Tristan of the Demonic String. As an Archer-class Servant, he didn't even need to properly draw a bow and nock an arrow. With a mere pluck of the demonic bowstring in his hand, he could launch precise, razor-sharp, and nearly indestructible invisible threads that could instantly slice an opponent's body in two.
As a member of the Twelve Knights of the Round Table, his baseline strength was already at the level of a first-rate Servant. After receiving the Lion King's blessing and enhancement, he stood at the absolute pinnacle even among those first-rate existences.
And his opponent, Hassan of the Intoxicated Smoke, was already sweating profusely, teetering on the edge of despair.
As a Hassan, aside from a certain First Generation, none of them were powerhouses in head-on combat; their expertise lay in stealth, infiltration, and assassination. Therefore, against an undeniable frontline powerhouse like Tristan, Intoxicated Smoke had long since run out of options.
Not to mention, she had so many civilians behind her to protect...
Glancing back at the terrified villagers, Intoxicated Smoke knew there was zero chance of victory. She finally made her decision:
"...Let's make a deal."
Hearing this, Tristan furrowed his brow, stopping his hand right as it was about to pluck the demonic string.
"What deal?"
"If I choose to focus entirely on evading, even your bow wouldn't be able to hit me for quite some time, correct?"
Intoxicated Smoke asked in return.
"...That is correct."
Although he didn't know why she was asking this, Tristan nodded, acknowledging the fact.
The Hassan before him was not only highly agile but also likely possessed the [Protection from Arrows] skill. If Tristan didn't invest a significant amount of time into the fight, he truly couldn't do anything to her quickly.
Receiving Tristan's confirmation, Intoxicated Smoke let out an imperceptible sigh of relief and continued:
"In that case, I will offer my own life as the price, in exchange for you sparing the people behind me—"
Before she could even finish her sentence, Tristan cut her off entirely:
"I apologize, but that is impossible."
"Eliminating you is the command handed down by Our King. The surviving civilians in that village over there fall under the exact same directive. Under no circumstances will I accept your deal. Therefore, O noble soul, abandon such meaningless, crooked schemes."
"How truly sorrowful. Battle is the only destination left for you and me."
Finished speaking, Tristan had no intention of wasting more breath. The hand he had paused mid-air moved back toward the demonic string in his other hand.
Intoxicated Smoke had no other choice. Facing someone like Tristan, who refused to leave even the slightest opening for negotiation, she could only quickly adopt a combat stance, locking her eyes onto his every movement and her surroundings.
Because the moment Tristan plucked the demonic string, he could launch near-invisible attacks from absolutely any angle.
Therefore, Intoxicated Smoke had to push her perception to the absolute limit without a single moment of laxity just to barely defend herself.
Where will it come from?
Above? Left? Right?
Observing with total concentration, hyper-vigilant against every possible angle of attack, fine beads of sweat formed on Intoxicated Smoke's forehead beneath her mask.
Under her intense scrutiny, Tristan plucked the demonic string.
Swish!
The sound of air tearing echoed as invisible threads slashed through the sky.
—It's from behind!
Intoxicated Smoke detected the trajectory of the attack, but rather than feeling relieved, her eyes widened in pure, unadulterated fury.
Because Tristan wasn't attacking her at all! He had completely bypassed her and aimed his strike directly at the unarmed civilians behind her!
Could someone who commits such an act even be called a Knight?!
Intoxicated Smoke desperately tried to turn around and block the attack for them, but how fast was Tristan's demonic string? If the attack had been aimed at her, she might have had the reaction time to counter it. But the critical issue was that she wasn't the target.
As if she could already see the horrifying image of the villagers being sliced in two, a trace of utter despair crept into Intoxicated Smoke's eyes.
In the end, I still couldn't protect my brethren...
CLANG!
The gruesome scene of bodies being cleaved in two never happened. Instead, the moment the invisible threads struck the refugees, the resounding clang of metal striking metal echoed out, and the threads were instantly deflected.
Whoosh—Snap!
A flag bearing the colors of white, gold, and red unfurled in the wind, standing tall in front of the refugees who had squeezed their eyes shut in terror. It snapped fiercely in the air.
"Beneath this Holy Flag, no one can harm you. So stand up, leave this place, and go somewhere safe."
A calm and gentle voice reached everyone's ears, prompting the terrified refugees to finally dare open their eyes to see what had happened.
Only to see a slender figure holding a flag radiating golden light, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere, standing squarely in front of them all, locked in a standoff against the demonic Knight of the Round Table.
Perhaps feeling the light was too warm and dazzling, the refugees couldn't help but look down at their own hands, then at each other. To their absolute bewilderment, they realized their own bodies were glowing with the exact same golden light as the flag.
"Who are you?"
Intoxicated Smoke also examined the golden light enveloping her entire body. Feeling its harmless warmth, she couldn't help but ask the figure standing in front of her.
"Just a passing Master, nothing more."
Takumi kept his eyes locked on Tristan ahead, answering without turning around.
And under Takumi's unblinking stare, Tristan felt as if he were being glared down by some primordial beast. An inexplicable, yet overwhelmingly lethal killing intent had already locked onto him—locked squarely onto his heart—leaving him completely terrified to make even the slightest sudden movement.
A Master? What kind of monster is this...
Tristan kept his eyes tightly shut, his entire body tense.
"A Master? You..."
Intoxicated Smoke was equally shocked, but because Takumi's killing intent wasn't aimed at her, she didn't feel the crushing pressure Tristan was experiencing. As a result, she couldn't help but worry a bit for Takumi's safety.
"Don't worry about me. Just take the people you need to protect and leave. I can fight much easier once you're all far away."
Takumi cut off Intoxicated Smoke's words.
To ensure she believed him, Takumi swiped his right fingers through the air. Countless glowing Rune characters swirled backward like a miniature cyclone, merging directly into the bodies of the refugees before they could even react.
These were Runes of healing and reinforcement. While rapidly mending their injuries, they would also allow them to run much faster.
Treated by the Runes, Intoxicated Smoke instantly realized that all the minor and major injuries on her own body had been completely healed. Knowing that anyone capable of such a casual feat was undeniably strong, she acted decisively:
"Hurry! We're leaving this to him!"
She promptly ordered the refugees to move out.
The refugees exchanged uncertain glances, seemingly finding it hard to believe they had been saved so abruptly.
But their sheer desire to survive quickly snapped them back to reality. After offering a chorus of rapid, heartfelt thanks, they scrambled to their feet and hurriedly prepared to flee under Intoxicated Smoke's lead.
Twang~!
Unable to simply watch this happen, Tristan ignored the lethal threat radiating from Takumi and launched another attack at the fleeing refugees.
The invisible threads sliced through the air, aimed squarely at severing the refugees' legs to prevent their escape.
But just like before, the threads were instantly repelled by the golden light. The refugees who were struck felt nothing more than the sensation of a fly bumping into them; not a single scratch appeared on their bodies.
"I told you, you cannot harm them."
Takumi's haunting voice drifted into Tristan's ears at that exact moment.