Chapter 790: Summoning, the All-Out Assault of Heroic Spirits!
"Oh ho, so she's finally made her move, that azure king. One truly shouldn't underestimate the martial valor of this little island."
Speaking of Britain's monarch with such casual tone, the blazing young empress stretched her limbs like a fiery blossom. When her gaze fell upon the familiar figure upon the throne, a sweet smile graced her lips.
Like the romantic winds blowing across the Mediterranean, it carried the joy of love and the longing for reunion.
"In that case, I shall not fall behind either!"
Raising the Original Flame high toward the sky, the Rose Emperor Nero Claudius drew the battlefield's attention with her delicate yet curvaceous figure and spirited voice:
"Open the theater, raise the curtain for our chorus! My imperial predecessors!"
"OHH!!!"
The cheer squad composed of Roman emperors responded with burning fighting spirit, among which a certain Berserker's voice rang particularly loud.
They would never lose to Britain—and why? Because standing here was the progenitor of Rome's lineage, the ancestor who founded this glorious imperial reign!
Clad in golden armor, the giant-like figure grasped a towering tree as if it reached the heavens. The Divine Ancestor Romulus stood atop the highest hill, surveying the Lahmus churning the sea of origins below.
"Rome... is it not."
"I'd be terrified if the Divine Ancestor suddenly declared 'You too are Rome'," muttered the crimson dragon in red dress and golden crown while cradling the Holy Grail. Raising her voice when Romulus glanced over with an amused look, she continued, "Though I'd love to punch that arrogant bastard sitting on the throne, these creatures before us are far more displeasing. So..."
Wreathed in bloody dragon shadows, bathed in the flames of the end, the tall beauty with crimson beast horns swung her greatsword and jerked her chin forward:
"Heroic Spirits of Rome, the time has come to prove our valor to the world!"
"OHHHH!!!"
The emperors cheered, always ready to escalate the excitement. As Rome's most beloved rose, they cared not what form Nero had taken.
Just fight!
Some cheered, others wailed.
Why had things turned out this way? They'd finally reunited with him, were just steps away from standing tall and boasting about their lives!
Yet why... had Lord El-Melloi II come along too?!
Ahem. Clearing his throat, Lord El-Melloi II adopted an air of nonchalance before the burly, bull-like conqueror.
"How strange. I'd already resigned myself to never seeing you again... Yet here we stand side by side. Truly, it seems the crisis of human order brings unexpected blessings."
Facing the slender, bespectacled young man who carried himself like a meticulous scholar, the famed King of Conquerors, Iskandar, scratched his head without hiding his bewilderment.
"Uh... who're you?"
Peals of laughter erupted instantly. Aside from the burly soldiers doubling over in mirth, the most distinctive was the impish giggling from behind Lord El-Melloi II.
"Reines..." The moment Waver Velvet realized his disheveled state had been witnessed by her again, all he could feel was stomach pain. "Why are you here?"
"Ara, is my dear brother not welcoming my arrival?" The golden-haired girl with mystic eyes curled her lips, then glanced at the king who commanded attention just by standing there, murmuring softly, "So this is the man who haunts my brother's dreams. He looks like a Russian grizzly bear."
As her words fell, the hem of her robe was tugged. Behind Reines, a girl who—like Anna—had pulled her hood low looked utterly pitiful, on the verge of tears from panic.
"W-where is this place? I think I saw the Round Table Knights... Add, Add? Why aren't you saying anything...?"
"Don't panic, Gray." Reines was also surprised. Aside from herself and her brother, this newly enrolled disciple had also been dragged into this.
Indeed, her brother's judgment was never wrong. This disciple, brought from the Blackmore Graveyard, possessed her own unique qualities.
"Ahahaha, so it's you, brat! You've changed so much in such a short time?"
After being reminded by his comrade, Iskandar finally recognized the greatly altered Waver. He enthusiastically clapped the young man's shoulder with the same force as years past: "Come, let me personally introduce you to my companion Hephaestion. The two of you meeting will surely be interesting!"
"My King..." Both Hephaestion and Waver Velvet wore identical expressions of stomach pain. "We've already met... in the 'Army of the King.'"
"Ahaha, is that so? Couldn't help myself, couldn't help myself..." Iskandar showed no trace of embarrassment. Scratching his steel-bristle short beard, he finally deigned to cast his gaze upon the Lahmu horde.
When the sounds of battle between the British and Roman factions reached his ears, a long-absent fire ignited in the man's eyes.
"Heh, this promises to be an exhilarating fight."
Hearing the man's murmur, Reines suddenly shuddered. Though his appearance hadn't changed at all, the Servant who had seemed like a jovial uncle was gone. In his place stood a figure clad in gold and crimson robes, his voice commanding awe over all.
The wind carried the scent of gunpowder.
In the silence, the King of Conquerors slowly drew his beloved sword and raised it high:
"Though we stand upon the vast lands of a foreign realm, and though we pave the way for those who once fought us to the death, since I am here, I shall forge a new path of hegemony!"
"Gather once more, warriors who yearn for the ends of the earth! The ruts engraved here are our honor! AAAALaLaLaLaLaie!!!"
A battle cry unlike any other shook the heavens. Even the perpetually gloomy Waver flushed red, his body, mind, and soul immersed in the roar as he marched forward with the army.
