"Allow me to introduce. This is Mister Arash, he is helping me defend the village."
The next day, Hassan of the Cursed Hand introduced them to Arash – an Archer-class servant who had just returned from patrol. Ritsuka's group found it hard to believe that this seemingly ordinary archer was the legendary hero of ancient Persia.
"Ah, it's that 'Stell...' m-m-mph!"
Ritsuka instinctively tried to shout something, but Deadpool quickly covered his mouth.
"Did you say something?" Arash asked.
"No-no! Nothing! Forget it! Don't even think about it! Or we'll be in trouble!" Deadpool waved his hands, putting on the most cheerful expression. Arash, not understanding the reason for the commotion, just smiled brightly in return.
"Are you crazy, kid?" Deadpool whispered. "Thinking of mentioning his Noble Phantasm? If he even utters it in half a voice, everything will go to hell! He's a walking bomb, the moment he opens his mouth!"
"Sorry, it just slipped out..."
Ritsuka and the others had met Arash before. And although that Arash was a corrupted servant, Ritsuka couldn't help but react. Deadpool sternly warned him for the future.
"Excuse me for interrupting your introductions, but we have a snag," Arash said.
"Did something happen?" Hassan immediately caught the change in his mood and looked at the signal fire lit on the mountain peak outside the village. A column of smoke was rising into the sky.
"It's in the western settlement. Could it be the Knights of the Round Table from the Holy City?"
"Most likely! I didn't think they'd show up so soon. It's probably someone known for their wild temper."
The situation was escalating. As soon as news of the attack on the western village arrived, Arash and Hassan began to hastily prepare for battle. Ritsuka's group followed suit.
"There's one problem," Hassan noted. "It takes two days to reach the western village even at a run. By then, only ashes will remain."
Of course, there was their own Hassan, the "Old Man of the Mountain," so they wouldn't surrender without a fight. But two days was too long to get help.
"Hassan, it seems it's time to bring out 'that thing'," Arash said.
"That thing? Are you serious?!"
Hassan scratched his head in confusion, but Arash, on the contrary, looked very confident. He climbed a hill at the edge of the village and pulled the cloth off a huge device.
"I actually built it for defense, but I didn't think we'd use it like this."
It was a giant bow. Resembling a vertically placed ballista, it looked like a siege weapon. And they were going to... fly on this?
"The principle is simple: tie a rope to an arrow, get into the gondola, aim towards the western village, and shoot! We'll get there with a breeze, won't we?"
Many might have thought of this as a joke, but Arash was offering it in all seriousness. The plan was crazy, but it was the only way to get there on time.
"And is this... dangerous?" Ritsuka asked doubtfully.
"Everything is under control. There's insurance, and according to my calculations... we'll be there in about thirty minutes."
The prospect of dangling on a flying arrow for thirty minutes didn't please Ritsuka, but Arash seemed completely unconcerned.
"Mash..."
"Senpai, it seems this is our only chance. As they say, beggars can't be choosers."
Mash supported the idea, even quoting a proverb, which was not entirely characteristic of her. Deadpool remained, whose opinion they wanted to trust the least.
"Wade?"
His premonitions were not deceiving: Deadpool's reaction was predictable.
"What is this crap?! O-o-o-awesome! Listen, Arash, buddy, will you give me the blueprints later? I'll make a copy for myself..."
"You like it? Glad to hear it!"
If something was big, powerful, and completely insane, Deadpool was ready to applaud. He was already touching the giant bow structure with burning eyes.
"Faster, we're running out of time!" Hassan urged.
Everyone, except Arash, who remained to operate the device, got into the attached gondola.
"Hey, buckle up just in case! There are bags under the seats, if anyone gets sick – use them."
Deadpool's words about seatbelts in a crudely made wooden box seemed like a joke, but they were really there. And the paper bags too. The question was – would they help in flight?
"Okay, coordinates set. Ready?"
Arash, with a radiant smile, pulled the launch lever and stepped back.
"He-e-e-ere we go-o-o-o!"
The mechanism worked, and Arash's colossal arrow soared into the sky. The jerk was so strong that without the seatbelts, they would have been simply thrown out and splattered.
[What the hell, it's like being on a roller coaster since morning! How are you guys?!]
"A-a-a-a-a-a! P-p-p-p-p-p-l-e-e-e-a-a-a-s-e-e-e!"
