Recovering from a back injury. I swear, this chapter would had gone better were it not for my pain and the painkillers.
Now I'm too lazy to revise the chapter.
EDIT: Fixed a few sentences.
EDIT: Added a few sentences to convey some character reasoning.
Chapter 2:
The courtyard was in chaos as two figures clashed amidst the castle walls, their movements a blur, sparks flying with each strike, and shockwaves reverberating through the stonework. The knight and the 'assassin' danced a deadly ballet, their battle painting the castle in streaks of light and shadow.
Lancelot, the Knight of the Lake, engaged the exotic, tanned assassin with restraint. He held back the full might of Arondight, mindful of the innocents and the castle's integrity. Known as the strongest among the Knights of the Round Table, Lancelot's reputation was well-earned. Yet, with Sir Tristan's departure and the hollow echoes of past praise, Lancelot found his honor and duty as a knight more significant than ever, especially in the service of his King. And now, he had failed that honor, allowing this assassin to infiltrate the King's personal chamber. Anger and frustration fueled his every strike, his focus dedicated completely on the intruder who had dared such an affront.
SHING! CLANG! CLANG!
'Dishonorable cur,' Lancelot thought, but not one easily dispatched. This assassin was surprisingly skilled.
The assassin moved with fluid grace, wielding twin blades—one black, one white—that danced like serpents in his hands. He parried Lancelot's strikes with perfect precision, retreating just enough to avoid being overwhelmed. Lancelot pressed his advantage, driving the assassin back with a flurry of powerful blows. Despite the difference in strength and skill, the assassin's defensive swordsmanship held firm, his movements were clear and pure as he parried and deflected each strike without flaw.
'He's keeping up with me too well…' Lancelot's keen eyes analyzed the assassin's every movement, appearance, and abilities.
The young man is a magus. He had white hair, steely grey eyes, and tanned skin. His tattered clothes bore the marks of a previous battle, cuts and tears suggesting he had faced another opponent not long ago. But what irritated him the most was the stoic and calm expression the assassin held throughout their battle, with the only expression the assassin made being a scowl, clenched teeth, and narrowed eyes whenever Lancelot gained the advantage or surprised him. And yet, he was never able to land a decisive blow to put down the assassin.
"Enough of this folly!" Driven by frustration, Lancelot decided it was time to unleash a fraction of Arondight's power.
His blade began to glow with an ethereal light, and the air around it hummed with energy. The ground beneath Lancelot's feet cracked and splintered as he channeled the weapon's might. Seeing the change, the assassin's eyes narrowed as mana began to swirl around him.
"No more games, huh?" the assassin muttered. He stepped back and, with a swift motion, summoned an array of swords. They materialized in a circle around them, their tips pointed menacingly at Lancelot.
The Knight of the Lake suppressed his surprise, his battle instincts kicking in. He could feel the power emanating from each of the floating swords, recognizing each of them as formidable weapons. With a flick of his wrist, the assassin sent the swords hurtling towards the knight. Lancelot braced himself, swinging Arondight in a wide arc. The enchanted blade cut through the incoming projectiles, sparks flying as metal met metal.
SHINGSHINGSHINGCLANGSHING!
The assault was relentless. More swords materialized around the assassin, firing in rapid succession as he backpedaled to escape.
'He's escaping, damnable coward!' Noticing that the courtyard had cleared of people and determined to prevent the assassin's escape, Lancelot tapped deeper into Arondight's power.
"Like the glimmer from the surface of water... burn bright and dazzling, my sacred sword! Arondight Overload!"
SHREEEEEENG!
With a mighty swing, Lancelot unleashed a wave of energy that swept across the courtyard, obliterating the summoned swords in its path. The assassin barely had time to react, leaping back to avoid the devastating strike. Seizing the moment, Lancelot closed the distance between them, his attacks becoming a streak of light. The assassin fought back with equal ferocity, but Lancelot's enhanced strength and speed began to overwhelm him. With a powerful blow, Lancelot disarmed the assassin, sending his twin blades flying.
