"What is that sound... this sound?"
Not far away, Irisviel von Einzbern was running toward Artoria Pendragon, when suddenly—
A long, resounding horn echoed through the forest.
The sound wasn't just noise—it was a battle cry filled with overwhelming passion. It resonated with determination, unshakable unity, and the pride of the strongest combat unit ever assembled.
"Why? Why does just hearing it... make my blood boil?" Irisviel looked off into the distance, her heart racing with confusion.
"That... is the war horn of Great Britain."
A man's voice suddenly rang out behind her.
"Who's there?!"
Maiya Hisau spun around, weapons ready. A tall figure stepped into view—Kirei Kotomine.
With his gaze lifted to the sky, Kirei spoke solemnly.
"It seems... he is finally coming."
Maiya didn't waste time listening. Years on the battlefield had taught her that listening to an enemy's words in the heat of war was a foolish distraction—victory often came and went in a blink.
Kotomine didn't seem interested in conversation either.
With a flick of his fingers—left, then right—four Black Keys materialized in his hands, gleaming with murderous intent.
---
Meanwhile, near the Einzbern camp—
Toot—!!
"The horn of war from Britain..."
Artoria's eyes widened. She knew that sound.
"Yes. It's them... all of them."
Lancelot du Lac stood beside her, his smile tinged with pride.
"Surely you know the Knights of the Round Table?"
Artoria narrowed her eyes. "Are you joking?" she replied dryly. How could she not?
But Lancelot only shook his head.
"No... not these Knights of the Round Table."
His expression softened with nostalgia as he looked into the distance.
"Swift as the wind, fierce as fire... They trample everything in their path, leaving nothing behind. Long spears, greatswords—masters of cavalry and archery. One knight can face a hundred enemies. Unbeaten. Undeterred. The King has remade the Round Table."
And now, they had arrived—resurrected through faith itself. Their souls called back across the veil of time by the will of their sovereign. The Round Table had returned, blazing across the forest like a storm.
"For the honor of our King—charge!!"
"Fight!"
"Fight!!"
"Fight, fight, fight, fight—!!"
With cries of loyalty shaking the trees, 150 mounted knights stormed into the forest like a crashing wave. They didn't bring the whole order—no, this wasn't a battle worth their full force. Just enough to crush an overgrown puppet like Gilles de Rais and his monstrous abominations.
Forming a flawless encirclement, they cut through the waves of grotesque tentacle beasts summoned by Caster. The 150 knights never broke formation—not a horse stumbled, not a man hesitated. 150 against 3000. A ratio of 1 to 20.
But not a single knight flinched.
Their spears glinted like silver lightning, their shields locked like fortress walls. The tentacle beasts charged again and again, but were repelled by the coordinated strikes and impenetrable discipline of the knights.
Within moments, the monsters were trapped—panicked, mindless, tearing forward on instinct alone.
But instinct means nothing against trained, disciplined killing machines. These weren't mere knights. These were Heroic Spirits—ephemeral echoes made real by the prayers of a kingdom.
135 Regular Heroic Spirits (average stats at E-rank)
15 Captains (D-rank)
and 12 elite leaders—the true Knights of the Round Table.
Even someone like Diarmuid Ua Duibhne would have found himself in trouble facing them.
One by one, the monsters fell. Their cores shattered. Their bodies disintegrated. Within mere minutes—3? 5? Who could say—the forest cleared, the blood mist faded, and the hooves of the horses stood tall in silence.
Not a single knight had fallen.
Artoria watched them in awe.
"Incredible… To move at a single command… to halt without hesitation… to act as one. This isn't just strength—it's unity. They move like a single body. Like one will."
She paused, breath caught in her chest.
"Terrifying. But also… beautiful."
"Ha!"
A cheerful voice interrupted her reverie. "I never thought I'd hear such praise from another King Arthur. Our King would be so smug if he heard that."
Artoria turned to see a knight dismounting—
A female knight, clad in steel.
"Gaheris."
Lancelot greeted her with a nod.
"Yes, I was fortunate to be selected to lead the vanguard this time."
Gaheris grinned. "Still… I didn't expect this King Arthur to be so beautiful. No wonder our King doesn't want to go back."
Artoria's expression sharpened.
"Gaheris. The Gaheris I know was not this... informal. You should choose your words more carefully."
"Oh? But I find it quite amusing."
She laughed without restraint.
Lancelot sighed inwardly. Of all the knights, Gaheris was the most uncouth—it wasn't worth arguing.
"By the way… where is your King?" Artoria asked suddenly.
"he went looking for someone… a woman named Irisviel or something."
Artoria's eyes widened in alarm.
"Irisviel von Einzbern!? What happened to her?!"
"She's being pursued. That's all I know."
Without another word, Artoria turned and sprinted away, wind trailing behind her.
"Still so... earnest," Gaheris said, watching her go.
"Naive," Lancelot replied softly. "But that's part of her charm."
"You sure you don't want to go after her?"
Lancelot gave her a deadpan look. "Don't be ridiculous."
---
At the other end of the forest—
Maiya Hisau and Irisviel had tried everything to fend off Kirei Kotomine.
But it was useless.
They didn't know martial arts, let alone Bajiquan—a lethal and ancient Chinese martial art. Known for explosive power and short-range bursts, Bajiquan meant "Eight Extremities Fist," with techniques designed to crush opponents from any direction.
Kirei, trained by Risei Kotomine, was a master of it.
Against Irisviel's magecraft and Maiya's modern firearms, Kirei was unstoppable. His fists shattered barriers, his movements unpredictable but perfect. Every strike landed with purpose. Within seconds, Maiya was down, unable to move.
Irisviel stood trembling, magic circuits flaring weakly.
"You…"
Kirei didn't answer. He calmly walked toward them, his cold expression unchanging.
With a single kick, he knocked Maiya unconscious.
Then, step by step, he advanced toward Irisviel, eyes locked on her pale, trembling form.
Getting closer.
And closer.
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