Boom! Boom! BOOOOOOM!!
The soil had long since been scoured away, scorched to an uncomfortable reddish-brown hue by searing heat. Across the ruined expanse of what was once New Fuyuki Station, not a single intact plant remained.
On this battlefield, one side consisted of an alien army summoned by a foreign god; the other, a legendary force forged to build an empire spanning Asia, Europe, and Africa. Now, the two armies clashed in a bloodbath.
Corpses piled among the rubble—too many to count. Blood barely had time to congeal before being erased by the Servants' overwhelming magical exchanges. And still, more soldiers were summoned. Fight. Die. Summon. Fight again. Die again... An endless cycle.
Here, every second, one or even dozens of warriors perished under blades, bullets, and bolts.
To the Macedonian army, their archaic, worn-out armor offered no protection from the alien enemy's exotic weaponry.
Against energy swords, gravity hammers, and covering firepower never seen before in their world, they were lambs to the slaughter. Their armor and shields were like wet paper—pierced with ease.
But for Selene's Sangheili army, it was equally frustrating.
Sure, their average strength and lower limit far surpassed the Macedonians, but the enemy's upper limit? Ridiculous.
They looked like a backward army straight out of the Bronze or Iron Ages—yet monster after monster emerged among them. Sangheili officers realized something horrifying:
They couldn't win.
Frontline Sangheili officers were being decapitated one after another by enemy Servants. Their own strength—space fleets, heavy aerospace battleships—couldn't even be summoned.
Selene's current Saint Graph just wasn't large enough.
Even so, being able to mass-summon Sangheili forces and Scarab-class ultra-heavy assault platforms (whose firepower rivaled Anti-Army Noble Phantasms) was already a broken advantage—thanks to Tiamat's partial Saint Graph.
Both sides consisted of spiritual armies formed by gathered mana under Noble Phantasm effects. But to fight with this level of intensity? Even some of Chaldea's summoned Servants had never seen such carnage in their lifetimes.
Whizz! Whizz! Whizz!
Dust clouds and the blinding radiance of Noble Phantasms lingered in the skies. Clad in shining silver Valkyrie armor, Durandal stepped forth with heavy steps, sweeping aside magical cannon fire and projectile Noble Phantasms with her lance—Black Abyss White Flower.
"What a formidable female warrior. Even those crazy Amazons pale in comparison. I, Leonidas, salute you. Though ambushing isn't my style, this is war, not a gladiator arena!"
A deep, resonant voice rang out.
The air thundered. Durandal turned toward it—it was clearly a Spartan warrior: golden T-faced helmet, long golden spear and massive Greek round shield in hand, crimson cloak draped over his heavily muscled chest.
"It matters not. On the battlefield, there is no such thing as fairness. To face a hero famed in human history—regardless of alignment or outcome—is an honor."
Durandal spoke calmly. Then she twisted to the side, barely avoiding Leonidas's golden spear tip, and countered—raising her knee for a powerful strike...
At that moment—whoosh!
A bone-white skull mask appeared—an Assassin long hidden in the shadows had waited patiently for this very moment. As Durandal committed to her kick, mid-air from parrying Gilgamesh's Noble Phantasm volley and other Archer snipes—
"Zabaniya!!"
Szzzzzt~!
From beneath a black cloak, his bandages unraveled. A grotesque, baton-shaped right arm exuded unsettling crimson light. In a raspy, low voice, Assassin thrust his mutated limb toward Durandal's chest.
"Been waiting for you, Assassin!"
With a 360-degree spin, Durandal forcibly swung Leonidas—man and spear—as a flail. Her follow-up whip kick carried hurricane-like force, and concentrated mana surged through her thigh, turning her leg into a glowing arc of pure light.
BANG—!
The corrupted arm shattered mid-swing, and her foot slammed into Assassin's abdomen.
CRACK!
The internal damage shattered his skull mask, blood splattered across the field, and his abdomen and spine were pierced clean through. His body contorted—
BOOM!
Like a cannonball, he was launched, tearing through everything in his path. He became a scattered mass of flesh and blood, crashing through a squad of Macedonian warriors, leaving only crimson mist in his wake.
But Durandal had no time to rest.
A cold black mist spread, and dozens of cloaked silhouettes reappeared. A rain of poisoned daggers pierced the air where she'd just stood.
Whoosh!
It wasn't the original [Bright Knight] armor held by Selene. In the Throne of Heroes' records, Durandal's armor was a high-grade imitation of the God-Emperor Selene's true battle gear.
While it retained the damage-reduction property—cutting all received damage by 90%—it lacked full physical stat amplification and nullification of non-divine attacks.
So, even if she blocked the daggers, she still took 10% damage.
If this were the Selene version of [Bright Knight], these non-divine attacks wouldn't even make her flinch.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Sword light tore the air around Durandal. A volley of roaring King's Treasures streaked through the sky, bombarding her directly.
BOOOOM~!
After crushing another wave of projectile Noble Phantasms, Durandal cast an annoyed glance at the far-off Gilgamesh, who hid behind meat shields to spam AOE from the backline.
That golden nuisance was seriously annoying.
"I have to get to Kiana and the others..."
She urgently pushed toward Kiana's location. Earlier, she'd already sensed the defeat of Rita and Li Sushang. As Durandal pressed on with great difficulty—
BOOOOOOM—!
Accompanied by wild laughter, "Come die with me!! I shall rewrite the world—!"
