Chapter 36: The Seizure of the Ox-Cart
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My name is Illya.
It looks like things are getting pretty fierce over there. (Sips tea)
154:11:08
Diarmuid considered the magus known as Tokiomi Tohsaka far too confident. As a leader, one ought to think every decision through several times before acting, especially when even the slightest mistake could lead to grave consequences.
Perhaps he believed that possessing three Servants gave him a tremendous advantage, and regarded his already allied opponents as threats that had to be eliminated. Even so, recklessly penetrating a magical stronghold defended by its Master was hardly a wise course of action.
Archer, who had yet to appear, might be a hidden trump card. But his lord and Her Majesty the Queen had long since prepared multiple countermeasures against long-range attacks. Assassin, who possessed nothing but an advantage in numbers, and Berserker, who wielded some sort of special ability, could not possibly win.
Especially when that black mad warrior’s special ability seemed to be completely countered by his own.
“Grrrraaaah—!”
The twenty-eighth floor of the Hyatt Regency was a multifunctional complex containing a cinema, restaurants, and karaoke rooms. Naturally, every facility stood deserted. Now, accompanied by a dreadful roar, Berserker materialized in a corner of the ballroom amid billowing black mist.
“This ends here. You will not be allowed to damage any more of my lord’s magical nodes.”
The man who materialized nearby was the first warrior of Ireland, clad in tight green leather armor and possessed of an exceedingly handsome, captivating face.
“Gugagagaga!”
Berserker showed no sign of answering—perhaps he was incapable of it. With a howl, he seized two fire extinguishers from the corner and hurled them at Diarmuid.
The two ordinary fire extinguishers transformed into grotesque objects streaked with black and dark red the instant they left his hands. Though mere pieces of equipment, they now possessed destructive power comparable to that of low-grade Noble Phantasms.
This was Berserker’s special ability: he could transform anything he touched that could be used as a weapon into a Noble Phantasm. Earlier, on an indoor sports court several floors below, he had even taken control of a ball-launching machine. The black-and-red projectiles it fired in rapid succession had left Diarmuid scrambling before he understood how to respond.
But the situation was different now.
Faced with the two Noble Phantasms flying toward him, Diarmuid merely raised a hand. His red spear, Gáe Dearg, traced an elegant arc, brushing across the surface of each one as lightly as a dragonfly skimming water. In an instant, the black-and-red magical energy peeled away, and the two Noble Phantasms reverted to fire extinguishers. Deprived of their momentum, they fell to the floor.
Just so, Diarmuid thought. Berserker could transform anything into a Noble Phantasm, while he could restore them to their original forms. Assassin existed as multiple entities, but their numbers were nowhere near those of Iskandar’s Army of the King.
Therefore, unless the Tohsaka magus had another move in reserve, their side had already won more than half of this Holy Grail War.
Raising both spears, Diarmuid charged toward the mad warrior, who had leaped onto the stage and transformed two microphone stands into weapons.
153:57:11
“Mitrenes, report on the battle.”
The twenty-ninth floor of the Hyatt Regency was a vast banquet hall. The dining tables and beautiful decorations had all been removed, leaving the entire floor empty. In the very center of the hall, Iskandar, the King of Conquerors, sat astride his chariot.
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“All Assassins attempting to ascend have been intercepted, my king.” As a whirlwind of dust arose, a spearman in light armor appeared beside the chariot. “But they seem to have grown familiar with our methods of battle. We cannot annihilate them easily, and the fight is currently at a stalemate.”
“Hmm. Their commander may be somewhat arrogant, but it is good that they know how to adapt.”
The massive King of Conquerors waved a hand.
“Join the battle as well.”
“As you command.”
The spearman vanished amid another swirl of dust.
To ordinary people, the hall appeared completely empty. Yet from somewhere came the sounds of weapons striking, muted shouts, leather tearing, and metal scraping against metal.
To Iskandar, however, this was a battlefield of extraordinary intensity.
Fighting in complete materialization against enemies who were likewise fully materialized was certainly more straightforward, and the damage caused was plain for all to see. But materialization was not a prerequisite for battle.
At that moment, dozens of Assassins remained in spirit form as they fought a peculiar battle against the Army of the King, which likewise existed outside this world.