Alexander the Great's forces—deploy!!!
"My, my, how wonderful. Enduring so much suffering was worth it."
His robes fluttering, the white-haired priest watched the stirring scene with a faint, bitter smile.
The intoxicating fragrance laced with allure slipped into his nostrils as the black-clad Assyrian Empress pressed close behind him. Her pale, slender hands coiled around him like serpents, and when her palm met his, a cruel, ruler-like smile curled on her lips.
"This time, I won't let you escape, my Master."
"Why are we even here? Isn't there a stage for Greek heroes to shine?"
"Give it up. Even Heracles ran off with some little girl. What kind of presence do we two even have?"
Amid the battlefield swept by scorching winds, a flash of emerald emerged—Achilles, crowned with the name of the War God, his heroic figure like a shooting star. Alongside him strode Atlanta, the forest's darling, wielding the bow of the Moon Goddess with peerless grace.
"Say, Big Sis, aren't you going to catch up with that 'King'?" Achilles nudged his chin toward the throne of the Moon Spirit, his expression tinged with envy and a hint of schadenfreude for his comrade. "Though I had an inkling of his true nature, I never imagined he'd achieve something like this."
"That's a hero who won the hearts of both a saint and a king—and the man I've set my sights on," Atlanta replied matter-of-factly. "But never mind. When I want him, I'll go to him myself."
"Alright, that's just… so like you." Even Achilles was left flustered by Atlanta's bluntness. Scratching his cheek sheepishly, his face lit up with joy as the half-man, half-horse figure came into view.
"Teacher, you're here too!"
Not just Chiron—heroes who had once benefited from the Assassin's favor in the Servant War had gathered here, answering the call of fate, manifesting within this domain.
"The scent of the Crown of Wisdom's light." Avicebron gazed in the direction where the giants had vanished, his masked face betraying emotion. "Even in its most complete form… it was erased?"
After a brief silence, the stoic man clenched his fist and muttered under his breath.
"What has been will be again. I will recreate that radiance…"
Meanwhile, in another corner, two great heroes—one clad in red, the other in black—stood side by side, calmly observing the brutal battlefield. A tiny Assassin waved toward the throne, shouting the names of her father and mother, while Chiron, after exchanging greetings with Achilles, sighed with a smile.
"Though Mordred and that King of Knights have run off to the Round Table, our lineup won't lose to anyone."
"There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy—indeed, indeed!"
Dressed in flamboyant attire and shouting like a ringmaster, there was no mistaking the identity of the great poet and playwright, Shakespeare. "To think even after death, I'd witness such madness! Oh, my inspiration surges like the eruption of Mount Krakatoa!"
"Then, I shall shamelessly take the reins of this battle once more."
At the forefront, Amakusa finally managed to soothe the restless Empress. Gazing ahead at the ferocious battlefield, he smiled as if victory were already in sight.
"Under the banners of the Saint and the Moon's Eye, let the battle of 'Black' and 'Red' be reborn."
But this time, their blades would not be turned against each other—but forward!
"Apocrypha forces, advance!"
"OOH—!!!"
"Oh oh oh, we Emiya faction can't fall behind either! Wait... why the Emiya faction? I'm clearly a magical girl..."
"Illya, I think I see many versions of you."
Miyu looked at the winter-clad Illya sitting atop a black giant, the Illya leaning against a winter bear, the Illya draped in the Heaven's Dress, and the magical girl Illya beside her in a pink frilly dress, swallowing hard despite herself.
"My, my, so many new flavors I've never seen before. I wonder how their lips would taste."
"Kuro!" Illya instantly bristled. "Don't you dare lay a hand on them!"
The three girls chattered and bickered noisily. Meanwhile, in another place, a young man in white robes with a red overcoat and a red headband tied around his forehead withdrew his gaze.
"It seems he's taking good care of them. I'm relieved."
"Not going to reunite with them?" asked another similarly dressed man with white eyebrows, raising a brow.
The young man shook his head with a light chuckle. "The dead shouldn't interfere with the paths of the living. Our conversation alone is interesting enough."
He paused, then looked up at a black-haired man in battle armor, his expression cold and stern.
"Long time no see, Dad."
"...Don't call me that." The man gripping a tactical dagger couldn't hide his frustration. "We're all lingering spirits who met different ends in different worlds... Hearing that just irritates me."
"My, my, Kiritsugu, are you going to dislike me too?" A woman slightly older than Illya covered her mouth with a laugh, the Heaven's Dress draped over her alabaster skin like sheer gauze. "Honestly, I'm so happy I could cry."
"..." Emiya Kiritsugu felt so miserable he wanted to die.
Being kicked into this battlefield by the Counter Force was bad enough, but why did the person they had to help have to be that brat he couldn't stand?!
"Ahem, anyway, let's go too!"
Under the urging of the two girls, Magical Girl Illya the Great, Sovereign of All Ages, became the leader of the Emiya faction. Waving her tiny pink fist, she declared with adorable yet commanding vigor:
"Let's go teach those bad guys a lesson! Illya's mom, dad, big brothers, and sisters—wow, it suddenly feels like we're one big family now!"
Silver-bell laughter rang out as the girls charged ahead, with the men following close behind, ready to teach those world-destroying villains a lesson on behalf of the most outstanding and formidable member of their 'family'!