Chapter 789: The Round Table of Britain Assembles, Charge!
Such domineering lines, such a heart-stirring scene.
Yet what answered Sakatsuki were the mocking expressions on the faces of the Baal Lahmus.
They even halted their attacks, waiting for the so-called miracle to descend. But when they glanced around and saw nothing but black monsters, they could no longer restrain their maniacal laughter!
Where were the heroes?
Where were the so-called peerless Heroic Spirits, capable of standing against thousands?
Standing here, awaiting destruction like ignorant insects—only you fools remain!
Even the people of Uruk wore puzzled expressions. As Servants, they knew all too well the stringent conditions for summoning Heroic Spirits: sufficient leylines, flawless magecraft formulas, the right "bond," and sometimes even legendary catalysts...
Even with such grand preparations, where were the leylines? The magic circles? The incantations?
With this kind of setup, what Heroic Spirit would deign to appear?!
"You didn't just say all that for the sake of a cool line, did you?" Even after becoming a giant, Anna remained as sharp-tongued as ever.
And indeed, Sakatsuki paused mid-speech. Under everyone's watchful eyes, he stuck out his tongue and even winked.
"Ah, sorry, the lines were just so moving I almost cried... Ehe."
"What do you mean 'ehe'?!" The Uruk crowd turned pale with fright. How could he still be fooling around at a time like this?
At this rate, Uruk was truly doomed!
Clearly, someone shared the same sentiment. A crisp, melodious voice rang out as a holy banner unfurled, its tip lightly tapping the Moon Cell King's head. With a yelp, Sakatsuki turned to see the fleur-de-lis swaying playfully before him, as if greeting him after a long absence—brimming with joy and mischief.
At some point, a beautiful figure had appeared beside the throne, standing so close to Sakatsuki that when the young man turned with a smile, his golden eyes shimmered warmly.
Like wheat fields swaying in the autumn wind, filled with the prayers and happiness of countless souls.
The deep blue fabric and silver armor accentuated the girl's stunning curves—her slender waist almost begging to be held, her delicate frame making her chest appear even fuller and more pronounced beneath the armored skirt, and...
That all-too-familiar face, both valiant and lovely.
"Long time no see, Jeanne," the former assassin, now the Moon Cell King, murmured softly with a smile.
Yet the Saint of Orleans was not appeased. Puffing her cheeks, she lightly smacked Sakatsuki's shoulder. "Honestly, why did you have to drop the ball at the critical moment? We were all supposed to make a grand entrance right after you finished your speech!"
Sakatsuki smirked. "I was waiting for you, my dear saint."
"Me?"
"Of course. I wanted you to say the final words in my place."
At this, Jeanne's face flushed pink. Lowering her head, she whispered, "W-well, that really is an honor..."
Sakatsuki smiled, but caught the unspoken words in her tone: "As for your little escapade with that goddess, we'll settle that when we get back."
In that instant, a premonition of death erupted from the depths of his soul—emanating from the radiant smile of the saintly maiden.
Though standing on a battlefield fraught with peril, Sakatsuki felt as though all his senses had deserted him. Even his usually reliable instincts oscillated wildly between extremes, creating a gut-wrenching sensation of certain doom that somehow still left room for hope.
As the Moon Spirit King savored this profound taste of human existence, the Saint of Orleans raised her banner high, her voice pure and resolute as she called forth the light of humanity:
"Hear me! O heroic spirits gathered in this domain—you who could stand against thousands alone!"
"Though we may have been incompatible foes, though we may hail from eras that never intersected, now I ask you to entrust your backs to one another!"
"Not to prevent the incineration of human order, but to carve a path forward for our contractor!"
Her amethyst eyes fixed firmly upon the sorrowful Mother Goddess Tiamat, the saint declared:
"My true name is Jeanne d'Arc! In the name of the Lord, I shall become your steadfast shield!"
As her words faded across the Mesopotamian plains, beneath the watchful gaze of the brimming moon's eye, countless streaks of light arced through the sky like a meteor shower!
When they descended, the spiritual light illuminated the darkness as bright as day, revealing the forms of heroic spirits—some valiant, some solemn, some breathtakingly beautiful, some noble beyond compare... each shining as brilliantly as the stars themselves!
The scale was so vast, the reaction so intense, that even the control room in distant Chaldea trembled with shock!
"Is the equipment malfunctioning? Summoning rituals are appearing everywhere!"
"Spirit Origin readings... 10... 20... 30... still increasing!"
"Romani, this is—"
"Yes, Servants!" The doctor clenched his fists, unable to suppress the excitement in his voice. "They're coming in waves! Coming to this land devoid of leylines, without summoning circles, dominated by Mother Goddess Tiamat!"
