"Farewell, Atalanta…" Arthur murmured, his voice low like a cold whisper. His hand moved forward, ready to pierce the archer's body.
But before he could complete the strike—
"Akhilleus Kosmos!!"
In an instant, the distance between Arthur and Atalanta seemed to stretch infinitely, as if space itself had folded. An entire world materialized between them.
Arthur's fist collided with the cosmic barrier, the impact reverberating in a colossal roar. A shockwave surged through the surrounding forest; nearby trees were uprooted, the ground cracked open, and the air seemed to explode in all directions.
Instinctively, Arthur leapt backward. His keen senses detected something approaching at an absurd speed. He quickly released Atalanta from her bonds as he recognized the arrival.
When he glanced back at his own arm, a strange chill ran through him. A sharp, throbbing pain. Looking down, he found his limb in a grotesque state: bent at impossible angles, bones piercing through the flesh, blood gushing freely.
Arthur drew a deep breath. Even he could not deny the sheer power of Achilles' defense.
The blonde lifted his head and surveyed the scene: Achilles now held Atalanta safely, his chariot steeds still neighing. The magnitude of the Noble Phantasm he employed exceeded all expectations.
"Are you alright, milady?" Achilles asked, his voice firm yet calm despite the chaos.
"Yes… if it weren't for you, I would be dead now," Atalanta breathed, heart still racing. There was no doubt in her mind: had Arthur's blow connected, she would have been reduced to nothing.
"Seems I arrived just in time," Achilles smiled confidently, the thrill of battle still burning in his eyes.
He then raised his gaze to Arthur.
"That was an impressive attack. I did not expect to encounter a foe of such caliber among the servants of the Black Faction."
Arthur kept his gaze steady despite his shattered arm.
"Your speed also surprised me, Achilles."
The Greek hero twirled his spear lightly, a wild smile on his face.
"Oh~ So you know my true name?" His desire for combat was evident.
Arthur allowed a similar smile, preparing for battle. But fate intervened.
A silent arrow cut through the air, piercing Achilles' shoulder.
"Tsk… the Black Archer?" the Greek growled, frowning.
Evaluating the situation instantly, he realized it was not the time to fight. Retracting his spear, he let out a hearty laugh.
"Black Servant! We shall save our strength for our next encounter. Then, we will fight to the death!"
With that promise, Achilles mounted his chariot and departed, taking Atalanta with him.
Arthur remained motionless, watching the chariot vanish at unbelievable speed. He felt the archer's piercing gaze upon him and instinctively tried to wave his right hand with a smile… only to remember his exposed fracture, laughing softly at the thought.
"That was just a taste…" he murmured, a grin forming. Turning to leave, the pulsating pain made him laugh again.
"I nearly forgot to heal my arm."
Calmly, he began channeling magic, tissue by tissue knitting back together.
---
"So… the Archer and Rider of the Red Faction are Atalanta and Achilles, respectively?"
Vlad III and Darnic immediately furrowed their brows.
"Putting Atalanta aside… Achilles will be a formidable opponent. His immortality negates most damage. The only way to overcome it is through attacks imbued with divinity," Arthur explained calmly.
"Moreover," he continued, "his defensive Noble Phantasm is extraordinarily powerful."
"It's no wonder Siegfried couldn't do anything. That fool Gordes wasted two Command Spells!" Darnic exclaimed, clearly enraged.
The tone of his voice rose. He knew the significance: Command Spells were crystals of pure magical power. Not only could they grant absolute orders to Heroic Spirits, but they could also amplify their strength, enabling feats impossible under normal circumstances. To waste such a resource was almost criminal—a mistake that could affect the outcome of the entire war.
"Chiron and I are the only ones capable of piercing Achilles' immortality due to our divinity. But I imagine Chiron prefers to face him personally," Arthur said, glancing respectfully at the centaur.
"I appreciate your consideration, King Gilgamesh," Chiron replied, bowing slightly, his calm smile contrasting the tension in the room.
Time passed in conversation until Arthur abruptly stopped, his expression hardening.
"I can no longer sense Siegfried's presence. He has vanished from the fortress."
All present exchanged glances.
In the hall were only Arthur, Vlad III, and Darnic; Frankenstein and Caules; Chiron and Fiore. Astolfo, Siegfried, and Avicebron were nowhere to be found.
"Not long ago, Rider fled with a homunculus. Avicebron claimed it would be necessary to activate his Noble Phantasm, so I ordered Siegfried to pursue him," Darnic explained.
Arthur nodded calmly.
"I understand. If everything has been resolved, I will withdraw for now."
After farewells, he ascended to the fortress rooftop. The night wind lashed at his face as he activated his clairvoyance.
In moments, his vision expanded across kilometers.
And then he found them: Astolfo, already in open combat against Siegfried.
Astolfo fought with all his might, facing the legendary knight. Siegfried's sword was an impenetrable wall, deflecting each strike of his lance with unwavering precision. The metallic clashes echoed through the forest, sparks illuminating the darkness.
Amid the fight, Astolfo's heart dropped: Gordes, consumed by rage and despair, had raised his hand against the small homunculus he had sworn to protect. The French knight's blood boiled with indignation.
"Stop, Saber! You must stop your Master!" Astolfo roared, his voice tearing through the air in desperation.
But Siegfried, the dragon of Nibelungen, remained unmoved, his eyes as unreadable as a frozen mountain.
Astolfo planted his feet, pushing with all his strength to move Saber aside. Yet Siegfried's body did not budge an inch, as if made of iron and stone.
"Get out of my way, you fool! I have to save that boy!" Astolfo shouted, his throat burning with fury.
Then Siegfried's deep voice cut through the silence:
"And why save him? Just because he asked you to?"
Astolfo's eyes widened, incredulous at the coldness of the question. But his reply struck like a precise arrow:
"No! I will save him of my own will! Is it wrong for a servant to extend a hand to another? You want me to abandon the kindness, pride, and justice I carried in life!?"
His voice echoed through the forest, filled with the passion of a true knight. He raised his lance, chest swelling with conviction.
"I am Astolfo! One of the Twelve Paladins of Charlemagne! I will not abandon that child! I swore I would not, and I will not break that oath!"
Astolfo's words struck Siegfried like invisible blades. For the first time, the dragon's eyes faltered. The weight of those declarations struck the deepest wound he kept hidden in his heart.
Siegfried took a step back.
---
(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."