The figure in the black robe was reflected within the gem-like pupils.
The woman looked down from above, just a step away from the girl, and the dagger in her hand would fall onto the girl’s body in a second.
The familiar on guard beside her inexplicably lost movement, and her petite body couldn’t help leaning backward due to the twist.
“Berserker!”
Moist lips parted and closed subconsciously, and red lines climbed all over her body.
The next moment, the black figure crossed the barrier of space through the effect of a miracle, arriving by the girl’s side in an instant.
A bright light flashed in her pupils, but immediately turned into despair.
A charred smell spread along the eerie substance on the ground that was almost unrecognizable as human form; most of the body including the head had almost completely disappeared, and even the remaining lower body was still burning with crimson tongues of fire.
This injury was completely nothing to Berserker; it would regenerate in just a short while.
But what was lacking most at this moment was time.
If she had rushed up to engage in close combat with Medea just now, there might still have been a glimmer of survival, but now, the last chance had been wasted.
The woman stepped forward.
The dagger in her hand swung down fiercely.
But faster than the dagger was a thunderbolt falling from the sky.
The searing white electric light dyed the space pale, and the surroundings were filled with the pungent smell of metal being scorched.
The falling thunder struck the center of the two, and the vibrating impact blew them both away.
At this moment, in the sky, the clouds turned into a vortex, and scalp-numbing magical energy came from the center of the vortex.
The next moment, two strong and well-built bulls poked their heads out from the clouds.
The divine oxen stepped on the void, thunder generated from their four hooves, pulling a classically styled two-rider chariot, rushed out of the clouds, and forcefully broke into the battlefield wrapped in dazzling electric light.
“Olalalalalalla…”
The roar and the thunder rumbled across the sky together, Gordius Wheel rumbled and shaking the atmosphere.
The magical energy released by every loud bang was enough to rival the full-power strike of an ordinary Servant; if he was willing, he might have been able to kill Medea and Illya together just now.
A sense of paralysis spread into Medea’s body.
Lifting her robe, she retreated like flying close to the ground.
“Tch, did they really come after all.”
Raising her head, Medea looked straight at the king falling from the sky, recalling her Master’s introduction of the opponent in her mind.
Rider, true name Iskandar, the Conqueror King of Macedon.
His own stats were not outstanding, but the Noble Phantasms he possessed were exceptionally tricky.
The Noble Phantasm “Gordius Wheel” could release the divine thunder symbolizing Zeus, and “Army of the King” was even an out-of-spec Reality Marble.
Beside them was also an Arthur replica capable of releasing the holy lance.
If they really fought, they would not have the advantage.
They could only catch them off guard.
The time came slightly earlier.
The top of the building.
Waver came to his own conclusion.
This was not hard to guess.
Berserker’s strength was visible to the naked eye, and fighting the opponent was far less efficient than directly attacking the Master.
And nowadays the distance between Berserker and the Master was indeed gradually pulling apart.
That Einzbern Master was simply too arrogant, appearing so openly on the battlefield.
Speaking of which, the previous generation’s Einzbern seemed to be like this as well.
Looking at Illya’s figure, Waver couldn’t help but think of that noblewoman who stood openly behind Saber in the first battle.
Could this be some kind of family tradition?
He muttered in his heart.
But now was not the time to think about these things.
The opponent’s Servant was Caster; coupled with the Master’s powerful combat strength, capturing and directly forcibly contracting a Servant was not a difficult task, so they had to stop them.
“Rider, I suggest going to save Berserker’s Master.”
He proposed to Rider.
If considered strategically, the most suitable opportunity to intervene should be after Berserker’s Master was attacked.
But Waver knew that Rider most likely would not want to play such small tricks.
Waver looked at the other party, stated his thoughts one by one, and waited anxiously for the other party’s response in his heart.
Perhaps it was excitement; in front of the other party, he was always eager to show off himself, wanting the other party to see his growth over the years.
It felt like a young boy in front of his crush, always showing off intentionally or unintentionally.
