The battle-hardened Berserker faced off against the ruthless assassin.
This was destined to be a long fight—Astolfo was certain of that, and things were unfolding just as he had anticipated. Yet, as he watched, he found himself increasingly perplexed.
Not because of the bloodshed caused by Sakatsuki, but rather due to Spartacus, who was steadfastly enduring all the storms of battle.
"Shouldn't the attacks have hurt him…?"
If it were a high-ranking Heroic Spirit—like the beloved Red Rider, Achilles—he could use skills or Noble Phantasms to nullify enemy attacks. Astolfo knew of a hero who possessed a Noble Phantasm that could completely negate attacks below a certain level, a nearly unfair effect.
However, Spartacus's Noble Phantasm and skills did not possess such characteristics. More importantly, the attacks had indeed harmed him; the splattered blood and flesh were not an illusion. Although the Berserker continued to laugh joyfully, there was no doubt he was covered in wounds.
That's right, he was bleeding; he was undoubtedly injured. So, was he merely enduring the pain, relying solely on his immense endurance?
"No, that doesn't feel right…"
Curiosity overcame him, and Astolfo halted his support, focusing intently. Then he discovered the issue.
The gladiator's wounds had healed, but rather than being repaired, it was more like an excessive regeneration. The pierced areas bulged like tumors, and each of Sakatsuki's attacks carved away large chunks of flesh, which meant—
"Could it be that this big guy… is growing larger!?"
Moreover, it wasn't just that; he could sense an even stronger flow of magical energy than before. Enveloped in thick magical power, the Berserker swung his fists forward with greater force and speed than ever.
"Oh?"
Sakatsuki shadowed him, narrowly dodging a fist as thick as a barrel, then leaped into the air. He landed on Spartacus's uneven muscles and charged toward his face.
"Let me add a little something for you!"
Sakatsuki was well aware of Spartacus's tendency to grow stronger as the battle wore on. The gladiator's Noble Phantasm, "Crying Warmonger," was a dangerous weapon that absorbed the damage inflicted by enemies and transformed it into fuel for himself. Like countless rebels erupting in silence, the absorbed magical energy would first cause Spartacus to grow large and deformed, ultimately transforming him into a massive bomb that would return all suffering in kind.
This dangerous and explosive existence was a true reflection of Spartacus's life. For him, who dedicated himself to rescuing the oppressed and rebelling against their oppressors, the battlefield was a place of only the weak and the strong, filled with the pain and trials he yearned for.
It was precisely because this gladiator pursued the battlefield and rebellion that Sakatsuki held him in the highest regard, pouring all his strength into battling him!
The reaper-like figure in a black cloak wielded a yellow spear, like a shadow, as he thrust the spear downwards, slicing through the "ground," cutting open Spartacus's skin from his fingers to his neck.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!"
It was an incredibly horrifying scene; the curse of the Yellow Rose of Mortality had come to fruition, and Spartacus's formidable regenerative ability was curtailed. Blood gushed forth uncontrollably, nearly filling the cratered earth, forcing Astolfo to summon his steed and take to the skies to evade. Despite the excruciating pain, Spartacus remained oblivious, even swinging the arm that revealed its inner veins and bones toward Sakatsuki, who had climbed onto his shoulder.
"Projection Deployment!"
A shield of Qin, forged from iron, with a rounded top and a bulging center, materialized in mid-air, colliding with the tattered arm. Accompanied by a sound that threatened to shatter hearts, the shield shattered instantly, and Spartacus's arm, like a scene from a low-budget film, erupted with blood, collapsing as it lost the support of blood and flesh.
Seizing the opportunity, Sakatsuki raised his hand, raised his hand, raised his hand…
"This physique is truly incredible!"
As the adrenaline-fueled frenzy began to wane, Sakatsuki finally realized the grim reality of his dwindling magical energy. Cursing under his breath, he did not slow his movements, directly wrapping both arms around Spartacus's head, exerting all his strength as if pulling a willow tree from the ground, releasing his last bit of magical energy!
