our azure spear blades slowly rotated, the sword-staff in her hand shimmering brilliantly.
Having once again reached her final ascension form, Artoria adjusted the tiny, radiant golden crown that had just appeared atop her head. Slowly, she stepped forward, taking her place before Guinevere.
The Lion King was not wrong.
A shadow born from a Saint Graph without a soul could never truly compare to the genuine article—much less one who had already transcended into divinity.
Thus, Artoria quickly changed her strategy. Her Sublime King form, aside from allowing her to summon various Saint Graph shadows of herself like a summoner, had another use… She could directly transform into one of her own classes and fight personally.
Up until now, she had rarely used this method—the effectiveness of simply summoning a legion of herself to overwhelm enemies was usually too good to pass up. But now, facing the Lion King, she understood: no matter how many Saint Graph shadows she summoned, they would all be a waste of magical energy.
In that case, she would take the field herself.
And so, Artoria chose her Caster self—one she had once glimpsed in the Fourth Singularity, the future self she knew she would one day become.
She was certain that this form represented her strongest potential.
"Marmyadose…"
On the other side, after knocking Artoria's sword-staff out of her hand, the Lion King's gaze fell upon the weapon that had just returned to Artoria's grip. She murmured softly.
"What did you say?" Artoria blinked.
"Oh? You wield that blade, yet you don't even know its name?" The Lion King raised a brow, her tone calm and faintly amused.
"Ah?" Artoria blinked again. "You mean this sword is called… Marmyadose?"
"Yes. That is the Divine Armament Marmyadose—a legendary greatsword said to have been forged by the god of fire and presented to a great hero. Its might rivals even Excalibur. In the past, when I lent Excalibur to Gawain, I wielded this blade instead," the Lion King explained calmly. "And I suppose you also do not know the names of the four floating swords behind you—those are the Shadows of the Wind, the Cavnarn."
"I… I see." Guinevere could tell that despite Artoria's attempt to maintain a serious expression, her voice now carried unmistakable embarrassment.
"In that case, this form of yours must not be one your present self can truly attain. It may belong to you, but it is not yet *yours*. This power you wield—borrowed."
Then, the Lion King's voice turned cold.
"With such borrowed strength alone, you can still accomplish nothing."
"Your fate remains the same—defeat."
As she spoke, the Lion King raised Rhongomyniad and lightly thrust it forward. Instantly, several azure spear-shaped beams of light formed around it, shooting rapidly toward Artoria.
"Hmph. Enough boasting. I'll beat you until you can't stand."
Artoria snorted, slamming Marmyadose into the ground. The four azure blades behind her—the Cavnarn—shot forth to meet the oncoming beams, clashing head-on and shattering them one by one.
But at that moment, the Lion King advanced again, her holy lance roaring with a spiral of raging mana, forming a massive vortex as she struck toward Artoria.
This time, however, Artoria was no longer flustered. She stepped back once—then, before her foot even touched the ground, her body flickered and vanished into thin air. The Lion King's eyes narrowed sharply. She halted her attack, spun around, and thrust Rhongomyniad behind her, releasing a burst of golden energy from the tip.
Artoria reappeared just as the golden beam shot straight toward her.
With no time to dodge, she let out a sharp cry, swung Marmyadose with both hands, and the blade extended slightly—its edge gleaming gold as it met the beam head-on. The two forces collided, detonating into a violent explosion that sent a powerful wind howling through the air.
"So you can use Spumeda, the Thunder of the Spear, as well? It seems this form switch has truly strengthened you…" The Lion King's tone was calm, yet an edge of excitement glimmered within it. "Enough that I may have to take this a little more seriously."
With that, she raised her hand.
The holy lance stood upright before her, its tip pressing lightly into the ground. Streams of mana, like branches of light, began to descend from the heavens, converging upon the spear.
"Come, and behold—the truth revealed once I peel back the skin of the world itself… Holy Lance—Anchor of the Storm."
Her incantation was calm, solemn—nothing like the battle cries of the Lancer-class Artoria in games or legends. Yet the pressure of her Noble Phantasm was overwhelming, serene yet suffocating.
