Leonnatus, one of the Seven Companions, was an expert in commanding infantry, and the renowned Macedonian Phalanx was his specialty.
Perdiccas, also one of the Seven Companions, was the commander of the cavalry and the chief administrator.
Upon receiving their orders, each led their respective troops into battle—infantry in the center, cavalry on both flanks.
This was the true combat strategy of the Macedonian Phalanx. The infantry had their strengths and weaknesses, and the same went for cavalry. In that era, relying on just one type of unit would easily lead to the enemy exploiting its weaknesses. Only by integrating infantry and cavalry to complement each other could Iskandar's army achieve their conquests.
The moment they assumed this formation, it signaled that Iskandar's army was serious. The number of troops deployed was no longer just a unit of javelin-throwers, but ten times that—nearly ten thousand soldiers.
However, despite such a massive formation, Waver shook his head and said, "This won't work."
"What won't work?"
Iskandar asked.
"This strategy—it won't work. We'll still lose."
"A useless coward who's never set foot on the battlefield shouldn't be spouting nonsense here," Faker scoffed at Waver's assessment, but Iskandar took his words seriously.
"Explain your reasoning."
"I've studied the legends of King Arthur, and none of the Knights of the Round Table are weak. If we translate their abilities into Heroic Spirits and Noble Phantasms, at least half of them likely possess anti-army or anti-fortress Noble Phantasms. The ones we're facing right now are probably the most famous of the twelve knights. It's best to treat all of them as top-tier servants."
"Twelve top-tier servants and they all have access to their Noble Phantasms? That's just cheating," Iskandar sighed.
"Well, Ionioi Hetairoi is kind of cheating as well," Waver muttered quietly.
"Fair point," Iskandar chuckled.
"Let's see which side cheats more—Waver, what do you suggest we do to win?"
"There are two options," Waver pushed up his glasses and raised two fingers.
"First, although the members of Ionioi Hetairoi can't use their Noble Phantasms, we have a significant advantage in numbers. We can use sheer numbers to overwhelm them, forcing them to expend their Noble Phantasms. The stronger the Noble Phantasm, the more mana it consumes. Second, we can send our strongest warriors to engage the Knights of the Round Table, preventing them from releasing their Noble Phantasms. If we can neutralize their advantage in Noble Phantasms, victory will be ours."
"Alright, we'll go with your plan," Iskandar waved his hand.
"Ptolemy, Simias, Aristonous, prepare yourselves and follow Leonnatus and his men."
These three were also members of the Seven Companions, each ruling vast territories and leading large armies. Together, their forces numbered over ten thousand, making this a true charge of tens of thousands of soldiers.
But that wasn't all. Iskandar then turned to another group—his most elite unit, a group said to contain warriors even stronger than Iskandar himself.
"Kleitos, Demetrius, Parmenion, Seleucus, and all the other champions—now is the time to show your strength! Go and choose your opponents!"
Kleitos had saved Iskandar's life multiple times in chaotic battles and was considered the mightiest warrior of the Emperor's army.
Demetrius had been Iskandar's personal bodyguard before his coronation, his legendary status rivaling that of the Knights of the Round Table. He was granted the title of Savior by the core of Greek civilization, Athens.
Parmenion was a general renowned for his valor and skill in warfare, having once led an army to hold off an enemy five times its size during the war with Persia.
Seleucus was one of Iskandar's top generals and the founder of the Seleucid Empire. His legendary exploits were on par with those of the first Knight of the Round Table, Lancelot.
Beyond these, there were many more formidable warriors under Iskandar's command. When it came to comparing the number of heroes and generals, the island-bound Britain could never hope to compete with the vast empire that spanned three continents—Europe, Asia, and Africa.
Iskandar's deployment fully leveraged the overwhelming advantage of both soldiers and commanders.
However, this did not mean that the Knights of the Round Table would retreat. Watching the enemy's forces fill the desert, spreading as far as the eye could see, Gawain couldn't help but marvel:
"What terrifying numbers. I don't think we ever fought a battle this large in our lifetimes."
"Are you scared?"
Lancelot, standing beside Artoria on her left, raised an eyebrow.
"Why would I be?"
Gawain snorted in displeasure.
"Let me make this clear—I haven't forgiven you or Mordred. Once this battle is over, I'm going to settle the score with both of you."
"I don't mind. I've already been pardoned by the King. If you want to fight, I'm ready anytime," Lancelot responded with a relaxed smile. He was now completely at ease, radiating the charm of the Flower of Knights that had captivated so many.
"Yes, and I've also been acknowledged by Father. This King's sword is proof of that."
Mordred drew her blade, its beautiful silver surface now free from the twisted malice and resentment it once held, shining as brilliantly as it had in King Arthur's hands.
"My King!"
Gawain was indignant.
"Yes, it's true," Artoria admitted calmly.
"In different Holy Grail Wars, I encountered them and resolved the misunderstandings between us."
"My King!"
Gawain protested again.
Agravain quickly stepped in between them.
"Enough, Sir Gawain. This is the King's decision, and now is not the time to discuss this. A great enemy stands before us. You, Sir Lancelot, and Mordred must work together."
"Indeed, Sir Gawain, it's a good thing that Sir Lancelot and Mordred have earned the King's forgiveness. We're all dead already, so there's no point in dwelling on the unpleasantness of the past," Gareth chimed in. She had been one of Lancelot's direct victims during the rescue at the execution grounds, having died by his sword. Since she had let it go, Gawain couldn't argue further and reluctantly unsheathed his sword.
"Even if the King has forgiven you, I haven't. If either of you violate the knight's code during this battle, I'll kill you myself!"
"You should be more careful yourself and not die in the middle of the chaos again like you did in life," Mordred retorted, not giving Gawain a chance to respond. With a flash of crimson lightning, the heavily armored female knight leaped forward ahead of everyone.
"Let me strike the first blow!"
Her heavy bull-horned helmet automatically retracted, and as crimson lightning and mana combined, they surged into her sword, coating the already radiant King's sword with an even more dazzling light.
In the next moment, the former rebellious knight, now the Crown Prince of Britain, proudly declared the true name of her newly ascended Noble Phantasm:
"Clarent, The Son of Arthur!"
With the belief to protect her father, she charged forward, accompanied by crimson lightning.