Chapter 146 The Maid King Appears
The venison was tender and sweet, mostly lean with little fat, warming and strengthening the kidneys, suitable for people with cold constitutions. It also had aphrodisiac properties; ancient emperors had a custom of drinking deer blood yearly to boost their health.
Although the most delicious parts—the tenderloin and thighs—had already been eaten by Shirou and Mor-chan, the remaining meat was still incredibly tasty, making the knights' struggle over it fierce.
This was the battlefield of the strongest knights; the weak ones were thrown aside immediately.
Some knights grabbed meat directly, each taking one piece to gnaw on, only to be kicked into the mud by other knights with longstanding grudges.
Some picked up bowls and buried their heads in them, only to be punched from below, sending two pieces of meat into their eye sockets and knocking out two front teeth.
Some weren't afraid of the heat and poured food from pots into their mouths, only to have someone shove their heads directly into the pot.
Knights who lagged a step behind would knock aside those busy eating in front and take their place.
Pellinore shook his head, lamenting, "This is outrageous… are these still my knights? For someone as noble as me, food should be unnecessary."
"Father! The knights seem to be fighting; I'll step out and check, then report back!" Lamorak jumped up, grabbing a fork and knife. Not known for patience, he had reached his limit and prepared to knock away any fighting knights outside and grab the pots to eat.
"Wait, Lamorak!" Pellinore stayed inside the tent, feeling dejected, continuing to chew on dry roasted meat and fish. He couldn't understand why, even though it was all meat, the difference was so great.
Although the outside aroma had faded, the scent lingered inside the tent. Pellinore felt his stomach twitch, chewing dry meat, trying desperately to endure.
He was a king—he must exercise restraint, or the next time he met the other party, he would be at a disadvantage.
Yet outside, the knights loudly praised the food, including his own son.
"Ohhh! This is the manifestation of the Kitchen God Vesta!" "That boy must be a servant of God!" "Oh my God! This is the Holy Meal! Praise Christ, and heretics will be burned eventually!" "Praise the Virgin Mary! God loves mankind, and heretics will eventually burn!"
Hearing the shouts, Pellinore pouted. No, even if he didn't eat, he already felt inferior.
If he were alive, he could have used his military power to force the other party to stay as his royal chef, even breaking agreements. Unfortunately, now in this army, only he and Lamorak were servants. Without his son's help, he lacked the strength to keep the boy protected by Mordred.
Regretfully, Pellinore strode from the tent, called for his horse, and left the camp. Out of sight, out of mind.
After that, the last drops of meat juice in the pots and bowls were wiped clean, and all cookware was battered and bruised. The exhausted knights divided everything among themselves.
In Pellinore's army, a legend spread, and it persisted throughout the world alongside the knights' later achievements.
There were said to be seven legendary pieces of cookware in existence, including a magical pot. Any meat placed inside and simmered on low heat would produce food worthy of the gods. There was also a black-and-white kitchen knife, hard enough to cut iron like mud.
Food prepared using these utensils was said to be the most delicious in the world.
The cookware was believed to belong to Vesta (Hestia), one of the twelve major Roman gods, or some said they were gifts from angels. After the chef displayed unparalleled skill, they vanished, leaving only the cookware.
The knights who ate from these utensils later united to defeat an evil dragon and saved the world. Of course, Shirou knew nothing of this.
At this moment, Shirou sat astride a brown horse, holding Mor-chan's waist, riding toward the battlefield they had visited earlier.
Time in this world moved differently, passing faster than outside—roughly half the rate. Since escaping from there, by the time they returned here, night had fallen.
Far from the camp, Chaldea's Da Vinci revealed herself, no longer hiding, appearing as a three-dimensional projection.
"Shirou, do you think what King Pellinore and Lamorak said can be trusted?" Da Vinci asked.
"I wouldn't say I believe them, but I don't think that boastful king would lie about something like this," Shirou replied.
"Well, Lamorak may be foolish, but he wouldn't lie about something that harms others," Mor-chan added.
"So, you really still plan to fight the magic dragon at midnight?" Da Vinci asked.
