli Bey, the youth had already erased the very concept through some means, utterly thwarting the Wallachian Lord's attempt at a decisive strike!
Meeting those deep, rainbow-blue eyes, even the iron-blooded Voivode couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine.
Breaking through "Guardian of the Carpathians," eliminating the "Concept of Impalement"... Just how much did this young man know about "Vlad III"?
Did he have any secrets left before this opponent? Any chance of victory at all?!
The assault had already failed. Though the defensive line before him teetered on collapse, the Red Archer behind the youth had already drawn his bow, radiating killing intent.
Moreover, the distant Red Rider had noticed the anomaly, shaking off their Assassin's restraints and speeding toward them.
In the end, Vlad III simply gave Sakatsuki one last, long look—deep and penetrating—before withdrawing without hesitation, retreating safely under the protection of the leyline.
Tonight's skirmish, triggered by Red Berserker's rampage, concluded with Black Lancer's failed assault, drawing the final curtain on the encounter.