The battle strategy determined by Chaldea and Fujimaru Ritsuka was akin to fast flow horse racing. In terms of importance, according to their original plan, the role of Rider Sister Medusa was nothing more than a scouting pawn.
If the enemy was weak, victory was self-evident.
If the enemy was strong, they would gather intelligence based on the battle situation, analyze weaknesses, and prepare for the next fight.
But they never expected that Rider Sister would play a third role—being taken down—and it seemed she was directly traded for the opponent's trump card.
At the same time, Chaldea fell into silence. Roman and Leonardo da Vinci exchanged glances, unsure of what to say.
The ability to freeze time left them nearly helpless, not to mention that, according to the panel from Gilgamesh, the opponent possessed even more powerful abilities that had not yet been demonstrated.
For a moment, they didn't know whether to be glad that such a strong opponent had been taken down by their weakest piece, or to be shocked that the opponent was only a Caster and already this strong.
Just as everyone began to panic over this, a certain white-haired beast suddenly awakened.
Ever since entering this Fuyuki singularity, Fou, affected by some mysterious force, had quietly curled up behind Fujimaru Ritsuka's hat, forming a soft, snow-white ball of fluff, and had been sleeping soundly.
Even the sudden unfolding of the innate bounded field and the overturning motion of the entire world had not awakened this lazy little creature.
But at this moment, he suddenly burst awake without warning.
He bit the tips of Fujimaru Ritsuka's hair and dangled from the pole of her hat with his four little claws, screaming like a madman. The sound was more urgent than ever, filled with unprecedented vigilance and panic:
"Fou!"
"Wow! Fou? What are you doing?" Fujimaru Ritsuka shuddered at the sudden movement and subconsciously raised her hand to remove him from her head, but he nimbly dodged, still biting her hair and refusing to let go.
Seeing this, Matthew hurriedly approached in a panic, softened her voice, and gently coaxed him, trying to calm him down and loosen his claws from her senior.
But neither of them realized that at this moment, Fou had already sensed an aura that was simultaneously a "Beast of Humanity" and subversive. He was so agitated that he was about to break the boundaries of his species and directly utter the warning.
His words could be summarized as:
"Run. There's a beast."
"No, it seems something is being born."
Among the spectators nearby, a man with pale blue eyes suddenly felt that something terrifying was being born in the underground cavity where the Greater Holy Grail resided. He turned around and prepared to flee.
He couldn't afford to provoke it. The wind was strong!
The others had no special abilities, but they also felt that something very bad was emerging. Although they didn't intend to leave, they looked forward to it instead, after all, some of them were very hard to kill.
Seeing that his old acquaintance was about to leave, François Prelati, who appeared as a young white-haired girl, completely forgot the unspoken understanding that they were still wary of each other. She stood before Saint-Germain, dragging out a long, coquettish tone and calling his name:
"Aww~ Why is Saint-Germain running away? Is something terrible going to happen, really? Tell me quickly, tell me!"
Saint-Germain, whose name had been called out, saw the calm smile that had remained unchanged for a thousand years instantly crumble. He turned his head and looked expressionlessly at the madwoman before him, too lazy to deal with her.
"Huh? You've sent me all the way to the door. Are you too lazy to even hit me?" Prelati covered her mouth and smiled slyly. "It seems the situation really is bad."
"After all, I'm different from you. If you get killed, you really die. If you want to stay here, I can only respect your choice. Then—goodbye."
Although he was in a bad mood upon seeing the fragment of the machine before him, Saint-Germain still maintained his usual appearance, removed his disguise, and bid farewell to everyone present with a face that everyone recognized.
Then, using his special power, he summoned a car from nowhere, opened the door, and sat down in one motion.
The moment the engine's roar exploded, his body was enveloped in a power capable of breaking through space, directly shattering the barrier of the innate bounded field, leaving not a trace of exhaust, and completely disappearing from the interstellar battlefield.
On the other side of the gladiatorial arena, after Matthew held Fou in her arms to soothe him, Fujimaru Ritsuka had no time to worry about the other party. He urgently formulated the next steps with everyone. After a long discussion, it was decided to have Gilgamesh—currently the strongest on their side—take the field to prevent the situation from worsening further.
Matou Shinji, on the other hand, watched Rider Sister Medusa, who had gradually dissipated and returned to Valhalla, sinking into sluggish thoughts.
