The Magical Beasts of Olympus were special creatures created during Erlond's mass production, infused with Klironomia. Compared to their standard forms, they possessed far greater defenses and survivability.
In response, the Servants dispatched by the Counter Force—including Drake and the others—had searched the temples on the islands, repurposing the divine legacies left behind across each island to strengthen themselves in every respect.
With advantage cancelling out advantage, both sides were pushed back to the same starting line.
Under the overlapping crossfire of the two Noble Phantasms, the incoming swarm of Magical Beasts was struck first, its numbers rapidly thinned. The fleet's charge no longer needed to slow, and it was able to maintain its original speed as it pressed forward.
"This is getting ridiculous. Now I can't even tell which ones I took down and which ones Captain Drake got." Bartholomew frowned, looking as if he'd miscalculated. "We should've suggested alternating attacks. That way it'd be easier to count the kills—"
Before he could finish, an icy chill stabbed straight into his forehead.
A split second later, several arrows tore through the waves and smoke that still hadn't fully cleared, shooting directly toward Bartholomew's face at the helm.
There was no doubt about it.
On Olympus's side, whoever was in charge of the interception had seen through the fact that Bartholomew was the core of this ship. Kill him, and the ship would vanish, dropping the Servants aboard into the sea.
Whether their allies chose to rescue them or left them to Spiritualization and fend for themselves, it would still impact their fighting strength.
But an obvious possibility like that had been accounted for from the very beginning.
"An archer, just as expected. Is it that Servant called Chiron?" Gareth raised the shield on her left arm and blocked the volley, keeping her position in front of Bartholomew to guard him.
Gawain gripped his sword's hilt in both hands, the blade angled upward. "Most likely. The smoke and dust cloud still blocks our vision, and the midday sunlight is still upon us. Then I shall use my Holy Sword to drive out the enemy attempting to strike from hiding!"
A tremendous surge of Mana poured from his tall, powerful body. The Knight of the Sun, wreathed in the glow of magic, used the warship as a foothold, leaping several times. After landing atop the mast, he sprang again, vaulting into the air more than ten meters above the sea.
"This radiance dispels the night, illuminating the land as an inconvenient guardian—Excalibur Galatine!"
The blade swelled in an instant. Sunlight coiled around the sword, becoming flames that looked as though they might set the ocean itself alight, sweeping across everything in front of him.
Many more Magical Beasts were erased by that strike, yet Gawain felt none of the sensation of having hit a Servant.
As he fell back down onto the ship, more arrows came flying in, only to be calmly struck aside by Gawain.
Chiron was clearly far beyond the range of his Noble Phantasm, continuing to press for the initiative from a safe distance.
"As expected of the famed teacher who trained countless Greek heroes. Even I can't make out the enemy's distance, and yet you've loosed so many lethal arrows." Tristan plucked at his strings. "But Chiron of the Lostbelt, your little scheme has given one thing away."
The red-haired knight standing at the bow, surrounded by an air of quiet, opened his keen eyes.
"That these arrows have revealed your position!" Tristan said heavily, raising his weapon that was both lyre and bow as invisible arrows flew out.
Amid the roar of wind and waves came the sound of arrows colliding and vanishing.
Tristan did not falter. Relying on his sharp senses, he caught Chiron's position, forcing the other to nock an arrow and fire back.
That much was enough for a warm-up.
Soon, the three ships successively passed through the waters where the intercepting Magical Beasts had been swarming. Beneath the black clouds, an even greater number of warships than at Hecate Island were arranged across the sea, rocking in the wind and rain yet holding their formation.
"What numbers! Is this the blessing of the Olympian gods?" Lancelot was startled.
Even in the age when the Knights of the Round Table were at their height, a fleet of this scale would have been unrealistic. And yet, after suffering two total annihilation defeats, they could still field so many warships. It was plain that this Lostbelt possessed extraordinary productive power.
"But with so many warships, naval combat becomes much easier," Percival pressed his lips into a thin line. "Because there are plenty of places to land."
"O-oh…"
Beside them, the gloomy Mandricardo echoed weakly.
He certainly had fighting spirit, but the confidence of the Knights of the Round Table—confidence that didn't lose out even to Charlemagne's Twelve Champions—was so dazzling he felt like he couldn't quite keep up with their pace.
"All hands, attention! Although we've crushed the Magical Beasts' charge meant to stop us, we're about to break into the Stormy Seas!"
Shiomi's voice rang out, impossibly clear amid the roaring wind and crashing waves. It was a transmission carried by Magecraft.
"This is no ordinary storm. It's a defensive line woven by the gods, a tempest that will attack us unilaterally! Do not push too far ahead on your own, or you'll fall beyond the reach of Goddess Skadi's protection!"
As his warning spread, scattered raindrops began to fall from the sky, quickly growing heavier and more relentless.
This was the price of drawing close to the Stormy Seas.
"Knights of the Round Table! Servants of Proper Human History! Break through this line, and the gates of Olympus will be right before us!" Artoria raised her Holy Sword high, its golden radiance blazing brilliantly across the steadily darkening sea. "Survive, and then face the gods!"
Amid thunder and lightning, her clear and resolute voice reached everyone without fail, lifting the fighting spirit of the entire force.
Inside the bridge, Olga Marie took a deep breath and issued her order without hesitation.
"Full speed ahead! Concentrate Storm Border's mana at the bow and reinforce the defensive barrier!"
Storm Border surged forward at once. At the same time, Olga Marie glanced back toward Morgan and gave a silent nod.
Morgan returned it, lifting her chin slightly in acknowledgment.
"Spirit Vein Closing Armament, Rhongomyniad, loading. Round Lance, twelve-base parallel anchor deployment. Olympus fleet engagement mode, activate!"
Every gun port on Storm Border opened at once, firing ten seconds before collision distance. A torrential barrage rained down across the enemy warships.
At the same time, the opposing fleet activated its autonomous heavy bows. Enormous mana arrows streaked through the air, some intercepted by the Spirit Vein Closing Armament, others stopped by the first defensive barrier Shiomi had deployed before they could reach the Chaldea fleet.
To attack without restraint, overwhelming defenses were indispensable.
"Leave the vanguard to your master."
Within the raging storm, Scáthach flicked her rain-soaked hair aside and spoke in a tired voice. Without waiting for Shiomi's reply, she leapt from the deck, plunging toward the forward center of the Olympus fleet.
"You won't take another step forward!"
A familiar, irritable shout rang out.
Almost on instinct, she twisted midair to meet the attack, her crimson spear colliding head-on with an incoming lance.
The moment she recognized the enemy blocking her path, a sharp, frigid smile spread across her face.
"Then pray your luck holds out this time, Divine Spirit!"