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Chapter 429 - Siege

And so, the day of the decisive battle finally arrived.

Across the endless, boundless wilderness, yellow sand swept through the sky. In the middle of the desert, the pure white Holy City stood tall, like an oasis amid the wasteland, an ideal land in a corrupt world. At its very center, the white tower pierced straight into the heavens, blending seamlessly with the azure sky.

At this moment, several kilometers away from the Holy City, countless soldiers were already forming ranks. Noknare stood at the center of the army—while commanding her troops, she also infused the entire force with her immense power.

"Back here again…"

On the eve of battle, Guinivere turned to glance at Fujimaru Ritsuka behind him and asked:

"The decisive moment is nearly here. Are you ready?"

"Well, ready or not, we've got to go through with it now, right?" Ritsuka gave an awkward laugh. "Honestly, I'm a little nervous."

"Eh? Really?" Guinivere was a little surprised. "I thought, as the Master of Chaldea, you'd already experienced so many major battles that something like this would feel natural to you."

"Well, it sounds good when you say it like that, but I'm just an ordinary person, you know? One stray arrow could easily kill me." Ritsuka pointed to herself. "I need protection, Guinivere-senpai."

"No problem! Leave it to me!"

Before Guinivere could reply, Mash suddenly popped up from who-knows-where, bent her arm, and struck a muscle-flexing pose:

"Let me protect senpai!"

But after saying that, she noticed Guinivere and Ritsuka staring at her in surprise. Pausing for half a second, she seemed to suddenly realize something, and her expression turned awkward:

"Um… did I just interrupt you two?"

"Of course not!" Catching Mash's embarrassment, Ritsuka immediately rushed over and hugged her tightly. "Mash has always been super reliable! I've depended on her so much! Honestly, I was just about to say we only made it this far thanks to her!"

"Eh? Really?" Mash scratched her head, half unconvinced.

After all, it still felt like she had interrupted her senpai and Guinivere's private moment.

"Why would I lie? And now that you know the heroic spirit possessing you is Sir Galahad, you'll only become stronger!" Ritsuka continued, before suddenly changing the subject:

"But honestly, Mashu and I only made it this far thanks to all the Servants we've met at the singularities… especially you, Guinivere-senpai. This is already the fourth time we've encountered you in a singularity!"

Saying this, Ritsuka turned back, winked at Guinivere, and grinned:

"So once again, I'll be counting on you, Will-senpai! And this time—please watch me closely!"

That was what she said. After Guinivere responded briefly, she quickly walked away toward her assigned position in the battle plan. Yet only after she left did Guinivere suddenly realize—her words, "please watch me closely," might not only have meant "keep an eye on me in battle."

But whether that "other" meaning was truly what he thought—it was unclear.

"The Holy City is within reach. The enemy has clearly noticed our advance. They've stationed heavy defenses at the main gate, and scouts have already reported sightings of Gawain's movements."

Just then, Noknare came to Guinivere's side and said:

"Are you ready, Guinivere? The battle is about to begin."

"Yes." Guinivere nodded lightly. "Let's go."

A harsh, killing wind blew across the battlefield—slipping past the armor of knights on the wall, through the chipped blades of the mountain folk, stirring the wild sands into a storm.

Riding side by side with Guinivere at the very front line, Noknare drew a deep breath. With her voice amplified by magic, she called out to the soldiers behind her:

"Everyone—you already understand clearly why we are fighting this battle."

"If we cannot stop the Lion King, not only you here, but your families, your friends, your children—they will all die."

"Today, we are here because we have no retreat left. If we do not fight, we cannot survive."

"So, to live—and to let those dearest to you live—"

She paused for a moment, then shouted loudly:

"Army—charge!"

At her command, the shrill horns of assault tore through the desert sky. All those gathered here to fight for survival let out roars, shouting to banish fear, gripping their blades tighter, and storming toward the Holy City.

On the other side, the knights of the Holy City had long been waiting.

Countless knights stepped out from cover, quickly drawing bows and nocking arrows. They waited, ready to unleash a rain of death once the enemy entered range.

