'It's not precognition. He possesses some form of True Name discernment.'
Lelouch cared nothing about how many Kings Britannia might have. What concerned him was Archer's capability.
With only the mecha exposed, the other party had identified his True Name in an instant. Lelouch naturally deduced that Archer possessed some extraordinary ability.
What he couldn't determine was the extent of what Archer could see.
For Saber, however, Archer's revelation carried immense weight.
Britannia had fallen after her era. She had never heard the name "Lelouch." So where had this other "King of Britannia" come from?
And judging by Rider's attire and his mechanical construct, he bore no resemblance whatsoever to a King of her time.
"It seems you can only discern True Names, not full histories."
Probing Gilgamesh with a careful question, Lelouch spoke.
"Hmph. Don't underestimate this King's power."
"I merely used it on a rare exception this time."
"After all, too many of you mongrels have utterly bizarre origins!"
With an icy snort, Archer crossed his arms and replied.
Sha Naqba Imuru, the Star of Omniscience and Omnipotence.
It was his most "disliked" Noble Phantasm. When activated, it could survey all of creation and comprehend all phenomena.
To say nothing of enemies' True Names and Noble Phantasms, even certain hidden truths could be unearthed.
Once invoked in a Holy Grail War, it was equivalent to having read the entire script. Every opponent's hand became an open book.
Yet it was terminally boring. He almost never used it. This time, however, the dissonance he sensed from Berserker had compelled him.
And sure enough, the results confirmed a significant anomaly.
The Star of Omniscience had returned far too little "information"!
It had barely managed to reveal True Names and Classes. Everything else was severed by some unknown force, completely invisible.
'So his power goes deeper still, but it's being restricted.'
Reading Gilgamesh's subtly darkened expression, Lelouch extracted the intelligence he wanted.
Having his True Name exposed didn't particularly threaten him. He'd already researched this world's history; this version of Britannia had long since fallen. No one here could trace his origins.
"Answer me! Rider! Are you truly a King of Britannia?"
"And what is your wish for this war?!"
But someone was clearly fixated on his identity. Looking down, Lelouch found Saber in a state of visible agitation.
"Am I obligated to answer you?"
Lelouch couldn't understand why Saber was so emotional.
"!"
A flash of dejection crossed Saber's face, quickly replaced by something harder as she clenched her jaw.
"If you refuse to answer, then in this war, you will be the first opponent I aim to defeat!"
It sounded reckless, almost irrational. But Lelouch's existence struck at the very core of what defined Artoria.
Her own wish was to "save" the fallen Britannia and its people.
She could not accept that Britannia had perished because of her. If she could return to the moment of the selection and find a worthier successor, then perhaps the kingdom's fate could be changed.
Surely someone could do a better job. Lead Britannia to prosperity rather than ruin.
Lelouch's existence pulled that nerve taut.
If a new, unfamiliar "King of Britannia" truly existed, didn't that mean her path had been the right one?
"You've attracted a troublesome one, Rider."
In the cockpit, Waver watched the two in their standoff and murmured under his breath.
He didn't fully understand Rider's background either. The King of Knights was Britannia's ruler through established legend, but no King named "Lelouch" had ever appeared in the history books.
"If you insist... then take those words as a declaration of war against the Holy Britannian Empire!"
Raising the constructed sword in his hand, Lelouch pointed it squarely at Saber.
The blade held no legendary power. It was merely an ornamental replica of the "Sword of Promised Victory." His Britannia had never venerated a "holy sword."
"Is that so?"
Something in his answer, an implicit confirmation buried within the rhetoric, made Saber exhale as though a weight had been lifted. Her head dipped.
He had acknowledged it.
That was enough.
A new King of Britannia.
If possible, she desperately wanted to see his nation. To know what it looked like.
Though his specific wish remained a mystery, for Saber, at least, a new hope had been kindled. As long as she knew Rider's truth, she was almost willing to surrender this war entirely.
"Makes zero sense..."
Jonouchi stood up and watched the exchange, completely lost.
"Yeah, I can't wrap my head around Kings either."
But Kyoko's sneak attack from behind made Jonouchi break out in a cold sweat.
All she cared about right now was finding a way to remove the hexagram. If she didn't, things could turn ugly fast.
Crash!
"Oi! That's dangerous! Are you trying to kill me?!"
Rolling aside to dodge a thorn chain, Jonouchi waved his arms and yelled.
"Huh? Does this war have a 'no killing' rule?"
Kyoko's retort left him completely deflated.
"Hey, you're just a kid! Don't be so vicious!"
"An underhanded adult doesn't get to lecture me!"
Like a quarrel between children, they went back and forth.
Clink!
"Hmm?"
"Consider that a reward."
Hearing a sound from above, Kenshin reflexively caught something that dropped from the sky: a divine blade.
He stared at the weapon in his hand, stunned. From its appearance alone, this sword carried immense provenance.
"As a subject, fight well for your King."
"To lose because of an inadequate weapon would bring shame upon this King."
"I am deeply grateful!"
Gripping the blade, Kenshin gave a sincere reply, respecting the dynamic of their stations.
Anyone familiar with Gilgamesh would have dropped their jaw at this.
Given his temperament and personality, "gifting" a sword was virtually unheard of.
Ordinary individuals could never pry a treasure from Gilgamesh's hands.
Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi.
That was the legendary sword now in Kenshin's grasp, one of Japan's own divine artifacts.
He still couldn't unleash its True Noble Phantasm. But for someone like Kenshin, as long as a blade was in his hand, his swordsmanship had room to shine.
'His magical energy and heavy armor have both restored.'
Gilgamesh's gaze settled on Berserker. His full attention was fixed on this figure.
The reason he'd given Assassin a sword was twofold: to escalate the fight's intensity, and to probe this enigma's depths.
Gilgamesh was certain that Berserker's origins were anything but ordinary.
As a King, dirtying his own hands would be beneath his station. And so, he had chosen his vassal.
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]