Just as Lancelot was about to land a decisive strike, the black and white twin blades materialized once more in the assassin's hands, parrying the attack with a metallic shriek that nearly scraped against Lancelot's gauntlet.
SCREEE!
'Damn it!' Lancelot grimaced as he deflected another double strike from the assassin. He was poised to launch a counterattack when a surge of instinctive caution halted him.
"I am the bone of my sword," the assassin growled, swords materialized around them once again, and a spear of unfamiliar design manifested in his hand. "The eleven forms that have secured me a lifetime without defeat."
Hazy Inverted Moon - Eleven Forms!
The assassin's form flickered as mana transformed into a swirling fog, creating ten illusions of the assassin, each brandishing the same spear and adopting various guard stances.
"An assassin skilled with a spear? Who exactly are you?" Lancelot's eyes narrowed as he took a step back, his gaze wary of the shifting stances of the illusions.
"Does it really matter?" The assassin at the center of the illusions shot back. "For a knight growing rabid because of his King's kindness—"
"Hold your tongue, Chien!
"Hmph, how unknightly…"
The illusions coalesced into the assassin's form, and the air crackled with charged energy. In an instant, the assassin launched his attack. A maelstrom of blades erupted from his form, and the ground quaked under the impact of their clash.
/-/
The air was thick with tension. The castle was a hive of activity, with guards and knights rushing through the corridors to bolster security. Servants and noncombatants were swiftly escorted to their quarters, their usual routines upended by the urgency of the situation.
News of the King's near assassination spread rapidly, sparking chaos and concern throughout the realm. Had it not been for Queen Guinevere and Sir Lancelot, who had intervened, the situation might have been far worse. The thunderous clash between the would-be king slayer and the Knight of the Lake had captured the attention of all, even those who had been unaware of the assassination attempt.
"I've secured the King!" Sir Kay called out, shouldering the burden of his unconscious sister. He was flanked by Sir Bedivere, Sir Agravain, and Sir Ector, who provided vital support as they worked to get her to safety.
"Where's Merlin?" Bedivere asked, looking around for the absent mage.
"That useless wizard can contribute elsewhere," Agravain grunted, gesturing for them to move quickly.
"Probably still flirting and oblivious, despite his so-called clairvoyance," Kay muttered darkly.
"Enough chattering! The King's safety is our utmost priority," Ector berated them. "Sir Gawain, Sir Palamedes! We leave the Queen's safety in your charge!"
"Rest assured, we will ensure no harm comes to the Queen!" Gawain declared, turning to Queen Guinevere and guiding her towards the door. "Your Highness, please follow us to safety."
"I'm fine," Guinevere insisted, though she moved with them. "But please, go assist Sir Lancelot! He's still fighting the assassin!" She could feel the battle's intensity echoing through the castle walls. If Lancelot, one of the strongest Knights of the Round Table, hadn't subdued the assassin, the foe must be formidable indeed.
"Rest assured, Your Highness," Gawain said with a reassuring smile. "The other knights are already on their way, including my siblings. They'll be there soon."
"But for an assassin to have managed to infiltrate the King's chamber, render him unconscious, and still hold their own against Sir Lancelot..." Palamedes murmured with concern. He glanced toward the chaotic battleground, the sound of clashing steel and the distant echoes of the struggle punctuating his words.
Gawain tightened his grip on his sword with a scowl. "We need to gather more knights and make a plan, it's likely there are more threats lurking within the castle."
/-/
"Ugh. At least Lancelot isn't all that different from his Servant self," EMIYA muttered as he phased through the castle walls in his spiritual form.
The living Sir Lancelot might not possess the same array of Noble Phantasms his Berserker and Saber forms did, but that didn't diminish his skill or power. Even with EMIYA's Hazy Inverted Moon negating any disadvantages, Lancelot's speed and strength were just as overwhelming as when he was a Servant.
He had barely escaped the Knight of the Lake and was now searching for a place to lie low until Artoria reawakened to clear up the situation. Though he remained invisible and undetectable to most, the Knights of the Round Table were a different matter entirely, likely possessing the means to sense his presence. The castle's design, enhanced by fairies, only complicated matters, with certain areas proving difficult to phase through. As he silently maneuvered through the castle's labyrinthine corridors, he suddenly found himself halted by an unexpected presence.
