The morning breeze of the oasis caressed Leonel Herrera's face like a balm. After the tension built up during the audience with the Divine Pharaoh, sleeping in a real bed, with linen sheets and the protection of the sphinxes on the golden walls, had been a luxury his body appreciated. He stretched as he gazed at the pyramid rising majestically against the blue sky, reflecting on the absurdity of his situation. He had arrived in an Egyptian kingdom in the middle of 13th-century Jerusalem, allied himself with a pharaoh who spoke like an anime vampire, and was now in charge of designing an assault on a fortress guarded by Arthurian knights blessed by a goddess. If someone had told him this in his previous life, he would have laughed.
But it wasn't funny. It was his reality.
The war room of the Solar Temple was a circular chamber at the base of the pyramid, illuminated by braziers of magical fire that never burned out. In the center, a table of polished black basalt held a three-dimensional map of the region, created by Nitocris's magic. The dunes, the mountains, the white stain of Camelot—everything was shown in astonishing detail, like a divine diorama. Around the table, the leaders of the coalition took their seats.
Leonel, of course, presided over the meeting. To his right, Mash remained standing, her shield at the ready. To his left, Tezcatlipoca floated in a semi-manifest form, his gold plates catching the fire of the braziers and his glyphs shining with analytical intensity. Tamamo no Mae was right behind Leonel, her tails brushing his shoulders from time to time, a silent reminder of her presence. Jeanne d'Arc Alter, arms crossed, leaned against a column. Artoria Lancer Alter, impassive, sat on a stool. Mordred lay sprawled on another, her boots on the table until Bedivere, with a polite gesture, pushed them down. Hassan of the Cursed Arm, Hassan of the Hundred Personas in one of her few remaining forms, and Serenity occupied the shadowiest flank. Xuanzang Sanzang, unable to stay still, floated around the table murmuring auspicious sutras. And in the main seat opposite Leonel, Ozymandias, the Divine Pharaoh, presided with a satisfied smile. Beside him, Nitocris stood with her staff, still wearing that minimal attire that made Leonel's girlfriends shoot warning glares at her every time the pharaoh leaned over to point something out on the map.
"Well, Master of Chaldea," Ozymandias began, his deep voice resonating in the chamber. "You have secured my alliance. You have proven to be a mortal with guts. But alliance alone does not bring down walls. We need a plan of action. And I need to hear it from your lips."
Leonel nodded. He leaned forward, planting his palms on the table. "All right. Let's analyze the real situation. Even though we have you and Nitocris on our side, we're still at a disadvantage. It's not a numerical disadvantage. It's qualitative."
"Explain," Ozymandias demanded.
"The Round Table, in its entirety, has received blessings from the Lion King," Leonel said. "Those blessings elevate them to unprecedented power levels for normal Servants. Gawain is invincible under the sun. Mordred can activate her Noble Phantasm instantly. Tristan fires with no need to recharge. We don't know for sure what blessings Lancelot or Agravain have, but we can assume they are equally dangerous." He paused. "We have firepower, but we lack information on how to neutralize all those blessings simultaneously."
Ozymandias nodded slowly. "That assessment is correct. My Solar Temple possesses a Holy Grail."
The revelation fell like a bomb. Heads turned toward the pharaoh. Tamamo narrowed her eyes. "A Holy Grail? Here?"
"That's right," Ozymandias confirmed. "When this Singularity began, I was summoned with a Holy Grail. It is the source of my power and the reason I can maintain this kingdom. With it, my sphinxes are legion, my defenses are impenetrable, and my authority is law." He paused theatrically. "But the Lion King... also possesses a Holy Grail."
Leonel had already suspected it, but hearing it confirmed was something else. "How did she obtain it?"
"From nothing," Ozymandias answered, and his tone turned somber. "I was summoned first. I established my kingdom in the desert and prepared to confront Camelot. But then, from one moment to the next, the Lion King appeared with her own Holy Grail. She didn't win it in battle, she didn't steal it. She simply... obtained it. As if the Singularity itself had granted it to her to balance the scales. That upset everything I had planned to overthrow her."