On the other end of the gladiatorial arena, the smoke and residual psychic energy still raged in the air.
Matthew finally held the still-restless Fou firmly in her arms. Her fingertips gently traced his fluffy, erupted fur, soothing him for a long time until the little one stopped his hysterical cries, leaving only muffled whimpers. His tiny paws grabbed the collar of her uniform, not letting go in the slightest.
Fujimaru Ritsuka now had no energy to spare for other matters.
The scene of Rider Sister Medusa dying in a single blow had completely shattered all their predictions about the enemy's combat power. He immediately summoned everyone to race against time to finally devise a response plan.
After several quick discussions, everyone unanimously decided that they must send their strongest, Gilgamesh, into battle, and that the situation must not be allowed to slide into an even more uncontrollable abyss.
And in a corner no one paid attention to, Matou Shinji was completely frozen.
He watched Medusa's spiritual body transform into golden motes, gradually disappearing into the barrier's wind, returning to the Throne of Heroes.
The burns from the three Command Spells on his hand were still hot, but the Servant he had sent with all his chips had not lasted a single move. He opened his mouth, but couldn't make a sound. His entire being was plunged into a void of sluggishness.
Fragmentary memories surged uncontrollably. He remembered himself as a child.
When the Magic Circuits of the Matou family completely closed the door to him, when he finally understood that he had been born outside the world of magic and had even lost the qualifications to be the heir of the Matou family, overwhelming despair almost completely consumed the young him.
If Locke hadn't reached out his hand and pulled him back, he might have fallen into an irreversible abyss along with his twisted obsession.
But now, the person who had given him a new life needed him, yet he could only stand here like a stranger. After exhausting all the power of his three Command Spells, the end was the defeat of his Servant and the dissipation of her spiritual body.
He could do nothing. He could change nothing. This bone-chilling sense of helplessness choked him more than the despair of his youth.
Matou Shinji's hands were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his joints cracking. The unwillingness and guilt surging in his chest finally condensed into a very clear thought.
He wanted power. He no longer wanted to endure the helplessness of watching things happen and being powerless.
At the same time, Fujimaru Ritsuka was already negotiating with Sigismund. Using the Command Spells, which were also part of the heroic spirit's power, he secured the ability to supply magical energy and support for Gilgamesh in battle.
After preparations for the second duel were complete, Medea's voice began to echo across the battlefield.
Sigismund's body wavered in the light and shadow, his figure gradually becoming transparent, yielding to a black figure hidden in the gunpowder smoke.
He was dressed in a white robe with a red background, his hood pulled down very low, covering most of his face, revealing only a cold, hard jawline. Two pistols in his hands were crossed at his waist, and the hilt of a black longsword was barely visible behind his back.
[True Name: The Emperor's Angel (Cypher)]
[Class: Legion — Assassin]
[Innate Skill / Class Skill: Presence Concealment EX]
[Cypher has been operating alone for 10,000 years since the end of the Horus Heresy, evading the Dark Angels. He can perform complex missions without anyone's help and maneuver among the forces of Chaos.]
[At the same time, no one knows what his goal is, to whom his loyalty belongs, or what missions he needs to carry out across millennia.]
[Innate Skill: Millennium of Secrecy A++]
[Cypher has evaded capture across the galaxy for over 10,000 years. His stealth skills have reached their limit, allowing him to predict and avoid all possible traps.]
[Innate Skill: Dual Identity A]
[Cypher's true identity remains a mystery. He may be loyal to the Dark Angels or a traitor. There may even be multiple Cyphers. This ambiguity of identity allows him to move unnoticed between different forces, change his appearance and manner, and perfectly imitate others.]
[Innate Skill: Curse of the Lion Sword A]
[Cypher carries a mysterious black sword, said to be the blade of the Lion King, Lion El'Jonson. The sword constantly whispers in his mind, trying to control his will. Although it brings great power, it constantly endangers his spirit.]
[Redemption of the Fallen B]
[It is believed that Cypher's ultimate goal is to help the Dark Angels confront past mistakes and achieve true redemption through penance. This will to redeem allows him to maintain a certain level of resistance when tempted by Chaos.]
