"Eh? So you're saying, this Mordred right now… has become the same Mordred we met back in London?"
After roughly piecing together what had happened, Artoria asked with surprise.
Hearing that, Mordred thought for a moment, and after sorting out what had just transpired, slowly replied:
"Strictly speaking, it's not that I am the same one as the me from London. It's more accurate to say that Mother used me as the vessel to perform a summoning of myself—the version of me that carries the London records. The result wasn't any change in my stats or attributes, but rather that the records between the two of us got shared. So right now, I'm both the Mordred of the Holy City Knights, and the Mordred of London…"
Her gaze shifted not far away, toward Guinevere.
"—Ah, speaking of which, isn't that Guinevere over there? He should understand this, right? I remember him saying he had been a vessel for both Freshblood-kun and a Holy Sword wielder at the same time or something like that…"
"Indeed… Though, didn't Mordred just rattle off something awfully complicated?"
Guinevere walked slowly to her side, rubbing his chin.
"Kind of unexpected… For Mordred to sort out that mess so clearly feels just a bit out of character, doesn't it?"
"What's this 'out of character' nonsense… Forget it, not important. But I can tell you definitely didn't mean anything nice by that just now, did you? You think I'm an idiot, don't you?"
With that, Mordred lunged at him, fist raised. But just before her punch landed, she pulled her force back, tapping him lightly on the chest instead, and suddenly burst into hearty laughter:
"Long time no see, Master!"
"…Yeah. It really has been a long time."
Guinevere extended his fist, bumping it against hers. The two exchanged a smile.
Everything was understood without words.
Meanwhile, with Mordred successfully persuaded to switch sides, the battle at the city gate was finally over.
But just as the group began to consider how to break through the gates, Camelot's massive doors suddenly swung open on their own, revealing empty streets beyond.
"What's going on? Did they suddenly withdraw their defenses?"
Bargast frowned in puzzlement.
"They're waiting for us to step inside," Guinevere said, moving to the gate and peering into the streets.
"There must be traps prepared within, waiting for us the moment we enter… Agravain's plan was made on the assumption that our overall strength exceeded theirs. Which means inside, there's definitely some grand setup waiting for us."
"Then…" Artoria, who had just joined them, paused a moment in thought before turning back to Mordred, who was loitering at the rear.
"Mordred, what kind of plan did they prepare inside?"
"Eh? How would I know…"
As much as she wanted to impress this especially gentle Father and Guinevere both, she truly had no idea. Scratching her head, she admitted regretfully:
"Because Agravain's only order for me was to launch myself into the battlefield as soon as Gawain gave the signal, then wreak havoc until I completely burned out, killing as many as I could before dying… As for what else they were planning, I wasn't told a thing."
"Then what should we do?" Bargast asked. "If stepping inside means walking into a trap… shouldn't we just stay out here?"
"If we do that, it could also be their Empty City stratagem," Guinevere shook his head. "There's nothing to discuss. Soldiers block soldiers, water blocks floods—that's all there is. Other than advancing, we have no choice."
He paused, then added:
"But when we go in, we should split into groups, to avoid being wiped out all at once—though, it's possible that's exactly what they want us to do. If we divide our strength, they could pick us off one by one."
"Eh?" Artoria blinked, feeling her brain overloading. "So… what do we actually do?"
"Simple. Even if we split, we stay close enough to support one another quickly. Each squad must have enough power to at least hold out against multiple Knights of the Round Table until help arrives. Melusine's the fastest, so she leads as vanguard with the first squad. Bargast is best at defense, so she holds the middle as anchor in the second squad. I'll stay in the third, so I can move to reinforce any side as needed."
"And if each squad brings along one member of Chaldea, then Chaldea's Spiritron communication will allow us to stay linked."
"Ah, that works." Fujimaru Ritsuka nodded, tapping her fist into her palm. "In that case, I'll go with Guinevere-senpai!"
The moment she said that, Nocknare stiffened, her eyes darting between Ritsuka and Guinevere before she quickly interjected:
"In that case, I'll join Guinevere too."
"No, Nocknare—you're best suited to the middle squad, so your buffs can reach everyone," Guinevere shook his head.
"This…" Nocknare bit her lip, then her eyes flashed toward Artoria. "Then Artoria, you go with Guinevere."
She leaned in close, lowering her voice.
"Keep a close eye on that Fujimaru girl, understand?"
"Eh?" Artoria blinked. "Why would I watch her?"
