A streak of cerulean light tore through Britain's ash-gray night sky, breaching the airspace above Manchester.
From above the clouds, Castle Field fortress lay surrounded by the Saxons' torches, densely packed like an ant colony.
"Master, the defenses along the walls are rather solid. Should we land in the middle of the courtyard?"
Medusa called out over the rush of wind as she held the reins.
Kay tightened the golden axe strapped to his back so it wouldn't sway and, his gaze icy, pointed to the largest section of the wall.
"No. Skip the landing."
"Yes?"
"That massive main gate wall over there. Ram us right through it."
A faint smile spread across Medusa's lips—utterly raw, but unmistakably the most direct breakthrough a master could devise.
"Understood. Hold on tight."
Hiiiiing~!!
The Pegasus reared on its forelegs and lashed out at the emptiness below.
At that instant, the Heavenly Steed's whole body was wrapped in blinding mana light, and as if it were a massive magical shell, it began a vertical descent toward the wall.
"[Bellerophon]!!!"
The Saxon guards patrolling the ramparts spotted the overwhelming flash and mana waves pouring down from the night sky and looked up in astonishment.
"Uh…? What is that? A meteor?"
"No, damn it! It's coming down on us! Get clear! Everyone, move—!"
Kraaaaang!!!
Before any alarm could ring out, Pegasus's overwhelming charge smashed head-on into the fortress walls, which measured several meters thick.
The ground trembled as the steel-reinforced walls and the massive iron gate crumpled like sheets of paper, scattering fragments and dust in every direction, turning the entire fortress into chaos.
"They're under attack! Enemy siege engine!!"
"Arm everyone!"
Saxon soldiers poured out, screaming.
But it wasn't siege engines or a large army that emerged from the dense dust cloud.
It was only a single man in rough attire wielding a colossal golden axe and a beguiling woman in black silk with a blindfold across her eyes. Just two of them.
Kay nonchalantly brushed the dust from his clothes and stared at the mark of the Demon Realm's lord emblazoned on the back of his right hand.
"Tamamo, Jeanne. Now."
Fwaaaarsh!
A single rune on his hand blazed red and disappeared.
At the same time, space distorted as blue foxfire and black flames spiraled, and two Servants appeared at his sides.
"Miko-oon! Deploying at once upon summons! Ugh, that dusty smell!"
"Hmph! That was one flashy way to punch through a wall! Burn them all to cinders, yeah?"
Kay slid his hand onto the hilt of his blade and surveyed the soldiers with indifference.
"You two, clear out those soldiers. I'll head inside to find Alter."
"Don't worry, Master. Within ten minutes, every living creature in this fortress will be turned to stone, down to the very last ant."
Medusa slipped off her blindfold with a swipe. The moment her Mystic Eye gleamed, Kay dashed inside the fortress like an arrow.
"I'll burn it all to ashes!"
"Thousands of curses, melt away into the dance of this fox's spell!"
Jeanne d'Arc Alter's inferno and Tamamo's relentless sorcery rained down upon the Saxon soldiers, their screams echoing in a brutal chorus.
Kay cut through the chaos inside the fortress without hesitation.
Any soldier who tried to block his path was sent crashing into the walls with a single punch or kick and knocked out cold.
He didn't even bother unsheathing his sword. He had handled ordinary soldiers with his bare hands before, so he hardly felt a difference in his strength.
Kay sharpened the senses honed in the Demon Realm to track the presence of beasts.
Not long after, he discovered a massive iron door tucked away in the fortress's deepest corner. Beyond it, a spiral staircase descended into a deep, damp dungeon.
"An underground prison, huh."
Kay kicked the iron door down and sprinted down the stairs.
The underground prison was far larger than he'd imagined. Hundreds of ancient iron cells held innocent Britons and soldiers captured by the Saxons, groaning in their confines like caged beasts.
"…To go this far."
Kay clenched his teeth and tore down the corridor.
At the very end, in a special cell wound tight with thick spell-forged chains, he spotted a familiar silhouette, its head bowed low.
Her black dress was torn and stained with blood.
She had grown a bit since five years ago, but her shoulders still looked small and precarious.
"…Alter!!"
Just as Kay reached out to wrench the iron bars with his bare hands…
Thud… thud…
"Shit, it was so damn loud out there I thought something happened, but it's just a little rat sneaking in here?"
Kay slowly turned his head.
There stood a large knight, his eyes slit vertically like a reptile's, leaning casually against the wall.
It was Vortigern's hound—the Saxons' strongest knight, Taquin.
Taquin eyed Kay's rough appearance and the massive golden axe strapped to his back before smirking.
"Hey, big guy. What're you doing down here under a fortress? This is a place for invited guests… or those who won't leave alive."
Kay removed his hands from the bars and turned fully to face Taquin.
"I came to fetch my sister."
"Your sister? Ah, you mean that tyrant bitch chained up in there?"
Taquin scratched his chin as he laughed, then suddenly his eyes widened in realization. "…Hold on. You're her brother? You're Kay? That guy the Pendragons have been looking for?"
"Yeah."
At that, Taquin burst into laughter, almost gasping for air.
"Ha! Christ! I've seen everything! I thought that was just a legend—living and breathing?! The one who carries infants on his back, cooks meals for friend or foe, brags about being some saint of the kitchen while tossing aside swordplay—what a knight you were supposed to be! Hahahaha!"
