Darkness completely engulfed him—then receded.
Shiomi found himself seated in the middle of an open field.
The land had become a battlefield, corpses strewn in every direction. The wind that blew carried the thick stench of blood.
The setting sun dyed the landscape a deep crimson, making the already grim scene even more harrowing. It reminded Shiomi of the final battle at the North American Singularity.
But this place... it was even more brutal. The forces on both sides had fought to the bitter end, every soldier bleeding out the last drop of life.
Just as he was trying to guess the Lion King's intentions, a furious voice rang out overhead.
A knight clad in silver armor charged at him, both hands gripping a longsword. The blade, filled with killing intent, came crashing down—only to cleave through the chair he had been sitting on.
Shiomi leapt back, putting distance between them.
Even with the helmet obscuring the knight's face, he recognized her instantly.
Mordred.
"So, you're letting me fight your Knights of the Round Table now?" he muttered.
Though the restraints on his power had vanished, the Lion King had cast him into a sealed world—one where he now faced Mordred, seething with rage and bloodlust.
"Arthur... King...!"
Mordred's furious roar interrupted his thoughts. Though she charged at Shiomi, the name she screamed was Arthur's.
Summoning his spear, Shiomi countered with a flurry of thrusts, driving Mordred back.
He quickly scanned his surroundings, examining the armor worn by the dead scattered across the field. All of it resembled that of fifth- to sixth-century Britannia.
That meant...
Dodging and retreating while fending off Mordred's relentless strikes, Shiomi watched carefully, waiting for an opening. When it came, he countered again, forcing her back—then the realization hit him.
This was the end of the Battle of Camlann.
According to history, it was here that King Arthur clashed with Mordred. In the end, the King struck down the rebel knight with the Holy Lance—but was grievously wounded in return.
Afterward, he died and passed on to Avalon.
That is—if one ignores the tale of the King of Knights forging a pact with the world and entering the Holy Grail War to save Britannia.
Regardless, this battlefield marked the end of Arthur's legend.
Shiomi's earlier question had gone unanswered, but he no longer cared to ask.
The Lion King's intent was clear—she had used her own power to send him into a battlefield drawn from memory.
And the first trial was the original ending.
It was a twisted sort of judgment.
On one side, the knight who had betrayed her in life. On the other, Shiomi, who had bonded with that knight after her death.
Of course, he knew the Lion King felt no amusement. She wasn't one for "cruel humor."
This setup simply made sense.
Even so, it was the first time Shiomi had truly clashed with Mordred.
Before this, they had only fought alongside each other against more formidable foes.
But now... Mordred's strength far exceeded even Artoria's during Singularity F.
Every swing of her sword came without hesitation, laced with Mana that crackled into crimson lightning. Her sheer power forced Shiomi onto the defensive—he couldn't afford to meet her head-on.
Was it the difference between life and death as a Servant—or something else?
Shiomi narrowly dodged Mordred's thrust, the blade nearly grazing his throat. He swung his spear behind his back, twisting it in a rapid arc toward Mordred's body.
It missed her vitals, grazing her arm instead.
Whether it was Artoria or Mordred, both possessed a natural sharpness of instinct.
Cut from the same cloth. Shiomi smiled bitterly to himself.
He flexed his dry fingers and once again gripped the crimson spear tightly.
Mordred showed no concern for conserving her Mana. Even through her helmet, he could see her eyes had lost all reason.
This wasn't just rage—it was something closer to Mad Enhancement.
Probably a measure to prevent him, who knew her well, from interfering with words and gaining the upper hand too easily.
The Lion King's intent was clearly more than just punishment.
If all she wanted was retribution, she could've sealed Shiomi's power and left him at the mercy of Mordred—or whatever other enemy appeared here.
But instead, she created this battlefield.
Assuming the worst, facing Mordred at Camlann might only be the beginning of this trial.
Illusion or not, the scent of death that rushed toward him was real. Shiomi had no doubt—if he was reduced to mincemeat here, even if he survived, he'd be as good as dead.
No matter that they'd once fought side by side—there was no room for hesitation now.
And Mordred's Noble Phantasm had already activated.
Crimson Mana spiraled skyward around her blade as she muttered broken, incoherent words, shouting her True Name as the Holy Sword came crashing down toward Shiomi.
During his days imprisoned in Camelot, he had fully recovered, and in that brief clash with Mordred, he'd found his battle instincts again.
He chose to dodge, watching as the Noble Phantasm's Mana surged and expanded. One step too slow, and he would've been consumed entirely.
He retreated to a safe distance and watched as the blood-soaked battlefield was torn open by a massive scar, the corpses of fallen soldiers instantly vaporized by the unleashed Mana.
Still, Shiomi had evaded the blow—and now, he struck back.
But then the surge of Mana flared again.
Shiomi's eyes widened.
Consecutive Noble Phantasm releases were supposed to be rare, strictly limited.
Only Noble Phantasms like Shiomi's crimson spear—attacks that pierced the heart with minimal Mana—could be fired off repeatedly.
But Mordred's was an Anti-Fortress Noble Phantasm. Even with ample Mana, releasing such a high-level conceptual weapon in rapid succession placed a tremendous burden on the user.
In the worst case, it could kill them outright.
Was this the Lion King's plan all along?
Shiomi raised his spear, eyes filled with pain as he stared at Mordred—reduced to nothing more than a living Noble Phantasm launcher.
Even if it was just a phantom. Even if it was only an illusion.
Watching her head toward self-destruction like this pained him deeply.
"No matter what reason you had for sending Mordred to fight me..." he said to the Lion King, not knowing if she was even watching, "I won't follow your script."
"Clarent Blood Arthur—!"
The scream tore through the air, hoarse and raw, no longer even sounding human. It was impossible to tell whether it carried emotion or was simply the embodiment of hatred.
Hatred for King Arthur.
Shiomi slipped past the Noble Phantasm's second descent with the barest motion. As the energy spread, he closed the distance between them in a flash.
His aim: the heart. If he landed the strike, it would be over.
True or false—this suffering would end here.
Shiomi spread his hands. Ice-formed arrows hovered in the air, and the instant they solidified, they flew—straight toward Mordred.
...
(100 Chapters Ahead)
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