"You haven't noticed? No wonder you're always having your men stolen from under you!" Nocknare hissed in frustration. "That girl's dangerous! I saw it last time in the Fate Simulation—her relationship with Guinevere is definitely unusual!"
"Oh, that…" Artoria frowned in thought, then nodded slightly. "I remember now. But wasn't it Guinevere—no, Guinevere when possessed by Freshblood-kun's darker side—who provoked her first? Ritsuka herself is a good person. We're friends, actually. She even helped mediate when Guinevere and I argued before…"
"And so—?" Nocknare dragged the word out. "Aren't I your good friend too? You'd be fine handing Guinevere over to me?"
"Of course not—" Artoria's eyes narrowed. "I get your point. I'll watch her."
"Eh? Father's going with Master?" Mordred had come bouncing over by now. "Then I'm joining you too!"
"…And what's this supposed to be?" Nocknare pointed at Mordred. "This blonde brat calling you 'Father' and Guinevere 'Master'—should I consider her a threat?"
"Pfft, relax." Artoria patted her shoulder. "Mordred calls me Father. What kind of child steals their own parent's partner?"
"…Fine." Nocknare didn't look entirely convinced, but she let it go.
…
Thus, following Guinevere's plan, the group divided themselves:
Squad One: Melusine, Mash, and Gareth.
Squad Two: Bargast, Nocknare, and Koyanskaya.
Squad Three: Guinevere, Ritsuka, Artoria, Mordred, and Bedivere.
As for Touta, who had been badly injured in the earlier fighting—though not fatally, he was in no condition to continue. Naturally, Xuanzang stayed behind to care for him. With the heavy casualties among their allied troops, Da Vinci and Nitocris also remained—Da Vinci tending the wounded with her gadgets, and Nitocris guiding the souls of the dead to rest.
It was only while organizing the squads that Guinevere realized something.
"Where's Bavanzi? And the Hassan of the Hundred Faces and the Cursed Arm? They're missing too."
"Ah—Bavanzi said she spotted Tristan's trail and went after him directly," Artoria replied. "As for Cursed Arm and Hundred Faces, they probably followed her."
"…I see."
Guinevere couldn't help worrying. He knew Bavanzi well. Against this reversed, blessed Tristan—possibly further empowered by the Lion King—her chances were slim. Even with two Hassans, the odds were poor.
But then again… she had been training relentlessly under Morgan's tutelage in the mountains. If she dared face Tristan now, then surely she had grown stronger.
"…No matter. At this point, the only path is forward."
He shook his head.
"Move out."
…
Meanwhile, at the very heart of Camelot, inside the central tower, Agravain was hard at work.
"Report the situation at the front."
"Yes, my lord." A Knight of Purification bowed deeply.
"Sir Lancelot sends word: his cavalry charge went as planned, and together with Sir Mordred, they annihilated about sixty percent of the enemy forces."
"However, later reports state that Sir Mordred has apparently been turned and has now entered Camelot with the enemy."
"Sir Tristan reports he has engaged enemy pursuers in the city, and will return once he's crushed them."
"Sir Gawain reports that the enemy has entered the city. As you predicted, they split their forces into squads rather than staying together. However, their spacing is tight—they can support each other at any time."
"As expected, their commander avoided such simple mistakes. We won't be able to wipe them out in one stroke with the King's Holy Lance. Nor can we isolate and destroy them piecemeal if they support one another…"
Agravain rubbed his chin, pondered a moment, then turned toward the throne behind him.
"Your Majesty. We can waste no more time. I beg you—issue your judgment. Summon forth the Tower at the End."
"And reshape Camelot into the form you desire."
…
"Wait—mana readings just spiked off the charts!"
At the same time, Romani's spiritron projection appeared beside the marching squads.
"This signature—it's on the scale of a temporal collapse! Everyone, be careful!"
The words had barely left him when the earth under their feet convulsed violently. At the city's four corners, anchor-like devices erupted from the ground. The entire city of Camelot shook violently.
Countless beams of light shot skyward, obliterating everything above them. Buildings were shattered, vaporized. The city was cut apart into countless fragments—some drawn upward into the heavens, forming countless floating islands, others tumbling downward into the abyss below.
At the center, the royal throne itself rose ever higher, revealing beneath it the body of a colossal spiral tower that soared into the clouds.
"This… is the true form of the Tower at the End?"
In the chaos, the three squads—once close enough to aid each other—were forcibly split apart.
And the upheaval wasn't over.
From the central tower, searing beams of light erupted, lancing outward in every direction, sweeping across the floating islands like a divine scourge.