[Noble Phantasm: Black Sword — A+]
[Noble Phantasm: Dual Cross — A]
[Noble Phantasm: Eternal Hunt — EX]
On the battlefield, the wise king Gilgamesh stood with his arms crossed. As soon as the spirit foundation panel appeared in his field of vision, his burgundy pupils suddenly froze. All his casual playfulness vanished, leaving only the solemnity and vigilance of encountering an opponent of the same level.
Medea's solemn declaration of the duel still hung in the air. Several bright golden ripples had already bloomed beside him, and the Gate of Babylon silently opened.
A strange blade, like a sword but not a sword, fell into his palm. He looked up, stared directly at the figure wrapped in black robes on the opposite side, and asked in a deep voice with the majesty of the oldest king:
"Specter from the future, since you stand on the same arena as this king, state your full name! Do not defile the glory of me and your lord!"
Cypher still appeared calm. His white robe was blown by the fierce wind of the battlefield, as if he might be carried away by the wind along with his figure in the next second.
Only this hoarse voice, piercing through the howling wind, clearly reached everyone's ears:
"Cypher. The only thing I can leave to this world is this name, because my mission belongs only to me."
The name was determined, and the deathmatch began.
Gilgamesh hesitated no longer. The Noble Phantasm in his palm fully revealed its true form—the Deviant Sword, EA. The three-tiered spiral blade rotated with a roar. The power of the world-opening Noble Phantasm poured out. The wind pressure, sufficient to tear the world apart and return it to chaos, was like a building tsunami, crashing directly into the Assassin before him.
The astonishing power of the Noble Phantasm exploded. Just the aftereffects generated winds capable of tearing steel.
Although all the destructive energy of the core was poured onto Cypher, the scattered aftereffects still caused the entire innate bounded field to roar, and even the bridge of the Soul of Vengeance cracked inch by inch beneath his feet.
Smoke and dust rose like a giant wave, instantly obscuring everyone's view.
Gilgamesh did not relax in the slightest. His burgundy eyes were fixed on the center of the smoke. The Gates of Babylon were half-open. The upper protection of the Noble Phantasm was ready. The elixir of the gods was already in his palm.
In this suffocating silence, within the surging smoke, Cypher's voice rang out—flat as a puddle of still water, yet wrapped in a piercing deadliness that penetrated the howling wind and clearly reached everyone's ears.
"Noble Phantasm: Eternal Hunt — EX."
In the next second, countless dark cracks opened in the void.
Countless figures in black robes, ignoring the barriers of time, space, and causality, burst from the cracks like a tide, instantly surrounding Gilgamesh.
The golden ripples of the Gate of Babylon exploded layer by layer. The upper attacks and defenses of the Noble Phantasm unfolded one after another. But no matter what divine treasure he offered, the other group could always pierce through his invincible defenses layer by layer using strange methods, completely beyond common sense.
These shadow-like clones, indistinguishable from the main body and like shadows, could not be completely destroyed. Even if they were crushed by the wind of the Deviant Sword, they would condense from the void in the next second, refusing to die.
Gilgamesh had no time to unravel this strange power. He could only immediately push the radiant boat Vimana into the sky, trying to gain distance to find an opportunity to break the game. But he forgot that this was a gladiatorial arena, and from the moment he entered, there was no way to avoid it.
The moment he lost focus, Cypher had already broken through the blockade of all the Noble Phantasms, like a black lightning bolt, suddenly standing before him.
He drew the Lion Sword from behind his back—the blade that had witnessed his 10,000-year path of redemption—and bowed in prayer to the void. In his hoarse voice, the piety and fatigue spanning 10,000 years and the entire galaxy were reflected:
"Eternal witness, final judge, grant me the deserved sentence."
"If my sins are great, please eliminate all my depravity. If my merits outweigh my faults, let my soul return to your throne and sink into peaceful rest."
The words fell, and the black sword entered his body.
The moment the blade pierced his chest, the spiritual foundation of the oldest king let out a suppressed, mournful cry, then collapsed with a roar, transforming into golden light across the sky.
And Cypher, who had completed this strike, was like an ink mark carried away by the wind, gradually becoming transparent and finally completely dissolving into the void.
Only Sigismund's figure stood quietly in the center of the duel arena, where the smoke had not yet cleared. As the rule-maker and final witness, he announced the end of the duel in a majestic voice that shook the entire barrier:
"Result of the duel: Draw — both sides perished together."