Merlin, the enigmatic Magus of Flowers, stood before him, holding a bouquet of flower petals with an air of casual elegance.
"Welcome to Camelot!" Merlin declared with a whimsical flourish, tossing the petals into the air. They floated around like a gentle snowfall. "I trust your journey has been... eventful?"
"I'd prefer not to be seen, Merlin," EMIYA said, materializing partially and revealing a bloodied spectral form. His expression was of caution as he regarded the Magus of Flowers. "Unless you're here to clear up this misunderstanding, I'd like to avoid any interaction."
Merlin's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Oh? No gratitude for a simple gesture of hospitality? I've always believed that the petals of the rarest flowers provide a warm welcome to those in need. And you, Artoria's long-lost sheath, seem to be in need of a hiding spot, don't you?"
It seems that this Merlin knows him. Still, EMIYA would not trust the Magus of Flowers, who always enjoy making things 'interesting' for others.
"Not from you."
"Yes, certainly not from me!" Merlin chimed cheerfully, his staff glowing as he tapped it against EMIYA's arm.
Shreng!
Magical energy of dense quality laced around EMIYA, anchoring him firmly to the physical realm. At the same time, shimmering mana chains materialized, wrapping around EMIYA's wrists like elaborate IV drips. The chains pulsed with energy, effectively replacing reliance on Artoria's mana reserves and preventing him from slipping back into his spiritual form.
"Oi! What are these?!" he snapped, eyeing the mana chains.
"Oh, just a little something to keep you grounded," Merlin said with a shrug, still holding the bouquet of flower petals. "I'm rather bored, and you, my heroic spirit friend, will provide far more entertainment than any tournament could. Besides, it's a bit of a problem if you keep drifting through walls and floors."
"I suppose this is your idea of a warm welcome?" EMIYA tried to maneuver his wrists, but the mana chains held firm. Their energy seeped away, drawing mana from elsewhere into him. The amount was substantial, enough to sustain him for a long time without tapping into Artoria's reserves, though it did make his presence more detectable.
"Why, yes!" Merlin said, his grin widening. "Consider it a unique form of hospitality. Now, while you're here, you might as well make yourself comfortable and don't hold back! You wouldn't want to make things harder for yourself than they need to be since you're up against all the Knights of the Round Table."
EMIYA glared at Merlin. "You really enjoy complicating things, don't you?"
"Life would be dreadfully dull otherwise," Merlin replied with a chuckle. "Now, go on. The castle is vast, and you'll find many opportunities to keep yourself entertained. Do put up a good show, but uh, don't destroy too much of the castle. It's sturdy, but not that sturdy."
"Geez, thanks for the help, you shitty wizard," EMIYA scowled, considering whether to use Rule Breaker or Gae Dearg to break these mana chains.
He decided against it. The chains were providing him with extra mana, and with Artoria's condition in question, he didn't want to add any further strain on her. If necessary, he could always break the chains later—he was confident in his ability to evade even the Knights of the Round Table.
"Now, that was uncalled for," Merlin pouted, then grinned impishly. "That reminds me." He channeled mana into his voice and shouted, "I found the assassin! He's within the inner north of the castle!"
Effectively broadcasting his location to every knight in the vicinity, EMIYA's eyes widened in disbelief.
"You traitorous—"
"Good luck!" Merlin interrupted, waving cheerfully before disappearing in a burst of flower petals, leaving EMIYA to deal with the rapidly approaching knights.
"Arrgh! WHY?!"
/-/
Artoria thought she was back at the Battle of Camlann, standing upon a hill of swords.
Her shining armor gleamed beneath a dusk-colored sky, and the blue cloth of her armor swayed in the wind flowing through the mountain. The sky above was a burning crimson, filled with the scent of iron and the distant echoes of clashing steel. The hill was littered with countless swords, their tips planted in the ground, stretching infinitely over the horizon. Each blade told a story, a memory of battles fought and lives lost. For a moment, she believed she was reliving that fateful day.
