Mordred gritted her teeth, pride burning fiercely in her chest.
She knew she couldn't win if she kept defending.
So, she abandoned all caution.
She threw away any sense of defense, logic, or calculation—and fought purely on instinct.
"HAAAAAAH!"
A roar tore through the battlefield.
She raised her sword high and swung, slicing through the air with such raw power that even the wind screamed.
Achilles' spear lunged forward to intercept—too fast for the human eye to follow—but Mordred was already there, answering blow for blow, soul against soul.
For a fleeting moment, time itself seemed to halt around them as their weapons collided.
"CLARENT BLOOD ARTHUR!!" Mordred bellowed, unleashing her strongest attack upon Achilles.
And then—
CLANG!
The final impact echoed deeply, like the toll of a bell announcing the end of an age.
Achilles' spear slipped from his hands and fell to the ground, ringing one last time before resting among the shattered stones.
Half of his body had been consumed by Mordred's furious strike.
Whoosh... Whoosh... Whoosh...
The wind howled, carrying away the dust and blood.
Achilles staggered back half a step, a calm smile crossing his lips.
"What a perfect strike," he said, voice steady yet serene.
There was no regret in his eyes—only respect.
Then, slowly, his form began to dissolve into particles of golden light.
He vanished—not as one defeated, but as one honored.
Mordred remained there, on her knees, breathing heavily.
The sound of her ragged breaths mingled with the wind sweeping across the ruined field.
She looked down, sweat and blood dripping from the cracks in her armor, and murmured, exhausted yet faintly smiling:
"I should've trusted the master's words more…"
Arthur's voice echoed in her mind.
'Don't be so arrogant in battle, Mordred.'
She scoffed softly, a weak chuckle escaping her lips.
"Tch… He was right."
It had been a long time since her heart had raced so wildly in combat.
Unlike the overwhelming defeat she suffered against Arthur, this time she had truly fought.
---xXx---
"King!"
The voice came from behind Arthur—steady, yet trembling, the tone of someone who had just stared death in the face.
Arthur turned slowly, his golden hair swaying in the warm breeze still flowing from the aftermath of battle.
A familiar figure was running toward him.
"Caules?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he saw the young man approaching—breathless, face smeared with soot and sweat. "Why are you here?"
Caules barely had time to catch his breath before answering. He stumbled closer, clutching his injured arm, and exhaled tiredly.
"Actually…" he began, his voice a mix of shame and relief. "I was here the whole time—ever since you and Karna started fighting. But the destruction you two caused was… colossal."
His gaze drifted past Arthur to the battlefield behind him—smoldering craters, melted pillars, scattered rubble—and further beyond, the clash of Mordred and Achilles still raging.
"The energy you both unleashed was insane," Caules continued, nervously. "Every explosion felt like the world was falling apart. I had to move far away to avoid being caught in it. I barely escaped death… multiple times. It was terrifying."
Arthur's calm expression didn't change, but a flicker of irony crossed his face.
"So that means you weren't really in mortal danger," he replied with a faint smile. "Otherwise, Fran would've been right by your side. She'd never let you die, would she?"
Caules sighed, clearly frustrated.
"I didn't summon her on purpose," he explained, clenching his fists. "If I did, it could've jeopardized our entire plan. The battle she's fighting now is far more important than my safety."
The weight in his voice made it clear that he had thought this through many times.
He knew exactly what was at stake.
If Astolfo, Fran, and Atalanta couldn't keep Semiramis occupied until Arthur and Mordred finished their battles, everything would be lost.
"I couldn't risk that…" Caules muttered darkly. "How would I explain to my sister that my recklessness ruined everything?"
Arthur watched him in silence for a few moments, assessing his resolve. Then, a small, amused smile curved his lips.
"Don't think this would've truly changed the outcome of our victory, but still…" — his tone carried both irony and respect — "you've matured, Caules. I didn't expect to hear something that reasonable from you."
Caules rolled his eyes, slightly embarrassed, looking away.
Before he could respond, Arthur spoke again:
"By the way… what about Celenike? Where is that woman?"
At the name, Caules' expression shifted instantly. The fatigue vanished, replaced by irritation and a hint of despair.
"That woman…" he began, voice tight with bitterness. "She outright refused to listen to me. I warned her—the fortress interior was covered in traps, that going alone would be suicide—but she didn't care."
Arthur crossed his arms, his expression hardening.
"She went after Astolfo, didn't she?"
Caules exhaled heavily and nodded.
"Yes. Ran straight toward him like nothing else mattered. I tried to stop her, but she completely ignored the plan. She said she wouldn't stand by while he was in danger."
A silence fell between them.
The wind picked up again, lifting a curtain of dust that mingled with the scent of ozone and dried blood.
Arthur sighed, fully grasping what that meant.
He had forgotten, if only for a moment, the morbid affection Celenike had for Astolfo.
She would never have stayed behind.
She would never have waited in safety while he fought.
"If I'd remembered that…" Arthur thought, rubbing his chin. "I never would've let that foolish woman take part in this battle."
But it was too late now.
The pieces were in motion, and even he no longer had control over all of them.
"This is truly troublesome…" he muttered with a weary sigh.
His eyes drifted toward the center of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.
For a while, he said nothing—just stared, lost in thought.
Finally, he whispered, almost to himself:
"I hope it's not too late…"
He clenched his fists, his gaze hardening like gold as he stepped forward.
(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."