Taquin laughed so hard he doubled over, clutching his stomach.
"Right? It's like meeting a unicorn, actually seeing the guy from all those rumors."
Kay said nothing.
"Honestly, knights like you? As a fellow knight, I'm fucking ashamed to even look at you. A cook-knight—what kind of comedy act is that?"
Taquin's endless taunts and insults poured out.
But Kay's expression remained as cold as an icebound lake in the Demon Realm, his gaze steady.
"…Don't get it twisted. I'm not a knight."
"Oh? Then what are you? A cook?"
"I am a warrior."
Taquin's laughter abruptly died, replaced with contempt and irritation as he stared at Kay.
"Ha, a warrior? What era is that? Britain is in the age of knights and magecraft! Who still calls themselves a warrior in beastskins swinging a club? Just some moron who couldn't be a knight so they slap on 'warrior' to feel better about themselves!"
Taquin pointed at Kay, sneering.
"I don't see what's so great about warriors anyway. They're just barbarians with a fancy name, aren't they? No talent, no strength—you couldn't be a knight even if you died and woke up again, so you jerk yourself off by calling yourself a warrior!"
In that moment, Taquin vanished from Kay's sight, using the last of his Fairy blood to move at speeds no human eye could follow.
Whoosh!
With a rush of wind, Taquin's blade had already stopped mere millimeters from Kay's Adam's apple.
"…Heh heh."
Taquin chuckled softly by Kay's ear.
"How is it? Can't even react to my speed, can you? Sorry—I'm just so damn brilliant that a slug like you struggles just to breathe."
He sheathed his sword, took a step back, and folded his arms arrogantly.
"So what have your so-called warriors ever done in Britain? Want to talk about Queen Boudica centuries ago? Those Iceni warriors and other Britons threw themselves into battle to the death—what happened? They were slaughtered like beasts by Rome's well-drilled armies!"
As he ranted, he began circling Kay at incredible speed.
"What queen of victory? What pride of warriors? The Celts too! Cú Chulainn and those so-called celebrated fighters—did they not die like fools? Is that some kind of myth?!"
His afterimages and voice reverberated from all directions as if he were teleporting.
"Pretending to be knights… barbarian tribes bred and ruled by Rome for centuries! It's only right to kneel before us superior Saxons! The age of your so-called warriors is over!!"
He denied Britain, declaring them nothing but savages.
"So you and that worthless bastard in there can die as well!!"
As his afterimages converged into one, his sword shot toward Kay's heart in a perfect angle—a high-speed, unavoidable strike.
But…
Kaaaarng!!!!
"…Huh?"
Taquin's eyes widened as if they would bulge from their sockets.
The strike meant to tear through armor and steel.
It was stopped by Kay's left forearm.
Kay had simply raised his left arm nonchalantly.
His hardened flesh, coupled with the Rune of Primordial's fortification, made his body as tough as mythic iron.
Even a non-supersonic strike would have been stopped by his flesh like plate armor.
'Scáthach, have I… truly become stronger than the strongest knights in Britain?'
'Don't be stupid. Compared to me, you're the one… at least among humans in Britain, you have no equal now.'
Kay's forearm, harder than steel, deflected Taquin's blade perfectly, leaving only a faint red line on his skin—and not a drop of blood.
"W-what… my blade… was stopped by bare flesh?"
Taquin staggered, denying reality as panic set in.
"Slow."
Kay's low, chilled voice struck Taquin's eardrums.
Demon Realm's hellish training—dodging Scáthach's spear and breaking bones hundreds of times—meant Taquin's speed felt like a mere mosquito buzzing.
"Y-you…!!"
Taquin recoiled, attempting to step back in terror, but it was too late.
Kay thrust his left arm forward with brutal force; the sword couldn't withstand it and snapped cleanly in two.
Taquin's abdomen was exposed in an instant as Kay's right fist, pure compressed muscle, shot forward like a cannonball.
Thud-crash!!
"…Gah?!"
The dull, horrific sound of armor shearing and flesh tearing echoed.
Taquin's thick plate armor crumpled like paper, and Kay's fist burst through his back, penetrating his abdomen completely.
His reptilian eyes rolled back, milky white.
He never even realized what happened. There was no time for him to cough up blood or scream—only a gaping mouth betrayed his end.
The one punch from the so-called untalented warrior ended the Saxons' strongest knight in one fatal blow.
Taquin—destined to grow into a knight equal to Lancelot.
But even ten years before he would meet Lancelot, he overestimated his own genius and met his end at the hands of a masterpiece born from a monster of effort and the supreme Godslayer.
Before his genius could even bloom, he and his arrogance were erased from the world.
"…Even tough meat is easier to cut through."
Kay withdrew his fist from Taquin's corpse with indifference.
He nonchalantly wiped the blood from his hand on his trousers, ignoring the corpse as he approached the cell where Artoria Alter was bound.
Crack!
With his bare hands, he bent the bars down and stepped inside.
He stood before Artoria Alter, shackled and slipping in and out of consciousness.
"…Alter. Brother's here."
The most rugged yet tender voice on earth echoed through the dungeon.
"…Brother…"
In her hazy state, she gazed at Kay before losing consciousness. Kay crushed her handcuffs and chains with terrifying grip strength, scooping her up in a princess carry.
"Let's go home together."