From the insane speed, Ritsuka's breath was taken away, his words turned into an incoherent howl. In the distance, columns of smoke were already visible over the western village. Arash aimed with jeweler's precision. The only problem was surviving these thirty minutes of insane flight.
"Y-y-y-ee-ha-a-a! I'm flying, motherfu***rs-s-s!"
Deadpool, excited by the extreme speed, adopted a rodeo rider's pose and thoroughly enjoyed the process.
"Mister Pool! This is dangerous!" Mash tried to reason with him, but instead of sitting down, he managed to stand up and start doing the "wave." It seemed that the overloads had completely scrambled his brains.
"Almost there. Prepare for disembarkation!"
"Wait, how are we going to get down?" Ritsuka shouted in panic as the gondola began to tilt downwards.
"I have no idea. I didn't think about that!"
"What-t-t?!"
However, it was logical: the device was not intended for passenger transport, so a soft landing was a matter of faith and personal luck.
"Don't worry, kid! Everyone hold onto my legs! Just don't brag about your 'balls'..."
Deadpool had apparently foreseen such an outcome: he was already wearing the uniform of the 101st Airborne Division. Covered in equipment, he looked like he was going to a full-scale war.
"Easy Company! Go-go-go!"
At Deadpool's command, everyone grabbed his legs and jumped. The group plummeted downwards.
"We-e-e-ade!"
"Mister Pu-u-ul!"
Closing their eyes against the furious whistle of the wind, they desperately called out to their insane guide.
At the required altitude, Deadpool opened the main parachute. The jolt shook everyone, but no one fell off.
"That's why I always say: bring a parachute."
Meanwhile, the empty gondola, along with the giant arrow, crashed directly onto a cluster of invading knights.
"Wow," Arash whistled, assessing the effect of his projectile, "killed a couple of freaks in the process too."
Soon, Deadpool's parachute touched the ground safely. Ritsuka's group immediately rushed to the aid of the villagers. There they met another "Old Man of the Mountain," a comrade of Hassan of the Cursed Hand, who was responsible for the defense of this village.
"Hassan! Mister Arash! I didn't expect you to arrive so quickly. Honestly, I didn't expect support, but thank you for coming."
A female assassin, wearing the same skull mask as Juvan and with her blue hair tied in a ponytail, came out to meet Juvan and Arash. But upon seeing the familiar group following closely behind them…
"Juvan… uh, who is that with you?" Hassan Stolika muttered.
"Ah, the Hundred-Faced One," he replied. "These are our benefactors. They saved the refugees and held Gawain at the gates of the Holy City."
Stolika Hassan froze in astonishment as soon as Juvan introduced Ritsuka's group. In fact, the newcomers were no less surprised.
"That holy knight!" one exclaimed.
"That black shadow in the white skull!" another chimed in.
The words burst out almost simultaneously, and both sides stared at each other with wide eyes.
"What, you already know each other?" Arash chuckled. "Then we can skip the pleasantries."
Unlike the calm Arash, Stolika's face contorted as if she had met sworn enemies.
"We are bound by ill ties," she spat. "I never thought it would be them. Ugh."
The Hundred-Faced One didn't even try to hide her animosity. And there were reasons for that, but…
"Hundred-Faced One, now is not the time to dwell on old grievances," Juvan intervened, reminding them of the importance of the moment. "We must stop the knights of the Holy City."
He stepped forward, ready for battle.
"Beware! These are the vanguard knights. The Lion King has unleashed her hounds. With them is Mordred, the Knight of the Red Lightning…!"
"Wait, Mordred?" Ritsuka and the others froze upon hearing the name.
If she wasn't mistaken, it was the very same Mordred, the Servant that Sherlock Holmes had summoned in the London Singularity and with whom they had gone through many trials together.
"Y-yeah… or rather, no," Deadpool shook his head, dismissing the hope. "I bet this one won't even remember us."
Meanwhile, Mordred, leading the punitive detachment, merely snorted contemptuously at the assassins' pathetic attempts to resist. She was looking for a worthy opponent.
A vanguard knight, whom the Lion King had forbidden to remain in the capital with the other Knights of the Round Table. The Knight of the Red Lightning, the Knight of Betrayal, and the hound of the Lion King. Driven by the "Rampage" Gift, Mordred sensed that those who could quench her thirst for battle were approaching.
"They've finally arrived," her face contorted with anticipation of mad delight.
"Sir Mordred!" Bedivere was the first to address her.
