"What? Karna!?" — Gordes asked, his voice trembling in sheer astonishment. His wide eyes betrayed his disbelief, as if the very world had been turned upside down.
"Do I need to repeat myself?" — Arthur replied coldly, each syllable cutting like sharpened steel.
"N-no!" — Gordes stammered, blurting his answer immediately, sweat dripping down his forehead as if Arthur's mere presence was suffocating.
Arthur kept his eyes on the man for a moment longer, the silence between them pressing down like a verdict. Then, slowly, he turned away, dismissing him entirely, as though wasting more energy on someone so insignificant would be beneath him. His attention returned to the battle before him, where Karna and Siegfried continued to clash in a colossal struggle.
The fight had lasted so long that the horizon was already painted in shades of orange. The night sky gradually surrendered to the coming dawn.
"If this continues," — Karna spoke, his breathing steady despite the flames still burning around his spear — "we'll be fighting until sunrise. I don't mind continuing, but… what about you? Your Master looks tired."
Siegfried remained silent, his eyes as cold as ice. Only after several moments of reflection did he sheathe his sword with a calm, resolute gesture.
Gordes opened his mouth as if to protest but swallowed the words. The expression on his Saber's face left no room for argument.
"I hope that the next time we meet, we can fight in earnest… with no restraints, no distractions," Siegfried declared. His voice rang like tempered steel: firm, carrying a pure, almost innocent hope that seemed out of place for a warrior burdened by a bloody legend.
Those words struck Karna like an unexpected flame. He had no idea what lay hidden behind Siegfried's glorious—yet tragic—story, but he could feel the sincerity radiating from the black knight. For an instant, it was as if they were bound by a mutual respect that transcended war.
Karna smiled faintly and nodded.
"That is my wish as well."
There was no need for vows or promises. Both simply recognized each other as worthy warriors. It was a silent pact, forged not by words, but by the clash of blades and the spirit of battle.
"I am truly grateful for the privilege of facing you in my first battle, Black Saber," Karna said, raising his spear in salute.
"Farewell, Black Saber."
In the blink of an eye, his body vanished, dissolving into particles of light that shimmered against the dawning sky. The battlefield was bathed in the faint glow of morning, as though the world itself sighed in relief at the truce.
Jeanne let out a soft sigh, her banner resting against the ground.
"What a magnificent battle. As expected of the wandering knight of Holland."
Siegfried merely nodded in silence. Words were unnecessary; his honor spoke for him.
"Ruler," — Gordes, now more composed yet still resentful, turned to Jeanne — "would you like to come with us? If you intend to oversee the Holy Grail War, don't you think Trifas is the most strategic place?"
Jeanne shook her head serenely.
"No. That would compromise my impartiality. Do not worry—no matter where a battle breaks out in Trifas, I will be there in an instant."
"Come, Saber." — Gordes's voice overflowed with anger and frustration.
His goal had always been to drag the Ruler to Milenia, but the red Lancer had scattered his plans like dust in the wind.
Arthur, who had been observing silently until then, rose calmly.
"Though this journey was brief, it was an honor to be in your company, saint of Orléans. Until next time."
He entered Gordes's car, casting one last glance at Jeanne before disappearing down the road.
The saint watched the vehicle vanish on the horizon, a sigh slipping past her lips.
"I gained no information… and now I am alone once more."
Gathering her luggage, she resumed her path.
---
Half an hour later, the car passed through the gates of the Yggdmilenia fortress.
At the entrance, all the Masters of the black faction were already waiting. Among them stood Darnic, who spread his arms in a warm welcome.
"Welcome, Assassin! With your arrival, our faction is finally complete."
Arthur raised a brow.
"Assassin? No. I'm not of that class."
Silence fell at once. Darnic blinked, confused.
"Huh? Then… what class are you?"
Arthur crossed his arms, his voice resonating with weight.
"I am of the Avenger class."
"Avenger?" — Darnic repeated in disbelief. — "What class is that?"
The Masters exchanged glances. Even the Heroic Spirits present frowned in confusion.
Arthur sighed, impatient.
"Ahh… I'll explain another time."
Darnic tried to regain control.
"Well, in that case… where is Sagara Hyouma?"
Arthur shrugged.
"No idea. The moment we arrived in Bucharest, he disappeared. All he said was to head straight to Trifas."
"He really went into hiding…" — Darnic muttered, pensive. Then he straightened. — "In that case, I'll take command for now, Avenger."
Arthur snorted, a short, cold sound.
"I refuse."
"What?" — Darnic blinked, startled.
"I take orders from no one," Arthur said firmly. "Remember this: being in the same faction does not make me your subordinate."
The air grew tense. Before Darnic could respond, a soft, melodious voice rang out beside Arthur:
"Explain to me what kind of class Avenger is~!"
Arthur turned, his eyes falling on a breathtakingly beautiful youth. An androgynous figure, with features so delicate that anyone would mistake him for a maiden.
Astolfo.
His attire was unusual: black undergarments beneath a short tunic, adorned with thigh-high stockings fastened by golden greaves. Gauntlets and hip guards gave him a knightly air, while a crimson sash crossed his waist. Black ribbons decorated his pink hair, tied into a long braid that reached past his hips. A white cape, red within, completed his graceful figure.
Arthur froze. Unwanted thoughts raced through his mind.
What a radiant smile… so delicate, so enchanting… But… he's a man.
His pink hair gleams like the morning light, soft as silk in the wind… But… he's a man.
The graceful way he moves, light, almost dancing, would make any courtly lady seem clumsy by comparison… But… he's a man.
Even his innocent laugh, crystal-clear as bells, could draw sighs from the hardest war-hardened knight… But… he's a man.
Arthur clenched his fist, averting his gaze as if trying to crush his own thoughts. Yet deep down, the conclusion was unavoidable:
Astolfo was… disarming.
But… he was a man.
"Don't you think you should introduce yourself first?" — Arthur cut his own train of thought, trying to maintain composure.
"You're right! I am the Black Rider, Astolfo!" — he announced with enthusiasm, his radiant smile unwavering. — "And you? What's your name?"
Arthur sighed.
"Ahh… fine, I'll tell you. But please, could you step back a little?"
From the moment he had approached, Astolfo had been clinging to Arthur's arm.
Remember, Arthur! HE-IS-A-MAN! he roared inwardly.
"No~!" — Astolfo replied, hugging him tighter, his angelic smile never faltering.
Arthur closed his eyes, speechless.
"All right, Rider. Step back so he can introduce himself," — a deep voice interrupted.
Arthur looked up and saw a man who seemed to embody the night itself: Vlad III. He dressed with somber elegance, his cold gaze reducing even the proudest to insects, forced to acknowledge their weakness.
"You're no fun, Lancer!" Astolfo pouted, reluctantly releasing Arthur.
"Now, introduce yourself," Vlad said formally.
Arthur raised a brow.
"And you are…?"
"Forgive my lack of courtesy," Vlad inclined his head slightly. "I am the Black Lancer and lord of these lands, Vlad III."
"I see," Arthur murmured. Then, snapping his fingers, he shifted his attire, taking on his Caster-like appearance.
"I am the extra black servant of the Avenger class…"
"Avenger is a class born from vengeance, forged of a powerful grudge that lingers even after death. And before you ask, no, I don't know who my hatred is directed at."
"And my true name… is Gilgamesh."
Silence fell upon the hall like a blade.
Everyone froze.
The very air seemed to turn to ice.
---
(End of chapter)
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain me, try to throw those pathetic power stones at me. Let's see if even your insolence can amuse a king."