Not far away, Melusine was chattering happily with Mash about something. She looked animated, her expression brimming with excitement. Watching her, Guinevere felt a faint sense of relief.
Perhaps it was because of their quasi–familial bond—though their first meeting hadn't been pleasant, the two had quickly warmed to each other. They now seemed to be getting along rather well.
Just then, a faint tremor rippled beneath their feet. Guinevere frowned, raising her gaze toward the horizon. There, in the far distance, a beam of light seemed to rise into the sky.
Although it was still daytime and the brilliance wasn't especially eye-catching at such a distance, anyone who looked closely could see it. Yet the fact that it could be noticed even from so far away spoke to its overwhelming power.
Realizing something was wrong, Guinevere stopped in her tracks.
"That direction... that's precisely where we were heading—the palace of Ozymandias."
She immediately turned back.
"Melusine! You're the fastest here, go on ahead and see what's happening!"
"Understood!" Seeing the seriousness on Guinevere's face, Melusine didn't dare to delay. In a flash of light, she shot upward and soared ahead.
"All right, Ritsuka, Mash, Ria—the break is over. It's time we leave the oasis and move out!"
Guinevere sprinted up the Sphinx's back, urging the others to board quickly.
........................................
Meanwhile, at the source of the light pillar, the knights stationed there were witnessing a far more spectacular sight.
Every measure at their disposal had been countered by the Holy City's knights. Even the Noble Phantasm "Amón's Love" had been neutralized under the combined release of several Round Table knights' Noble Phantasms. At last, the sovereign of the desert was driven to the brink.
When a colossal spear of light, brimming with world-ending might, came crashing down from the heavens to seal his fate, the grand pyramid beneath—before everyone's stunned eyes—rose from the earth itself, meeting the attack head-on with desperate resolve.
What followed was an apocalyptic clash. The heavens split open; the earth trembled beneath that doomsday radiance. Even the formidable Holy City knights had to cling to nearby buildings to keep from being swept away—yet those same structures were obliterated by the shockwave, dragging the knights with them into the skies.
When at last the dust settled, the survivors were left with the hollow relief of those who had narrowly escaped death.
Of them, only "Iron Vice-Commander" Agravain reacted swiftly, barking out orders at once:
"Everyone! Report casualties immediately!"
As reports trickled in, Agravain's perpetually sour expression grew even darker—like a man cheated out of fifty coins by every soul around him, none of whom intended to pay him back.
"Why the grim face? Didn't we just win? No need to sulk like that," Mordred quipped.
"You don't understand," Agravain snapped. "Though the Round Table remains intact, the casualties among the Correction Knights are far too heavy... In this state, how are we supposed to fend off both Morgan and Chaldea's advance?"
"Tch, it's just a bunch of Correction Knights. They're not real people anyway—father summoned them, like familiars, right? As long as we Round Table knights are fine, that's what matters." Mordred shrugged.
"Hmph. As if they cost us nothing. They may be summoned, but they're not infinite." Agravain shot her a glare. "Frankly, I'd have preferred if you'd been the one to fall instead of losing so many knights."
"Ha? You wanna fight?"
As their bickering escalated, Gawain only shook his head. Looking over the flattened ruins of ancient Egypt, he sighed.
"No wonder he was hailed as the King of the Sun. Even cornered so completely, he still unleashed such a defiant counterattack. Admirable indeed... but before our King's might, he too could only meet his end."
So even Father, mighty as he was, would be powerless before such overwhelming force? The thought lingered in Gawain's heart, unspoken.
"Gawain! Stop dawdling!" Agravain barked again.
"Search the ruins immediately—find the Holy Grail Ozymandias held! And if Pharaoh Nitocris yet lives, kill her on sight!"
"The Grail? Why seek that?" Gawain asked. "Surely our King doesn't need such a thing."
"Fool. The Grail means nothing to us, nor to the King, but we cannot allow it to fall into enemy hands. Can you imagine the danger if Morgan obtained it?"
"...Even without such a power source, Mother would still be a threat," Gawain muttered. "But you're right. We cannot let it fall into enemy hands."