"A second Grail...," Bedivere murmured. "That explains why she can maintain the knights' blessings permanently."
"Exactly," Leonel said. "In a normal Holy Grail War, Servants fight over a single Grail. But here there are two. Ozymandias's and the Lion King's. It's a war of attrition between two sources of infinite power."
"And I," Ozymandias continued, "have refused to use my Holy Grail in the same way she has. I will not stoop to granting superpowers to my subjects that end up doing them more harm than good. The Lion King's blessings are self-destructive. They consume the bearers' existence. Mordred burns herself out every time she activates her Noble Phantasm without charging. Tristan loses his humanity with every shot. It is a corrupt power, unworthy of a true king."
Nitocris nodded. "His Majesty has always watched over his people. Using the Grail to mutilate the souls of his own soldiers is something he would never do."
Ozymandias raised a hand. "I have limited myself to using the Holy Grail I possess to defend this part of the land of Jerusalem. The barriers that hide my temple, the fertility of the fields, the loyalty of my sphinxes... all come from it. But now that I go to battle with the last Master of humanity..." He paused and rose from his seat. With a majestic gesture, he extended his hand. From the center of his chest, a golden light began to emerge. It was a chalice. An authentic Holy Grail, shining with an energy so pure it lit up the entire chamber. Everyone's eyes fixed on it. "...I no longer need the Holy Grail."
Leonel was speechless. "Ozymandias..."
"Take it, Master of Chaldea," the Pharaoh said, placing the Grail in Leonel's hands. The object was warm, like a beating heart. "I go to war with you. My personal power, my magecraft, my sphinxes—all of that remains. But the Grail is a burden for a warrior who seeks glory in combat. If I die, I want it to be by the strength of my lance, not because I depended on a chalice to sustain me. And if I live, it will be because you, with your strategy, guided me to victory."
"I don't know what to say," Leonel murmured, overwhelmed by the show of trust. The Grail in his hands was worth more than any treasure. It was a weapon of absolute power.
"Say nothing," Ozymandias replied, sitting down again. "I am magnanimous to my allies. And you, Master, have earned my mercy. Use it as you see fit. Boost your Servants. Recharge your Command Seals. Whatever you need."
Leonel held the Grail reverently. Tezcatlipoca analyzed the object in his mind. «This Grail contains enough mana to fully recharge your Magic Circuits at least three times. It can also be used to temporarily enhance your Servants' Noble Phantasms or to summon reinforcements from Chaldea if necessary. It is an invaluable resource.»
«Then let's not waste it,» Leonel replied mentally. «We'll save it for the critical moment.»
Tamamo, her fox eyes gleaming, leaned toward Leonel's ear. "Goshujin-sama, that Grail would give me enough power to rival Amaterasu... use it wisely."
"I know," he whispered. "I won't use it lightly. It's our trump card."
He placed the Grail in a leather pouch that hung from his belt. The weight was comforting. Now, at least, they had an ace that the Lion King did not expect. With the Grail in his possession, the odds, though still slim, were no longer impossible.
"All right," Leonel said, refocusing on the map. "With this, our options expand. Let's get back to the assault plan."
Tezcatlipoca projected a series of data into Leonel's mind. «Analysis of available forces:
Top-tier allies: Artoria Pendragon Lancer Alter, Mordred Saber, Jeanne d'Arc Alter, Tamamo no Mae Caster, Xuanzang Sanzang Caster, Bedivere Saber, Ozymandias Rider, Nitocris Caster.
Support allies: Mash Kyrielight Shielder, Hassan of the Cursed Arm Assassin, Hassan of the Hundred Personas Assassin, Hassan of Serenity Assassin.
Auxiliary forces: Ozymandias's sphinxes, Solar Temple warriors.
Special resources: Holy Grail (mana recharge and enhancement), two remaining Command Seals (the third regenerated during the journey).
