Sister Rescue Plan

With Izayoi attracting his attention, Cú Chulainn unleashed his Noble Phantasm. This was a plan they devised using their mental link. Izayoi's attack power wasn't enough; she couldn't kill Heracles alone. They had to leave the chance to finish him off to Cú Chulainn, hoping the system would give him some credit.

Unfortunately, the system didn't react at all. Does that mean it doesn't count?

As Izayoi Mirai was feeling regretful, a sudden alarm bell rang in his mind, and a chill seeped into his bones. Almost instinctively, he turned aside to dodge.

A thick, muscular hand reached out and tore away a layer of muscle from his left arm.

He was so close; if he had been even a fraction slower, Hercules would have ripped his heart out.

So it's because he's not dead yet?

Yosuke Mirai swung the spear in her hand and cut off half of his arm along the wound.

Blood spurted out again, nearly splashing onto Mirai Izayoi; Hercules was truly exhausted.

A large hole was torn in his chest, his heart had been blasted into a pulp, leaving only a few remnants. A large amount of blood gushed out from there, staining half of his body red, and only half of his right arm remained.

But he did not die, and his wounds did not heal.

He didn't die even after losing his heart, was it because King Arthur had his heart ripped out and caused his death?

Izayoi Mirai deduces the truth: the "Twelve Trials," as a Noble Phantasm, grants him twelve lives, each time he is resurrected with full health, and he will never die in the same way again.

Of course, there is a limit to this. In the original work, Archer killed seven people with one arrow. Izayoi Mirai thinks that Arthur's curry stick must have taken more than one life before.

Otherwise, we'll have to run away tonight, since he's already been contaminated and controlled by the black mud.

Signaling Cú Chulainn not to come up and help, Izayoi Mirai, having already exhausted Hercules' strength to chase him, managed to sever all four of his limbs by flying a kite.

After a long while, Hercules stopped moving. The wounds covering his body had stopped bleeding. He stared at the future, his eyes filled with ferocity, but he had lost all life.

"Ding! With the help of others, Berserker Hercules has been killed. Reward: 2,000 points."

"Tsk, only two thousand points, not even enough for a ten-pull." Yushou Mirai was a little dissatisfied, but this time he really did get the kill by chance. If it were just one person, he wouldn't have been able to kill him at all.

Not only Heracles, but he couldn't defeat any Servant in a one-on-one fight, not even Medea, who had the weakest direct combat ability. After all, most of his current strength still came from Medea's enhancement magic.

So, is it really okay for a complete beginner to come to this script?

Arthur was still confronting Angra Mainyu, surrounded by countless tiny tentacle monsters that left wet, sticky trails on the ground. Angra Mainyu, on the other hand, had completely transformed into a giant tentacle monster, constantly secreting a smooth liquid from its body.

Izayoi Mirai cleared a path and came to Arthur's side: "Saber, activate your Noble Phantasm, the more you fight this guy, the more mobs appear."

"We've already used our Noble Phantasm once," Arthur said helplessly. "We don't have enough mana."

Yushou Mirai, whose magic power was mostly supplied by the underground spiritual veins of Ryudouji Temple, was stunned. She then realized that Shiori Emiya's aptitude was not outstanding. It was already difficult enough for her to support Arthur in releasing his Noble Phantasm once. If magic power were to be extracted again in a large way, it would endanger her body.

Then, Yushou's thoughts inevitably slid to a strange angle.

Will they replenish their mana when they get back? If I remember correctly, the prototype seems to be a small eroge!

Izayoi Mirai glanced at Arthur, her expression turning strange, leaving everyone wondering what Archer was thinking.

Woohoo!

Having failed to catch its prey, Angolan Manuel swung its tentacles, its body transforming in a highly unscientific way. Thick tentacles lashed out like whips, separating the two.

Woohoo! Woohoo! Woohoo!

Golden swords and spears shot down from the sky, confining Arthur to a small area, and golden chains hung down, binding him.

As if in sync with the attacker, a beam of black light shot out from Angra Mainyu and struck Arthur squarely.

Yuuyo's heart skipped a beat. If Artoria would turn to the dark side, then what about King Arthur?

"What a fine show for me, you bastards." A haughty voice rang out, the clouds dispersed, and moonlight shone down. In the sky, Gilgamesh sat in a magnificent chariot, holding a glass of red wine.

"Pleasing the king is also the job of you miscellaneous cultivators, and you've done a passable job."

This is dangerous.

Izayoi Mirai clenched her fist tightly. After fighting for so long, both she and Cú Chulainn had declined significantly, not to mention the depletion of their magic power.

Arthur has also been swallowed by the black mud, and it's uncertain whether he will become friend or foe. He will also have to face Gilgamesh at full strength.

It seems we can only wait until Medea's magic base is completed before joining forces with Red A to launch an attack.

“You bastard, don’t make any unnecessary moves.” Gilgamesh had clearly noticed Izayoi Mirai, and his expression grew even colder. “Before witnessing this memorable moment, I will spare your life for now.”

A memorable moment? What was it? Won't Arthur turn to the dark side?

