Riding atop his mighty Hippogriff, Astolfo soared through the skies at breathtaking speed. The impact of the winged beast's flight was brutal — the black stone slabs forming the path ahead shattered one after another beneath its advance. The echo of breaking stone rolled like thunder through the air. Yet as soon as he crossed to the next platform, a sensation cut through his neck like a cold blade.
A killing intent.
Astolfo's eyes widened. Above, standing motionless on one of the dark platforms, a figure watched him — towering, immovable, like an iron statue defying the wind.
"Karna...?"
The man in golden armor, illuminated by the radiant flames of his divine being, replied with the calm of a god carved from legend.
"Yes. It's me."
Standing firm atop the platform, Karna raised his spear — a weapon gleaming with the light of the ancient Indian sun. His gaze was serene, yet his voice carried the weight of inevitability.
"Forgive me, Rider… but please, die."
Without hesitation, Lancer lunged forward. His spear tore through the air like lightning, ready to pierce the knight and his Hippogriff in a single strike.
But before the divine weapon could reach its mark, a metallic crash echoed — a sword had intercepted it at the very last instant.
Karna's lips curved into a faint smile, his face glowing with quiet satisfaction.
"So, you've finally arrived… King of Heroes?" he said, recognizing the strength behind the block.
Arthur stood tall before him, holding his blade with unyielding resolve. His eyes gleamed with joy, and a confident smile formed on his lips.
"We still have to finish our battle, Karna."
The clash between the two weapons made the very air tremble. Astolfo pulled back slightly, listening to Arthur's voice without taking his eyes off the enemy Lancer.
"Atalanta is already inside the Hanging Gardens," Arthur said firmly. "Take Fran with you — and then Jeanne."
"Got it!" Astolfo replied without hesitation, turning the reins of his Hippogriff.
---xXx---
"What!?"
Semiramis gasped, her breath catching in her throat. Her body trembled as the revelation sank in.
Atalanta… was already inside the Hanging Gardens?
Impossible. She hadn't sensed a thing — no trace of the huntress's presence, no warning, no signal. How could that woman have deceived her so completely?
Then the impossible became undeniable.
A barrage of arrows streaked through the air in an instant, each one imbued with magic. The sharp whine of their flight filled the skies. Shocked and infuriated, Semiramis raised her sorcery to form a barrier against the assault.
The arrows struck and scattered, ricocheting off her magical defenses — but the onslaught didn't stop.
Suddenly, a shadow fell from above. Atalanta descended like the very prey she once hunted, swift and merciless, landing directly within the Hanging Gardens — right before the poisonous witch herself.
"A frontal attack!?" Semiramis exclaimed, truly astonished. "Where did you come from!?"
For a fleeting instant, even Semiramis found herself dumbfounded. The plan had unfolded before her very eyes, and she hadn't noticed a thing — all orchestrated by that man… Gilgamesh.
Yes, he could have simply used spatial manipulation to teleport everyone directly inside. But if he had done that, Achilles and Chiron would never have been able to finish their final duel — and he himself would have lost the opportunity he sought: to face Karna in direct combat.
Atalanta raised her bow, her eyes blazing like twin blades. She aimed toward the ceiling of the Hanging Gardens, her voice echoing like both a prayer and a curse.
"With my bow and my arrows, I call upon the protection of the god Apollo… and the goddess Artemis! I offer you this calamity!"
Magic surged and condensed within her weapon.
"Phoebus Catastrophe!!"
"Damn you!" roared Semiramis, fury seeping into every syllable, her anger spreading through the air like poison.
But there was no stopping the huntress's Noble Phantasm.
The arrow shot upward, piercing the ceiling as if it were made of paper. The next instant, it exploded into countless beams of light that rained down upon the Hanging Gardens. Towers crumbled, entire structures turned to dust, and the fortress itself trembled beneath the divine wrath of Atalanta's Noble Phantasm.
Semiramis had anticipated that such an attack might occur, and had placed defensive wards at key points throughout the fortress. Even so, the devastation was colossal. Most of the Gardens were now consumed by the relentless assault of Atalanta's divine power.
---xXx---
While Semiramis struggled to hold back the storm of radiant arrows — unable to fully control the outer defenses — Astolfo seized the opening.
The Hippogriff streaked through the air, cutting across the collapsing sky and landing beside Atalanta with dazzling speed.
"Tch!" Semiramis clicked her tongue, frustration gnawing at her composure.
With a burst of spatial magic, she teleported herself deeper into the battlefield.
Astolfo drew a deep breath and pulled the reins tight.
"Fran, follow Atalanta!" he ordered firmly. "I'll go help Jeanne now — I'll be back soon!"
Frankenstein growled in agreement, and without hesitation, Astolfo mounted his Hippogriff once again, soaring out of the Gardens in a blur of wind and feathers.
---xXx---
Meanwhile, the thunderous clash between Arthur and Karna shook another platform.
The two heroes were locked in a dance of power — every strike a thunderclap, every spark a lightning flash that tore across the battlefield.
"Let's end this fight here," Karna declared, his stance unwavering, fiery eyes fixed upon his opponent.
"Gladly… That's exactly what I want," Arthur replied, a fearless grin spreading across his face as he drew another sword from the Gate of Babylon.
They charged at each other — and when they met, it was like the collision of stars.
---xXx---
At the same moment, on another front of the war, Achilles laughed with unshakable confidence.
"You've got nowhere left to run, teacher!"
But Chiron did not waver. His smile remained calm, almost paternal — as if he were watching a beloved student test the limits of his own strength.
The centaur loosed a volley of arrows, swift and precise.
Achilles, faster than lightning itself, raced forward in his chariot drawn by three steeds. In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance, outpacing the arrows.
Any ordinary archer would have been helpless at such close range. But Chiron was no ordinary archer.
He understood the essence of speed — the movement of arrows, the rhythm of time, the mathematics of impact and trajectory. All variables reduced to perfect, cold precision within his mind.
"The right time, the right coordinates, the right speed. That's all I need."
So when Achilles lunged forward, Chiron didn't aim at where he was — but at where he would be.
Achilles realized it too late. To him, it was as if the arrow had simply appeared out of thin air.
The impact was brutal. The shaft pierced his shoulder, punching through bone. Blood burst forth, streaming down his arm.
"Tch…!"
But the blow didn't end there.
One of his chariot's horses — the only mortal among the three — screamed in agony and collapsed a second later. Chiron's arrow had struck its skull with surgical precision.
Achilles' eyes widened in disbelief.
"What!?"
The chariot tilted violently, losing balance.
Two of the steeds were immortal — but with the fall of the third, the chariot was now useless.
Realizing this instantly, Achilles leapt from the wreckage, blood dripping from his wound, ready to face his master head-on.
(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."