Looking down from high above at the shattered ring-shaped base.
Thud! Thud!
Heavy power armor struck the corridor floor with dull booms as fragments of the ruined structure flew in every direction. The Iron Warriors, clad in silver-black metallic power armor, advanced behind energy shields rippling endlessly beneath the impacts of projected Noble Phantasms. The bolters in their hands roared in an instant.
The entire corridor exploded with debris. Sheltered behind Mash's great shield, the mortal Ritsuka Fujimaru and Waver were immediately kicked through a wooden door beside the corridor by the Heroic Spirits protecting them.
Judging from its appearance, this should have been a Chaldea staff dormitory. Before the two of them could recover, however, the collision had already begun.
Bang! Bang-bang-bang! Bang!
The finely crafted wooden furniture and the warm photographs decorating the walls shattered and exploded beneath the bombardment of mass-reactive bolt rounds. Great clouds of splinters sprayed everywhere alongside glass, ceramics, metal frames, and shredded mattress stuffing.
The metal fragments were especially dangerous. After ricocheting several times, one still carried enough force to punch straight through the small wooden table in front of Waver, making him cry out in pain.
Even the cheapest version of his suit still qualified as a Mystic Code, yet mere fragments blasted outward by an exploding round possessed such force. One could easily imagine that an ordinary person caught inside without protection would be riddled with holes in an instant.
At his side, firelight streamed into the room through a breach in the thick reinforced-concrete fortress, illuminating Waver's uneven hair and tightly furrowed brow in shifting colors.
Beyond the windows that once offered a panoramic view of Chaldea's magnificent frozen landscape came the drone of engines. Formation after formation of Thunderhawk assault craft streaked from the ventral hangars of enormous aerospace warships hovering close to the ground.
Across the ice field, beneath the radiant golden double-headed eagle, the vast Imperial forces surrounding the entrance to the Inner Sea of the Planet, establishing positions, and cautiously probing deeper with counterattacks immediately split their ranks. A portion of the Astartes Fourth Legion's Iron Warriors, along with large formations of Imperial Auxilia and Servitor Army troops, turned their weapons and began redeploying toward the ruined Chaldea base.
Banners snapped in the wind, while the armor of the Imperial soldiers shifting positions reflected a cold metallic gleam.
An immense pressure swept over Waver from every direction. He possessed no experience commanding troops in battle, and his understanding of warfare extended little further than what he knew of Iskandar's Noble Phantasm, Ionioi Hetairoi.
Yet at that moment, Waver clearly understood what military might truly meant.
It possessed an intensely violent beauty. The troops were spread out but never disordered, and their tactical movements were astonishingly practiced. Their eyes revealed bodies honed through years of training and killing techniques, a disregard for life, and a hunger to claim military merit through severed heads. Their ferocity was obvious.
Leaving aside the small giants encased in heavy armor, whether it was the uniformly equipped Imperial Auxilia or the Servitor Army units whose wildly varied uniforms made them resemble an improvised rabble, Waver needed only one glance at their scale and equipment to realize that they were no match for them!
Against an army like this, even if every Macedonian soldier who had followed Iskandar on his eastern conquests were resurrected, they might not be able to defeat even the weakest of those supposed "rabble."
It was not that Waver wished to disparage his king. Precisely because he loved and respected him, he could think more rationally.
This was a qualitative gap in technology and equipment... More importantly, unlike the divided spirits summoned as Servants and constrained by their class skills, these soldiers suffered no such limitations. They were not crippled troops equipped with nothing more than individual light weapons. They possessed everything that had once belonged to them—in other words, every method available to an army.
Waver silently cast a farsight spell over his eyes. He could not make out much else. Those troops were either fully sealed inside armor or wrapped from head to toe in military coats, combat uniforms, and lightweight armor. But when one particular Servitor Army unit appeared and exposed their bare arms, Waver was stunned.
Where did these barbarians come from?
Now it seemed that even the physiques Iskandar's soldiers had taken the greatest pride in—the one area in which they might have surpassed modern armies—could not compete.
Incidentally, Waver could not help criticizing Selene. Was she really this biased? The difference in how these troops were equipped and treated was far too great.
However, their direction of advance... Waver raised his head slightly. Rows of enormous Thunderhawk assault craft screamed overhead, speeding toward the opposite side of Chaldea's base.
Wait. Their target isn't here. That direction leads to the Coffin storage chamber Ritsuka Fujimaru mentioned.
Was that not where the members of Team A were located? According to Ritsuka Fujimaru, Lev had betrayed them and left them on the brink of death in an explosion, forcing Chaldea to urgently place them in frozen Coffins. Every one of them was an exceptionally talented magus... For the Imperial Army to mobilize such a force, could it be—
Solomon was dead. Goetia was dead. The Incineration of Humanity had ended. Could the Coffins have repaired their bodies and allowed them to awaken?!
"Fujimaru, she's already dead! We have to move now! Do you understand?!"