It took her a moment to realize that this was not Camlann.
No, this was...
RUMBLE!
This was his world—A world of infinite blades, where her future self, the Goddess Rhongomyniad, clashed with her former Master.
In the distance, two figures were locked in combat. Goddess Rhongomyniad, ethereal and divine, wielded the holy sword Excalibur with an unmatched strength and precision. Opposing her was a tanned and grown Shirou Emiya, his twin swords Kanshou and Bakuya flashing with a defiance that burned like a dying star. He turned his entire world against her, summoning countless blades from the ground, the sky, and every direction imaginable. Thousands upon thousands of blades rained and fired upon the goddess, hundreds more he wielded, perfectly replicating the strength and skill of all wielders who had ever held those blades.
But none was a match against a goddess whose might eclipsed his entire arsenal. Still, Shirou fought on, despite being vastly outmatched. He used everything he had, never yielding, never amassing anything, never knowing victory. He fought as if his life had no meaning.
Was this really the same person she once fought alongside?
Yes. It was simply too amazing to accept.
Artoria watched as Shirou continued to resist, rejecting the ideal that the Lion King held. With each strike of his blade, she slowly realized that he had, too, sacrificed his life in pursuit of an ideal, striving to become a hero. Much like how she had sacrificed her own life to become the ideal king. As the intensity of their battle escalated, the tempest of wind and steel around them became almost overwhelming. The very fabric of their world seemed to fracture, and fragments of Shirou's memories began to bleed through the chaos.
/-/
EMIYA found himself driven back into the castle by the relentless patrols of the Knights of the Round Table. Turning a corner, he came face-to-face with one of the Round Table's formidable knights—Mordred.
"Found you!"
"Great," EMIYA muttered under his breath, tightening his grip on Kanshou and Bakuya. "Just what I needed."
"Die!"
EMIYA sighed and evaded Mordred's charge, narrowly avoiding having his torso split by her long sword. Though she was small in stature, her thick armor encased her completely, presenting a solid mass of steel. Her face-covering helm, the Secret of Pedigree, was designed to conceal her identity with magecraft created by Morgan le Fay. Yet, EMIYA's extensive experience as a Counter Guardian and his ability to analyze her armaments allowed him to see through the disguise.
From his observations, it was clear that this Mordred had developed significant skill and talent, though she still lacked the experience and 'refinement' of her Servant self.
"So glad you could drop by, Mordred," he greeted her with a touch of sarcasm and a stoic expression, leaping back to avoid another series of powerful swings from the homunculus clone of Artoria Pendragon.
"It's Sir Mordred!" she roared, charging headlong at him. "And don't act like you're familiar with me!"
EMIYA readied himself, watching her closely. "And here I was hoping for a quieter passage…"
As usual, Mordred's fighting style was straightforward and brutal. She relied heavily on her physical strength and relentless aggression. Her strikes were not fluid but explosive, driven by sheer power rather than finesse. Despite this, EMIYA found a certain approval in her pragmatism. She wasn't afraid to throw in punches and kicks when her sword wouldn't cut it.
CLANG! SHING!
He deflected several powerful swings with calculated angles, each clash of metal ringing out sharply. Undeterred, Mordred pivoted and hurled her sword with a fierce overhand throw.
PING!
EMIYA caught the weapon mid-air with a precise counter, redirecting its trajectory and sending it skidding across the stone battlements. Before he could react further, Mordred was already on him, delivering a swift kick that pushed him back.
BAM!
He deflected the kick and swiftly regained his footing, impressed by the ferocity of her attack.
Mordred's lack of experience was more than made up for by her unyielding drive and raw power. She was not wielding Clarent, the sword she was known for in her Servant form, which would have added a different dimension to the fight. Instead, she used a variety of techniques—powerful sword strikes, well-placed punches, and aggressive kicks—that kept him on his toes.
"Good. It seems that you're getting there," EMIYA said, nodding in approval despite his stoic expression.
It was shame, really. He had hoped for a chance to spar with her, but the reality of being confronted by all the Knights of the Round Table left him little room for leisure.
