This was not a fair fight.
It was a hopeless deathmatch.
Siegfried... the great hero who dared to slay a dragon with his mortal body... knew this better than anyone.
"No chance of winning."
"Impossible to win."
The enemies were Servants summoned by the Holy Grail, wielding near-infinite mana.
He, on the other hand, was a lone swordsman summoned to this land, without allies or a Master to replenish his mana.
So, when he launched a ferocious assault, aiming to seize the initiative and take down one enemy Servant, only to have his momentum broken by their "trade wounds for wounds" Tactic, Siegfried understood.
This battle would be a grueling war of attrition, ending with his death.
... Yet, something felt off.
The fully armored Servant... whether a swordsman or knight... who joined the fight seemed to be holding back.
And that white dragon, likely her summon, was undoubtedly powerful… but why did its light blasts always miss? It was as if they weren't aimed at him but at Lyon itself.
What were they doing?
Siegfried couldn't grasp the intentions of this knight and dragon... but he felt a quiet relief.
One against two… perhaps it wasn't as hopeless as he'd thought.
…
The battle was fierce.
A cursed magic sword clashed relentlessly with a bloodstained magic lance, while the noblewoman's ghostly figure darted across the battlefield, sowing trouble or seeking Siegfried's weaknesses.
Siegfried parried with all his might, even seizing moments to counterattack... but the enemies' recovery abilities far outstripped his. Trading wounds was a terrible idea.
He needed a single, decisive strike to end it.
This was a terrifying battle.
The white dragon's attacks didn't miss... they hit exactly where they were meant to. The white light blasts erupted around Lyon, one even striking near the city's edge, demolishing a section of the wall.
That twenty-meter breach was like a crushing blow, striking fear into the hearts of the city's survivors.
They had known of the catastrophe beyond their walls, but only when it descended upon them did they truly grasp the horror of this apocalypse.
Yet, this was also a meticulously planned battle.
"Is it ready yet?"
Alaric mentally prodded a certain ahoge-sporting knight.
His mouth was dry from spitting so many blasts.
"Wait, just a bit longer."
Artoria, observing from the shadows, urged patience. She was waiting for the perfect moment to act.
Though it felt unfair to Siegfried, locked in a deathmatch with the enemy Servants, this was a necessary "endurance."
"Babydrago aim a slightly stronger attack at my position."
Artoria had infiltrated Lyon, finding a plaza crowded with people.
Alaric didn't hesitate.
Burst Stream of Destruction!!!
Like a precision-guided missile, the white-gleaming mana blast, carrying a devastating aura, hurtled toward the city from afar.
"Danger!"
"Run... !"
"Help!!!"
The people sensed the impending doom.
They cried out, fleeing... but how could they escape?
They had already witnessed the blast's terror. Even a kilometer away, it could shatter sturdy walls.
Now, this blast was falling so close... mere hundreds of meters away. Their fragile flesh could never withstand such a catastrophe.
"It's over!!!"
Facing the descending light, everyone closed their eyes.
They knew they couldn't escape this disaster. They only prayed for a swift end... if death was inevitable, they preferred it quick.
But in that moment of collective despair...
"Hey, what are you doing?"
A calm voice rang out.
That voice held a miraculous power, instantly giving the despairing crowd a pillar of strength.
"It's far from time to close your eyes and wait for death!"
The king's figure emerged.
Aiming at the falling light, the king swung her holy sword like a racket.
Boom...
The incoming blast was sent back at greater speed, exploding amidst the Servants' fierce battle.
Siegfried was inevitably caught in the blast, sustaining injuries.
But the two maddened Servants were hit harder, their wounds too severe to heal instantly, even with mana.
Bathed in dragon's blood, Siegfried's body was far tougher than an ordinary Servant's.
And this was precisely the effect Artoria sought.
"Strike!"
The holy sword of the sun unleashed its supreme might, its blazing flames seeming to burn away all the world's evil.
Siegfried, sprawled on the ground, stared dazedly at the explosion... forgetting even to shield his eyes from the blinding, sun-like radiance.
Because of this, he saw clearly how the two maddened Servants met their end.
... They weren't burned.
The sun's heat melted their bodies, even their mana, into nothing.
At this sight, Siegfried's vision blurred, as if the world itself grew unreal.
He had to close his eyes, unable to face the sun's majesty.
When he opened them again, his sight restored...
A figure, not towering but radiant with glory, stood before him, extending a hand.
"I am Artoria Pendragon."
"I hope my aid wasn't too late."
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