"But how is this possible—we can't even provide basic magical energy supply!"
"Ha!" The young man on the throne snapped his fingers, his face alight with triumphant energy. "You underestimate me, Dr. Roman!"
"Beyond being the greatest assassin and mightiest warrior, I also happen to be quite the renowned Magus, no?"
Unnoticed by all, the full moon had risen directly overhead, casting boundless radiance from the throne of the Moon Spirit's Netherworld.
"Merely transporting resources across time and space? Such trivialities can easily be handled by the 'Brimming Moon Ceremony' I created!"
"Tch, as if someone didn't break their back establishing anchor points for you."
The synchronized retort came as spiritual light coalesced, revealing two elegant figures in red standing beside the throne. The black twin tails, deer-like azure eyes, and unmistakably tsundere expressions made the Heaven and Earth Goddesses of Uruk stare in disbelief.
It was like looking into a mirror. The rebel Rin Tohsaka and the magical girl Rin Tohsaka stared at Ishtar-Rin and Ereshkigal, unable to hide their astonishment. "This is utterly ridiculous. Just as Sakatsuki said, our counterparts have actually been possessed by goddesses from the Age of Gods."
"Miss Tohsaka certainly has an unexpected talent in this regard, much like your profound skills in comedy."
Using the most elegant tone to deliver the most cutting remark—this was undoubtedly the signature style of a certain Holy King.
"What did you just say—!" All four Rins shouted in unison.
"Ah, ah, I surrender." The young Holy King raised his hands in defeat, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he gazed at the pitch-black Sea of Origins and the draconic Beast of Regression. "So this is the Beast of Humanity? Fascinating. I wonder if similar specimens will appear on the Mooncell..."
"Alright, Leo, I didn't call you here just to watch the show." Sakatsuki rolled his eyes and called out the acting chairman's name with exasperation. "This is the Moonlit Sea Student Council's first group activity. Don't mess it up."
"Of course. Returning to an era so rich in magical energy like the Age of Gods has already got me fired up." Leonardo Bistario Harwey flashed a flawless smile. "Gawain, join the fray... Gawain?"
Beside him, the knight who resembled a prince from a fairy tale was staring into the distance at a figure who haunted his dreams. Then he withdrew his gaze and knelt on one knee. "Forgive my rudeness. Please command me as you will, my lord."
"Are you sure?" Leo subtly glanced away. "I too caught a glimpse of that king's noble figure."
"It's fine." Gawain replied without hesitation. "As a knight, you are the one I have chosen to follow now."
Hearing this, the Holy King—praised by his family as the reincarnation of Arthur Pendragon—smiled and waved magnanimously. "I'm glad, Gawain. Then, I command you: return to that king's service."
"But this time, fight for me—for the Moonlit Sea Student Council!"
"Let that beautiful and sacred king know that even after thousands of years, the valor of the Round Table Knight Gawain still shines as brightly as the sun!"
"My lord..."
Gawain was stunned. Kneeling on one knee, his voice nearly choked with emotion.
Suppressing the urge to shed tears, he solemnly vowed, "I will not fail your expectations, my lord!"
In that instant, a dazzling solar halo expanded, and like a swallow returning to its nest, he charged straight into a distant battlefield.
Surveying the familiar faces around him, Gawain smiled warmly and was about to speak when a head suddenly popped out from among the knights, wearing its usual cocky and punchable expression:
"Well, well, look who's here? The knight who prides himself on loyalty actually abandoned his current master?"
The smile vanished. The Sun Knight, infamous in Chaldea for his strictness and debt-collecting, scowled and called out the name of the spiky-haired blond knight. "Mordred, I haven't forgiven you for your actions in life. The wrongs you committed against the king—I will settle them with you one day."
In the past, this "Knight of Treachery" would have surely shown a look of loathing and drawn her crimson kingly sword. But this time, the girl merely grinned smugly, "It's fine, say whatever you want. Father has already forgiven me anyway."
"What did you— My King!" Gawain turned around in disbelief, looking toward the sacred figure at the forefront of the battlefield—riding a divine steed and wielding the Holy Lance Rhongomyniad. As if sensing his gaze, she turned her head as well. When she saw Gawain's stunned expression, a hint of amusement flickered in her saintly blue eyes.
"It has been a long time, Sir Gawain."
"My King, you... forgave Mordred?" Even after countless years, the title "King" remained deeply engraved in Gawain's soul, profound and instinctive. "Even after such an irreparable mistake..."
In response to Gawain's astonishment, Artoria nodded calmly. "It matters not. I have descended from the Hill of Camlann, and the past no longer weighs on my heart."