Confirmed enemies: Lion King Artoria Pendragon Lancer, Gawain Saber, enemy Mordred Saber, Tristan Archer, Lancelot Saber, Agravain (class unknown).
Disadvantages: Divine blessings of the Knights. Enemy-controlled terrain. Possible presence of unknown reinforcements.»
Leonel processed the information. "We need to divide the Knights. If we face them all together, they'll annihilate us. Their blessings complement each other. Gawain is a tank under the sun. Mordred is instantaneous explosive damage. Tristan is long-range artillery. Lancelot is unstoppable close-quarters combat. Agravain is the strategic brain. They're a perfect team."
"Then," Ozymandias said, "we must ensure they don't fight as a team."
"Exactly." Leonel looked at the Hassans. "Hassan of the Cursed Arm. Your men have a score to settle with Tristan."
The Assassin nodded, his skull mask gleaming with a sinister light. "Tristan killed several of our refugees during the attack on the village. He shot at fleeing civilians. Elderly. Children." His voice was a lethal whisper. "The order of the Hassan does not forget a blood debt."
Hassan of the Hundred Personas, in one of her female forms, added: "We want to deal with him personally. It is our responsibility as protectors of the refugees. If we fail to avenge the fallen, our order does not deserve to exist."
Serenity, from the shadows, spoke without showing her face. "My daggers are ready. My poison is prepared. Tristan will not fire another arrow."
Leonel looked at them. He saw the determination in their postures, the cold fury in their voices. Denying them that vengeance would be a strategic error and an offense to their honor. "Agreed. Tristan is yours. I authorize you to face him. But I need you to draw him away from the main battlefield. If he kills more civilians while you fight him, the victory will be bitter."
"We will lead him to the mountains," Cursed Arm said. "There, among the rocks, his arrows will have no direct line of sight. And we... are the shadows of the mountains."
"Good." Leonel turned to Bedivere. The silver knight was standing, his hidden arm beneath the armor glowing faintly. "Bedivere. I know what you're going to ask me."
Bedivere met Leonel's eyes. "Master. Let me face the Lion King."
A murmur ran through the room. Artoria Lancer Alter tensed. Mordred raised an eyebrow. Ozymandias watched with interest.
"It is my duty," Bedivere continued. "I caused this. I did not return Excalibur. I allowed Arturia to cling to life and become this. If anyone must stop her, if anyone must remind her of who she was... it must be me."
Leonel knew it. It was necessary. In the original history, Bedivere was the key to defeating the Lion King. His arm, which held the true Excalibur, was the only weapon that could wound her and restore her humanity. Without Bedivere, the mission would fail. "Agreed," he said, with gravity. "I authorize you to face her. But not alone. Artoria Lancer Alter will go with you."
The Lancer Alter raised her head. "Me?"
"Yes," Leonel said. "You are the only one who can stand against her with the lance. If Bedivere needs to cut a path to her, he'll need someone who can counter her Rhongomyniad. You've done it before. You can do it again."
Artoria nodded slowly. Her golden eyes settled on Bedivere. "I will protect your advance, knight. But the final blow is yours. Do not fail."
"I won't," Bedivere promised.
"That leaves us with Mordred, Gawain, and Agravain," Leonel continued. "The enemy Mordred is your responsibility," he said, looking at the allied Mordred. "You've already faced her. You know her movements. You know her fury. Use it."
Mordred smiled ferociously. "No problem. That imposter and I have a pending date. I'll smash her to pieces."
"But not alone," Leonel added. "Jeanne Alter, you'll support her. Your fighting styles are opposite but complementary. Mordred is aggressive, you are destructive. Between the two of you, you'll hold off the enemy Mordred."
Jeanne Alter scoffed. "As if I needed help. But... I accept." She glanced sideways at Mordred. "Don't get in my way."
"You don't get in mine, tsundere."
"What did you say, pipsqueak?"
"PIPSQUEAK YOUR MOTHER!"
