NABC Page 94
Page 94
The magic merely rippled once, and nothing appeared!
“This isn’t right…” he muttered to himself, the Command Seals on the back of his hand still burning hot, but there was no response.
Could it be that something is interfering with it?
However, the Command Seal on the back of his hand did change from two strokes to one stroke, meaning that the Command Seal successfully conveyed the command to Caster, but he did not receive any response at this moment.
"Don't go back to Ryudouji Temple!" A faint, ethereal voice emanated from the magical power of the Command Seal on the back of his hand, vibrating through the air and reaching Matou Ike's ears.
Chapter 132 Warm Light
"Don't go back to Ryudouji Temple..." These words echoed repeatedly in Matou Ike's mind, refusing to leave.
The situation has reached a critical point, and a decision must be made immediately.
Matouike had always trusted Medea's judgment, but this time she couldn't agree...
"Can we escape from Berserker?" he wondered to himself, his eyes involuntarily glancing into the distance.
......
The battlefield in the forest has now reached a fever pitch, whether it's the battlefield in the illusion or the real battlefield.
The air was thick with the atmosphere of battle, with swords flashing and magic swirling around them.
Mordred and Artoria were locked in fierce combat, their blades tracing fiery arcs through the air, their colliding forces generating massive energy fluctuations.
Their figures flashed across the battlefield like shooting stars, constantly weaving through swords and corpses, their dazzling light gleaming amidst the clash of blades.
"Enough, Arthur!" Mordred roared, her eyes burning with fury.
"This will all end!"
In an instant, Mordred unleashed her magic, transforming into a steam locomotive with a human form.
The girl violently spewed out steam called magic power while raising her sword.
She was fearless, driven only by pure fighting spirit.
Without hesitation, overcoming terror and enduring murderous intent, they needed no reward, no praise, but simply followed their own choices, each holding a sword with both hands—and rushed forward.
She remembered what her mother, Morgan, had once told her:
"Only you can defeat the king; the king will ultimately fall to his own impurity..."
She hated her mother, but she believed her words!
Space distorted, and thunderous sounds echoed across the battlefield of Kamran from afar.
Mordred raised her sword, and at the same time, the helmet's function as a Noble Phantasm was deactivated and stored inside her armor.
Legend has it that in the past, there was a knight-king named Arthur Pendragon in the Kingdom of Britain. During his reign, he never aged... maintaining the appearance of the young man who pulled the sword from the stone for countless years.
Then his eldest son, Mordred, naturally also had the delicate, even pitiful, appearance of a young girl.
However, despite her cute appearance, she couldn't hide her brutal nature, which was almost indistinguishable from that of a berserker.
His emerald green eyes were filled with a fascination with violence.
As she removed her helmet, the sword in her hand also changed; the silver blade turned red, and its shape began to twist and deform.
Whenever a loud noise occurs, bursts of red lightning erupt around the sword.
This phenomenon is by no means due to the nature of the sword.
This sword, known as the "Radiant Sword of the King," was acquired and kept by King Arthur as proof of his kingship.
Originally, the "Shining Blade of the King" was not a sword that Mordred could use. It was a sword that existed to prove the throne, a sword that only the one who becomes king could wield.
However, Mordred, who had usurped the sword from King Arthur's treasury, seized it with overwhelming power.
She didn't choose it because it was a sword befitting a king; she simply wanted its power.
As a medium to amplify the power of the king, the finest sword of kings is forged into a demonic sword.
The sword that Mordred had stolen and that had fatally wounded King Arthur was once again pointed at him.
"Rebel against the sublime father (Clarent Blood Arthur)! -- Sword, fill it!"
In reality, on a battlefield within a forest.
The forest had been completely destroyed in the aftermath of the battle.
Gilles de Rais's figure appeared and disappeared among the ruins of the forest.
"It's time to end this absurd duel, Joan of Arc!" he roared, his voice filled with endless resentment and madness.
At this moment, he could no longer distinguish who the person in front of him was, as if he were fighting a phantom.
