"Another one?"
Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes as he glanced at the newcomers—especially the knight who had just leapt onto the battlefield. His gaze landed on Sir Lancelot.
"Why are there so many ignorant fools?" he scoffed.
His words dripped with disdain, his signature arrogance fully on display.
Around him, the Gates of Babylon opened wider, revealing more and more Noble Phantasms. Each one pulsed with overwhelming magical energy, forming a cascade of death that rained from the skies.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Weapon after weapon rained down like meteorites. The pressure alone could flay skin, the sharpness of each treasure tearing through the air with deadly precision.
But then...
The knight of owner!
The knight of owner!
One after another, weapons were caught. Not dodged—caught, as if bare hands could challenge divinity.
The rain of treasures was parried and knocked aside, leaving everyone frozen in shock.
"...How are they doing that?"
"Wait—they both have the same ability?!"
All eyes turned to the two figures standing unshaken amidst the chaos. Murmurs of disbelief spread like wildfire.
Then realization dawned.
"Could it be…? A different version of the same Heroic Spirit?"
It all made sense now. Parallel worlds, alternate timelines—the same spirit summoned in different forms. The revelation sent a shiver down everyone's spine.
Who was this Heroic Spirit that could rival Lancelot du Lac with the same insane ability?
The two knights—Sir Lancelot and the Mad Knight—moved in sync, as if choreographed. Their hands seized the Noble Phantasms mid-flight, countering each one and wielding them with shocking mastery.
Unlike Gilgamesh's overwhelming power and barrage, these two fought with sheer instinct and brilliant technique. Their movements were flexible, their counters elegant.
Each treasure they caught felt like it had always belonged to them.
Clang!
The final weapon was knocked aside, and silence fell upon the battlefield. The two knights stood tall amidst the field of scattered treasures.
Lancelot raised her head slightly, her eyes locking with the Mad Knight's.
"Haha… looks like I win," she said with a smug grin.
It was true. In that flurry of divine weapons, Lancelot had parried and countered twenty of them. The Mad Knight had managed only twelve.
On the surface, it looked like a clear victory. But the truth was far more nuanced.
The Mad Knight had been fighting purely on instinct. His Berserker class granted him incredible power, but not much clarity. Like a mindless machine, he reacted—without strategy or finesse.
Lancelot, though tired, had fought with wit and control. Her breathing was heavy, and her face was slightly flushed from exertion. The Mad Knight, in contrast, stood eerily calm—his madness strengthening him beyond normal limits.
So, was it really a win? The result… was unclear.
"Oi, Gilgamesh! That's enough!"
Arthur stepped forward, raising a hand toward the golden king.
"This fight's meaningless. Let's stand down for now."
Gilgamesh sneered, "You jest. Why should I spare them?"
Arthur didn't flinch. "If you want to fight, then I'll take you on."
Gilgamesh arched a golden brow. "You? Alone?"
Arthur nodded. "Yes. Just me."
The two locked eyes.
Gilgamesh, arrogant as ever, wasn't stupid. He had known Arthur for some time now—they'd even sparred occasionally. And even with his treasures, Gilgamesh understood one thing clearly: If he didn't use Ea, defeating Arthur was far from guaranteed.
"…Is she yours?" Gilgamesh asked, his tone unreadable.
Arthur smirked. "Of course she is."
"Tch. Master and servant, alike in foolishness."
Gilgamesh clicked his tongue and began to summon Ea, the Sword of Rupture—ready to end this charade.
But something changed.
Just then, the Mad Knight's posture shifted. His expression grew vacant, almost hollow. In his world, the opponent had already lost. What followed was nothing but emptiness.
His eyes glowed crimson. Then he turned—not to Gilgamesh—but to Artoria.
"What…?"
Everyone turned sharply.
The Mad Knight's eyes were filled with sorrow and longing. His twisted face morphed into something heart-wrenchingly human, as if... a forgotten memory had surfaced.
"No… what's happening?!"
And then—
He charged.
Like a wild beast, the Mad Knight sprinted toward Artoria, eyes locked on her like a man possessed.
Arthur narrowed her eyes. "Oi! What the hell's your problem?! Don't act like someone just stole your wife!"
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