"Save your praise!" Mordred shouted back, kicking her sword up and brandishing it. "I'll show you what I'm truly capable of!"
"Then let me show you mine."
WHOOOSH!
The air around him flared with a sudden intensity, and Mordred's eyes widened behind her helmet as she instinctively shifted into a defensive stance. Before her eyes, countless swords materialized in the air, crackling with power and forming a formidable barrier against any advance. One sword, however, took longer to form.
DOOOOOM!
The surrounding air burst open as a massive axe-sword emerged above EMIYA's head, its dark, imposing form reflecting the light of the battlefield. EMIYA sheathed his favorite twin blades and reached up to grab the giant axe-sword. Its weight was immense, and for a moment, it seemed to pull at the very fabric of the world around him. As he lifted it, he channeled the raw, overwhelming strength of Berserker Hercules, letting the monstrous power seep into his movements.
He didn't want to resort to this, but Mordred's resilience and heavy armor made her a formidable opponent. The only technique he had seen that could decisively take her down was Berserker Hercules's Nine Lives, a technique he had observed during numerous sparring sessions at Chaldea.
"Are you ready?" He called out, raising the sword-axe high, his arm quivering with the immense power he channeled. The air around him seemed to ripple under the pressure of his strength. "Here I come!"
"Shi—!" Mordred's instincts flared, and she tried to leap back, but it was too late.
EMIYA's monstrous speed, fueled by Berserker Hercules' might, closed the distance in an instant. He swung the axe-sword with such force that the battlements trembled beneath the impact.
"Set-Nine Lives Blade Works!"
Mordred barely had time to react as EMIYA's blade moved with blinding speed, striking at her from eight different angles in an instant. The initial set of strikes shattered the armor protecting her limbs, rendering her unable to move or counterattack. Another set of slashes targeted the heaviest parts of her armor—the chest and helmet— with a force that seemed to warp the very air around them. Mordred let out a silent gasp as the world blurred around her, her life flashing before her eyes. EMIYA spun the sword-axe with a fluid motion and delivered a final, crushing blow with the hilt to the densest part of her armor, the force nearly breaking it apart.
BOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The impact sent her flying through the battlements, crashing against the stone walls and leaving a trail of destruction in her wake.
"D-d-dam…" Mordred groaned weakly, then fell limp.
EMIYA took a deep breath, his body aching with exhaustion. His eyes remained locked on the fallen knight, who lay motionless on the ground before him.
Despite the brutality of his assault, EMIYA had carefully controlled his strikes, ensuring that Mordred was not maimed or permanently disabled. She lay unconscious among the wreckage, battered and unable to continue the fight, but still alive.
"Sorry, Mordred," he said softly as he passed by her motionless form. "I'll make it up to you."
/-/
"This way!" Percival called, waving for Gareth and Gaheris to follow as they rushed toward the source of the thunderous noise blasting through the castle.
Gareth, her face set in determination, quickened her pace to keep up with her tall comrade and her older brother.
"I'm right behind you!" she panted, her breath coming in quick bursts.
"I think I see someone up ahead..." Percival squinted into the distance, his eyes widening with shock. "Sir Mordred?!"
As he approached, the scene before them became clear. Sir Mordred lay sprawled across the stony battlements, the heavy armor that had once protected him now scattered around like shattered debris. The sheer scale of the destruction spoke of a brutal and one-sided battle that had clearly not ended well for the knight.
"What happened here?" Percival's eyes scanned the area, taking in the wreckage and the battered state of his comrade.
Gareth and Gaheris caught up, their faces paling at the sight of the fallen knight. They hurried to Mordred's side with a concern look on their faces.
"We need to get him out of here," Gareth said she moved closer to inspect the injured knight.
Gaheris nodded, scanning the surroundings for any signs of further danger. "We'll need to carry him back to the infirmary. Make sure he's—"
A sudden, low groan interrupted Gaheris, and they all turned to see Sir Mordred stirring slightly, though still unconscious. The battle's ferocity had left its mark, and it was clear that any movement would need to be careful to avoid further injury.