A crimson pillar of fire shot skyward. Everything around it—foe and ally alike—was obliterated in the blast, carried off by violent shockwaves.
"This pressure and urgency... Compared to this, those fights the other day were just warm-ups."
Durandal had to admit—they'd been too relaxed. Thinking their opponents weren't much, each one had gone off to fight individually. But once Chaldea's reinforcements arrived in waves, they were surrounded and divided in an instant... and promptly thrashed.
Her Majesty must've anticipated this. She never ordered Lev to use Command Seals to summon them back. Clearly, she wanted them to choose for themselves—to endure.
Still, better to fall as a Servant than lead comrades to death due to poor command.
Durandal thought quietly.
Meanwhile—
"Clarent, Radiant and Brilliant Royal Sword!"
Scarlet lightning burst.
Durandal was trying to regroup with Kiana and the others. Naturally, Chaldea's strategy was to prevent that—dividing them for individual takedowns.
Seeing Saber Mordred charging from the side, Durandal made her decision. The perfect outcome was already out of reach—so: fight!
BOOM!
Cracks spread like spiderwebs from her point of impact. Durandal turned toward Mordred, her [Unyielding Valkyrie] enhancement pushing her lance techniques to perfection. She thrust Black Abyss White Flower straight forward.
The sheer force of the strike compressed the air until it exploded with a thunderous sonic boom.
Crap! She's going all out!
"Saber, watch out for that white lance!"
Leonidas's warning rang out.
Mordred grimaced. Retreating now would be shameful—not that she was Selene or anything. No, she had the advantage here.
"Clarent Blood Arthur! Rebellion against my glorious father!"
CLANG—!
Sword met spear with a deafening crash.
In an instant, the earth shattered. Dirt and rocks exploded outward. The ground cracked and caved in, forming a vast crater amidst the thunderous impact.
Durandal's body leaned, narrowly avoiding the golden spear that stabbed past her cheek.
"Hraaah—!!"
Purple-red lightning roared out, kicking up a blast wave. Durandal's free arm bent, then snapped forward to grab the golden spear, following up with a brutal side kick.
THUD!
"Urgh—ack!"
Leonidas stumbled back, and Durandal used the opening to lunge toward Mordred, who was still trying to regain footing.
Basic Strength A+? You kidding me?
"I am the black that devours all... I am the white that gives birth to all. Born before creation, enduring past annihilation—"
She began to chant.
Seeing this, Archer Atalanta—on long-range support—turned pale. That spear! She knew it too well. She'd been one of its past victims.
"Saber! Get away! That weapon is divine!!"
Every instinct screamed danger. Mordred forgot her pride, twisted her sword-hand wrist, and detonated the lightning on her blade.
BOOM!
Like a cannonball, she blasted backwards, skipping across the ground like a stone over water, crashing through squads of Macedonian soldiers and carving a long, ugly trench.
Mordred shouted: "Father, save me!!"
"Divine Key—Black Abyss White Flower, Power Level One: Holy Lance Unleashed!!"
"Excalibur!! Sword of Promised Victory!"
...
"Unlike that ill-mannered, irreverent woman, Durandal—her fighting spirit is sharp and true. I must admit, she's a real warrior."
Even as space distorted behind him and golden ripples conjured countless treasures, Gilgamesh—fully armored in gold—adjusted his bombardment turrets to counter the Sangheili heavy war machines. He turned and said calmly:
"What did you see?"
Standing beside the complex spirit-summoning array was a handsome man in a white cloak, his silver mid-length hair fluttering like snow. His smirk and lazy posture exuded an air of a carefree rogue.
"Even the great King Gilgamesh..."
BOOM!
As a thrown spear exploded near his feet, the man took a few casual steps back, unfazed.
"Cough... of course, I can't observe it either. Only fragments of visual data made it through. The rest... well, you know—it's all been blocked by that presence."
As Foreigners, Durandal and her group shared a unique skill—Outer Realm Existence.
Beings from the far void, descended from beyond the cosmos.
"Ooooh~"
Gilgamesh's crimson eyes narrowed, voice elongated in sarcasm. "Merlin, you damn trickster. You'd better not be slacking off."
"Oh come now~ as if I would."
Cradling a fluffy little creature that looked like a mix between dog and rabbit, white-haired, long-eared Merlin chuckled nervously.
"Fou! Fou fou~"
With a look of contempt, little Fou voiced its very humanlike disdain.
"Don't always sell me out, you little rascal..."
While the two of them appeared relaxed and confident, Waver Velvet—hoping to impress Iskandar—was full of unease.
"We had a massive numerical advantage, and we still lost so many Riders... Lord Karna's side was almost entirely wiped out. If the goddess Quetzalcoatl joins the fray, can the Heroic King really hold the line alone?"
"Relax, Waver~ Have some faith in the great Heroic King!"
Those were nice words, but why did they sound so wrong coming from this scoundrel's mouth?
Ignoring the strange vibe, Gilgamesh turned his gaze toward Selene's position. "Quetzalcoatl, Ishtar, Ereshkigal..."
"Especially you, Ishtar—don't screw up again! Otherwise, don't even dream of getting another gem!"
Then he addressed the comm screen beside him. "Romani, you should know—Beasts must be dealt with by Grand Servants."
"Indeed. Selene only holds a fractured Beast II foundation inherited from the creation goddess Tiamat, but given her rank, reconstituting it back into a full Beast II class is merely a matter of time."
"..."
There was a pause from the other end.
"Mm. I have a way."
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