Artoria was charging forward—fury blazing in her emerald eyes. Never before had she felt such intense rage.
Marshal Gilles had crossed a line that no knight could ever forgive.
Killing in war wasn't uncommon. Every Heroic Spirit bore the weight of dozens, hundreds, or even thousands of lives. But to use children… to murder the innocent for power?
That was taboo.
That demanded justice.
That meant the marshal must die.
"Haha! Finally! My holy maiden, you've finally acknowledged me!" Gilles shouted gleefully, having shaken off Lancelot with a burst of magic and now rushing toward Artoria again.
The twisted Caster grinned manically. Perhaps no one in this world "cherished" Jeanne d'Arc more than him—in his own perverse way.
But Artoria had no time to entertain his delusions.
Without hesitation, the marshal pulled a child forward and injected a torrent of corrupted mana into the small body. The child's face twisted in pain and horror—
BOOM!
The child's body exploded in a grotesque flash of blood and viscera. There wasn't even time for a scream. All that remained was a puddle of plasma...
But the true horror had only just begun.
From the grotesque remains, the flesh began to writhe and churn. Slowly, horrifying black tentacles emerged, twisting into eldritch abominations.
Artoria's eyes widened.
"These creatures…"
"From another world!" someone gasped.
A dozen, then dozens more, erupted from the ground and charged like a tide. Any ordinary person would've collapsed in terror.
But not Artoria.
Her fury was far greater than fear.
Magic surged from within her, radiant and explosive. The nearest tentacle beasts were vaporized by the sheer force of her magical energy.
"Die, Caster!!!" Artoria roared, her voice echoing like a war drum.
"Hehehe... My holy maiden..." the marshal cackled, unfazed by her power. He raised his arm, summoning wave upon wave of tentacle monstrosities that surged toward her in an endless tide.
"Hahahaha! Come! Let me save you!!"
"I don't need your salvation!"
Artoria charged headfirst, Excalibur flashing.
She should have overwhelmed him. With her innate resistance to magecraft and unparalleled skill, the outcome should have been clear.
But the marshal played dirty—summoning Heroic Spirits to interfere.
How absurd!
Artoria was bombarded from all sides—verbally assaulted by the two Kings, crippled in one arm by Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, and now surrounded by a literal army of monsters. Even the Assassin-class Servants hadn't given her a single clean kill!
Where was the protagonist's halo when she needed it most?
She grit her teeth. Each time she destroyed one of the grotesque creatures, two more took its place. They were weak individually, but overwhelming in numbers.
She could endure—but the children couldn't.
She had already seen one perish. She would not allow another.
Elsewhere, watching through a scrying orb, Irisviel von Einzbern trembled in horror.
"Irisviel," Kiritsugu's voice crackled through the communicator, "you need to leave with Maiya. Now."
"But what about the children?" she asked, her heart heavy.
"We can't save them if you die. You're their target. Get to safety. Now."
She didn't argue. She'd never disobey Kiritsugu. Still, it hurt—deeply. Every time she was in danger, it wasn't him by her side. This time, he had sent his lover to protect her. Maiya Hisau… she knew about their history. Yet Irisviel still followed orders, even as the ache in her chest deepened.
Back on the battlefield, the grotesque swarm continued to multiply.
Artoria was being surrounded!
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Suddenly, cold light flashed, slicing through the abominations. Several tentacle monsters were severed instantly!
"Who's there? Lancelot?" Artoria called out.
"Call me Lancy. That's what Arthur always called me," the knight replied calmly, stepping forward with her blade ready.
"…Fine."
"Don't worry. Leave your back to me," Lancelot said, solemn and certain.
That line—it struck something in Artoria's heart.
The Knight of the Lake had once said the same. She had trusted him too. But in the end… betrayal.
"Be careful!" Lancelot shouted, intercepting a lunging monster with a swift, elegant strike.
Snapping out of her trance, Artoria returned to the fray. The two knights moved in perfect sync, a deadly duet of steel and light. Monsters fell, one after another.
If Gilles had nothing else, they'd finish this quickly.
But of course… he did.
"Hahahaha! As expected of the Saint! But—"
Gilles opened a twisted tome—the Text of Lormine City, its pages glowing with abyssal energy. More tentacle beasts emerged.
Artoria's eyes narrowed. "It's useless, Gilles. These things won't stop us!"
"Of course not," he grinned. "But they're not meant to."
The monsters didn't rush them. Instead, they scattered—
—toward the children.
"No!!" Artoria shouted.
"Hahahaha! Now what will you do, Saint?!"
Before she could act, a flash of red light streaked through the battlefield.
Diarmuid Ua Duibhne arrived.
"…Need a hand?"
Artoria's eyes widened. "Save the children!"
"No!" Lancelot interjected, pointing at the grimoire. "That book—it's the core of the spell! Destroy it!"
Diarmuid's gaze hardened. "Understood."
He surged forward, brandishing Gáe Dearg, the crimson spear capable of nullifying magic.
Gilles's smirk vanished. "Not good—!"
With a burst of smoke, he attempted to flee into the sky.
"Coward!" Diarmuid gave chase. They couldn't afford to let him escape.
Now it was up to Artoria and Lancelot.
They pushed forward, cutting down waves of beasts, but there were too many. Gilles had sacrificed the souls of countless children and women to power his summoning.
"Strike Air!" Artoria unleashed a wave of compressed wind with her Invisible Air, scattering dozens of creatures. But it wasn't enough.
They were like ants—too numerous, too scattered.
Even Excalibur couldn't cleanse them all at once.
"What do we do?!" Artoria growled, watching the monsters slip past them.
Lancelot paused—then closed her eyes.
She listened.
"…That sound. Do you hear it?"
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