"Caster!"
Artoria cried out, readying herself to leap into the river. Blessed by the Lady of the Lake, she could tread upon any water, no matter its depth, as if it were solid ground. To her, the Mion River—hardly three hundred meters wide—was a mere puddle's breadth, a distance she could clear in a single bound.
Fighting during the day violated the rules of the Holy Grail War, but for a man like Caster who disregarded all rules, such a discussion was moot.
As they spoke, Caster stepped off the bank and onto the river's surface. He, too, could walk upon the water; the ancient, bound tome cradled in his hands was radiating violent surges of magical energy.
"Don't be in such a hurry. Let's see what he's up to," Ludwig said to the bewildered Artoria.
Her confusion subsided slightly, and she fixed a sharp gaze on Caster.
"Jeanne! My pure Holy Maiden! To think you would associate with a mere boy! What pleasure is there in such a vulgar fall from grace?!"
Standing in the middle of the river, Gilles de Rais pointed at Ludwig and screamed. His shrill voice carried across the water, piercing their ears.
"What nonsense are you spouting now?! I am not—"
Artoria understood well enough; Caster had mistaken her for Jeanne d'Arc, and seeing her head resting on Ludwig's lap just moments ago had incensed him. Regardless of the fact that it was her private business, she was not the Holy Maiden Jeanne, and she saw no reason to accept such accusations.
But before she could finish her rebuttal, Ludwig draped his arm over her shoulder again, pulling her toward him. Caught slightly off balance, she instinctively reached out for support, her hand pressing against Ludwig's chest.
"Master..."
This time, even Artoria couldn't help but feel embarrassed.
"Wait for him to lose his mind, then we strike," Ludwig whispered, outlining his plan. "People lose their ability to make sound judgments when they're blinded by rage—especially in a life-or-death struggle."
"...Understood."
The slight embarrassment was swept away by Ludwig's cold, calculated tone. Artoria decided to play along with his provocations, acting the part of the "sacrilegious Holy Maiden" to further incite Caster.
Jealousy and fury intertwined, and Gilles de Rais spiraled into a complete frenzy.
"Ooooohhh!!! Jeanne!!! In that case, it seems I must use more violent means to restore your sanity!"
The magical fluctuations surrounding Caster suddenly surged with terrifying intensity.
"I can fly. Do you need a lift?" Ludwig checked, his eyes fixed on Caster.
"No, I can walk on the water's surface," Artoria replied, shaking her head.
She was momentarily startled by the casual way Ludwig mentioned flying—as if saying a bird could fly—but she quickly remembered his claim of being half-Angel-species and her confusion vanished.
"Go!"
The moment Ludwig gave the command, he leaped from the concrete embankment. He did not fall into the water; instead, he soared just above the surface, the force of his flight carving a deep wake into the river.
He drew Durandal, swinging it down toward Caster's neck.
Though Servants possessed spiritual cores, their vital points as humans remained. The throat, the heart, the brain—the destruction of any of these meant the death of a Servant.
In a preemptive strike, he swung Durandal. The blade sang as it bit into flesh, but what sprayed forth was not red blood, but a viscous, purple fluid.
His sword had struck a Sea Demon wrapped around Caster's body.
"Heh... hehe..." Caster narrowed his eyes, a sinister smile creeping across his face. "Insolent scoundrel. Did you think I, Gilles de Rais, would rush out without preparation? I, too, have walked the battlefield."
"Tsk..."
Ludwig clicked his tongue at his own oversight. Having gauged the general specifications of Servants over the past few days, he felt he had a basic grasp of this Holy Grail War. In terms of pure melee and bladework, Artoria Pendragon was likely the strongest, followed by Lancelot. That Gilgamesh was dangerous primarily due to his vast treasury and durable armor; his individual combat prowess wasn't particularly overwhelming.
As for Caster, whom he had never faced directly until now, Ludwig had assumed the man was even less of a threat than Merlin, whose vital points he could never quite pin down.
'A Noble Phantasm is every Servant's trump card. It's unwise to underestimate them; after all, they are the crystallizations of all human fantasy,' Merlin had once warned.
That said, the Durandal in Ludwig's hand was also a captured Noble Phantasm. Since he had landed a hit, he would continue the strike.
Ludwig applied more force, and Durandal's edge sank deep into the mass, as if cutting through thick mud. Usually, a sword requires a certain distance to gain momentum for an effective slash or thrust. Applying force at zero range often resulted in the blade getting stuck in bone or armor.
However, Ludwig's sheer strength rendered that problem irrelevant. The Sea Demon's flesh and bone—harder than that of any mammal or human—were sliced clean through by Durandal, severed into two pieces.
Yet, it was too late. More Sea Demons erupted from the water, enveloping Caster in a protective mass so thick that even burying Durandal to the hilt might not reach the man's actual body.
"Allow me to show you this blasphemous power." Gilles de Rais was highly satisfied with the outcome, mocking Ludwig with a smug grin.
The river below suddenly churned. More Sea Demons extended tentacles from beneath the surface, attempting to seize and bind Ludwig, who was hovering barely a meter above the water.
"The World!"
The Magic Sword: The World transformed into an invisible blade, radiating outward from Ludwig. It shredded the Sea Demon tentacles and continued to slice through the monsters in a relentless storm of cuts.
Just as Servants hid their Noble Phantasms, Ludwig intentionally used Durandal as his visible primary weapon, keeping the Magic Sword as his hidden ace.
However, the magical formula was already complete. The Sea Demons acted like infinitely multiplying cancer cells, constantly regenerating and spreading.
"Master!"
In less than five seconds, Artoria had caught up to Ludwig, her sword flashing as she cut down the surging Sea Demons and evaded their grasping tentacles.
"I'm fine," Ludwig said, watching as the invisible slashes of his Magic Sword continued their work. "It looks like this level of attack won't be enough to put it down."
"In that case—" Artoria began, an idea forming.
"Using your Noble Phantasm is an option, but we haven't reached the point where I need to trouble you with that yet."
Ludwig waved his hand, and the invisible slashes ceased. A cyan-colored longsword, roughly the same size as Durandal, manifested in his left hand.
"...What... is that?"
Artoria froze for a moment. She had seen that sword in her dream, but seeing it in reality evoked a completely different sensation. It felt as if it possessed a life of its own; even from a distance, she could feel a rhythmic pulse of life emanating from it.
It was a rhythm entirely different from that of the Star Holy Sword.
Just what is...
As she stared in a daze at Ludwig's Magic Sword, Artoria suddenly felt a chill far sharper than anything coming from Caster.
A new enemy was approaching.
More massive Sea Demons burst from the water, surrounding Ludwig as he held the Magic Sword high. Acting on instinct, Artoria leaped from the river's surface, wrapping her arms around his waist and pushing him through a gap in the writhing limbs of the Sea Demons.
The two tumbled together toward the upstream section of the Mion River. Just before they hit the water, Ludwig regained his balance, catching Artoria in his arms and taking flight once more.
Behind them, a barrage of Noble Phantasms, shimmering with golden light, rained down like a torrential storm, kicking up massive plumes of water.
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Type-Moon: The A-Ray Knight's Holy Grail Journey(80 Chapter - Ongoing)
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