Whoosh—!
The range of the Wind King's Barrier finally reached the body of the Chevrolet. In the next instant, an immense force lifted the rear of this steel beast high into the air before gravity yanked it back down with a heavy thud.
"Ugh!" Amid the violent jolt, Kairi's face turned green as he struggled to negotiate with his stomach. Meanwhile, in the driver's seat, Mordred slammed her fist against the steering wheel, causing the already unbalanced vehicle to sway even more wildly.
"What the hell is this ability? Is it even stronger than Father's 'Wind King's Barrier'?!"
Mordred had no idea who was chasing her. The rearview mirror had long been shattered beyond recognition by the turbulence, only faintly reflecting the increasingly bright silver glow that proved the enemy behind was closing in.
"Don't panic, steady the wheel... we're not done yet."
Kairi practically forced the words through gritted teeth. Battling against pressure akin to an airplane door being ripped open mid-flight, he painstakingly retrieved two magi eyeballs from his pocket and tossed them backward.
The surveillance tools were flung hundreds of meters away by the speeding car, but they still managed to activate their spell before leaving the effective range, allowing Kairi a glimpse of their pursuer.
"What?!"
"What is it, Master? What's happening?"
Mordred startled but resisted the urge to turn around. After a few labored breaths, Kairi replied in disbelief:
"The one chasing us... is the Black Faction's Assassin."
"She's riding a silver warhorse!"
A silver warhorse? The Black Faction's Assassin?!
Mordred's eyes widened in shock. She had assumed only a Rider could possibly catch up to them—but an Assassin? What kind of joke was this?
Since when did Assassins have warhorses as Noble Phantasms, with speed enough to chase down a magically-enhanced sports car?
Moreover, shouldn't her Noble Phantasm be that indistinct spear and her atmospheric manipulation magecraft?
This was absurd!
Yet no matter how unbelievable, this was reality: the weakest combatant in the Holy Grail War, an Assassin, was riding a silver warhorse across the battlefield to hunt down a Saber like her!
"What kind of nonsense is this..." Mordred groaned. As a member of the strongest class, her pride should have flared with rage at this challenge. But the moment she remembered the Black Faction's Assassin—that robed figure who had silently accompanied her through the streets of Sighișoara—her anger inexplicably dissipated, replaced by a strange sense of inevitability.
If it was her... then losing wouldn't be surprising at all... right?
"What are you thinking? Snap out of it, Saber!" Kairi's voice exploded like thunder. "We're going to crash!"
"Huh? Ah!" Mordred snapped back to attention just in time to see the approaching hillock ahead. There was no time to brake or swerve—the mound grew closer, closer, closer—
"Hang on tight, Master!"
Gritting her teeth, Mordred stomped the accelerator to the floor. The engine roared with do-or-die determination as the entire car shot forward like a blade, plunging straight into the hillside!
CRASH!
The collision of metal against rock produced a grating noise. Under the protection of Mana Burst, the flying stone fragments didn't enter the car, but Kairi couldn't help swallowing hard as he gazed into the deep interior of the hill.
It felt like being swallowed by a monster, traveling down its esophagus.
"Sorry, Master. I couldn't dodge in time." The deafening sound of the sports car plowing through the mountain nearly drowned out Mordred's muttered apology, had Kairi not been sharp-eared.
"It's fine... cough." Kairi shook his head, discarding the common sense that "a sports car hitting a mountain would just explode." Ignoring the absurdity before him, he went straight to discussing their pursuers—Black Assassin.
"To defeat Black Assassin, we might need to resort to some tricks..."
————
They crashed inside?
Watching the Chevrolet sports car barrel into the mountainside with an air of no return, Artoria's brows furrowed slightly.
Truly, Mordred never failed to surprise her with her actions.
"Neigh~~" Dun Stallion whinnied, as if asking Artoria whether to give chase.
Given the difference in height and width between a warhorse and a sports car, if Artoria wanted to pursue, she'd have to further destroy the mountain along the path Mordred had carved. Otherwise, she'd have to circle around the rolling hills, which would take considerable time.
To chase or not to chase?
"How cunning you are, Sir Mordred."
Perhaps Mordred herself hadn't anticipated that her actions would pose such a dilemma for her father. But after a brief contemplation, Artoria nudged the horse's flank and issued her command.
"After them."
The silver steed reared with a resounding neigh, its powerful legs launching it forward like a silver meteor as it charged toward the low hollow. Artoria raised her right hand, gripping not the red rose projected by Sakatsuki, but a storm anchor radiating starlight, spiraling like a vortex—
The Holy Lance, Rhongomyniad!
With the Invisible Air still recovering, the Holy Lance's form was unveiled in all its glory, shining brilliantly in the night, eclipsing all who beheld it.
This was Artoria. This was the true Noble Phantasm of the Lion King—the tower connecting the surface and reverse sides of the world, the pillar binding reality and fantasy.
At the same time—this was also the weapon that had slain Mordred!
"Unleash its true name, my King."
Sakatsuki—no, her Master—had already granted her the authority. And Artoria's choice was to release her Noble Phantasm here and now!
"Unsheathe the Holy Lance!"
Golden streams of light converged from all directions onto the Holy Lance, its terrifying energy rippling outward, vibrating the very air with a resonant hum. Perhaps sensing Sakatsuki's limited mana reserves, or perhaps wary of leveling the entire mountain with a single strike, Artoria did not thrust the lance. Instead, she commanded:
"Forward!"
With a mighty neigh, the silver warhorse surged ahead. The Lion King leaned low, the Holy Lance pointed straight forward, charging into the mountainside with the same unyielding resolve!
Terrifying magical energy condensed, forming a vortex that shattered the solid stone walls. The path Mordred had raced through was widened once more. Under the might of the holy spear, Artoria's speed did not falter in the slightest—with the sheer force of a single thrust, she pierced through the hillside!
A glimmer of light appeared ahead, indicating that Mordred had already broken through this place.
In the blink of an eye, Artoria drew closer to the exit. Just then, a flash of crimson emerged from the opening.
That red glow was the taillights of a Chevrolet—meaning the sports car from earlier had shut off its engine to conceal itself, only to "open its eyes" again as its pursuers closed in.
"The simple chase is over, Assassin of the Black faction!"
Mordred, crouched on the trunk like a delinquent, stood up. Her battle armor materialized, and along with the crimson-stained sword of hatred and the ferocious grin on her face, she pointed at the advancing Artoria.
Crimson lightning illuminated the path before Artoria. The shadow of the rebellious knight loomed in the dark tunnel, claws bared like a dragon's.
"Now it's time for an item race! Take this!"
The sword of hatred amplified the loathing-infused magical energy, filling the narrow passage with a terrifying torrent of power. Amidst the earth-shaking tremors, thunderbolts and streams of light—symbols of destruction—howled toward her.
"Clarent Blood Arthur!"