Crossover Anime: Starting by fusing with an old sword and summoning Morgan

La Chapelle, Central Square.

The deafening roar and the crimson lightning and silver sword light ripped the floor tiles off their feet.

"Ha! Too light! Too light!"

Mordred laughed loudly, his demonic sword, Clarent, crackling with crimson lightning, each swing not just a slash, but a pure blunt strike.

"Is all you can do, hopping around like a flea, knight of France!"

Opposite her, Saber Dion de Beaumont, though in a berserk state with his eyes flashing with a mad red light, still maintained his superb swordsmanship through instinct.

That rapier always managed to parry Mordred's heavy blows at the last second, or use the [Self-Suggestion] skill to forcibly increase its strength and withstand the attack.

However, the gap is obvious.

D'Eon is a skilled swordsman, while Mordred is a tyrannical dragon capable of shattering city gates with a single blow.

"it's over!"

Mordred suddenly abandoned her defenses, allowing D'Eon's rapier to pierce her shoulder armor.

Ding!

Sparks flew, but the heavy armor blocked the attack.

Mordred seized the opportunity to grab Dion's wrist, and grinned maliciously:

"Gotcha, you sissy."

Bang!

A helmet-covered headbutt slammed into Dion's forehead.

Dion let out a muffled groan, his vision blurred from the impact, and he staggered backward.

Just as Mordred was about to deliver the final blow, sending this berserk Servant back to the Throne of Heroes—

Whoosh-!

A sharp gust of wind swept in from the top of the clock tower on the side of the square.

Two green arrows, wreathed in murky magic, precisely targeted the gaps in Mordred's helmet.

"Um?"

Artoria, who was watching from the back, raised an eyebrow slightly.

She was all too familiar with the trajectory of the arrow and the fluctuations of its magic.

"This feeling... is it her?"

Melsin had already made her move without Artoria even needing to intervene.

hum!

The fairy knight appeared instantly in front of Mordred, without even using his weapon, merely waving his hard dragon wings.

pat.

The two arrows were easily knocked to the ground.

"A sneak attack?"

Melusin hovered in mid-air, her clear dragon eyes gazing at the clock tower:

"What a reckless insect!"

In the shadow of the clock tower, a lithe figure slowly emerged.

Emerald green hunting attire, animal ears, and a face that still exuded wildness even under the influence of berserk mode.

Atalanta, the Crimson Archer.

However, in this singularity, she did not come to save the child, but was forcibly summoned by Jeanne Alter's Holy Grail and given the [Berserk] attribute to become a killing machine.

"roar……"

Atalanta let out a low growl, his murky eyes fixed on the crowd below, the Sky Bow in his hand fully drawn.

"Ah, what a coincidence."

Luo Chen looked at that familiar figure and couldn't help but smile.

He slowly walked forward, stood between Mordred and Melusin, and looked up at the hunter:

"I just saw you off in Romania, and I never expected to meet you in France so soon."

"Although you here don't have that memory, seeing you like this, completely consumed by madness..."

Luo Chen's eyes turned slightly cold:

"That's really annoying."

"That's... Atalanta?"

Joan of Arc covered her mouth, her eyes filled with shock: "Even the Greek huntress has been summoned and driven mad? What on earth does that dragon witch want to do..."

"She wants destruction, nothing more."

Luo Chen raised his hand, and a ball of crimson-gold flame flickered in his palm:

"Since we're acquaintances, let's say hello."

boom!

Luo Chen waved his hand casually, and the flame in his hand transformed into a roaring fire dragon, rushing straight to the top of the bell tower.

This is not a Noble Phantasm; it is merely a casual release of the Crimson Dragon's magical power.

Atalanta instinctively sensed a deadly threat. She let out a shriek, abandoned her shooting, and leaped across the building's surface like a cheetah to evade the danger.

Boom!

The top of the clock tower was flattened by the fire dragon, and rubble fell like raindrops.

Taking advantage of this lull, Dion, who had been stunned by the attack, recovered his senses.

Although these two Servants have gone berserk, they still retain their basic combat instincts.

They realized that the group of people in front of them—especially the blond man—was far beyond what the two of them could handle.

"Retreat...retreat..."

Deon uttered a few words in a hoarse voice, his body transforming into spiritual particles as he forcibly activated the retreat spell.

Under the cover of the smoke and dust, Atalanta quickly disappeared into the town's intricate alleyways.

"Trying to run?!" Mordred was about to give chase.

"No need to chase after them."

Luo Chen called out to her:

"This is their territory, and there are many more Servants lurking in the shadows. Now that we've already given them a heads-up, they'll take the message back to Orleans."

"Tell that imposter—the real 'King' has arrived."

Mordred shoved her sword back into its sheath with displeasure.

"Tch, that's boring. We just warmed up."

"Stop complaining."