"Oh-ho. So it's you? I heard from Gawain that he shat himself quite a bit, even though he pretends to be a gorilla. Maybe you can make my mood 'better'?"
"'Better'," Bedivere corrected, suddenly nitpicking her pronunciation.
"Shut up! Who are you to tell me how to 'speak' and 'get upset'?!"
"'Speak' and 'get upset'," Bedivere remained unyielding.
Enraged by the corrections, Mordred infused her blade with red lightning and slashed towards him. Bedivere, however, simply drew his sword and deflected the blow, changing its trajectory.
"You've always been like this! Always acting like a perfect little angel! You were always 'next to' Father, I envied you, and it pissed me off more than anything! Prepare to die!"
"I had no intention of angering you," Bedivere replied. "And the correct way to say it is 'beside'."
"Aaaaaah!"
Enraged by the grammar lessons, Mordred lived up to her Gift, falling into true "Rampage" and smashing the surrounding houses to pieces. But even in the face of this fury, Bedivere stood firm.
"Bastard! I'll kill you! I'll tear you to shreds and present you to Father! Traitor!"
Mordred's gaze changed. Whether under the influence of the Gift or pure malice, she was ready to devour him alive.
"Wait, Sir Mordred."
At that moment, from the thick smoke, someone on horseback appeared, whose voice was all too familiar to her.
"Oh… Father?" Mordred whispered.
It was hard to see through the dust, but the silhouette of the rider with a spear in hand perfectly matched the appearance of the Lion King. Stunned, Mordred and the vanguard knights lowered their swords and bowed in reverence. When the sound of hooves faded, Mordred, covered in a cold sweat, tried to lift her head.
"Who allowed you to look at me?"
"Oh… no, Father. I… I was just surprised you were here…"
However, something troubled Mordred. Father had almost never left the confines of the Holy City. As far as she remembered, she had never gone outside since the capital was founded. Why would Father suddenly appear here? And alone?
"Father! You're about my height, you have small breasts, and you carry a sword, right?"
She decided to probe gently.
"...Uh… well… wait, which version of King Arthur are you talking about? So… ah. Ahem-hem. Yes. That's right… or is it?"
The Lion King's voice became increasingly uncertain, and Mordred's face began to contort. She stood up and, with measured steps, walked forward, pushing aside the knights.
"You… what are you doing, Mo-chan…! I mean, Sir Mordred! Come on… come on, get on your knees before your parent!"
Stuttering and raising her tone, the shadow of the Lion King retreated. Mordred, coming up close, swung her sword with an expression of the deepest contempt.
The smoke cleared. Before them appeared a semblance of a horse, on which Deadpool was seated. Two coconuts were taped to his chest, and he himself was clad in a ridiculous imitation of the Lion King's attire. Mash and Ritsuka stood nearby, tapping the coconut halves against each other, imitating the clatter of hooves.
"Oops!"
Deadpool didn't lose his composure and, coquettishly swaying his "chest," sang:
"Oops-oops, my dear child. Would you really hit your mommy?"
Mordred completely lost her mind. She didn't care about the insult to Father, the insolence, or the courage of this madman – she just wanted to kill. Rage and irritation flooded her mind.
Rebellion against my beautiful Father!!
"CLARENT – BLOOD – ARTHUR!!"
"W-eeeeee!"
Mordred's red flash, full of fury, literally tore Deadpool's body to pieces.
His limbs flew in different directions. His head, rolling on the ground, stopped right in front of Juvan, who watched the scene in stunned silence.
Juvan looked at Deadpool, then at the megaphone tuned to Ayako Kawasumi's voice, and remembered their first meeting in the mountain village.
"Allow me to ask…" Juvan's voice trembled with suppressed anger. "Last time, were you also imitating First's voice?"
Deadpool replied as if nothing had happened: "Oh, right! And then my head got chopped off for some reason. Can you imagine? It's amazing, I was just imitating the gol…"
"Dreamy Moan!"
"ZABANIYA!"
Without a word, Juvan removed the seal from his right hand. The monstrous limb elongated and gripped Deadpool's skull with a deathly hold.
"Ouch-ouch-ouch! Stop! If it bursts, I'll really die! Don't! No… a-a-a-a-a!!"
He didn't intend to kill him, but he decided to inflict pain commensurate with the sin. For desecrating the image of First and for making him, the Mountain Elder, look like a fool…
Mordred, as if sharing his feelings, silently enjoyed Deadpool's screams with a satisfied expression.
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: Granulan