"Ladies, please," Tamamo interjected, with a venomous smile. "We are in a war meeting."
Leonel sighed. "Let's continue. Gawain..."
"Gawain is the most dangerous of all in open field," Ozymandias said. "Under the sun, he is invincible. Not even my Dendera Electric Bulb could pierce his blessing."
"True," Leonel confirmed. "But he has a weakness. His invincibility only works while there is direct sunlight. If the sky clouds over, if night falls, if we create shadow... his power diminishes drastically."
"And how do we create shadow in the middle of the desert?" Mordred asked.
"With me," Nitocris said, stepping forward. "My magecraft can summon sandstorms. Not large enough to blind everyone, but enough to filter the sunlight. And if we combine that with Tamamo no Mae's darkness spells... we can create a zone of twilight."
Tamamo nodded. "My talismans can absorb light. It's a trick I learned from some annoying Shinto monks. I can do it."
"Perfect," Leonel said. "Nitocris and Tamamo will neutralize Gawain's blessing. Once that's done, Ozymandias will face him directly."
The Pharaoh smiled. "So you grant me the honor of the most difficult combat. I like it. Gawain is a knight worthy of my lance. It will be a pleasure to show him that the Egyptian sun is superior to the British sun."
"And then there's Agravain," Leonel said, frowning. "He's the wildcard. We don't know his blessing. We don't know his exact class. We only know he's the strategic brain behind the Round Table. If we eliminate the Knights one by one, Agravain will run out of pieces to move. But until then, he's an unpredictable threat."
"I can handle him," Xuanzang said, raising her hand like a diligent schoolgirl. "My Palm of Enlightenment technique does not depend on elemental affinities. No matter what his blessing is, a blow charged with faith should affect him."
"It's risky," Leonel said. "But you're right. You're the only one who can face him without entering the affinity game. Agreed. Xuanzang, you will contain Agravain if he appears. But don't get overconfident. He's smart. Very smart."
"The Buddha's wisdom will guide me," she replied with a beatific smile.
"And Mash... you will be our anchor," Leonel said, turning to his Shielder. "With Lord Camelot, you can protect the entire group. I need you at the center of the battlefield, maintaining the barrier for civilians and the wounded."
Mash nodded, her eyes shining with determination. "I will protect everyone, Senpai. It is my duty as a Shielder."
"I know. I trust you." Leonel mentally reviewed the plan. "All right. Summarizing: Hassan against Tristan. Bedivere and Artoria Lancer Alter against the Lion King. Mordred and Jeanne Alter against the enemy Mordred. Ozymandias, Nitocris, and Tamamo against Gawain. Xuanzang against Agravain. Mash as central defense. And I... will coordinate from the rearguard with Tezcatlipoca."
"It's a good plan," Ozymandias admitted. "But there is a gap."
"Which one?"
"Lancelot."
Leonel fell silent. It was true. Lancelot du Lac, the knight of melancholy, the most skilled warrior of the Round Table. They didn't know his blessing. They didn't know where he would be. He was the most unpredictable variable of all.
"We have no one free to face him," Mash murmured. "Everyone else is assigned."
"If he appears, I'll have to face him myself," Leonel said. "With Tezcatlipoca, I can defend myself long enough to buy time."
"No," Mash said, firmly. "You can't risk yourself, Senpai. If you die..."
"I won't die. I trust you all not to let me die."
"But..."
CRASH.
A deafening din interrupted the conversation. The war room door, a slab of basalt weighing several tons and reinforced with magic, went flying into pieces. The stone fragments bounced off Mash's shield, which she raised instinctively. Dust filled the chamber. When it cleared, a figure stood in the threshold.
It was a knight in dark blue armor, with a helmet that hid his face. In his hands, a broad, shining sword with runes carved into the hilt. Arondight. The Sword of the Lake, the cursed sister of Excalibur.
Lancelot du Lac had arrived.