"We need to be quick," Percival urged, kneeling beside Mordred and staring at the scattered pieces of armor. "The assassin is still out there, and we can't afford to be caught off guard." He lowered his Holy Spear, Longinus, and it began to emit a healing glow over Mordred. "The Holy Spear can stabilize him, but we need to get him to the infirmary. Can I trust you two to cover us?"
Gareth and Gaheris exchanged determined glances before nodding.
"Of course," Gaheris said, drawing his sword and positioning himself defensively. "We won't let anyone get through."
Gareth moved to stand guard on the other side, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of the enemy. "We'll protect you both. Just make sure Sir Mordred is okay."
As Percival focused on the Holy Spear, its healing light enveloped Mordred, mending his wounds and restoring some of his strength. It was difficult to tell the extent of the injuries beneath Mordred's heavy armor, but the spear's magic should be enough to mend broken bones and torn muscles. Despite the healing, the knight remained unconscious. After a few more seconds for good measure, Percival stood up and nodded.
"That should be good enough. I leave Sir Mordred in your care while I search for our intruder."
"Understood!" Gareth and Gaheris nodded in unison. With that, Percival took off to find the assassin.
The brother and sister duo moved to lift Mordred, their movements careful and deliberate.
Crack!
As they did, the damaged helmet shifted, and with a final clank, it broke apart, revealing a face that bore an uncanny resemblance to their king. Both knights froze, staring in shock.
Gareth's eyes widened. "H-huh... Is that...?"
"It's… it's like looking at the king himself." Gaheris whispered before shaking off his astonishment. "No matter! We need to get him to safety."
Without another word, the two knights hurriedly transported Mordred away from the battlements.
/-/
Artoria struggled to comprehend the depth of his experience, the sheer weight of his long, relentless fight.
Time held no meaning for him as a Counter Guardian. His existence was a blur, fragmented by countless battles and endless strife. The memories of his past life had long since faded into obscurity, leaving him with little more than a haze of forgotten names and faces of those once dear to him. Even his own name was lost to the unending tide of his duty, leaving him with nothing but the echoes of a life he could no longer grasp.
But then, everything seemed to come to a halt. On a hill of swords, now cast in shadows from the ominous gears churning above in the sky, everything came to a standstill.
"I did not become a Guardian for this!" Archer's voice echoed with pain, self-loathing, and regret as he faced his younger self.
It was here that her former Master rediscovered himself—a confrontation between Archer and his past self. And Artoria could only watch in stunned silence as Archer unleashed his unbridled rage on his younger self.
The battle was fierce, yet beneath the surface rage, there was a restraint—a refusal to land a fatal blow. This restraint wasn't because Archer was fading away without a Master to sustain him.
The boy will not fall. He cannot hear the boy's voice. The dying boy frantically oppose the obstacle in front of him. That figure…
He had been driven by a desire to kill Shirou, to erase the part of himself he despised. But he had never truly looked at him. Now, as he did, he saw himself for the first time. He saw what he must have looked like to others.
His enemy will not stop. He will not stop from his own will. The boy is attacking with all his might, but he is not looking at his opponent. The thing the boy is trying to defeat is his obstacle, his own self that is hindering himself. He is swinging his sword to enforce what he has believed in, what he will keep on believing.
Her former Master was slowly coming to a realization.
Despite the strength and desperation Shirou displayed, struggling to maintain consciousness, Archer understood that his younger self would never stop fighting. Shirou's determination, seen countless times before, was unyielding. Archer had been sure that Shirou would soon collapse, but now, he saw the unrelenting resolve of his past self.
… So why…? Why does he want to see how long the boy can continue?
Memories of his childhood were distant and tainted by regret and spite. He had wanted to kill Shirou, to erase the part of himself that he despised, but he had never truly looked at him. Now, as he did, he saw himself for the first time through the eyes of another.
The unwavering gaze.
Faults and lies, shaking off everything, running without stopping…
The determination, the raw will to fight despite the odds—he found it impressive.
