An EX-rank anti-army Noble Phantasm—an independent Servant's mass summoning.
A breathtaking treasure of EX-level might. Each summoned Servant bore a glorious name in legend—they were all heroic warriors who had once fought alongside the great Iskandar.
Everyone was speechless. Even Archer, who also possessed an EX-level Noble Phantasm, no longer sneered after witnessing such a dazzling army.
Heroes who staked their lives on a king's dream, galloping across the battlefield beside him.
Loyalty and righteousness that never ended with death—Iskandar had turned this into a miracle of a Noble Phantasm.
Saber was shaken.
Not because she feared the Noble Phantasm's destructive power—
—but because it shook her pride, the very ideals she stood for.
This perfect unity...
A bond between king and subject, elevated to the level of a treasure...
This—was something the knight-king, in all her pursuit of ideals, had never achieved.
She had lost. Though she had vowed to prove her own kingship with her sword, standing before this perfect manifestation of royal authority, she knew it—
She had been defeated.
This king—backed by unwavering support from subjects who followed him even in death—
Truly… he had outshone her.
"A king… must live more genuinely than anyone else… must be someone the people admire!"
Straddling his beloved steed, Rider roared with pride. His heroic spirits responded by slamming their shields and shouting in unison.
"The one who gathers the resolve of all warriors and leads them in conquest—that is a king.
Therefore…"
"A king is not solitary.
For his will is the embodiment of the will of his people!"
"Indeed! Indeed! Indeed!"
The heroic spirits' thunderous chants soared through the sky. No enemy, no obstacle, could stand against the Conqueror King and his loyal friends. Their high spirits could part earth and split seas.
And so, to the Assassins, they were nothing more than fleeting clouds in the face of a storm.
"Enough—begin, Assassins."
A fierce and bloodthirsty grin appeared once more on Rider's face.
To refuse his wine and threaten his Master—he had never planned to show mercy.
"Trample them."
Without hesitation, Rider gave the command. And then...
Amidst the cries of his warriors, the long-slumbering iron-blooded army once again bared its fangs within the steel jungle of the modern city.
They forgot the Holy Grail, forgot victory, forgot their orders.
They had lost themselves in battle.
Some ran.
Some screamed in despair.
Some stood frozen.
The skull-masked Assassins, thrown into chaos, were no more than a disorderly mob.
This—was a massacre.
Yoru shielded Irisviel at the edge of the battlefield, watching a scene that stole the breath away.
So this… is the power of a Servant?
In the face of such overwhelming might, one's individual strength truly seemed tiny—laughable, even.
Yoru had once been confident in his chances of winning.
But now, witnessing this...
He began to doubt.
Before power this immense… what can I actually do?
Beside him, Flandre seemed to sense his thoughts. The girl turned to him with a faint, reassuring smile.
"Master, thinking like that is unfair, you know. The Holy Grail War is a battle fought together by Master and Servant. Leaving me out is not allowed."
"Ah… that's true. No matter how powerful a Servant may be, we'll just defeat them."
"Yes. Flandre will claim victory for you, Master—in the name of the Scarlet!"
Wherever the Army of the King marched, no trace of the Assassins remained.
Only the scent of blood and swirling dust lingered in the air.
"UWOOHH!!"
The victorious roar echoed.
Offering their triumph to their king, praising his name, the heroic spirits—having fulfilled their mission—vanished into spirit form and disappeared into the distance.
With their combined magical energy withdrawn, the barrier that had formed the realm collapsed. Everything shattered like a dream.
The scenery returned to its original state—the quiet night.
The few left standing were once again back in the courtyard of Castle Einzbern.
The pure white moonlight shone silently.
There wasn't even a speck of dust in the air.
The three Servants stood in their original positions, once again raising their cups.
The Assassins were gone.
Only the broken remains of a ladle handle hinted that any of it had happened at all.
"What a buzzkill."
Rider muttered nonchalantly and finished off the remaining wine in his cup.
Saber gave no reply.
Archer let out a scoff, his expression tinged with annoyance.
"Tch. Even if it's just a bunch of weaklings, when enough of them attack at once, even a king has to put in some effort, eh? Rider, you really are an eyesore."
"Let's make this clear. Sooner or later, I'm going to have a proper fight with you."
Rider grinned as he stood up, completely unfazed.
"We've all said our piece. Let's call it a night.
The next time we meet, Saber, we'll be mortal enemies.
I don't know how long you intend to persist on that wrong path of yours, but let me say this—
While your resolve is admirable, I do not recognize you… as a true king!"
"Rider, you—!"
Saber's words were cut short by a deafening thunderclap.
Rider glanced at her meaningfully. He drew the Sword of Alexander and swung it in the air—
Lightning flashed—and with it, a divine chariot pulled by two bulls appeared, roaring into view.
Though it lacked the grandeur of Ionioi Hetairoi, it was no less awe-inspiring.
"Archer, I'd love to fight you, but before that, I have some unfinished business with a certain little girl…
Almost singed my eyebrows—that's a disgrace I can't let slide!"
Rider laughed heartily as he roughly tossed his Master onto the chariot. With a fierce tug of the reins, the thunder-charged chariot shot into the sky.
The roar of thunder echoed behind him as the chariot disappeared toward the eastern horizon.
"Well then… try not to die at the hands of that little girl you mentioned.
It would be such a waste of entertainment."
Archer scoffed, then his body dissolved into golden particles and vanished.
The once-lively courtyard of Castle Einzbern fell silent once again.
And in the end, the only one left—was Saber.
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