The sound of blood spurting echoed as Sakatsuki's feet firmly planted on Spartacus's shoulder, using all his might to pull his head upwards. With a tearing sound of flesh, Spartacus became even more frenzied, prompting Sakatsuki to withdraw. As blood soaked between his ankles, he twisted and delivered a side kick!
Bajiquan received a boost from Mana Burst, transforming what appeared to be an ordinary kick into a terrifying force akin to a steamroller!
Crack!
Sensing something being kicked away, Sakatsuki leaped off the shoulder without looking back, landing lightly on the ground. Just as he intended to look up and confirm Spartacus's condition, he was left speechless.
"…What a nightmare."
Astolfo, flying in the air, trembled slightly. Even after enduring countless hardships, the scene before him was undeniably inhumane.
The head that had been torn off was still connected by a few blood vessels, and layers of flesh bubbled up as if trying to reattach. The sight was too horrifying, even evoking a sense of despair. Meanwhile, the magical energy within Spartacus surged even more, to a level that made even Sakatsuki envious.
"Honestly, if it weren't for my lack of magical energy, I wouldn't even have to deal with you second-rate fighters!"
The young man, in a foul mood, let his words become unusually aggressive. As he stomped his foot on the ground, the surface that had experienced countless tremors finally cried out in agony, cracking open a massive chasm that extended toward Spartacus, engulfing him.
"Go!"
Not through magical energy, but purely through the force of his punch, the young man clenched his fists tightly and slammed them into the ground. The earth beneath the gladiator, busy repairing his head, completely shattered, burying his increasingly swollen body deeper within. At the same time, Sakatsuki activated the magic he had inscribed, using the ley lines to transport soil and fill the area.
The nearly immortal Berserker, Spartacus, was thus buried underground.
"Since I can't kill him, sealing him will do—though my magical energy is barely enough to maintain even the most basic sealing techniques."
As he said this, Sakatsuki felt a moment of melancholy, but soon, a commotion in the distance caught his attention. Looking out, he saw a green figure surrounded by wooden stakes, struggling to move, only to be swept away by an angry torrent!
In the homeland, the Duke's strength could even rival that of a small sun; he was certainly not an opponent that Atalanta could defeat.
Taking advantage of the moment to suppress Spartacus, Sakatsuki ignored the supreme AOE-like attacks from Spartacus, calling out to Astolfo, who had to retreat from the battlefield, and quickly rushed toward Atalanta, shielding her with the little magical energy he had just regained before she could be pierced by the stakes and tortured.
After a brief exchange with her, Sakatsuki turned to face his second enemy (Astolfo was ignored by someone)—Vlad III, a smile creeping onto his lips as a cold voice rang out.
"It seems a worthy meal has arrived… along with some unfinished snacks."
No sooner had he spoken than the blood-soaked giant erupted from the ground, toppling the unsuspecting Duke. Looking on, the upper half of Spartacus's body was completely buried in flesh, the towering monster, over ten meters high, opened its gaping maw and roared, launching an indiscriminate attack toward the fallen Vlad III and the Sakatsuki who was protecting Atalanta.
"Rebellion is my life! Oh, oppressors! I shall crush you all with my fists!"
After having his head kicked off by Sakatsuki, Spartacus finally lost his ability to think normally; he could only instinctively seek out the oppressors and attack them without hesitation!
The second round of battle, chaos, begins!
————
"Let suffering and disaster swell! Flames, burn! Cauldron, boil!"
Within the Hanging Garden, Red Caster Shakespeare fully implemented his strategy of non-participation, merely observing the scenes of battle unfolding in the magical screen, reciting verses loudly and passionately.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the silent white-haired youth, and Shakespeare interrupted his recitation: "Oh dear, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada, what's wrong? It's rare to see you with such a serious expression."
Amakusa raised his gaze, his golden eyes revealing no hint of levity: "A revelation has come."
As a Ruler summoned in violation of the last Holy Grail War by the Einzbern family, he, like Jeanne d'Arc, possessed a near-precognitive ability.