Morgan walked over and glanced disdainfully at the rubble scattered on the ground:

"Staying in this dusty place for even a second longer is bad for your skin. Arthur, we should go."

……

After leaving La Chapelle, the group continued their journey towards Orleans.

However, just as they were passing through a dense forest, a sound that seemed completely out of place in the atmosphere of the battlefield came from there.

"Ding, Ding, Ding, Deng, Deng♪"

That's... the sound of a piano?

Moreover, it is an extremely cheerful Mozart sonata full of courtly atmosphere.

"Huh? Someone's playing the piano in this godforsaken place?"

Mordred picked at his ear. "Is there something wrong with my hearing system?"

"No, I heard it too."

Mashu raised her shield, her expression strange: "Senpai, this melody... doesn't it sound like the famous 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star Variations'?"

"Let's go take a look."

Luo Chen took the lead in clearing away the bushes.

The sight before them stunned everyone.

In a clearing in the forest, there was a white piano that looked like it had been conjured by magic.

A man dressed in an extravagant court musician's outfit and wearing a wig is pressing the piano keys with great enthusiasm.

On the piano sat a young girl dressed in a gorgeous Lolita-style dress and wearing an exquisite hat.

She held a folding fan in her hand, gently swaying her legs to the rhythm of the music, her face beaming with a bright smile.

Caster, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

Rider, Marie Antoinette.

The Queen of France, and her personal musicians.

"Oh dear? We have guests!"

Mary spotted Luo Chen and his group immediately.

She showed no fear whatsoever; instead, she gracefully jumped down from the piano, lifted her skirt, and curtsied.

Greetings, fellow travelers! It's wonderful to meet you all in this war-torn France!

"I'm Marie, nice to meet you! Vive la France!"

This combo completely stumped Mordred.

"This...this guy is a Servant too? What's with this lighthearted atmosphere?"

Joan of Arc's gaze turned complicated when she saw Mary.

As a saint of France, she certainly knew this was also a famous queen in French history.

"Queen Mary...why are you here?"

"Because we heard the cries of the people."

Mary blinked her large, sapphire-blue eyes, her smile innocent and healing:

"Although I am an unfit queen, how can I remain indifferent when France is weeping?"

She looked at Luo Chen, her gaze lingering on him for a moment, a hint of surprise flashing in her eyes, but it was quickly masked by her signature smile:

"Handsome sir, you radiate a light brighter than the sun. Are you His Highness, the prince who has come to save this country?"

He is not a prince.

Luo Chen looked at the famously "though somewhat dim-witted, but always cheerful" queen and smiled.

"I am the Knight King who has come to clean up the mess."

"Oh my? The King of Knights?"

Mary covered her mouth in surprise, then looked at Morgan beside her:

"Then this powerful lady must be your queen?"

Morgan, who had been looking at Mary with the scrutinizing gaze one might use to judge a "vase," raised an eyebrow slightly upon hearing this.

"You have good taste, little girl."

Morgan took off his sunglasses and walked up to Mary.

Two women with completely different styles—one is a cold witch from the North, and the other is a dazzling idol from Versailles.

The clash of their auras made it seem as if sparks were flying in the air.

"Although your taste is a bit too flamboyant."

Morgan looked Mary up and down in her dress, which was covered in lace and bows:

"But his demeanor as royalty is barely acceptable."

"Thank you for the compliment!"

Mary completely missed the barb in Morgan's words, and instead happily took his hand:

"Your skin is so beautiful! What skincare routine do you use? Could you teach me?"

Morgan paused for a moment.

In her life, she has encountered people who wanted to kill her, people who wanted to use her, and people who feared her.

But she had never seen such a "naive" person who immediately applied skincare products and then asked for skincare advice.

You can't hit someone who's smiling, let alone such a "shining creature" of extremely high purity.

"...It's dew from the fairy kingdom." Morgan turned her head away, her tone softening slightly. "If you're interested, I can give you some tonight."

"That's fantastic!" Mary exclaimed.

Luo Chen couldn't help but facepalm as he watched this scene.

Who would have thought that the aloof Morgan Queen would be broken down by such a "direct approach"?

"Alright, since you're on our side, let's get you in."

Luo Chen looked at Mozart, who was still playing the piano:

"Hey musician over there, stop playing. We're going to Orleans for a concert, do you want to accompany us?"

"Orleans?"

Mozart stopped fingering, adjusted his glasses, and gave a wry smile:

"That place is hell now. But..."

He looked at Mary:

"Since Mary is going, then I, her servant, have no choice but to accompany her, even at the cost of my life. Even in hell, I can play the most magnificent requiem."

The team has grown once again.

In addition to the Round Table family and the Chaldean duo, there is now a French idol group.

This group, which was called "Salvation" but was actually a "tourist group," marched in a grand procession toward the final battleground.