"W-Why are there so many of them?!"
Waver stared at the circle of Assassins closing in step by step, and couldn't help but cry out in disbelief. To him, this overwhelming number felt like blatant cheating.
"We are a Servant whose whole is made up of its parts. Each individual is merely a shadow of the whole."
The Assassins advanced as they spoke in a slow, ghostly tone.
Were they trying to rely on sheer numbers? Did they even understand who they were facing?
Saber scoffed inwardly as she watched the Assassins close in. Their numbers might be impressive, but not enough to frighten her. At best, they could pose a threat to ordinary people—like Rider's Master or Yoru's wife.
But it seemed Yoru had already made preparations, and Rider wasn't someone to be taken lightly. These Assassins would find no easy prey here.
Then what was their real purpose? This suicidal assault—charging head-on into four powerful Servants—who had given these mere Assassins such confidence?
It wasn't confidence. As Servants summoned to seek the Holy Grail, the Assassins certainly had the desire to win. But this kind of reckless suicide attack was totally against their doctrine.
Unfortunately for them, they couldn't defy a Command Seal.
For this operation tonight, Kirei Kotomine had used one Command Seal—"Succeed at all costs, even if it means your lives."
A Command Seal was an absolute order. With that, they had no choice but to obey.
They felt a perverse pleasure watching the famed and mighty Saber tense herself in caution, but she was not their target. Their designated objective was Rider's Master. Rider's Noble Phantasm was powerful, but its force was directional. If the Assassins attacked from all sides, that cowardly little Master was sure to be caught in the net.
For Iskandar the Conqueror, this was a moment of grave danger.
And yet… why was the massive Servant still calmly sipping his wine?
"...Ri–Rider, hey… hey!"
Even as Waver called out anxiously, Rider made no move. He simply glanced around at the surrounding Assassins, his gaze calm and unwavering.
"Relax, kid. Don't panic. So some unexpected guests showed up at our banquet—just drink your wine."
"They don't look like guests at all!!"
Rider sighed with a wry smile and turned to the Assassins, raising his voice in a deliberately casual tone.
"Hey, everyone. Mind toning down that creepy aura a bit? You're scaring my friend here."
Saber thought she'd misheard. Even Archer furrowed his brows in displeasure.
"Don't tell me… you intend to invite them to join the feast, Conqueror King?"
"Of course. A king's proclamation should be heard by all. If someone comes to listen—friend or foe, it doesn't matter."
Rider said it plainly, then dipped a ladle into his wine jug and extended it toward the Assassins.
"Here, don't be shy. If you'd like to drink with us, take a cup yourself. This wine is as red as your blood."
Whoosh—a sharp sound cut through the air in response.
Only the handle remained in Rider's hand; the ladle had been shot down and fallen to the ground. One of the Assassins had done it. The wine splashed across the center of the courtyard.
"..."
Rider silently looked down at the spilled wine on the ground. The skull-masked figures laughed mockingly, as if ridiculing him.
"What an ill-mannered bunch…" Rider shook his head and sighed, his voice calm—but noticeably different from the lighthearted tone earlier.
"I already told you: this wine and your blood are one and the same. Since you've chosen to let it spill…"
Before he finished his sentence, a scorching whirlwind erupted on the spot, as if it sought to incinerate everything in its path. This wasn't a forest wind, nor anything one would expect in a castle courtyard at night—it was the wind of the desert, roaring in their ears.
Waver coughed and spat—there was sand in his mouth. Real, gritty desert sand.
"Saber, and the rest of you—before this banquet ends tonight, let me ask you this:
Is a king meant to stand alone?"
Now clad in full battle gear, his massive cloak billowing behind him, Rider sat atop his steed and addressed those behind him.
"A king is naturally solitary!"
Saber replied immediately, her voice firm and unwavering.
"Tch…"
Archer merely gave a dismissive scoff at Rider's question, as if mocking its very premise.
Flandre gave no answer. For her, such questions had no meaning. As a member of the bloodline royalty, the hierarchy was absolute. She and her sister didn't need to feign the dignity of a king—the loyalty of their kind was guaranteed by blood.
Rider laughed heartily. In response, the wind grew fiercer.
"No one's given me a real answer! Very well—tonight, let me show you what it means to be a true king!"
A strange, dry wind tore through reality, then overturned it.
In that bizarre phenomenon, distance and position lost all meaning. The arid storm transformed everything it touched.
"H-How is this happening?!"
Both Waver and Irisviel cried out in surprise. What was unfolding before them was beyond anything an ordinary person could fathom.
"Is that… an Inner World?!"
The blazing sun, a vast clear sky, and a horizon blurred by sand. There were no trees, no walls, no buildings—just an endless desert battlefield.
That the Einzbern castle's courtyard had become this in an instant made it clear: this was no illusion. This was the pinnacle of sorcery—a miracle in itself.
"An Inner World…?"
Even Yoru, who wasn't unfamiliar with such knowledge, was struck by the miraculous scene before him. He knew full well what it meant.
An Inner World (Reality Marble)—the ultimate expression of a magus' will.
A self-contained world that distorted and overlaid reality. One of the highest and rarest forms of magic.
"There's no way I could construct something like this on my own."
Rider let out a booming laugh.
"This is the land my army once marched across. The landscape engraved in the hearts of my warriors—men who fought and bled beside me."
"Now witness them—my peerless army!"
With boundless pride, the Conqueror King stood before the assembled cavalry, raising his arms high and shouting.
"Even if their bodies have perished, their heroic spirits still answer my call.
They are the loyal warriors of legend, my eternal comrades across time and space.
They are my greatest treasure—my kingly pride—Iskandar's ultimate Noble Phantasm:
'Ionioi Hetairoi: Army of the King!'"
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