Seeing this, riding at the very front, Noknare immediately shouted:

"Army, form the Mountain—ugh!"

Just as she was about to raise the army's defense, her face suddenly changed. She raised her hand, conjuring a magical barrier—and in the next instant, a deep gash tore across it. More followed, slicing through until the shield split apart.

But the barrier had done its job—it bought precious time. Guinivere rushed up beside her, swung his knight's sword forward, and with the runes overloaded, the mighty Calia unleashed a radiant blue blade over ten meters long, cutting down the wave of invisible air blades that followed.

"What the—? That attack was completely silent? And from this distance…?" Noknare's face darkened.

"It's Tristan of the Round Table…" Guinivere spat. "Looks like getting through the main gate won't just mean dealing with Gawain."

He turned his gaze to the city wall. Among the knights with drawn bows, one with fiery red hair stood out clearly.

"In that case…"

Guinivere pressed a hand to his chest.

"It's time for me to go all out."

Meanwhile, atop the Holy City's wall, Tristan—the one who had just launched the ambush—frowned slightly.

"What a pity. I failed to behead the enemy commander at once. They've already grown cautious and begun their defenses… In that case, I'll switch to slaughtering their regular soldiers. Before they reach us, I should be able to kill several thousand—"

But halfway through his words, a chill of mortal danger suddenly struck him. His battle-honed instincts screamed—someone extremely dangerous had locked onto him.

Without hesitation, Tristan dove to the side. In the same instant, a streak of light shot up from below, slamming into the spot where he had just stood.

But before he could feel relief, that arrow struck the battlement, ricocheted off the city's powerful magical wards, and curved back toward his new position on the ground.

"…So there's another troublesome archer? That's… far from delightful. Judging from Arash's injuries, he shouldn't even be able to draw a bow now… so the coalition has another archer of this level?"

Yanking the arrow from his side, Tristan climbed back up, but no longer dared show himself over the wall. If not for his lightning reflexes—knocking the arrow aside with an air blade at the last second—his throat would already have been pierced.

The sheer speed of that shot, the calculation to hit his evasion point with a rebound—it was enough to make him wary.

Keeping low, he darted across the wall under cover. Before the next exchange, he would have to reposition.

"So, hiding again? Tch. Typical of him."

Lowering his bow, Guinivere muttered calmly.

Beside him, Noknare was staring in shock.

"Guinivere? Since when were you so skilled with a bow—? No, wait."

She suddenly realized:

"You've already invoked King Lot? But… was Lot truly that skilled at archery?"

"Yes." Guinivere smirked. "Though I dislike the title, I was champion of every contest in every neighboring kingdom during my life. Archery included. Tristan? He was one of my old defeated rivals."

Patting Noknare's shoulder, he continued:

"Alright. He won't dare show himself for a while. Let's use this chance to break down the gate."

With his reminder, Noknare snapped back to her duty, resuming command of the battlefield. Meanwhile, with Tristan hiding, the morale of the Suppression Knights on the wall faltered noticeably.

Just as Noknare prepared to seize this opportunity and press the siege, some of her soldiers happened to glance skyward.

And the courage they had struggled to hold together crumbled instantly.

"G—God…"

One by one, soldiers froze. Some collapsed to their knees outright, overwhelmed by despair. The sound of dropped weapons clattered across the ranks.

And Noknare could not even scold them—for even she, their commander, understood their feelings.

From above, descending vast and incomprehensible, wreathed in golden holy radiance, like an inverted mountain falling from the heavens—was the conical tip of a spear.

Even Noknare trembled. The soldiers quaked at its sheer size, but she could feel the overwhelming magical energy radiating from that holy lance.

She had only felt something similar twice before: once when facing Cernunnos, and once when confronted with the flames of the Crimson King.

At that moment, another vast surge of magical power rose from the army's rear.

"Artoria."

Clutching her jet-black cruciform lance, Morgan raised her head toward the Holy City. Her gaze seemed to pierce the entire battlefield, locking onto the Lion King seated atop the white tower.

"The days of you doing as you please with the Holy Lance are over."

She declared.

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