Returning to his senses and keeping his body as low as possible, Waver shouted over the thunderous roar of chainswords and the continuous fire of large-caliber weapons. The noise made his eardrums ache.
To be honest, Waver was lost. The Holy Grail War had ended, and the Human Order had been saved, but everything that happened afterward had left him at a loss. He could not return to London. He did not know what had become of his students, his foster sister, his closest friends, or everything into which he had poured his heart and soul.
What use was despair or grief? Waver could only hope that the old monsters of the Mage's Association proved useful for once and managed to preserve the Clock Tower through the disaster.
After all, the most heavily damaged regions were around the Pacific, while the Clock Tower stood near the Atlantic. The primordial cosmic goddess had also stopped Earth's continued disintegration, so the chances that they had survived should still be quite high... probably...
Afterward, the appearance and instructions of the Wizard Marshal temporarily gave Waver a purpose.
He could not stand by and do nothing, yet he lacked the ability to intervene directly in a clash at the highest level. No matter the outcome, however, he would at least do everything within his power.
"We'll split up. Remember, we'll regroup at the Inner Sea of the Planet."
"All right!"
Looking at Da Vinci lying bloodied among the ruins, Ritsuka Fujimaru bit his lip and answered.
"Good. Then it's settled." Waver nodded, then added self-mockingly, "Assuming we survive... I have to admit, what we're doing truly resembles a mantis trying to stop a chariot."
"Your Majesty! Please, for now..." As Waver spoke, his voice gradually faded, because making this choice meant sending Iskandar to his death.
"Hahaha! Leave it to this king!"
Laughing heartily, Iskandar raised the short sword in his hand. In an instant, yellow sand drifted without wind as scorching magical energy surged forth.
Vrrr—!
The leading Iron Warriors officer casually smashed the woman who appeared to be the leader of the local resistance onto the ground. Honkai energy erupted from his entire body, instantly increasing the force bearing down upon him. He swung his power axe and brought it crashing heavily down on Mordred.
Bang!
The floor tiles shattered and a blast of air erupted. Supporting the blow with her royal sword, Mordred grinned. "Cough... That familiar strength. You tin cans are still the same as ever. Not good enough—damn it!"
Before Mordred could finish spewing insults, plasma sparks flared.
Crackle!
You fight dirty!
Mordred's expression changed. Abandoning all concern for appearances, she threw herself forward and rolled across the ground. The plasma blast struck where she had stood, melting through the corridor. A shock wave like rolling blue flame erupted outward, accompanied by a deafening explosion that reverberated through the half-enclosed passage.
"Kill—!"
"Hm?"
Before the flames from the explosion had faded, a wave of battle cries rang out. The Iron Warriors pouring out ammunition paused in surprise. That number...
"Saber, all of you leave this place! This king will hold them back!" Iskandar shouted.
At the same time, vast numbers of warriors clad in ancient Greek bronze breastplates charged forward with shields in one hand and spears in the other. An unending rain of javelins immediately struck the Astartes' power armor with dull impacts.
The Iron Warriors were infamous among the Astartes Legions for their pathological fear of insufficient firepower. They favored highly technological strategies of war and were renowned for their cold efficiency, heavy weapons, heavy armor, and brutal expertise in siege warfare. They did not hesitate for even an instant. There was only one word—kill!
Several Iron Warriors hacked through everything obstructing them as though chopping melons and vegetables. The Macedonian warriors in their path were either decapitated, blasted into bloody mist and scraps, or cleanly severed from different angles.
Blood sprayed everywhere, and corpses covered the ground.
"This expedition truly sets my blood aflame..."
Watching the warriors who had followed him die almost one by one, Iskandar did not stop. Instead, he activated his Noble Phantasm to an even greater degree. More and more Macedonian soldiers appeared, surging out from every direction and using their primitive weapons to slow the advance of the steel beasts.
"Go!" Iskandar roared.
"Senpai, hurry!"
Mash supported Ritsuka Fujimaru as they fled. The surviving Heroic Spirits around them had already scattered when the Hanging Gardens fell. Their purpose in coming here was to delay the Imperial Army's purge and occupation of this world, buying time for the Swirl of the Root to strengthen its control over the world, prolong the world's rejection of Selene, and create even the slightest chance of victory.
Some resisted the Imperial reinforcements. Some defended against bombardment from distant Titans in the sky. Others were intercepted and killed by high-ranking Astartes commanders.
They had barely crossed a shattered corridor when—
Boom, boom, boom!
Several Thunderhawk assault craft closed in. A squad of heavy Terminators leaped directly from the enormous troop bays. Their massive bodies crashed onto the structure and shattered the roof of the base beneath their feet.
As he rounded the corner of the corridor, Waver looked back one final time and saw Iskandar brandishing his Cypriot sword as he charged aboard his chariot drawn by Divine Bulls with flying hooves.