Izayoi Mirai held onto a sliver of hope, but in the next moment, her expression instantly changed.

His familiar, which remained by Rin Tohsaka's side, is dead.

Something happened to Rin Tohsaka!

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Red A gazed at the distant battlefield, while Rin Tohsaka stood beside him with a stern face, using magic to enhance her eyesight and observing as well.

She tossed her pigtails listlessly, her eyes growing increasingly suspicious: "He made it sound so serious, but I haven't seen any real crisis. Is he just messing with me?"

Red A remained silent. Of course he knew what was there, but with Arthur there, it wasn't a big problem.

The thought that Arthur was a man gave him a headache and a chill down his spine.

I hate this timeline.

As he was thinking, he grabbed Rin Tohsaka and moved her sideways for five or six meters.

Snapped!

The iron chains struck the spot where they had just stood, sending toothpicks flying.

A bewitching masked girl attacks, heading straight for Archer (Red A). She is none other than Medusa, a Servant from the Matou family.

The twin blades were projected and held in Red A's hand as he faced Medusa. Rin Tohsaka took out a gem, and a shimmering green light emanated from her body as she prepared to unleash her magic.

Is Zouken Matou nearby?

As she was searching, a hand silently pressed against her back, a feeling of dizziness washed over her, and she swayed unsteadily.

How could this be? They didn't even last a single round—

Her competitive spirit kept her from falling asleep immediately, but many things are beyond human control.

Before she completely lost consciousness, she fell into a soft embrace, the light fragrance seemed familiar, and she heard Red A's anxious shouts in her ears.

Who is this person?

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Green Men's Shameful Defeat - Yellow Hair

The sun sank below the horizon, leaving the earth with its last rays of light. In the dim light, corpses lay strewn across the land.

The ground was littered with the remains of weapons and armor, smeared with layers of dried blood, a scene of eternal time, just like the lives of their wearers.

On the hillside piled high with corpses, King Arthur, holding a spear, expressionlessly plunged its large, sharp tip into the abdomen of a warrior wearing a bull helmet. Facing his opponent's questioning, he remained silent, slowly withdrawing the spear. Blood splattered on his handsome face, gradually turning from warm to cold.

This is the Battle of Camlann, the day he led the remaining knights to slaughter the rebels and personally killed Mordred. The horned helmet shattered, revealing that familiar face—it was Mordred.

Arthur bent down and closed his wide-open eyes, as if a flame was burning in his heart.

This is the twenty-fourth time. Since being struck by that black light, he has repeated this scene twenty-four times.

Did you think you could break down my defenses like that?

A hint of coldness flashed in Arthur's eyes. After being dragged into this illusion, his previously peaceful and warm demeanor began to subtly change.

The extra sharp edges made him look somewhat cold and aloof, like a sword with an ancient and simple design, which looks plain and unadorned, but would cut you if you touched it.

He was no longer a Servant participating in the Holy Grail War, but the Lord of England, the Chosen King—

The King of Knights.

He might be heartbroken by the destruction of his country, by the betrayal of his wife, his knight, and his children, but he would never regret what he had done.

He firmly believed that it was the right thing to do, and that he would make the same choice even if he had to do it all over again.

Therefore, even if this scene were repeated a thousand times, he would still shoot Mordred and end his life without the slightest hesitation.

If you think this can defeat me, then come and try it!

The Knight King stood atop the high slope, silently mocking this false world.

Then, the scene changed.

The light disappeared, and Arthur could see nothing but himself until a familiar voice rang out.

Like cream spread on a cake, chilled in the refrigerator, its sweet aroma carries the coolness of summer ice cream.

“Saber——”

The silver-haired, red-eyed young woman smiled and placed her hand on his shoulder, while wrapping her other arm around him.

"Saber, would you be willing to become my servant alone?"

The atmosphere became ambiguous, and her soft body leaned against him, her warm fragrance lingering in the air.

"Alice—"

Arthur let out a low murmur. He remembered the first time he saw her; the dazzling lights of the castle reflected in her eyes, like a starry sky, radiant and captivating.

Innocence and maturity are perfectly intertwined in her; standing in the snow, she looks like a snow fairy who stepped out of a fairy tale.

At this time, Irisviel also exuded the charm of a married woman, and every smile and frown was captivating.

She gave Arthur a flawless smile: "As my knight, you must protect me."

The figure before him overlapped with the one he had seen when he first arrived in Eastwood. Back then, he had expressed concern that Irisviel was traveling without permission in a city where other Servants and Masters were hiding. Irisviel had said something to him that touched his heartstrings.

At that time, he had just made a joke about "putting a leash on an airplane, holding it, and you'll naturally be able to fly it," but Irisviel casually changed the subject.

"Alice—"

Arthur let out a low moan and reached out to stroke her hair. Irisviel leaned against him, her eyelashes long and thick.

“Saber, we…”

Crack! Her throat was crushed.

"You don't understand the real Alice at all; you're just wearing her skin."

A layer of sorrow clouded Arthur's emerald eyes. How could the real Irisviel treat him like this?