When the storm ended, Mordred's body finally couldn't hold on and collapsed to the ground.
Shirou's punch carved a vortex in the dust; the fierce gust even, with an almost visible momentum, cut across Mordred's view as she looked up at the sky.
She finally couldn't help but complain, "You bastard, what kind of monster are you? Not only can you use Father's holy sword, you can even use Gawain's strength?"
"How rude. I'm a genuine human being."
Shirou walked to her and reminded her, "It's not too late to change your mind. If you think 'surrender' sounds bad, you can say 'temporary truce' instead."
"If you say that I'll be merciful and let you go. Know that Gawain wouldn't get that treatment."
Mordred had a dark line across her forehead, "Damn it, are you mocking that I'm inferior to Gawain? You bastard, I'll kill you!"
The little Mordred who had already given up struggling somehow found strength, her ahoge bristling as she prepared to stand.
"?"
Shirou tilted his head in confusion and said, "I wasn't mocking you, I was just telling the truth."
"..."
"You!"
Mordred's eyes widened.
The next second—
Shirou suddenly raised his arm to block at his side, and an arrow that sliced through the air, tearing up earth as it went, knocked him flying.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
It smashed through three or four houses along its path before finally disappearing into the rubble.
"How sad," Tristan's voice sounded in front of Mordred.
"As knights personally chosen by the King, to be struck down twice by the same person in one day, I feel a sorrow like a volcanic eruption."
The Tristan of before would never have said something so cutting.
Yet under the Lion King's inverted blessing, he had indeed become a cold, cruel man.
Though his heart was full of sorrow, his actions were merciless, his words utterly lacking in compassion.
"Mordred, you not only defied the King's decree, you committed an almost disgraceful error… it pains me."
Tristan plucked his strings and said coldly, "You, like Gawain, have committed an act of great disrespect to the King. Even as a Round Table knight, you must either flee or die."
"There's no need to wait for the King's judgment; I can personally carry out your punishment."
"How tiresome."
Mordred said impatiently, "Stop babbling. If you're going to act, do it quickly. I never thought I'd survive this anyway."
Tristan said, "Rest assured. My Failnaught can sever through cross-sections; I won't let you feel pain."
"Do you understand, Mordred?"
"Rather than forcing the King to personally sever the heads of Round Table knights, a scene like the end of the world—"
"It's better that I do it here, for the King."
"For the King."
Mordred's mouth twitched, "But before you deal with me, you probably won't be safe yourself."
"Hm?"
Tristan, who thought Shirou had been taken care of, was a bit puzzled.
Until a massive roar came from afar, and before he could even turn his gaze, an extremely displeased voice sounded at his ear, "As a knight, don't you know it's very rude to interrupt people's conversation?"
"!!!"
Tristan's reaction was as extreme as possible; his fingers moved to pluck the strings.
That is Tristan's Noble Phantasm.
Failnaught, Phantasmal Music of the Painful Lament.
Called the unavoidable shot.
Though called a shot, it's actually the strings of the harp Failnaught. Using the strings to strike the air, it fires projectiles that function like vacuum arrows. Angle control, arrow speed, even reload speed are unusually fast. Within his range, even Servants who use speed cleverly cannot completely evade it. Unless they have dimensional jump or can instantaneously transfer their body. Otherwise, they will fall into an inescapable plight.
This was Tristan's original confidence to end Shirou with a single strike.
But he overlooked one thing.
If the opponent's defense is sufficient, moreover, if the defense level surpasses the power of his arrow, then this method is meaningless.
Zero point one seconds before his finger touched the string.
His face was slapped and distorted, twisting like Pain, with an exaggerated expression like Sasuke getting hit. His body, obeying the laws of force, spun like a top and flew out.
BOOM!
Countless houses collapsed.
As a human-shaped projectile, this impact was extremely powerful.
Both being Round Table knights, Tristan received treatment not far different from Mordred, thrown away like this.
For some reason, Mordred almost wanted to laugh.
After knocking Tristan away, Shirou glanced indifferently at little Mordred and temporarily ignored her.
Crouch, then a sudden leap; with the ground underfoot collapsing, he arrived in front of Tristan several hundred meters away.
True to a Round Table knight. Not only strong, but incredibly sturdy. Back when Gawain fought him, Shirou's fists smoked before Gawain fell. Little Mordred and Tristan were no slouches either, under the threefold power augmentation, they took a full hit without dying… not only did they not die, they could stand again. Their damage tolerance was maxed out.
After landing, Shirou slowly walked and pushed away the giant stones, dragging Tristan to his feet.
Without hesitation, with no trash talk, blue magic ran along his fists.
The wind couldn't keep up with his speed; as Shirou closed to roughly three steps away, a sunlike, scorching fist wind already struck.
Tristan hastily used Failnaught to block in front of his body.
BOOM!
His body was once again uncontrollably blasted away.
Not finished!
Before he hit the ground, Shirou exploded his speed to the extreme and struck him again, slamming him into the ground.
Then came continuous trampling, and Shirou said, "You want to share the King's burden?"
First punch!
Tristan's chest caved in.
"Want to take my head?"
Second punch!
The earth shook and mountains trembled; even the Mordred lying far away could feel it.
"Did I save a life?"
He stomped his armored foot down hard.
RUMBLE!
Like a thunderous drumbeat, like a drumstick punching through a drum, producing crushing destructive force.
Twang!
From all directions, the intent to slash with sharp edges, and invisible lines, began to entangle Shirou.
"?"
Now Shirou was truly surprised; his eyelids lifted slightly.
It didn't surprise him that Tristan hadn't died. After all, this was the guy who had stood and fought alongside Bedivere, endured the Sword of Promised Victory and still hadn't died. The idea of three punches and a kick being enough to kill him was as unrealistic as saying one punch could kill a cow when Shirou had just obtained the System.
Still, none of this removed Tristan's combat ability.
'What are the Round Table knights, mutants?'
Little Mordred had already fought a one-man three-knight duel without complaint. Gawain's Moon-Stage performance in the Holy Grail war was also fierce. One light cannon knocked Nero from the seventh layer to the first. Even a broken holy sword could still pierce a Noble Phantasm like the Heavenly Wheel Saint King and cause a stagger. Galahad needs no mention, stronger will makes the shield harder, the harder the shield the firmer the will; he could even block the Lion King's holy lance. And Lancelot… one by one, not only perverse but sit-up champions.
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