This was an unprecedented war.
A battle that transcended time and space.
A war that should have only existed in the realm of imagination.
On one side stood the famous conqueror from history, Alexander the Great, and his peerless army.
On the other side was the globally renowned King of the Knights, King Arthur, and her legendary Knights of the Round Table.
One side had overwhelming numbers, enough to strike fear into anyone.
The other side had the power of legends and Noble Phantasms, with each knight being capable of single-handedly taking on an army.
Both sides wagered their beliefs, their bonds, and their lives in this relentless battle that had been put on hold for ten years.
On one end, the cavalry and infantry fought in unison; on the other, the knights clashed swords with unmatched skill.
One side had a multitude of warriors; the other side had knights of unparalleled valor.
The priests and magus, serving their gods and kings, cast protective spells on their armies. Not to be outdone, the Flower Magus unleashed a rain of flowers, granting the knights various enhancements, even summoning horses for the Round Table Knights, making them truly live up to their name.
A young knight raised his sword, standing tall on his horse: "I am one of the Knights of the Round Table, Palamedes. Who dares challenge me?"
This was the knight who had once defeated six Knights of the Round Table by himself. He had spent his life chasing after monsters. He was Palamedes, one of the strongest of the new generation of Round Table Knights.
Facing his challenge, a tall man wielding a spear stepped forward without hesitation.
"King Porus of the Maharajas!"
Not only Porus, but several other warriors charged forward as well. In the end, however, only Porus made it to Palamedes' side; the others were cut down mid-charge, slashed in half.
"Take care of yourself, Tristan," Palamedes muttered with a hint of discontent as he saw this. His first defeat in life had come at the hands of Tristan, and since then, they had become fierce rivals.
But his complaint was not just out of rivalry. Tristan's assistance had drawn even more arrows and spears toward Palamedes—clearly, the enemy knew the devastating power of this legendary archer on the battlefield.
Tristan, however, remained calm, drawing his bow and continuing to support Palamedes, ensuring he wouldn't be overwhelmed by too many enemies.
"Do not worry. I am not fighting alone, and neither are you."
Just before the rain of spears and arrows fell, another knight leaped high into the air, intercepting all the attacks. It was the purest knight of the Round Table, Galahad.
Of course, Galahad—who had hurled the Camelot as a weapon—was also being targeted. His support came from Percival, who had journeyed with him in search of the Holy Grail.
War had never been a one-man affair. Palamedes, and Porus—both had comrades supporting them. What they sought was not individual victory but the ultimate triumph in war.
And it wasn't just them—the entire battlefield followed the same pattern.
Cimacus and Aristono led their armies, coordinating with Cletus' strike force to tightly encircle Lancelot, hoping to contain this legendary First Knight. However, just as Lancelot was about to be surrounded, Gareth arrived in time. Standing back to back with Lancelot, she helped him fend off half of the enemy forces.
Elsewhere, Gawain and his brother Gaheris charged together, their combined might holding off the armies of Ptolemy and Seleucus.
The Martial Knight Kay and the rebellious knight Mordred fought with unmatched ferocity, charging from east to west, then looping around to attack from the south—throwing the King's Army into disarray.
Of course, the most dazzling figure was undoubtedly Artoria. Mounted on a white horse and wielding her holy lance, she charged directly through the enemy's strongest lines, flanked by the Black Knight Agravain and the Silver Knight Bedivere, heading straight for the Conqueror King's main camp.
Iskandar and his guards had been waiting for this moment. Both sides had the same strategy in mind—"Shoot the horse before the rider, capture the king before the enemy."
Artoria's holy lance whipped up a storm, while Iskandar's short sword crackled with lightning. At last, the weapons of these two peerless kings collided.
"King of Knights!!!"
"Conqueror King!!!"
With their roars, the terrifying clash of winds and thunder blew everything around them away.
Soon after, their guards also began to clash.
As trusted aides of their respective kings, Hephaestion and Agravain locked onto each other, their striking similarities fueling their determination—first to defeat their opponent, and then to assist their king.
Meanwhile, two of the king's closest attendants followed suit. Omenes and Bedivere, one wielding a spear and the other a sword, charged at each other in a frenzied assault.
Hidden in the shadows, a figure who had been suppressing their presence crept up behind Artoria, ready to strike, but their vision was suddenly obscured by a flurry of flower petals.
"Oh my, forgetting about my existence isn't very nice."
"Damn it, Merlin!!!"
Faker cursed, relying on their hearing to slash toward the source of the voice.
With a metallic "clang," a flash of golden light stunned Faker, causing their hand to go numb, nearly dropping their sword.
As the petals parted, the man standing on them had somehow acquired a sword of his own. Whether it was the quality of the sword, his stance, or his swing, everything about Merlin's swordsmanship was superior to the warrior who had been trained since childhood.
"You—you—you—"
"Surprised? If you want to become the greatest magus, aspiring to the Grand Caster title, how could you not know swordsmanship? Oh, and don't forget, your swordsmanship isn't bad either. It's just that your weapon isn't up to par. If you get the chance, I could make you one as well. After all, I've made swords for quite a few of the Knights of the Round Table."
"You bastard, are you mocking me?"
"Not at all, not at all," Merlin replied with his usual carefree demeanor.
"I'm being completely serious. Why is it that no one ever believes me when I tell the truth?"
"Die!!!"
Faker, more furious than ever, swung their sword with increased ferocity.
"Nope!"
Merlin laughed as he spun his holy sword, and in an instant, four identical clones of himself formed, surrounding Faker.
"Ugh!"
Feeling the pressure mount, the shadow warrior clenched her teeth so hard that they nearly shattered.
"Faker, use your eyes. Don't be fooled by him," came a calm voice—it was Waver.
"His real body isn't here! It's an illusion!"
"Ah!"
As magical ripples spread through Faker's eyes, the white figures vanished, revealing Merlin standing next to Waver.
"So you saw through it, huh? Impressive eyesight—or should I say wisdom?"
"Back off! Stay away from the teacher!"
Gray, cloaked and wielding an axe-lance borrowed from the battle maid, stood protectively in front of Waver like a loyal hound.
Merlin wasn't offended. He smiled at Gray.
"Oh, you're that... Hmm, very cute. I almost want to become your teacher."
"My teacher is all I need."
Gray rejected him without hesitation.
"Oof, rejected. Quite the blow."
"How do you even have the energy to joke like that?"
Waver rubbed his temples, feeling as though he was dealing with another one of his troublesome students rather than the great sage.
"Why wouldn't I?"
Merlin retorted.
"The knights you summoned are about to fall."
"Yes, I know," Merlin replied, unsurprised.
"They're not proper Servants. They were never going to last long."
"Then why—?"
"If they can't hold out, neither can you. Maintaining a Reality Marble of this scale, even if shared, won't last much longer—without the Army of the King, do you think you can stop Artoria?"
In an instant, the expressions of Waver, Gray, and Faker all changed.