"—That which rends the heavens and binds the earth, the storm's anchor—"
As she spoke, Rhongomyniad sank deeper into the ground. The floor beneath her feet melted into molten light, glowing like magma, spreading outward in radiant veins.
"—The light fired from the world's end—"
Streams of mana surged upward like countless ribbons, converging high above. And then—just as they had once witnessed at the front gate—a colossal golden lance formed in the sky once more.
"Damn, that mana reading is off the charts…! Where's Morgan? Didn't she say she'd handle the Lion King when this happened?!" Romani shouted, eyes wide at the instruments.
"Who knows? Maybe stuck in traffic," Guinevere sighed, shaking his head. "My dear accomplice can be reliable—most of the time—but sometimes she drops the ball at the worst moment."
Even as he spoke, his hand tightened around his sword hilt, silently calculating whether combining Chainsaw Man transformation and Holy Judgment could possibly block that strike. The odds weren't good—but not impossible.
Yet before he could act, Artoria's voice rang out:
"Everyone, stay behind me! Leave this to me!"
She thrust Marmyadose forward.
"—Activate Final Defensive Protocol: Suppression of the Apocalypse."
Golden light burst forth, enveloping everyone except the Lion King.
For a brief instant, all felt as though they were no longer atop the Tower at the End—but upon the battlements of a western fortress, one that resembled Camelot itself. Artoria stood upon the rampart, her back to them, as the floating swords of Cavnarn rotated rapidly in formation behind her.
"—Round of Avalon!"
Her voice rang clear. Golden sigils bloomed in the air around everyone—each a flower of four diamond-shaped petals. The sigils flashed once, then vanished, leaving their blessings etched upon all.
When the massive golden lance of doom fell from the heavens, the apocalyptic energy struck—but met an invisible barrier. The mana torrent that should have obliterated them instead split harmlessly around the group, absorbed into the ground as though it had never been.
"I see… so that was Anti-Purge Defense." The Lion King murmured, narrowing her eyes. "I take back what I said. You truly can trouble me… a little."
She closed her eyes briefly.
"—But without the full strength of that form, you will never truly stand against me."
"The real battle begins now."
The Lion King lifted her holy lance once more.
And from that moment—something changed.
Massive flows of mana erupted from Rhongomyniad, intertwining and expanding upward, spreading like roots and branches until a colossal, tree-like formation filled the sky.
"…A fantasy tree?" Guinevere muttered, staring up at the towering structure. "Come to think of it, the Sixth Singularity was already an anomaly… This resemblance to the Lostbelts—could this pseudo-Lostbelt's 'tree' be the Lion King's lance itself?"
His musings went largely unheard—save by Ritsuka Fujimaru beside him, who could only look bewildered at words like "Lostbelt" and "Fantasy Tree."
Meanwhile, the surrounding world began to shift. Gone were the crashing waves of the world's end—in their place stood a decayed, ancient city, its ruins weathered by time.
"Camelot?" whispered the half of King Lot's soul within Guinevere, recognizing the scene instantly.
The group now stood upon the bridge before Camelot's gates. The Lion King waited at the entrance, silent and regal.
"A Reality Marble? No… there's no special effect field here. More likely a manifestation of her inner world," Romani observed grimly.
"Perhaps," Guinevere murmured, gazing at the faded city. "That woman… she really is trapped forever in the past."
But before they could reflect further, the Lion King's next assault arrived. The countless spear-branches of Rhongomyniad's "tree" lashed outward, shattering everything in their path—and surging toward the group.
"So this is your 'true battle'? Pathetic."
Artoria shook her head calmly. "Then it's my turn. Go forth—Cavnarn!"
At her command, the azure swords trembled, ready to fly. Yet—
"Eh?"
Artoria blinked. The swords vanished midair. She looked down—her Marmyadose, her armor, even her little crown—all gone.
She was back to her base form.
"No…!" Artoria's face turned pale. "The Sublime King form's duration… it's reached its limit…"