"Of course. Even if the opponent is unbeatable, that's no reason to avoid battle," Shirou responded.
Sigh… "I knew Shirou would say that… Gudako, Shirou… why are the young people of Chaldea all so fond of adventure?" Da Vinci sighed, then raised her spirits:
"But it's precisely because of this that Chaldea has repeatedly overcome nearly impossible challenges. I'll assist fully and investigate the weaknesses of the magic dragon Vortigern. Shirou, Mordred, prioritize your safety in battle. Treat this as a reconnaissance mission to probe the enemy."
"I understand. Thank you, Da Vinci," Shirou said.
"Well, if we can win, Shirou, let's just take down the dragon this time!" Mor-chan pumped her fists.
"Such confidence… thankfully, I still have a backup plan…" Da Vinci muttered quietly.
The two, on a tall brown horse, gained a much higher perspective, their view widening. In the distance, they saw the dragon at the center of the battlefield, lying asleep, its body connected to the ground, continuously transmitting energy to the earth.
Though still enormous, it had shrunk by more than half compared to its previous hundred-meter body.
Shirou and Mor-chan reached the mountain they had first arrived at in this world, planning to wait for the dragon's weakest moment.
The legendary King Vortigern, brother of King Uther, ruled the borderlands of England and had long fought against Saxon barbarians. A young Merlin once served him. The most famous legend describes him discovering the Red and White Dragons with the aid of the Flower Magician. Drinking dragon blood daily, he gradually became a tyrannical dragon himself.
Some legends state Vortigern later gathered barbarians to conquer Britain by force, only to be defeated by King Arthur. Originally, he was a heroic figure with military might.
However, this magic dragon had completely lost reason, existing as part of the land itself—a land-incarnate, akin to a colossal earth-bound spirit.
If called a ghost, it would be the largest in mythological history, like a dead land deity.
If called a magic dragon, it had surpassed fantasy creatures, entering the realm of divine beasts.
It possessed a destructive instinct, insatiable like a gluttonous giant, constantly generating black mud and expanding the land to grow stronger—like a natural disaster made real. Left unchecked, it could eventually swallow the outside world.
As night deepened, the black shadow dragon on the battlefield shrank, tail included, to less than twenty meters long.
"Half an hour left until midnight!" Da Vinci reminded them.
"Mm." Shirou responded, simulating the battle in his mind. For this kind of magic dragon that relied on the amplification of the world, Mordred remained silent, gripping her silver greatsword tightly. Though strong-willed in words, she understood that this opponent was no ordinary foe, yet the fighting spirit in her eyes remained undiminished.
Black clouds drifted across the night sky, and mist swirled around the mountaintop. Stars and moonlight were obscured; all light was shrouded, and the black dragon on the earth merged with the shadows. Before the boy and girl on the mountaintop, everything turned pitch black. The Chaldea connection was cut off.
But Shirou knew it was already midnight—no countdown, no need to check the time. Both he and Mor-chan felt it physically: in that instant, the ground beneath them seemed thicker, the stones they stood on seemed slightly elevated, the great tree used to tether their horse tensed as if ready to snap. Even the ropes tied to the branches stretched tight, threatening to break at any moment.
At the same time, Vortigern's initial hundred-meter body rapidly shrank again, finally becoming a ten-meter-long black dragon. Its claws dug into the earth, trying to create a hole to bury itself.
"Mor-chan! Go!" Shirou opened his Mystic Eyes, stood up, and shouted.
"Oh!" Hearing Shirou, Mordred jumped down from the small hill. Her silver sword emitted crimson, twisted flames as she swung it at the black dragon, yelling loudly: "Clarent Blood Arthur—!!!"
"Roar!!!" The magic dragon let out a painful roar. The black shadows covering its body, which normally could absorb the holy sword's radiance, were greatly weakened when confronted by Clarent, transformed into a magic sword, and struck with crimson lightning from Mordred's rebellion.
The crimson lightning hit one of the dragon's wings. Part of the lightning was absorbed by the black mist surrounding the dragon, but the rest pierced through, shredding flesh into a bloody mess. Black mud surged, and the wound healed almost instantly.