His gaze, visible through the helmet slit, was earnest, melancholy, and resolute. There was no fury in it, but a kind of resignation. Like a man carrying out an order he does not wish to carry out. He took a step forward, and the basalt floor cracked beneath his feet.
"Master of Chaldea," Lancelot said, his voice deep and calm. "By order of the Lion King, I have come to eliminate you."
Everyone went on guard. Ozymandias gripped his scepter. Mordred drew Clarent. Jeanne Alter summoned her fire. Tamamo spread her tails. But before anyone could attack, Mash stepped forward.
"Senpai, get back."
"Mash, wait..."
"Get back." Her voice was different. Colder. More distant. Her eyes, normally warm and worried, now shone with a purple light that Leonel had only seen once: during the confrontation with Fionn in America. It was Galahad. The Heroic Spirit residing within Mash was emerging.
Lancelot stopped. His helmet turned toward Mash. "You..."
"You recognize me," Mash said, but it was not her voice. It was a superimposed voice, with a divine echo. "Of course you recognize me. After all, you carry my blood."
Lancelot took a step back. It was the first time Leonel had seen the mightiest knight of the Round Table retreat. "Galahad..."
"Do not call me that." Mash/Galahad's voice was sharp as a sword's edge. "You have no right. You were an absent father. You left my mother alone. You lost yourself in your own sins and never looked back." She stepped forward, and her shield glowed with a white light. "And now you come here, following the orders of a false god, to kill my Master. The only one who has treated me with dignity. Do you think I will allow it?"
"Galahad, I..." Lancelot lowered his sword, not in surrender, but as a sign of peace. "I do not wish to fight you."
"Well, it's a pity. Because I do want to fight you."
And then, it happened. Mash lunged at Lancelot, not as the defensive Shielder Leonel knew, but as an unstoppable warrior. Her shield struck Lancelot's chest with a dry impact, launching him against the wall. The knight got up, but did not attack. He only defended himself, using Arondight to deflect the blows.
"Listen, Galahad..."
"Shut up!" Another blow, this time to the helmet. The metal crunched. "You have no right to speak to me!"
The beating was one-sided. Lancelot, one of the most feared warriors in Arthurian legend, did not raise his sword. He received every blow, every thrust, every charge of the shield, without defending himself. His armor dented. His blood splattered the stone floor. But he did not retaliate.
Leonel watched with his jaw hanging open. "Is he... letting himself be hit?"
"It looks like it," Mordred said, with a crooked smile. "Well, this is new."
"It's his guilt," Bedivere explained in a low voice. "Galahad... always despised Lancelot. Not out of malice, but out of disappointment. He expected his father to be a hero, and he found a man broken by guilt. The Heroic Spirit residing in Mash has carried that resentment for centuries. Now it's coming out."
"This is better than a soap opera," Xuanzang murmured.
And then, to everyone's disbelief, the beating began to turn... amusing. Serenity, from the shadows, started clapping rhythmically every time Mash struck Lancelot. Xuanzang pulled out a bowl of popcorn that someone had taught her to make from nowhere and began eating, offering it to others. "Anyone want some? It's a new recipe." Jeanne Alter, who rarely smiled, wore a smirk of satisfaction. "This is wonderful."
Mash threw an uppercut with the edge of her shield that connected with Lancelot's chin, lifting him off the ground. The knight described a ridiculous arc through the air before landing headfirst against a column, which cracked. The sound was a "BOING!" that echoed in the chamber. Leonel rubbed his eyes. "Did that just sound like Looney Tunes?"
"Indeed," Tezcatlipoca confirmed. «Reality seems to be distorting slightly due to the Grail's energy. It's an involuntary comedic effect.»
Lancelot landed on his head, his legs sticking up in the air like a crooked compass. Mash flipped him over with a kick, and the knight spun on himself before ending up face down, with little stars spinning around his head. The stars were real, magical, and emitted a little jingling sound. "Where are those stars coming from?" Tamamo asked, genuinely puzzled.
