Iskandar had fought countless battles in his life—striking Egypt, conquering Persia, engaging in skirmishes large and small against innumerable foes.
Now manifested as a Servant, using his trump card Noble Phantasm, Ionioi Hetairoi, to summon the generals and soldiers he had once led, he felt a sense of uncertainty for the first time.
In the desert under the blazing sun, swirls of hot, dry wind kicked up, exactly like the battlefields he had trodden in life.
When the Reality Marble expanded, Ludwig had been pulled away and dropped at a distance. To Iskandar on his chariot, the boy looked as small as a grain of white sesame.
Now, that white-haired youth was walking toward his army. Every step was incredibly calm, showing no sign of haste.
Yet, Iskandar felt as if he were facing an invisible mountain.
Last night, during the grand melee at the Mion River, he had witnessed the duel between the boy and the King of Heroes.
Enuma Elish—Iskandar knew just by looking at the power of Gilgamesh's Noble Phantasm that his own Reality Marble could not withstand it.
Yet the boy had not only countered it, he had slain the Heroic King of Uruk.
An enemy beyond imagination. The odds of victory were nearly zero, yet they had to be faced. It was precisely such a peerless foe that was worth Iskandar's challenge and conquest.
"Rider..." Waver swallowed hard, his heart pounding.
Before the battle, Waver had offered up all three of his Command Seals. Though no longer a Master, he had been brought along by Iskandar to face this battlefield.
Even though Ludwig only had Saber with him, a primal, instinctive fear welled up within Waver the moment he saw him. It was the survival instinct of a weak lifeform engraved in DNA, screaming warnings in the presence of a powerful predator.
"He is indeed fearsome." Iskandar laughed with murderous intent. He lifted Waver and placed him on his beloved horse, Bucephalus. "Boy, stay on the horse and witness my conquest."
"..." Waver nodded vigorously. He couldn't ride, but if the horse didn't move, he wouldn't fall.
Then, Iskandar grabbed the chariot reins with his left hand and drew the sword at his waist with his right, pointing it at the youth still approaching the army.
The King of Conquerors could feel his soldiers tensing up. It wasn't just the excitement of battle; it was pure tension and fear. Like Waver, they felt Ludwig's terrifying aura—as vast as the mountains and seas.
Even though the boy radiated no bloodlust. That was precisely what made it so terrifying.
"This is the formidable foe who even defeated the ancient King of Heroes! He is our ultimate opponent! Men! Show this youth the path of our hegemony!"
"OOHHHHHHHH—!!!"
The ranks of the army echoed Iskandar's roar with a thunderous shout that shook the heavens, charging toward Ludwig.
Iskandar snapped the reins, and the chariot thundered across the desert.
Ludwig's pace quickened, finally turning into a white blur. The dust kicked up by his feet was tiny compared to the cloud raised by the massive army.
But not a single soldier dared to look down on him.
The front-line spearmen threw their spears. Hundreds of shafts rained down on the boy's path, covering the entire area. The spears struck the sand, kicking up another cloud of dust that obscured the youth's figure.
The army didn't slow its charge, observing the dust for any sign of him. Suddenly, spears began flying back out of the smoke with relentless force.
One after another, caught off guard, soldiers raised their shields only to be pierced through—shield, armor, and body—and sent flying backward. The spearheads would continue through the first man and impale the comrades behind him, stopping only after knocking back seven or eight people.
The dust cleared. After a dozen spears had been thrown back, the youth was nowhere to be seen. Iskandar, surprised, immediately looked up at the sky.
Ludwig could fly. He didn't know the principle behind it, but it couldn't be ignored.
"Above us!"
The youth had leaped dozens of meters into the air, then plummeted into the army like a meteorite. The massive impact nearly halted the charge, stopping the middle ranks and surrounding the landing site.
Ludwig stood up in the dust. He was stepping on dead soldiers and held a centurion-like soldier by the head.
Dozens of soldiers had died just from that landing.
Even though they were essentially Servants, the death of their comrades spurred these battle-hardened men, reigniting their fighting spirit as they rushed the youth with weapons raised.
But spirit was all they had left.
The youth was empty-handed, delivering simple punches and kicks.
Sharp longswords couldn't withstand a single hit before snapping. Soldiers struck in the head had their skulls split instantly, collapsing as brain matter and blood spilled into the sand. Hard bronze shields were as fragile as papyrus; after punching through one, Ludwig grabbed the soldier by the neck and hurled him into the crowd.
Despite being surrounded by layers of spearmen with their points turned inward, they couldn't close the distance.
Some soldiers managed to stab the youth, only to find that blades sharp enough to cut a falling hair couldn't pierce his body. It was as futile as stabbing a solid stone gate. After a few attempts, the spearheads actually began to dull.
Their weapons were not Noble Phantasms, but merely equipment manifested by the Reality Marble. These cold weapons of the old era could not deal effective damage to a "Knight" who could ignore such primitive arms.
As a result, even though the lone youth was heavily surrounded, they couldn't pin him down. Even when blocked by a dozen soldiers, those weapons and their users would be broken and sent flying in the next second, forcing the closing circle to expand again.
Iskandar watched this scene with a grim expression. Just moments ago, Ptolemy—the man who would eventually become one of his successors and found the Ptolemaic Kingdom—had charged into the fray to challenge the youth, only to be struck down in a few exchanges, unable to rise.
If this continued, would the youth tire first? Or would his army be depleted? Or would the Reality Marble collapse under the weight of the World's correction and the depletion of mana, reverting back to a one-on-one fight?
"Wait... this guy made himself the bait to force my army to concentrate all its strength on him!"
Then, Iskandar realized he had overlooked one thing: why the King of Knights remained steadfast in the rear, never having moved.
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Type-Moon: The A-Ray Knight's Holy Grail Journey(98 Chapter - Ongoing)
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