"This king is Iskandar, King of Conquerors! Strangers from another realm, you will not pass through here!" Iskandar raised the reins. The thunder bulls reared as overwhelming lightning erupted, collapsing every nearby passage while he roared.
"..."
The Iron Warriors merely pulled their triggers with cold cruelty and swung their weapons, expressing their answer through blood. If the passage collapsed, they would blast it open. Not one enemy would escape!
Clang!
Suddenly, a golden figure landed on the ground. Like a falling meteor, he instantly tore through the personal guards surrounding Iskandar. Everyone turned toward that colossus—the towering figure clad in golden armor with a red cloak draped over his shoulders.
"Via Expugnatio!"
The instant he saw him, Iskandar raised his Cypriot sword and shouted, but before the words could fully leave his mouth, they were cut off by the exquisitely forged blade of a lightning halberd screaming through the air.
Shnk—!
The razor-sharp halberd blade bit through leather and skin, pierced muscle and ribs, and sliced apart the sword in his hand. Blood gushed like a fountain. The Divine Bulls beneath his chariot were cleaved in half along with him before crashing to the ground.
Rumble!
A crater nearly one hundred meters in diameter replaced Iskandar, while shattered flesh and bone sprayed outward.
Swish...
With a flourish, the gold-armored Royal Guard shook nonexistent blood from his halberd blade and turned toward the direction in which Ritsuka Fujimaru and Waver had fled.
Thud! Thud-thud! Thud!
Several tremors followed as four Royal Guards landed one after another. They gestured to the Iron Warriors who had stopped nearby, signaling for them to continue with their own mission.
"Should we pursue them?"
One of the Royal Guards asked.
"No need. Her Highness is in the direction they're heading... Wasn't Her Highness bored? Driving some interesting prey toward her should help relieve that boredom."
"True."
As for whether allowing enemies to escape toward their own princess counted as grave disrespect or dereliction of duty... Well, at least to them, it did not. This was no different from an aristocratic hunt, where palace guards spread across the wilderness and drove surrounded prey toward a designated area for nobles to kill personally.
...
Inside Chaldea's base, the power supply system had long since been destroyed by bombardment. Gunshots occasionally echoed through the dark depths, and visibility flickered between light and shadow.
Objects scattered across the floor were crushed or sent flying by several figures speeding past. Debris filled the rooms, while the figures who had created the chaos ran rapidly with their bodies lowered beneath the oppressive weight around them.
The damaged fire-suppression system sprayed cold water carrying the smell of blood across Ritsuka Fujimaru's face. He shuddered and looked up, only to see severed limbs scattered beneath broken walls and collapsed structures.
"Senpai, there is someone ahead."
Mash suddenly stopped and spoke without expression.
Ritsuka Fujimaru saw the gravity on Mash's face, then looked in the same direction.
Boom!
The wall exploded. Dazzling white light made Ritsuka Fujimaru raise a hand to shield his eyes. A towering figure strode from the corridor, his golden armor flashing brilliantly beneath the firelight, while the crimson eagle war-cloak stood out like living flame.
"A Royal Guard, and a commander at that."
Avicebron's voice reached his ear through a transmission spell.
Tap...
Just as Ritsuka Fujimaru prepared to speak, the Royal Guard commander suddenly turned around and stood tall with his chest raised.
A clear series of footsteps rang out.
"Huh... There are still living magi here."
With the sound of something heavy striking the floor, a warm oval object rolled to Ritsuka Fujimaru's feet with a dull thump. Golden hair lay across it like withered grass. After looking carefully, he and Mash raised their heads in shock.
It was the severed head of Kirschtaria Wodime, leader of Team A!
Looking at the battered magi before her, the girl revealed a faintly delighted smile. Drops of blood fell from her fingertips, while furious killing intent burned within her sky-blue eyes.
"They were nothing but a pack of half-dead ants, yet they dared speak arrogantly before me! They insulted the Empress... Magi should all die!"
Crackle—!
...
Elsewhere.
Within the gap between the primordial universe and the many higher-dimensional universes, the attacks unleashed by the gods of the various pantheons officially surged toward Selene at the center.
Smack!
Selene twisted her neck and crushed a large group of them with a casual backhand. She could clearly feel the universe's rejection of her weakening, while the accumulated injuries inflicted by Ashtart were rapidly healing.
"Ashtart, it appears that my warriors are superior after all."
The cosmic space in every direction had been reduced to complete nothingness. Stars and suns alike had withered and fallen beneath the destructive collisions between the two.
The sight left the gods who had responded to the revelation of the Swirl of the Root and descended from higher-dimensional universes to stop Selene deeply apprehensive.
"Hmph!"
Ishtar Ashtart did not stiffly accuse her of dishonorable victory through ambush or deception. Such words would be useless. Selene could justify anything, and arguing would only invite humiliation.
She snorted coldly and brought her hands together.
Clap—!
With a deafening noise that seemed to tear the cosmos apart, she declared, "Do not think your victory is assured, Selene!"