It was probably his illusion.
Rider held his chin, and without a moment, grinned, revealing two rows of clean teeth.
“Well said.”
“That Berserker, I felt a sense of intimacy originating from divinity in him, so I suppose the other party is the offspring of that great god.”
“It would be a bit too regrettable for such an opponent to exit the stage just like that.”
“Let us go meddle in it!”
Saying that, he raised his hand and patted Waver’s back, reached out, drew the Sword of Cyprus from his side, and waved it toward the air.
At this moment, on the battlefield.
The red-haired king drove the chariot down to the ground; the divine oxen pulling the chariot exhaled a breath with electric arcs, shook their heads, and their dark, round eyeballs swept around with sharp gazes.
Standing respectively by the king’s side were his strategist and disciple, their tall bodies standing in the center like iron towers, attracting attention.
Medea stood in the distance, her expression under the hood unclear; Illya fell to the ground due to the shock, looking up at the tall figure ahead.
The battlefield fell into silence for an instant.
Rider swept across both sides with his dark red pupils, his sight lingering for a moment on the burning charred corpse on the ground.
Surtr’s sudden outburst was obviously beyond everyone’s expectations; even Rider did not expect the other party to be able to kill Berserker in just a few short seconds.
But judging from the little Master’s initial reaction, this didn’t seem to be too big of a problem for Berserker.
Is there some kind of Noble Phantasm that can resurrect?
Looking around the surroundings, if his expectations were correct, after this should have been a scene where he raised his arms high and spoke to the surrounding Servants about his grand ambitions.
But the words stopped suddenly at the tip of his tongue, and the expression on his face suddenly became serious.
He didn’t see the figure of that red-haired Master on the field!
Where did she go?
The loosened arms gripped the reins tightly again, and Rider intended to start Gordius Wheel at any time.
Before that.
Snap.
From who knows where, a crisp snap of fingers reached everyone’s ears.
Immediately afterward, Illya’s panicked voice came from the side.
“Berserker!”
Attracted by the cry, everyone turned back.
Met face-to-face was the dazzling firelight that suddenly rose.
Even though his body had mostly recovered, the surging firelight on Berserker showed no sign of disappearing at all, growing even larger instead.
The scorching heat wave turned into a storm, gushing outward with Berserker as the center, wrapping and enveloping everyone, and finally turning into a huge tornado rushing into the sky.
“This is that Master’s Noble Phantasm? Didn’t she just use it once? How could she use such a large-scale move again so quickly.”
A drop of sweat trickled down Waver’s forehead, looking shocked at the flames entwining around him.
Just how much magical energy does she have?
No, considering the opponent’s outrageous physical abilities and strange appearance, it’s still a question mark whether she is truly human.
Could it be an existence similar to Gray?
“How enthusiastic.”
In the storm of flames, Rider grinned, large beads of sweat sliding down from his forehead.
He inwardly admired the boldness of that Master.
Even if the opponent could wrestle with Berserker, how could they dare to strike at two Servants in one breath?
He did not know where the opponent’s confidence came from, but the sharp intuition cultivated through years of warfare made him feel danger.
Without hesitation, he directly flicked the reins.
The surging thunder light diffused all around, and as soon as it touched the flames, a violent explosion occurred.
The thunder light and flames continuously intertwined and dissolved; this was not merely elements, but a collision of magical energy and magical energy.
After trying, Rider selected the weakest position of the flames, wrapped in thunder all over his body, and drove the cattle cart taking the lead.
“Berserker, keep up with them.”
Illya was held by the resurrected giant, signaling the other party to closely follow Rider.
Berserker not being afraid of fire did not mean that she was not afraid of fire; if Rider’s protection hadn’t also enshrouded her, it would have been very difficult for her to get out of here.
She owed him a favor.
Meanwhile, Surtr stood outside the flames.
Her gaze seemed capable of piercing through the flames to see the figures within.
As if confirming the direction, Surtr raised her hand and hurled the flame sword into the air.
This was the final strike.