Sensing Amakusa's intent, a new magical screen appeared, revealing a golden-haired figure racing across the pitch-black wilderness.
"Ruler Jeanne d'Arc is heading this way; she too is being guided by a revelation in this Holy Grail War. So, how shall we interpret each other's revelations, and how shall we utilize them—this also means I will be fighting her."
As one of the masterminds behind this Holy Grail War, Amakusa had no doubt that this Ruler had sensed something amiss from the Red side and hoped to identify the culprit named by the revelation in this all-out war.
"What a mess, one wave hasn't settled before another rises!" Shakespeare exaggeratedly placed a hand on his forehead, while Amakusa stood up, tilting his head back.
"Assassin, can you transport me to the battlefield? We need to speed things up."
Catching a glimpse of Shakespeare attempting to slip away, Amakusa suddenly smiled gently: "Of course, my beloved sword 'Miike Tenta Mitsuyo,' and our great writer Caster shall accompany me."
"Oh, why must it be like this? We—!"
Shakespeare attempted to protest, but under the Empress's magic, his words felt utterly powerless. As the light of magic flared, their figures instantly vanished from the spot.
When Amakusa opened his eyes again, he found himself surrounded by golden currents of electricity, a lovely girl in a pure white wedding dress, wielding a war hammer, grinning fiercely and threateningly.
"Frankenstein." The white-haired youth, draped in crimson robes, rested his hand on a famous blade, calling out the girl's true name, "A tragic monster created by humanity in pursuit of ideals; in some aspects, you are also a turning point, a half-finished product in my ideal goal."
"Ugh…"
The girl, who had killed countless Dragon Tooth soldiers on the front lines, significantly alleviating the pressure on the Black side, murmured, a hint of confusion rising from her heart.
How does he know my true name?
Even the ever-watchful Caules was taken aback; in legends, Frankenstein was depicted as a male figure, a giant strong enough to pierce the clouds. So, it should be impossible for him to discern her identity based on appearance alone.
…Could it be that he saw me in my past life?
Casually dispatching the approaching Dragon Tooth soldiers, Frankenstein continued to ponder. That shouldn't be possible either. She was born at the end of the age of the gods. Very few heroes existed in the same era, and even if they did, they should not have encountered her.
So, who exactly revealed her true name?
"Hmm, your thoughts are indeed quite clear; despite being a Berserker, you retain a certain level of higher cognitive function. Truly worthy of being a modern Heroic Spirit."
The boy looked at the contemplative girl with a bright smile, extending his hand toward her:
"I know about you and understand you quite well. So, how about it? Would you be willing to come over to our side instead of the Red Berserker?"
Upon hearing this, the girl let out a warning growl, filled with caution. Seeing this, the man immediately smiled wryly and lowered his hand.
"Given the circumstances, that's certainly not possible, is it?"
In response, Frankenstein heightened her vigilance. Behind the man appeared a figure that could clearly be identified as a Servant. The magical energy was quite weak—and the clothing was entirely unsuitable for battle. Could it be a Caster?
"Oh, my apologies. I have no intention of fighting at all. The one who will fight is this Master; I'm merely here to watch and cheer him on."
Noticing the girl's gaze, Shakespeare naturally finished speaking, stepping back as if using the Master as a shield, showing no signs of using magic. Incredibly, the so-called "Master," the white-haired youth, nodded.
"Yes, the one who will fight is me—Shirou Kotomine."
As he spoke his name in the present world, Amakusa spread his arms wide, the 'hilt' nestled between his fingers infused with magical energy and unfurled into a long, sharp blade.
With Frankenstein's limited knowledge, she could not determine what kind of weapon it was. However, if Sakatsuki were present, he would likely recognize it immediately. It was a weapon based on purification, crafted from magical energy—the Black Keys.
"If you have any intention of coming over to our side, please feel free to let me know."
Though his tone was sincere, as he spoke, Amakusa had already launched a Black Key, attacking Frankenstein!