After a brief pause, she slightly raised her head, first exchanging glances with the young man seated upon the throne, then nodding toward the golden-haired King of Heroes beside him. "Moreover, Sir Gawain, have you not also found a lord worthy of your allegiance?"
"Who would have thought the first to 'betray' would be someone as righteous-looking as you." Beside Artoria, Lancelot, clad in white-gold armor, curled his lips, unable to hide his teasing tone.
"Sir Lancelot." Gawain's gaze fell upon the knight he had once fought to the death with, retorting sharply, "I, too, remember the chaos you brought upon the Round Table."
Faced with Gawain's provocative words, Lancelot reacted much like Mordred had—he merely scratched his head and shrugged with a laugh. "It's fine. The King forgave me as well."
"Hah?!" Gawain felt his breath hitch in his chest. Seeing this man not only unashamed but actually proud of it made him want to draw his holy sword and settle things in a duel.
But someone spoke before he could.
"Enough of this disgraceful display, Sir Lancelot."
The voice was cool and youthful. Gawain glanced sideways and widened his eyes in shock.
It was a young man with white, tousled hair, clad in form-fitting black armor. In his hand, the Shield of the Round Table shimmered with moonlight.
"Galahad, the purest of knights... Even you—"
"I owe a debt to the King of the Moon Cell, hence I answered the call, Sir Gawain." The boy's tone softened slightly, but when he looked back at his nominal father, his expression was full of disdain. "Acting so shamelessly, like a child grinning foolishly after getting candy... How can someone like you claim to have once been King Arthur's most respected knight?!"
"Th-this familiar tone of not treating your father as a father..." Despite being the parent, Lancelot inexplicably shrank under the boy's presence, his usual demeanor as the Knight of the Lake utterly absent. He could only duck his head and endure the scolding.
Ah, this familiar feeling.
Gawain covered his mouth, exchanging glances with some of the other Round Table knights, his eyes brimming with amused laughter.
Whenever recalling the scene of Lancelot proudly showing off his babbling infant son to everyone, compared to his current pitiful state of being scolded until red-faced like a quail, one couldn't help but feel schadenfreude.
"However, this might be the most complete gathering of our Round Table yet?"
Twang~~~
The sound of plucked strings echoed as the handsome red-haired knight sighed with closed eyes like a poet: "Ah, how sorrowful, to be overlooked yet again..."
"Sir Tristan." Having been distracted by the two rebellious figures Mordred and Lancelot, Gawain only now noticed Tristan and scratched his head sheepishly. "Oh, you're here too..."
Twang~~~
The strings sounded again as the most romantic knight of the Round Table sighed: "To be discovered only now, ah, how sorrowful..."
A low cough interrupted as a stern-faced, sharp-featured knight cut short the knights' reunion (or mutual insults), bowing before the King:
"As an army about to march to war, such behavior from knights is utterly unbecoming. My King, please admonish these wayward fellows."
"Ugh, Agravain." Even Mordred couldn't help clicking her tongue before falling silent before the iron-blooded scribe's style. Upon hearing this, the white-speared Artoria on horseback gave a slight flick of her ahoge.
"You seem quite pleased, Sir Agravain."
"..." Agravain's eye twitched slightly, an unexpected expression flashing across his face. Seeing this, Artoria removed her helmet, revealing a breathtaking smile.
"No need to conceal it, for I share this joy of reunion with you."
At this sight, all knights stood stunned!
Not because of their King's words, but because—
The King... smiled?
Our King... actually... smiled!!!
"Hmm?" Artoria tilted her head, noticing the knights frozen like statues. She blinked, her fair cheeks flushing slightly. "Did I... say something wrong..."
"Well, well!"
The scent of flowers heralded the arrival of the white-haired sage. Merlin, having deliberately chosen this moment to appear, looked around and—after grasping the situation—adopted a mischievous expression. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he proclaimed loudly:
"Everyone! Let us fight to protect our King's smile!"
After a brief silence—
"OOOOOHHHHH! FOR THE KING!!!!"
Howls that could wake the dead shook the heavens. Not just Mordred and Lancelot who shouted loudest, even Agravain shouted with tense cheeks. Artoria startled visibly, quickly replacing her helmet to hide her burning face.
But when her gaze fell upon the snarling Lahmu, her eyes turned sharp. Mounted on her beloved steed Dun Stallion, she leaned forward, spear aimed ahead.
"Then, let us demonstrate our martial glory to these heroes!"
As her words fell, the synchronized clang of armor and swords rang out. All Round Table knights stood solemnly, gripping their weapons tightly at their King's command, stepping forward.
"Knights of the Round—CHARGE!"
Transcending time itself, Britain's eternal legend—the Round Table Knights inheriting radiance and glory—galloped across the battlefield!