Madness lingered in his ears, and resentment churned in his heart.
The surreal, dreamlike sensations had already made him extremely agitated.
Black magic began to emanate from his body, as if it were ready to unleash terrifying power at any moment.
Gun skills alone are no longer enough to determine the outcome of this battle.
The person in front of you could break free from the illusion at any moment.
“Joan of Arc, let me liberate you!” Gilles de Rais’s eyes grew even more fervent.
"—The 'Grand' of the City of Desolation does not exist, burn away the principles of heaven, my wrath!!—'ILLUSION'!"
The scorching flames, like the flames of hell, distorted the surrounding air and emitted a blinding light.
As he finished speaking, an overwhelming vortex of magic erupted, scattering everything around it, making all life seem so insignificant in the face of this power.
The magic gun, launched with the destructive force of an avalanche, hurtled towards Artoria's location.
At this moment, the moonless night was filled with scorching light, as if the blazing summer sun had risen again.
Burned to ashes—extinguished—
Thunderous rage—annihilation—
In the illusion, Mordred stood tall, her demonic sword crackling with red lightning—
In reality, Gilles de Rais roared, raising his flagpole high, the burning flames seeming to devour the entire world—
From the age of mythology to the present day, two heroes who should never have spoken to each other roared at the same person, revealing each other's ultimate moves.
Their inner desires are not the same, but at this moment they are both doing their best, determined to use this opportunity to overcome the obstacles in their hearts.
The enraged red lightning surged forward with devastating destructive power—
The demonic flames, capable of burning everything, instantly engulfed the space—
The dual assault of reality and illusion came crashing down, and Artoria's eyes were still wavering between the two.
But at this moment, whether it's true or false is no longer important.
All she had to do was raise her longsword.
The Crimson Dragon Heart began to throb, its valves began to beat, and blood from all parts of the body converged at the point where magic intertwined, before being transported back to all parts of the body.
Real Name Liberation!
The golden spiritual particles buried underground in Kamran and Fuyuki gradually gathered on the sword.
The magical energy drawn from Kiritsugu Emiya's body now carried a familiar feeling. What could it be? There was no time to think... so I'll just leave it for now.
The unusual nature of the magic brought about an extraordinary amplification.
This sword strike was stronger than any I've ever swung before!
All the remaining magical energy within Kiritsugu Emiya's body was extracted and gathered into a beam of annihilation light.
"Excalibur! — Excalibur!"
Light surged forth.
The howling sounded deafening.
The twilight glowed brightly, and the red thunder charged forward.
The intense clash of dazzling lights at the heart of the battlefield became the ignition point, whipping up a powerful gale.
It was like a highly compressed tornado, affecting everything around it and causing continuous destruction.
Not to mention rubble and gravel, it didn't even leave a speck of dust in its wake.
The result of the clash between their Noble Phantasms... the spiraling beam of light that shot out engulfed both the karmic fire and the raging thunder.
"This light... I feel like I've seen it before..."
("Did I still lose...? Did I still fail to do it...?")
The memories were so vivid and intense that they pulled Jill back to the past.
(Mordred, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, reaches out to Artoria in front of her.)
That was the first time I saw Joan of Arc, in a dilapidated church amidst the chaos of war.
("My wish...")
Joan of Arc was praying fervently right before my eyes.
(King Arthur slowly walks to the defeated knight...)
The words of prayer to God were not ordinary prayers, but rather a recounting of the cruelty of the battle and the grief in their hearts.
("I seem to have misunderstood something, Father...")
Sunlight streamed through the church's dilapidated dome, intertwining with the girl's pure figure.
(Mordred was ultimately unable to touch her father; her body was mutilated by the destructive sword light, and she fell to the ground.)
Ah, yes, that's it—it's this light.
(Seeing this, Artoria knelt down and supported Mordred's body...)
He still remembers it vividly to this day.
(This warmth seemed to be the first time Mordred had ever felt it...)
"I'm sorry, Master... I broke my promise. I've found my own way out..."