"I am the bone of the sword. This body is made by the sword… Unlimited Blade Works—!!" Shirou took the opportunity to raise his hand and chant, activating his Reality Marble.
The landscape around the ground instantly changed, overlaid with a new scenery—an embodiment of Shirou's inner world—replacing the original world. The dragon, a creature dependent on the land, was drawn out into a small world unique to Shirou.
In this red wasteland, behind them floated a protective blue planet. Waiting for the dragon were hundreds of swords planted in the ground, magical tools—some specialized for dragons—flying up and stabbing toward the dragon, impaling its ten-meter-long body like a porcupine.
Vortigern froze, black blood flowing from the wounds and dripping onto the ground.
But the assault wasn't over.
"Imaginary Number Collapse!" Shirou shouted, extending his hand.
The numerous magical tools embedded in the dragon erupted in dazzling light and exploded. Within the Reality Marble, flames erupted, creating a pit large enough to bury the dragon. In the firelight, the dragon remained motionless. Being naturally black-scaled, it was impossible to tell if it was charred black or its original color.
Next, the dragon let out several consecutive, ferocious roars.
Shirou had underestimated the dragon. Even without its land-based immortality, killing Vortigern would not be easy. If he couldn't kill it within the Reality Marble, any damage would be meaningless once it returned to its original world.
"Roar!!!" Vortigern lifted its head, roaring furiously. Black breath spewed from its mouth, consuming all light. The land tainted by black turned into mud-covered terrain.
A tug-of-war ensued between the Reality Marble and the black mud as Shirou tried to maintain the world.
"What!" Shirou realized that sustaining the Reality Marble was becoming increasingly difficult. Mana was draining rapidly, faster than the Holy Grail could replenish.
The dragon itself had enormous magical power, enhanced by the Black Mud Grail. It overwhelmed Shirou. The wounds on Vortigern's body spread black mud that corroded the Unlimited Blade Works, turning the wasteland into black earth. Magical tools in contact with the mud were dragged underground.
As a world-corroding dragon, it didn't spare Shirou's Reality Marble. Its ability to continuously consume land and transform it into its world was itself akin to a Reality Marble.
Finally, under the erosion of black mud, the dragon continuously spewed black breath. Shirou could no longer resist; the Reality Marble cracked. The dragon flew directly into the fissure and escaped the space, returning first to its original world.
"Die! Don't escape!" Mordred stomped on the ground, leaping high, swinging her sword at the dragon's neck.
Unexpectedly, the dragon's tail, forming a hurricane-like shadow, smashed through the Reality Marble from behind. Even though the dragon's body had shrunk tenfold, its strength remained immense. If hit by such force, even the resilient Mordred could be thrown away or killed instantly.
"No! Mor-chan!" Shirou shouted, his mind heating up. Mor-chan's radiant smile, her childlike happiness while eating—appeared in his mind.
While thinking this, Shirou reacted the moment he saw the dragon break through space and swing its tail. He canceled the Reality Marble, used the momentum to leap, and adjusted his posture to shield Mor-chan, presenting his back to the sweeping tail.
He understood: dodging was impossible; the destructive attack would hit his back imminently.
At the critical moment—
"Excalibur-Morgan—!!!"
A black armored motorcycle, piloted by a pale blonde girl, leaped into the air. Using the power of the holy sword as a thruster, it collided directly with the dragon's head.
The massive impact drove the dragon's head inward, and it was carried away with its body.
The boy and girl landed safely on the ground.
"Artoria!" Shirou exclaimed in delight. That motorcycle, that black coat—it was Saber, the one he had fought alongside in Shinjuku!
"Waaah! Father… King Father!!! Why are you here?" Mor-chan cried in surprise, thinking, "Black Father is so cool! And riding a motorcycle, it's insanely awesome!"
The blonde girl, landing from the motorcycle, scanned the boy coldly: "Shirou, retreat! This isn't a monster our small numbers can defeat… and! Put Mordred on the bike—how long are you going to carry her?"