For the first time, he admired the very qualities he once possessed. This realization made him hesitate, made him want to see just how far Shirou could go. It explained why he didn't step back and let Shirou collapse, why he didn't block Shirou's final attack in time, and why he didn't retaliate at all.
In that moment, Archer admitted his loss.
This battle was never about killing Shirou; it was about utterly rejecting him and everything he stood for. But when he saw the determination he displayed from another perspective, he began to admire it. It was a fight made him realize that Shirou embodied the ideals he once held dear, more perfectly than he ever could now.
"Ah… so this is how you managed to stand your ground against the Lion King…" Artoria murmured to herself, her gaze fixed on the scene before her.
The unwavering resolve Shirou showed in confronting his future self mirrored the fierce determination he had displayed against her future self, the Lion King. It became clear to her that the same unyielding spirit had driven him in both battles—a strength she had come to respect deeply.
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EMIYA sprinted across the open expanse beyond Camelot's walls, his figure a blur of motion. The ground beneath him seemed to tremble with the force of his flight, the speed at which he ran nearly defying belief. The pounding hooves of Percival and Lancelot echoed behind him as they pursued on horseback, their silhouettes cutting through the dimming light of dusk.
'So persistent.'
EMIYA, with his mind focused, summoned a flurry of swords from thin air. They whirled around him, each blade poised and ready. With a sharp gesture, he directed the floating weapons towards his pursuers.
The first volley of swords cut through the air with deadly precision, aimed to hinder the horses' speed and force the knights to slow down. Percival and Lancelot reacted with practiced ease, their weapons slicing through the barrage effortlessly. The horses barely flinched as the swords were deflected, and the knights maintained their relentless pursuit.
'Damn it, they won't be slowed like this.'
He raised his hand, and with a burst of focused energy, traced his black bow. Two Hrunting arrows materialized before him, their twisted hilts and blades glowing ominously as he channeled mana into them.
'Let's see how you handle this,' EMIYA thought, eyes narrowing as he notched the arrows and prepared to fire. "HRUNTING!"
ARROOOOOOOOOOO!
The arrows shot forward with a piercing howl, leaving trails of light as they streaked through the air. They homed in on Percival and Lancelot with perfect accuracy.
Percival reacted quickly, thrusting his Holy Spear to intercept one of the arrows, sending it soaring high above. Meanwhile, Lancelot swung his weapon to knock aside his target, believing the threat was neutralized. But EMIYA's assault was far from over. The Hrunting arrows, fueled with mana, spun in mid-air and circled back with equal speed. Both knights were caught off guard by the sudden return of the deadly projectiles.
"Watch out!" Percival maneuvered his mount to dodge the returning arrow while skillfully using his spear to deflect it again.
"Where is he pulling these from?!" Lancelot grunted, deflecting another Hrunting arrow only to have it whirled back toward him.
The arrows circled tirelessly, each one meant to pierce through the knights and their steeds if they couldn't be intercepted. The knights were relentless in their defense. Percival and Lancelot expertly parried the hounding weapons, their focus intense as they worked to shield themselves and their horses from the relentless assault. Their coordinated movements, however, began to compromise their ability to close the gap between them and EMIYA.
"Trace, on." EMIYA traced a multitude of swords into the air around him. "This should do it…"
With swift movements, he unleashed them in a barrage aimed directly at the pursuing knights. The swords shot out, swirling around him in a deadly dance as he continued his rapid retreat.
"Lancelot!"
"I see it!"
The two knights quickly maneuvered their steeds apart, creating some distance between them. They prepared their weapons for a decisive counterattack. With a powerful surge of energy, Percival unleashed a sweeping blast from his spear while Lancelot fired a devastating charge from his sword.
BOOOOOOM!
The combined force of their attacks obliterated the incoming swords, but the destruction triggered a series of minor explosions. The resulting shockwaves rippled through the air, sending vibrations through their horses and causing them to stagger as they struggled to regain their footing.
"Whoa, easy girl," Percival murmured soothingly to his agitated steed as he glared in the direction where EMIYA had vanished. "Looks like we'll have to hold off on the pursuit until we can rally more knights to assist us."