"Report! We've sighted Nitocris!"
A Correction Knight rushed up.
"Sir Lancelot has already begun pursuit!"
"Lancelot went ahead? Then she's as good as dead... Still, to be safe, we'll follow." Agravain scowled.
"Mordred, you stay to clean up! Gawain, with me!"
With that, he and Gawain hurried off.
Elsewhere among the ruins, Nitocris rode desperately atop a Sphinx, fleeing at full speed.
But before long, pounding hooves closed in behind her. Glancing back in terror, she saw a figure leap from horseback like a cannonball. She rolled off the Sphinx's side just in time; the figure slammed into the beast instead.
A flash of steel—and the Sphinx collapsed with a dying roar, felled before it could even react.
"Damn..."
Scrambling out from beneath its corpse, Nitocris tried to flee again—but a sword was already at her throat.
"Unfortunate, Pharaoh Nitocris. Your flight ends here. I dislike killing beautiful women such as you... but I must obey my King. I cannot allow you to stand in our way."
With that, Lancelot raised his blade, ready to strike—
But suddenly, as if sensing danger, he reversed his swing and struck to the side instead.
At the same instant, a streak of blue light shot down from the sky. A pair of azure wrist-blades clashed against his sword, the force hurling both combatants apart.
"Impressive! To block even that—seems I underestimated you," Melusine called, righting herself midair.
"You... you're the fairy girl who asked me for directions earlier?" Nitocris exclaimed in relief.
"So. You're the assassin who struck at our King."
Lancelot steadied himself some distance away, eyeing her in surprise.
Though his power should have exceeded hers, he'd been caught off guard, forced into a hasty defense. With Melusine harnessing the momentum of her dive, he had come out worse in that exchange.
"You wield great strength, a fairy from Britain, I presume? Might I have the honor of your name?" Lancelot asked, stealing another glance at her.
"Tch... I don't like how you're looking at me. You don't need to know my name," Melusine huffed. "Just call me this—I am the strongest dragon-fairy of the Fairy Kingdom... the Fairy Knight Lancelot!"
"Ah, so it's true. I'd suspected as much, but to hear that you were even given my name—an honor indeed."
He bowed with flawless courtesy.
"Hmph, say what you like." Melusine scowled. "I used to look down on you, but after learning your deeds, I must admit—you accomplished plenty. I'm satisfied that Her Majesty Morgan chose your name for me."
"Oh?" His eyes lit up.
Clearly, she respected him. Perhaps, despite their opposing sides, they might even forge some bond of camaraderie...
"Truly? My life held many feats. Which, I wonder, do you find most admirable?" he asked with a smile.
"Why, of course—" Melusine burst into laughter. "What impresses me most is how you stole your own King's wife—Guinevere herself—from Artoria, making her your lover! That's amazing! I want to learn from you!"
"...?" Lancelot froze, expression stiff.
"So, will you teach me your tricks? Honestly, I'd like to steal our Guinevere in the Fairy Kingdom. The funny thing is, both Morgan and Artoria fancy him already, and they knew him before I did! You have to tell me how to steal him away!"
Her words made his face darken.
For she had struck directly at his deepest wound—the betrayal he regretted most in life. Only now did he realize she hadn't been praising him at all. Every word until now had been mockery.
Still oblivious, Melusine prattled on:
"Hey, don't go quiet on me. Teach me a few moves, and I'll spare you on the battlefield—"
"Are you... mocking me?!"
Lancelot roared, cutting her off. Without another word, he charged, blade gleaming.
Melusine blinked, baffled.
"What? Why so mad? I was complimenting you!"
She dodged his swing, feeling his murderous intent, and her temper flared in turn.
"Tch! I was trying to be nice, but if it's a fight you want, fine! Last time I was injured only because the Lion King interfered. One-on-one, you think I'm just clay to be molded?"
She flicked her wrists; the scabbards behind them flipped forward. Magical energy surged into them, transforming into her dual wrist-blades. With a cry, she slashed toward him—
"Seya!"