When Maiya Hisau’s voice rang out through the wireless headset.
A dark shadow appeared on the field, having circled around to Irisviel’s side at some point; a hideous arm rapidly extended and lunged toward her.
Irisviel was on the verge of being killed.
At that critical moment.
A beautiful yet sorrowful sound of a harp rang out.
An arrow struck that demonic arm, interrupting its offensive.
Failing in one strike, the Fanatic turned into a dark shadow and fled into the distance.
“How truly sad…”
A red-haired knight appeared on the deck of the cruise ship, holding an exquisite harp in his hands.
The arrow just now was exactly what he had shot by using the harp in his hand as a bow.
Another Servant!
Tristan?
Lancelot, who was engaged in battle with Gawain, caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye; in his surprise, his focus wavered, revealing an opening.
“You dare to be distracted while fighting me!”
Gawain seized the opportunity, parrying the blade and slashing Lancelot’s right shoulder, cleaving through his armor and leaving a bloody gash.
Lancelot was forced back into the fight, with no time to think about anything else.
Two Servants?
Everyone else present was plunged into confusion.
What was going on?
Had the Master of the Einzberns reached a cooperation with another Master without their knowledge?
Judging by that attack style, could it be an Archer?
“Lancelot… by right, a duel between knights should be sacred and not interfered with by outsiders.”
“But if the opponent is you… I do not feel that chivalry should be observed.”
“After all, you can hardly be called a knight anymore… How truly sad.”
Tristan finished speaking in a melancholy and distressed tone, his fingers brushing the strings again, and another arrow was released.
This time, the target was Lancelot.
As the third person joined the fray, the situation changed rapidly.
Lancelot, who had originally been largely equal to Gawain or even slightly had the upper hand, gradually fell into a disadvantage and began to retreat steadily.
Just as Kayneth, with a gloomy face, was considering whether to have Lancelot retreat.
A chariot, like a sharp knife, plunged straight from the sky into the battlefield.
Two divine bulls pulled the Gordius Wheel, charging toward the two combatants on the field.
Sensing the terrifying momentum of the charge, the two retreated to avoid it.
“Boom!”
“Cease at once! Iskandar, the King of Conquerors, is here!”
The dust cleared, and mist puffed from the nostrils of the two divine bulls.
On the chariot’s seat, the tall and burly Iskandar, with his robust muscles, and his Master, Waver Velvet, were clearly visible.
“Hey, hey, hey! Rider, how could you reveal your True Name so easily?”
The petite Waver frantically pounded his small fists against Iskandar, weak and powerless, venting his dissatisfaction.
‘Is that guy a fool?
Or is he overconfident?
To bring his Master onto the battlefield and expose him like this, and then reveal his True Name so casually, without fear of his abilities and Noble Phantasms being deduced.’
Emiya Kiritsugu adjusted his sniper rifle, aiming at Waver’s head, his finger on the trigger tightening slightly.
With just a little more pressure, the sniper rifle would fire, and the bullet would fly out at over a thousand meters per second, letting these Heroic Spirits know what it means for times to have changed.
Many Masters and Heroic Spirits present lamented Rider’s stupidity and arrogance.
“You say stop, and we stop? Wouldn’t that make us look bad?”
At this moment, another voice came from the cruise ship.
Immediately after, everyone saw a knight wearing a horned helmet, holding a greatsword, charging toward Rider.
It was Mordred.
How is there another Heroic Spirit?!
Many confused people were shocked; was everyone on this ship a Heroic Spirit?
The next moment, they witnessed a sight they would never forget.
“Mordred, do not be so impulsive.”
A majestic voice resounded, and then a female Heroic Spirit wearing a crown and a thick, coat-like cloak walked down from the ship.
On either side behind her, the Knights of the Round Table appeared one after another, following the King’s steps.
Gawain, Tristan, Mordred, and the two Knights of the Round Table beside Emiya Kiritsugu and Maiya Hisau also returned immediately upon seeing the King’s appearance, flanking the King.
In an instant, over a dozen Heroic Spirits emitting powerful auras gathered together, their formidable presence gradually spreading.
“My god…” someone’s mouth let out an exclamation uncontrollably.
“The whole ship really is full of Heroic Spirits?!”
“How can there be so many Heroic Spirits? This is cheating, it’s definitely cheating!”
“Where is the supervisor from the Holy Church? Referee, come out and take a look!”
“Did your Knights of the Round Table come to Fuyuki City for a team-building retreat?”
“…”
At this time, Gwyn, standing on a streetlight in the distance, took everything in and counted the heads.
If Lancelot were included, it seemed the Round Table was truly all here?
He remembered that the Round Table in Type-Moon seemed to have one or two fewer seats than in legend.
But he had also forgotten how many seats the Round Table had in legend.
Moreover, that Saber also differed quite a bit from the Saber in his memory; how did she grow so much?
Regardless, it wasn’t important.
After Artoria got off the ship, she glanced toward a streetlight in the distance, but there was nothing on it.
Yet she still stared there for several seconds, a trace of emotion appearing on her face, before finally shifting her gaze to Lancelot.
Lancelot lowered his head, not daring to meet her gaze.
“My King, I beg your forgiveness.”
“Save your pleas for forgiveness for later.”
Artoria’s face, which had shown a slight flicker of emotion, returned to calm as she raised her right hand toward Lancelot.
Magical energy flowed, and a spiral of golden light emerged, forming the shape of a spear.
The next moment, the spear of light shot out, striking Lancelot at an indiscernible speed.
By the time everyone reacted, only deep gouges remained where Lancelot had originally stood.
He appeared amidst a pile of ruined containers, lying there as if dead.
But he wasn’t dead; he coughed up two mouthfuls of blood and slowly struggled to crawl out of the ruins.
However, the field remained in silence.
What was the difference between this and instantly defeating him in one blow?
That was Lancelot, the one hailed as the seat with the strongest martial arts among the Knights of the Round Table.
Even someone as strong as Gawain under the sun’s protection would be dragged out by him until nightfall to be defeated.
“Now, you may beg for forgiveness.”
In the silence, Artoria withdrew her hand and spoke these words lightly.
“Yes, my King, I request your judgment…”
Lancelot tried hard to kneel, but he couldn’t support himself; he fainted and rolled down from the pile of ruins.
Kayneth was stunned, then consumed a command spell to save him, turned around, and left immediately, without any intention of looking back.
Now, the Holy Grail War brought him not surprises, but scares.
“Kayneth?” Gwyn watched the direction he left, trying hard to recall information related to him.
“Did it say this guy was destined to die in the Fourth Holy Grail War?”
“It probably has something to do with that little femboy over there; his name is Waver, right?”
“If Kayneth dies, Waver will inherit the title of Lord El-Melloi II out of guilt, and his classroom will produce a multitude of formidable students.”
“Because this is extremely beneficial to humanity, it is fixed and engraved.”
“So Kayneth must die to allow ‘Lord El-Melloi II’ to be born and play a major role in promoting the progress of human history.”
“So, what if Kayneth lives and doesn’t pass the title to Waver through other means?”
“What would happen? In any case, it would be quite entertaining, wouldn’t it?”
“This… is too much fun!”
“That’s exactly what I’ll do.”