Completely unaware of Takumi's skill set, Bedivere had rushed over as if his life depended on it. He barely managed to arrive in time, using his "Silver Arm" to block Mordred's strongest non-Noble Phantasm strike right before it hit.
But precisely because of his desperate rush, Bedivere's "Silver Arm"—currently glowing with a faint golden light—was caught in an awkward, backward-sweeping posture as it clashed against the crimson lightning-wreathed greatsword. Sparks flew in every direction. The two immense energies ground against and devoured each other, casting a brilliant glow over both their bodies.
"Ngh—"
Gritting his teeth, Bedivere strained painfully to hold back the overwhelming pressure of the greatsword.
Buffed by the "Silver Arm," his raw strength wasn't actually inferior to Mordred's. However, the awkward angle of his block, combined with the agonizing side effects of the "Silver Arm," made the struggle utterly excruciating.
He had no other choice. Unaware that Takumi had backup plans, Bedivere had forced himself into this precarious position just to ensure Mordred couldn't harm him.
"You bastard—a mere second-rate knight shouldn't be stubbornly getting in the way!"
Mordred snarled. Magical energy surged across her body as she pressed both hands against the hilt of her greatsword, throwing her entire weight and strength into forcing the blade down.
She didn't understand what the deal was with that strange arm, nor how Bedivere—the knight who sat squarely at the absolute bottom of the Twelve Knights of the Round Table—was managing to hold his ground against her.
But in her eyes, Bedivere was a second-rate knight in the past, and he was still a second-rate knight now!
Under Mordred's steadily increasing pressure, Bedivere's arm—and his entire body along with it—was slowly being pushed back.
Trapped in a stance where he couldn't generate any leverage, Bedivere couldn't tap into any explosive strength even if he wanted to. He could only watch helplessly as he was steadily forced back, bead after bead of cold sweat rolling down his forehead.
It's no use... I can't hold it...
Bedivere frantically looked forward, trying to signal Takumi to quickly get out of the way.
But the moment he looked up, a flag-spear wreathed in roaring flames suddenly shot past him. Before he could even process what was happening, it brushed right past his androgynous face.
CLANG!
A crisp, somewhat resonant metallic clash echoed through the air.
Mordred had swiftly pulled back her greatsword, just in time to block the sudden, incoming spear thrust.
Sparks showered the area. Due to the violent reverberation of both weapons clashing, the thrown flaming flag-spear was deflected high into the air.
Displacement!
Before the flag-spear could even begin to fall, it vanished from mid-air with a flicker and instantly rematerialized in Takumi's grasp.
Startled by the exchange, both knights simultaneously looked forward.
Only to see Takumi standing exactly where he had been, holding the burning flag. On his chest, a glowing crimson pattern was visible, a portion of which was slowly dimming and fading away.
Thanks to the power of a Command Spell, coupled with his unique breathing techniques, Takumi was able to rapidly restore a certain degree of combat capability—even after completely draining his magical energy and nearly exhausting his stamina to block the "Holy Judgment" and survive the frantic cross-country sprint.
Under the dimming evening sky, Takumi's glowing, fiery pupils met the gazes of the two knights, causing both of them to subconsciously halt their movements.
"Mordred..."
Takumi's voice carried an exhaustion he couldn't hide. Yet, within that single name, one could hear a complex mix of nostalgia, conflict, and reluctance.
Looking at the swordsman who had once helped him so much, countless thoughts raced through Takumi's mind. In the end, he simply said:
"...It's been a long time."
"Hah? I've never met you in my life!"
Momentarily thrown off by Takumi's demeanor, Mordred quickly grew irritated. She furrowed her brow and snapped impatiently.
"I know. Because you don't retain the memories of the Fourth Singularity, it's perfectly normal that you don't recognize me."
Takumi shook his head and chuckled, his smile laced with both helplessness and bitterness.
Meeting a familiar comrade who had once fought by his side, only for her to not know who he was—it inevitably left Takumi feeling a knot of melancholy in his chest.
"—But I still want to thank you. Thank you for helping me back then. I truly appreciate it."
Takumi offered a slight bow of his head toward Mordred to express his gratitude. There was not a single trace of falsehood in his tone.
"If you know it wasn't me, then stop thanking me like we're old buddies!"
Having absolutely zero memory of the events, yet inexplicably believing every word Takumi was saying, Mordred felt entirely thrown off and uncomfortable.
Sensing the atmosphere turning bizarre, Bedivere silently clutched his "Silver Arm" and backed away, positioning himself behind Takumi.
"I say this because I still want to persuade you. I want to persuade you to give up your position as a knight serving the Lion King. I'm not asking you to join me in subjugating her. I only ask that you lay down your weapon and withdraw from all the battles in this Singularity."
Staring straight into Mordred's eyes with his fiery gaze, Takumi spoke with absolute, unwavering sincerity.
Illuminated by the [Heart of Fire], Takumi's genuine intentions were vaguely perceived by Mordred.
He wasn't lying. He genuinely just wanted Mordred to step away from the battlefield.
"...Hah. Before you go spouting things like that, you need to understand something. This blessing of [Rampage]... Our King didn't force it onto me. I actively requested that Royal Father grant me this exact blessing."
Mordred fell silent for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle, one that sounded almost self-deprecating.
"So, you see, this time, I will only be Royal Father's knight! I already betrayed Royal Father once in life, so this time, I will be the most loyal knight of all!"
In that moment, Mordred solidified her resolve, flashing a wide, toothy grin.
The next second, her magical energy surged. Crimson lightning violently erupted from the greatsword in her hands once again, continuously striking and shattering the ground beneath her.
"...Step back a bit. I tend to cause collateral damage when I fight."
Watching Mordred fully prepare for battle, Takumi fell silent for a moment before turning to speak to Bedivere.
The [Heart of Fire] was not brainwashing. In fact, it sometimes had the opposite effect—making the other party's own convictions even firmer.
Clearly, bathed in the light of the flames, Mordred had made her choice, and nothing would change it.
From the very beginning, Takumi had a strong premonition that this battle was likely inevitable. He just never expected that his own words would be the catalyst to completely eradicate any remaining room for de-escalation.
"You..."
Bedivere looked at the sheer exhaustion etched into Takumi's features. While deeply worried, he also simply couldn't believe the current Takumi was in any condition to handle Mordred.
After all, just moments ago, Takumi had taken a direct hit from a "Holy Judgment"!
"Don't worry about me. As long as I don't get dragged into a battle of attrition, I won't lose."
Seeing Bedivere's concern, Takumi smiled and offered words of comfort.
Takumi's quiet confidence transmitted straight into Bedivere's heart. Though still somewhat anxious, Bedivere glanced at the increasingly impatient Mordred, gritted his teeth, and quickly retreated to a safe distance.
"You really know how to talk big, don't you? 'As long as I don't get dragged into a battle of attrition, I won't lose'? That line should be mine!"
Overhearing Takumi's words, Mordred couldn't help but interject loudly.
"Whether it's big talk or not, we'll find out once we fight. Just don't go crying when it's over."
Seeing Mordred itching for a fight, Takumi found it somewhat amusing and retorted lightly.
"Haaaaah—?"
"I'll be returning those exact words right back to you!"
Feeling thoroughly underestimated, Mordred drew out the syllable, laughing out of sheer anger.
Takumi's expression returned to icy calm. He extended a single finger from his empty prosthetic hand and pointed it forward.
[A Hundred Meters of Scorched Earth, Crimson Hell]!
This location isn't suitable for a massive fire-field. Better keep it small this time.