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The Rider class carries more Noble Phantasms than any other.
Iskandar was no exception. Four Noble Phantasms on paper — though in practice, only two distinct weapons.
The first three were a set.
According to legend, Iskandar was the son of Zeus. His war chariot, the Divine Chariot of Lightning, had originally been a sacrificial vessel built to honor the god. After a specific ritual, Zeus responded to his devotion — bestowing two Flying Hooves Thunder Ox as sacred beasts and reinforcing the chariot itself. Zeus, as the supreme deity of thunder, had once transformed into a great bull to pursue Europa; the Thunder Ox carried that divine lineage in their blood. Their hooves generated purple lightning. Their movement let the chariot travel through open air. The effect was comparable to Thor's goat-drawn chariot, if that means anything for scale.
But the three Noble Phantasms — chariot, oxen, and the release form — functioned as a single weapon system. The trigger for all of it was the Cyprus sword at Iskandar's waist: a Celtic longsword, a tribute from the king of Cyprus, not a Noble Phantasm in itself but extraordinarily tough, lightweight, and responsive to its wielder's intent.
With the sword, Iskandar could direct the oxen and chariot to attack continuously — wheels and hooves and thunder imbued with Zeus's divine power, launched in unbroken succession at a target. A+ rank Anti-Army Noble Phantasm. His strongest offensive tool outside of the last one.
The last one was the reason you didn't underestimate him just because the first three were technically one thing.
King's Army. EX rank. Anti-Army.
What made it different from every other Noble Phantasm of its class was the absence of a wind-up. No incantation. No charging period. No conditions. The moment Iskandar decided to activate it, it was active. The tens of thousands surrounding William and Dian Wei right now had appeared between one breath and the next.
And they weren't soldiers. They were Heroic Spirits — every single one of them. Men and women who, if deployed individually, could each anchor their own legend. No Noble Phantasms here, and no class skills since the Holy Grail War's structure didn't assign them classes — but that was the only concession to limitation. Take away Noble Phantasms and class skills from a Heroic Spirit and what you still had was a Heroic Spirit.
Tens of thousands of them.
The Reality Marble itself added another layer: the space was Iskandar's shared memory with his army, indelible and total, and its maintenance cost was split across every member present. Each soldier carried E-rank Independent Action as a result. In the real world that meant thirty minutes of sustained presence outside the bounded field. In the game, three minutes.
Three minutes of tens of thousands of Heroic Spirits moving freely was more than enough.
There was no escape route inside the Reality Marble. It was Iskandar's landscape — open, sun-blasted plain, no cover, no exits, no clever angles. You fought, or you stopped fighting.
[Chat]:
[Every_Time]: this scene hits just as hard the hundredth time as the first
[Assessment_Changed]: I thought Dian Wei could put up a real fight. and then the army appeared. and now I'm not sure he can even reach Iskandar.
[Watching_Dian_Wei]: he's shaking. is he scared?
[No]: he's excited. look at his face. that's not fear.
[Understanding]: to be trampled by tens of thousands of warriors — even attempting it once would make a life worth living
[Misreading]: ...is that what you took from that?
[Betting]: if Dian Wei actually beats Iskandar I will personally eat Artoria's black stockings
[Counter]: why not Astolfo's?
[Avoiding_That]: how does anyone beat this in a closed room?
[Answer]: perseverance
[Disagreement]: absolutely not
Max was watching the chat very carefully and working very hard to keep his face neutral.
His lips kept trying to curve upward.
He had forty seconds. Maybe thirty-five. Then he'd say something. Not now — the chat was beautifully, completely wrong, and the moment was going to be worth waiting for.
Without a Master, Dian Wei against Iskandar's King's Army was a losing fight. Categorically. No question.
With a Master supplying magical energy?
Dian Wei was Iskandar's worst nightmare. Not at Gilgamesh's level — nothing short of Ea was at Gilgamesh's level — but capable of making Iskandar regret every choice that led to this moment. The man had died holding a castle gate alone against an army. That wasn't a metaphor. That was the actual legend.
Max waited.
He watched the chat pile on.
He said nothing.
On the plain of scorching sand, Iskandar rode Bucephalus through the assembled army and called across the distance to Dian Wei:
"How about it?!" The voice carried the satisfaction of a man presenting something he's genuinely proud of. "Does the sight of this make your blood move?! Join me — and you can feel this every day! The pleasure of trampling the world, of standing at the front of something unstoppable!"
Dian Wei wasn't listening.
He had turned to look at William.
It was a strange thing, Dian Wei thought. The boy was small. Young. Nothing about him said king yet — not the bearing, not the size, not the experience. But his eyes had never once wavered in this entire conversation. Not when the halberd was in the air. Not when King's Army deployed around them. Not now.
Just watching. Steady. Present.
"Master." Dian Wei's voice was quieter than usual. "Do you trust me? Against tens of thousands — just me, one man to match them all?"
William didn't blink.
"Isn't that obvious?"
In one ear, out the other — Iskandar's recruiting speech registered as background noise and nothing more. Dian Wei turned back to face the army.
Something in his chest that had been building since the Noble Phantasm deployed finally had somewhere to go.
He spread both halberds wide.
The motion stirred up a gust of wind that had no business existing in a Reality Marble — pure physical force, radiating outward from the movement of his arms. He laughed, and the laugh was enormous, filling the desert plain with a sound that matched the scale of what was in front of him.
Then he charged.
One man. Twin halberds. Straight into tens of thousands of Heroic Spirits.
[Chat]:
[HE'S_GOING]: HE'S ACTUALLY GOING
[ONE_MAN]: one man against ten thousand. charging. laughing.
[Max_Face]: Max is SMILING. he knows something. MAX WHAT DO YOU KNOW
[Dian_Wei_History]: he died at Wan Castle holding the gate alone so Cao Cao could escape. he fought until both his arms were cut off and kept going. this is not a man who stops.
[William_Status]: William said "isn't that obvious" without hesitating. without Command Seals. just trust.
[Something_Building]: I feel like I'm about to see something
[Conqueror_Watching]: Iskandar has stopped talking. he's just watching Dian Wei come.
[Read_His_Expression]: that's not contempt. that's not amusement. that's—
[Recognition]: he recognizes it. he's seen men charge armies before. he's never seen one do it like this.
Across the Romania map, every streaming channel that had loaded the FA Chapter was carrying a different piece of the battle. Gilgamesh drinking wine over the Mine. Little Cat surviving through sheer creative submission. Mozart's concert venue still faintly echoing over Trifas. King Hassan somewhere in the shadows between capture points, moving according to principles nobody had fully decoded yet.
And at the center of the map, on the sun-blasted plain of Iskandar's inner world:
One man, twin halberds, charging into history.
Through William's perspective, and Northern Star's, the footage broadcast across every Holy Grail War viewer channel on the network.
[Chat — everywhere]:
[Watching]: everyone is watching this
[Quiet]: the chat is quiet
[For_Once]: for once
[End of Chapter 167]
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