"Nonsense! We can…" Lancelot began, but his words trailed off into a frustrated scowl.
The two knights had been in relentless pursuit of the mysterious intruder from late afternoon into dusk, engaging in a series of skirmishes that always ended with the would-be assassin slipping away. Each encounter had been marked by EMIYA's enigmatic magecraft and the summoning of formidable Mystic Codes to fend them off.
It was as if he had fought against them before.
"If you wish to continue the chase, I will accompany you. But I believe it's wiser to regroup and reassess our strategy. If we fall victim to his tricks, it would be a severe blow to the kingdom."
Lancelot's jaw tightened as he considered Percival's words. He glanced at the dusk-darkened horizon where EMIYA had disappeared, the shadowy figure eluding them once more. The relentless pursuit had taken its toll, and despite their skill and bravery, the assassin's evasion was proving too effective.
With a heavy sigh, Lancelot nodded in reluctant agreement. "You're right. We need to rethink our approach. We've been outmaneuvered too many times today. Let's return to Camelot and gather reinforcements."
/-/
"Finally, some peace and quiet," EMIYA muttered to himself, having successfully evaded pursuit and finding refuge atop a desolate hill far from Camelot.
Though he was still within a few kilometers of the castle, this vantage point allowed him to observe and react to any movements or strategies Camelot might employ against him. From this distance, he could strike at any of the Knights of the Round Table that emerged, provided they didn't come fully prepared for the arsenal he had in his Unlimited Blade Works.
EMIYA closed his eyes and reached out telepathically.
'Hey, are you awake, Artoria?' he asked, but there was no response. She was still asleep.
To amuse himself, he began to tease her with a playful mental song.
'... In the castle, the mighty castle, the lion sleeps tonight,' he mentally sand, a playful tease to his dormant Saber.
Far away within the fortified walls of Camelot, Artoria Pendragon's brow twitched involuntarily as she picked up on the faint, annoying hum. The subtle irritation was unmistakable, and despite her state of rest, she couldn't help but frown at the intrusion of EMIYA's teasing.
Omake:
"That cursed ex-girlfriend of yours!" Alaya fumed, shaking her fist in frustration. "Look what she's done to you!"
"This is just as much your fault, you know," EMIYA Lily, the child version of EMIYA, retorted with a bemused expression and arms crossed. "You were the one who tried to 'reclaim' me when we fell through the timeline after the Singularity collapsed."
"Oh, don't be so grumpy!" Alaya cooed as she squeezed the younger EMIYA in a bear hug. "You're far too adorable like this. But I must say, I'm not forgiving your ex-girlfriend anytime soon!"
"Can you please put me down?" EMIYA Lily grumbled. "I'd like to rest, but it's hard with you squeezing me and another part of me getting battered in Camelot by the Knights of the Round Table. Haven't I suffered enough?"
"Since when have I ever made you suffer?" Alaya gasped theatrically. "You're my favorite Counter Guardian! My favorite, er, Protector of Balance."
"By sending me on endless missions while there are other Counter Guardians available?"
"I do call on them," Alaya shrugged. "Just not as much. You're perfectly suited for every humanity-ending event that comes up. Besides, those missions are gifts in disguise. More weapons for our little world within you!"
"Ugh…"
"Besides," Alaya continued dismissively, "it doesn't matter if your ex-girlfriend has another part of you. Every Servant copy, every time I deploy you as a Counter Guardian, they all come back to me." She tightened her embrace, looking overly sentimental. "No matter who you're paired with, no matter what harem or eroge protagonist status you have, you will always belong to me. Forever and ever, just the two of us, protecting humanity!"
"I am in hell," EMIYA Lily groaned, struggling in her embrace. "Someone help me pull a Solomon and erase me from the Throne of Heroes."
"Oh, you're such a joker!" Alaya laughed heartily. "Quite ironic, considering you're Actually Satan."
"I am not, ugh! I don't want to hear it from 'All the World's Schizophrenia' that is you!" EMIYA Lily sighed, resigning himself to his fate. "The die is within me. Kill me now..."