Arthur's words echoed deeply in Mordred's ears.
She grinned savagely as she took her first step forward. His trust in her sparked a strange sense of satisfaction within. He had commanded her to face two heroes as if it were nothing more than a formality. Yet, there was something about his smile—an overwhelming, almost sovereign confidence—that made her blood boil with excitement and, paradoxically, swell with pride.
"Hmph!" Mordred struck her fist against her chest, panting, a wild gleam blazing in her eyes. "Don't think for a second that I'll disappoint you, Master! I'll crush these two and shove victory right in their faces!"
She drew Clarent, the crimson blade gleaming like fire, and raised it with a battle cry that reverberated through the air. Her roar was so fierce that even Achilles and Atalanta glanced at one another in brief surprise.
"You speak as if you could defeat us on your own." Atalanta snarled, her bow already drawn. Her expression was cold as ice, yet in her feline eyes flickered a trace of respect.
"That's not arrogance—it's fact!" Mordred snapped back, flashing an animalistic grin.
Achilles spun his spear with inhuman dexterity, the air tearing with a metallic hiss under its speed. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the knight.
"Heh… You've got courage, I'll give you that. But courage without strength is just suicide." His voice rang steady, brimming with the natural confidence of a hero who had never known defeat.
Mordred laughed at him.
"Spoken like the guy who was struggling against me earlier. Don't think it'll change anything just because there are two of you now!"
With that, she charged. Her steps thundered against the ground, and Clarent blazed as it cut through the air. The sheer force of her magical aura made the atmosphere vibrate.
Atalanta struck first. Her bow twanged, and a gleaming arrow shot forth like lightning. Mordred swung her blade, parrying it with ease. Sparks lit up the darkness as steel deflected the projectile.
Achilles didn't hesitate. As Atalanta loosed her arrow, he lunged, his spear whistling in a deadly arc toward Mordred's flank. She twisted, crimson steel clashing against his weapon in an explosive metallic roar.
The impact tore a crater into the floor, the shockwave blasting dust and shards in every direction. Yet Mordred did not falter. Instead, she laughed, exhilarated, her eyes burning like embers.
"Is that all you've got?! I'll show you how the King of Knights fights!"
With a wild scream, she hurled herself at them again.
Arthur, meanwhile, raised one of his golden blades, and the very air seemed to tremble around him. His gaze locked on Karna, who stepped forward with a calm, fated smile—the look of a man who had already chosen his path, no matter who stood in his way.
The roar of Mordred's battle against Achilles and Atalanta thundered in the background, each clash of weapons sparking firelight. But while his rebellious "daughter" clashed recklessly with two legendary heroes, Arthur remained composed, eyes fixed upon his opponent.
Karna, son of the sun god. His presence was so overwhelming that the air itself wavered, heavy, as if on the verge of igniting.
Arthur slowly raised his sword, the golden steel reflecting the divine flames that danced around the Hindu demigod. His smile did not waver—if anything, it deepened.
"What do you say, Karna? Shall we finish what we started?" Arthur's voice was calm, almost casual, as though addressing an old friend instead of a rival.
Karna's lips curved upward. He grounded himself firmly, feet digging into the earth as if rooting him in place, and lifted his crimson spear, Vasavi Shakti.
"I agree. Let's bring this to an end."
Arthur chuckled softly, his confidence palpable.
In the next instant, dozens of swords rained forth from the Gate of Babylon, streaking toward Karna like a swarm of arrows.
Karna's spear spun with superhuman speed, batting aside or shattering the incoming blades. Metal fragments scattered through the air like falling stars.
But even as he defended, Arthur lunged, wielding two swords in hand. Karna met him head-on, his weapon blazing as it clashed with Arthur's.
The first collision unleashed a shockwave that rattled the very walls.
Arthur laughed, exhilarated even as their clash generated power enough to crush lesser men.
"Heh… That's what I like to see. Let's find out, Karna—who's going to stand victorious."
And Karna smiled back as he pressed the attack.
The clash between Arthur and Karna reverberated like thunder through the ruined hall. Each strike wasn't just heard—it was felt. The ground split, the walls quaked, and chunks of stone shattered with every impact. The once-grand chamber was reduced to rubble by their battle.
Neither man seemed to care. Both smiled—not in ease, but with a fierce gleam in their eyes. It was the smile of warriors who knew they had found a worthy foe, someone who could match them blow for blow, without retreat, without fear.
Karna's spear burned with solar fire, every thrust carrying the power to incinerate an ordinary man to ash. Yet again and again, Arthur's summoned blades intercepted it, the metallic clang! echoing endlessly like a war bell.
But Karna faced more than just Arthur's steel. Along with his strikes, he had to ward off the relentless storm of weapons erupting from the golden portal—spears, axes, swords, all raining down from impossible angles.
Still, he never yielded.
Arthur pursued him relentlessly. The weapons of the divine treasury tore the sky apart, detonating in bursts of golden light. Neither warrior dodged. They clashed through the storm head-on, as though the chaos were nothing more than a summer breeze.
Then, at the height of their battle, both men felt it.
A violent surge of magical energy swept across the battlefield.
Arthur and Karna broke eye contact for an instant, turning toward the source.
Atalanta.
Until now, she had played the role of support—first aiding Achilles against Mordred's fury, then Shirou Amakusa. But now, watching the tide slip out of her favor, her patience snapped.
Her eyes blazed with resolve as she raised her bow. Her voice trembled with fervent devotion as it rang out like a prayer:
"With my bow and arrows, I call upon the protection of Lord Apollo… and Lady Artemis! To you, I offer this calamity!"
The bowstring shone as divine power surged into the arrows.
"Phoebus Catastrophe!"
Her cry shook the heavens. Two arrows shot skyward, piercing the clouds. Then the sky split open, unleashing a deluge. Dozens, hundreds, thousands of radiant arrows of light rained down, engulfing the battlefield.
The scope was immense. The storm of destruction spared no one—it fell upon Shirou, upon Achilles, upon Mordred, upon Arthur and Karna alike.
Arthur and Karna, however, didn't flinch. They ignored the arrows striking their armor, fighting on as though the downpour were nothing more than a summer shower. Arthur's golden armor and Karna's divine protection rendered the attack nearly harmless.
Mordred was not so fortunate. Her armor held, but not without strain. Each arrow forced her to swing Clarent wildly, deflecting or destroying the projectiles before they could pierce her defenses. She roared in frustration, energy steadily draining as she fought against the ceaseless barrage.
From a distance, Atalanta's heart sank. Her face paled as she witnessed the outcome.
She had poured everything into this. Unleashed her greatest calamity. Yet against monsters like Arthur and Karna… her Noble Phantasm was little more than a whisper in a storm.
Her eyes fixed on Mordred, still enduring, and a bitter despair gripped her chest.
"Not even this was enough…" she murmured, her voice tight with frustration as her gaze hardened.
---
(End of Chapter)
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain me, try to throw those pathetic power stones at me. Let's see if even your insolence can amuse a king."