Arthur could have prevented the tragedy of Vlad III, just as he had stopped Siegfried from committing suicide.
But he chose not to.
Why? Very simple—because he didn't want to.
The moment Jeanne activated her Command Seal, Arthur felt as though chains had bound him tightly. Yet he broke them instantly. Thanks to Gaia and Alaya, he could resist the power of the Command Seals.
At the same time, every other Servant present was also restrained by that same force.
Karna, Achilles, Atalanta, Avicebron, and Chiron.
The chains weren't meant to hinder their fight against the vampire; rather, they enhanced their abilities in battle.
However, if they tried to face the opposing faction, their movements would slow, and the strength of their Noble Phantasms would be drastically weakened.
"Very well, the Black Archer and I will provide support. Rider, Lancer, and Black Assassin—you may fight as you wish."
"Actually, I'll handle this alone," Arthur suddenly declared.
Everyone's eyes widened at his blunt statement. The silence that followed wasn't calm—it was sheer disbelief. The Ruler's order had just been issued, an absolute decree no Servant should be able to defy. And yet Arthur had shattered the Command Seal's power as if breaking paper chains.
Karna narrowed his eyes in intrigue. Achilles tilted his head, frowning in utter incredulity. Atalanta, ever watchful, glared at Arthur with suspicion, as though trying to pierce through the arrogant and calm mask he wore. Chiron, more perceptive than the rest, understood what the others refused to admit: Arthur was no mere Servant.
Avicebron, on the other hand, stepped back and muttered under his breath:
"How… is this possible? To break free of a Command Seal… that should be impossible…"
But Arthur ignored them all. His gaze never wavered from Dracula, who stood with blood dripping from his mouth.
Arthur raised his hand, opening the Gate of Babylon, and drew forth two golden swords.
Jeanne, who until now had stood firm in her authority as Ruler, trembled slightly. She had never imagined anyone could so completely nullify the will imposed by a Command Seal. For a brief moment, her heart faltered—was Arthur beyond even her authority as arbiter of the war?
Arthur began advancing on Dracula. His cold, unshaken eyes focused solely on the creature before him, as if everyone else had ceased to exist.
The tension in the air became unbearable. Every Servant felt the Command Seal's chains binding their bodies. It was as though they were all locked onto a board, while Arthur simply refused to play by the rules.
"If that's the case…" Achilles muttered, tightening his grip on his spear. "This guy's gonna hog the whole fight for himself."
"That's not what worries me," Chiron replied, his gaze fixed on Arthur. "What frightens me is that he can."
Arthur, paying no heed to anyone, raised both swords into a stance.
But before he could strike, a red blur shot past him and cleaved Dracula clean in half.
Unfortunately, the vampire immediately began regenerating.
"Master… why didn't you call me? I was missing all the fun," Mordred said, glancing back at Arthur.
"Well, I kind of… forgot," Arthur replied, casually storing his swords back into the Gate of Babylon.
"Master…" Mordred stared at him in disbelief.
Arthur let out a short, almost teasing laugh, shaking his head.
"Well then, you're free to enjoy yourself. This opponent is yours, Mordred."
The knight's eyes lit up, and a wide, almost childlike grin spread across her face.
"Heh! Finally, Master!" she laughed, gripping Clarent with both hands. "Now things will go my way!"
Without waiting another second, Mordred shot forward like lightning, the metallic clang of her armor echoing as the wind howled around her. Each step cracked the ground beneath her.
Dracula, nearly reconstituted, rose again. He no longer had words—only a guttural roar that echoed like a profane curse.
"Come at me, monster!" Mordred shouted, her laughter brimming with reckless glee.
Clarent glowed crimson, pulsing in sync with its wielder's excitement. With a devastating swing, she charged at the vampire, every strike carrying her unrestrained fury.
Meanwhile, the other Servants watched in stunned silence. One moment, the Avenger had been about to fight Dracula alone, the next, Saber had thrown herself at the monster with unbridled zeal. Jeanne gripped her banner tightly, her expression wavering between relief and unease. Chiron kept his eyes on Arthur, trying to decipher the reason behind his confidence in his knight.
Arthur, for his part, only smiled faintly at Mordred, who fought with joy blazing in her eyes.
Each blow of Clarent tore chunks off the vampire's body, yet he always rose again, always regenerated, mocking her efforts.
Still, Mordred refused to back down. Her laughter rang out defiantly, piercing the heavy silence of the night.
Arthur tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a sharper smile.
But then, as Mordred clashed with Dracula, something occurred that drew everyone's attention.
Abruptly, without warning, the Servants of the Red Faction dropped to their knees, faces contorted in anguish, and froze.
"Ugh, what's happening!?"
Dracula wasted no time. Seizing Mordred's momentary distraction, he bolted away, his warped body gaining insane speed, sprinting straight toward the Greater Grail.
"Wait just a damn minute! Don't you dare run!!!" Mordred roared, tearing off in pursuit. Arthur followed instantly, along with Jeanne and Chiron.
Jeanne's unease grew heavier with every step. Was this the dread she had felt looming all along—the fear that the vampire's wish was about to come true?
Pushing aside useless thoughts, she focused her energy and accelerated. The Grail pulsed like a beacon in her magical senses, guiding her without error, yet Dracula's speed was monstrous.
"Black Archer, stop him!" she commanded.
Chiron gave no reply. He simply raised his bow and loosed five arrows in flawless succession. Each one pierced Dracula's legs and hips—yet his body instantly dissolved, reshaping into a grotesque giant bat. Slower, but still relentless.
The Archer shook his head, already adjusting his aim to continue the chase.
"Black Archer, do you know why the Red Faction has stopped moving?" Jeanne asked, not taking her eyes off the target.
"No. I thought it was because the Command Seal's effect had ended… but that doesn't seem to be the case." Chiron's voice was grave.
Jeanne felt the anomaly as well. Could their Master have forbidden cooperation? No—if that were the case, they would have been notified. This reaction felt more like…
"Perhaps their Master has changed," Chiron murmured. "This would be the perfect time for it."
Jeanne's pupils shrank. She turned abruptly toward Arthur.
"Is that true?"
"Yes," Arthur replied with a faint smile.
"Then all the Red Faction Masters are under the control of a single Master?"
"How do you know that!?" Jeanne demanded.
"Why wouldn't I?" Arthur answered simply.
Jeanne shuddered at his cold response. She remembered at once—Arthur was not just an ordinary Servant. He was a Guardian of Alaya, and he surely had a greater purpose here.
"Then why tell me now?" she pressed, her voice firm.
Arthur's calm smile didn't falter, as if the entire war were nothing more than an inevitable calculation.
"Because there's no need to hide it anymore. Soon, you'll meet the mind behind it all… and then you'll understand."
---
(End of this chapter)
A/N: I had to rewrite this chapter about three times—the first two were pretty bad, and the last one because I realized I had forgotten about Mordred, hahaha.
"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."