This was yet another innovative application Shirou had discovered for [Incursio].
The more magical energy poured into a projection, the closer it came to the original weapon. However, for Shirou's projections, even at maximum magical output, the weapon would still remain at least one rank below its genuine counterpart, merely prolonging its usability.
Conversely, lowering the magical output caused the quality of the projection to deteriorate, gradually distancing it from the original form.
But since [Incursio] itself demanded specific physical qualifications from its wielder, reducing its quality also decreased the strain on the user's body.
Leveraging this principle alongside [Incursio]'s unique ability to possess specific body parts individually, Shirou had projected a version tailored precisely to Kairi Sisigou's capabilities.
It wasn't that Shirou was reluctant to grant him a more powerful [Incursio]; rather, Sisigou's physical condition simply couldn't withstand the intense burden of the armor at full power.
"You could have the helmet expand to cover your whole body," Shirou advised.
After Shirou adjusted its parameters, [Incursio]'s coverage area could now be freely controlled by the wearer.
But Sisigou's first instinct had been merely to prevent inhalation of the encroaching white mist, so the armor currently covered only his head, not his entire body.
Yet even this limited protection gave Sisigou a novel sensation.
He had never before experienced the feeling of wearing armor capable of freely reshaping itself.
"No, this is good enough. I'm not a warrior. If I cover my entire body as you do, it'd probably restrict my movements too much. As a magus, naturally, my path to victory lies through magecraft and mystic codes."
The white mist now completely enveloped them. Yet without internal corrosion to Sisigou, the mist's external corrosiveness also significantly diminished.
Shirou could see faint traces of emerald-green light flickering across Sisigou's skin—a clear indication of a magus utilizing his internal mana to resist erosion.
But Shirou couldn't understand such techniques, let alone replicate them.
Feeling remarkably at ease, Sisigou pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, preparing to take a drag—until he suddenly remembered the helmet he was wearing.
Yet, before he could even put the cigarette away, the helmet's front smoothly opened like the canopy of a cockpit, yet the white mist couldn't breach the opening.
Though devoid of consciousness, [Incursio] responded naturally to the user's subconscious desires, fulfilling Sisigou's unspoken wishes.
"This is one seriously smart Mystic Code…" Sisigou murmured appreciatively, lighting the cigarette and drawing out his sawed-off shotgun, a touch of envy clear in his voice.
Meanwhile, the distant tremors of combat drew ever closer.
"Aren't you going to call off your Servant's fight with mine?" Shirou reminded him, slightly exasperated. They were both Masters; fighting Servants directly was suicidal.
Sisigou blew out a puff of smoke through his armor.
"That was my decision alone. My Servant's plans—I have no say in those!"
Sisigou's willingness to help Shirou wasn't overly complicated, nor was it born from threats to his own life.
Ever since entering this Holy Grail War, he'd considered his life expendable, utterly unconcerned with his own survival.
The sole reason he lingered was that his Servant showed no intent of backing down.
It sounded absurd, perhaps—but if his Servant wasn't retreating, how could he, the Master, shamelessly tuck tail and flee?
"This is honestly the worst situation imaginable," Shirou muttered, utterly exasperated. Before, Arthur had been stalled by Red Berserker, leaving Shirou free to focus solely on Black Assassin's ambushes.
Now Arthur was locked in combat with Mordred, leaving Shirou alone to face Berserker and Assassin simultaneously.
Has it really come to this…?
Muttering inwardly, Shirou summoned a sword bound with chains into his armored grip.
With the amplification of two layers of [Incursio], perhaps he could hold his ground against Berserker and fend off Assassin's sneak attacks.
Not that [Incursio] was inherently incapable of resisting Assassin's strikes.
If Shirou were wielding the true [Incursio], repelling Assassin's attacks would be effortless.
But the [Incursio] Shirou currently wielded was merely a projection—a full rank weaker, stripped of its original ability for autonomous evolution.
Against Servants of this caliber, an imitation that had undergone merely one stage of evolution wasn't sturdy enough.
Even Assassin, notoriously weak in strength, could breach its defenses—albeit requiring several additional strikes.
However, precisely because the projected [Incursio] lacked sentience and evolutionary potential, Shirou was free to creatively exploit its myriad possible applications.
Meanwhile, on another battlefield still untouched by the white mist—
"The Arthur Pendragon from another world wouldn't be finished so quickly, right?" Mordred sneered mockingly, though to no avail.
Arthur swiftly stomped the ground, pulverizing the wall behind him. Like a missile, he shot forward, bursting through gusts of turbulent wind, aiming straight for Mordred's charge.
Once again, brilliant azure mana collided violently with blazing scarlet.
Clang—!
The two swords, both symbols of kingship, clashed sharply, producing an almost musical resonance.
Mordred abruptly struck the crimson blade in her grip with her palm, unexpectedly redirecting Arthur's sword off course.
Instantly, she followed with a fierce kick, a violent surge of wind erupting from beneath her.
Arthur swiftly retreated, nimbly evading the sudden strike. With a precise tap of his foot, he danced backward like a leaf caught in a gale, before launching forward again, slashing accurately toward Mordred's forehead.
Mordred stomped fiercely, rhythmically, her crimson blade spinning irregularly half a rotation, wrapped in violent, razor-sharp wind as she boldly met Arthur's strike head-on.
Clang!
Another sharp clash echoed through the air.
Compared to Arthur's pure and refined swordsmanship, Mordred's fighting style was brutally wild, using every possible advantage at her disposal.
Hands, feet, entire body—any means that could strike Arthur was ruthlessly employed.
Combined with her utterly unpredictable fighting style, Mordred managed to fight evenly with Arthur, exchanging fierce blows with incredible speed and matching him strike for strike.
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T/N: tsk just excaliblast all over