"From the Grail," Ozymandias said, shrugging. "It does things like that sometimes. Don't look for logic."
Mash grabbed Lancelot by the collar of his armor and lifted him like a rag doll. Her eyes still shone with Galahad's light, but now there were tears in them. "You were my hero!" she shouted, and her voice broke. "As a child, I just wanted you to be proud of me! But you were never there! Never!"
Lancelot, his face bloodied and covered in bruises, looked her directly in the eyes. For the first time, his expression was not one of stoic resignation, but of genuine pain. "Galahad... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"What?"
"I was a failure as a father. I know." Lancelot's words were clumsy, broken. "I was so consumed by my own guilt, by my forbidden love for Guinevere, that I failed to see what was in front of me. I had you. My son. The purest of the knights. And I failed you." He closed his eyes. "I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I want you to know that... I was always proud of you. Always. From the day you became a knight, I knew you were better than me."
Mash/Galahad's eyes widened in surprise. The fury consuming her seemed to slowly dissipate, like mist in the sun. "You never... you never told me."
"Because I'm a coward. Because I didn't know how. Because every time I looked at you, I saw my own failure reflected." Lancelot coughed, spitting blood. "But I don't want you to die hating me. So if you're going to kill me... do it knowing that I love you. That I have always loved you."
Mash released his armor. Lancelot fell to the floor with a thud. She stood there, trembling, her shield lowered. Tears streamed down her cheeks. The purple light in her eyes slowly dimmed, and when she spoke again, it was Mash's voice, only Mash.
"Senpai... what happened?"
Leonel ran to her. "Mash, are you all right?"
"I... I don't know." She touched her face, feeling the tears. "Galahad... he was so angry. And I was too. But now..." She looked at Lancelot, who lay on the floor. "Is he okay?"
"He's fine," Leonel said. "You gave him a beating, but he'll survive. Servants are resilient."
Lancelot, from the floor, raised a weak thumb. "I'm... fine... more or less... I think I have a skull fracture... but fine."
Silence settled in the chamber. Ozymandias applauded slowly. "A splendid performance. Worthy of the dramas of my court."
"It wasn't a performance," Bedivere murmured. "It was... a reconciliation."
Lancelot sat up with difficulty. His armor was in tatters, his face a map of bruises, but there was something different about him. A kind of peace. As if a weight he had carried for centuries had vanished.
"Master of Chaldea," he said, kneeling before Leonel. "I came here to kill you by order of the Lion King. But I can no longer carry out that order."
Leonel regarded him cautiously. "Why?"
"Because my son is at your side," Lancelot replied, raising his gaze. "Because Galahad trusts you. Because he has shown me, with his fists, that my loyalty to the Lion King is false. That woman is not Arturia. She is a divine shell wearing her face. The true Arturia would never have ordered the massacre of innocents. She would never have twisted her knights into monsters." He paused. "I have been a fool. But no longer."
"What are you saying?" Mordred asked.
Lancelot lifted his head. "I want to join you. I want to fight against the Lion King. Not as a Knight of the Round Table, but as a man who wants to redeem himself."
A murmur of surprise ran through the room. Leonel exchanged a glance with Tezcatlipoca. «He's telling the truth. His aura has changed. He's no longer hostile.»
But it was Mash who spoke first. "No."
Lancelot lowered his gaze. "I understand. I don't deserve..."
"No," Mash repeated, and her voice softened. "I'm not going to reject you. Galahad... is still angry. He still holds a grudge against you. But he also loves you. Because you're his father. And if I, as his vessel, have something to say about it..." She raised her eyes to Leonel. "Senpai, let's accept him. We need all the help we can get."
Leonel nodded slowly. "Agreed. Lancelot du Lac, I accept you as a temporary ally. But if you betray us..."
"I won't," Lancelot said, standing up. "I swear it on Arondight."
The Sword of the Lake gleamed, as if approving his oath.
"Then, welcome aboard," Leonel said. "We have a plan to discuss."