After suffering a crushing loss at the seaside warehouse, the Assassins had no intention of materializing while fighting Rider. Yet every attempt to bypass Iskandar and ascend, as well as every reckless effort to suddenly take form and assassinate him, was intercepted by warriors who appeared amid swirling sand.
If they materialized completely, the warriors waiting before them would attack. If they remained incorporeal, those same warriors would pursue them relentlessly. Even when they risked launching surprise attacks, the instant they solidified so much as a dagger, it struck against a shield held ready for them.
If the Assassins possessed a collective consciousness, they would surely have been driven mad with fury.
“Hmm…”
After observing for a while longer, Iskandar suddenly began issuing orders to his warriors. Whether brief commands or strange gestures, the Assassins understood none of them and had no way to respond. They could only gradually sense their own battle line being compressed from all sides.
Military Tactics—the inherent skill born from Iskandar’s undefeated conquest across Europe and Asia—provided an enormous enhancement to his judgment of the situation and his command in battle. It had no effect when he fought alone, but the more subordinates who obeyed his orders, the stronger its effect became. If the opposing side lacked a commander of equivalent rank, the battle would ultimately become a one-sided crushing victory.
Before long, the stalemate ended with the vast majority of the Assassins forced to materialize, only to be surrounded by the soldiers. Even those who attempted to return to spirit form and flee were driven back by spearmen who had likewise become incorporeal.
Seeing this, Rider burst into laughter. He pulled on the reins, turning the lightning-wreathed chariot toward the mass of Assassins. The divine bulls snorted and stamped their hooves, tiny arcs of electricity crawling over them. Clearly, they intended to trample every enemy before them into the ground.
The Assassins, unwilling to await their deaths, began desperately attempting to escape. The imperial warriors surrounding them had no intention of letting them go so easily, and the encirclement briefly became disordered.
“Distant Trampling Conquest—!”
Before the Assassins could flee, Iskandar had already driven the Gordius Wheel forward in a thunderous charge.
153:49:12
Boom—!
Just as the Gordius Wheel was about to crush every Assassin who had failed to escape, the wall on one side of the hotel exploded inward. Flying chunks of stone and building materials slightly slowed Iskandar’s advance.
At that very moment, a figure taller and more imposing than all the others leaped out from among the Assassins. His arms were so thick and long that they exceeded twice the proportions of an ordinary man. He swung a fist at Rider on the chariot, while the other guards failed to react in time.
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“Nicely timed!”
Iskandar drew his sword without hesitation. When the short blade met the massive Assassin’s fist, sparks flew.
Clang!
Though the Assassin possessed extraordinary strength thanks to those bizarre arms, he was still merely an incarnation of a heroic spirit. Clashing head-on with Rider, who possessed a proper Class container and stood upon the Gordius Wheel, ended with the Assassin being hurled far away amid crackling currents of electricity. Before he could even land, his body dissolved into spirit particles in midair and vanished.
His only achievement had been forcing Iskandar back by a single step.
It was only a small step, but Rider was standing aboard a speeding chariot, his right hand still raised with his sword after the clash. That single step caused his left hand to release the reins, temporarily depriving him of control over the Gordius Wheel.
Ordinarily, thanks to the superb Riding skill enhanced by Iskandar’s Rider Class, he would have restored his balance and regained control of the chariot in an instant.
But that instant was all Berserker needed.
Under the terrified gazes of the Assassins about to be crushed, billowing black mist suddenly rose from the chariot that should have rolled over them. It not only flung its original master, Iskandar, from the vehicle, but also transformed the lightning surrounding it from blue-violet to an ominous blood red.
The chariot abruptly turned its attack upon the light-armored soldiers encircling the Assassins, crushing and ramming them one after another. Only then did those present notice the figure who had suddenly appeared in the driver’s seat: Berserker, gripping the reins tightly, his body covered in wounds and his appearance utterly wretched.
“Sorry, Rider. I never expected him to detonate the natural-gas pipes and climb up from outside after blasting through the wall.”
Diarmuid, who had been intercepting Berserker on the floor below, leaped up along the outer wall and immediately understood what had happened.
“Hmm. To accomplish so much with only that brief opening… It seems I underestimated the enemy’s Master.”
Iskandar was now mounted on a newly summoned, tall black stallion. He carefully examined Berserker struggling to subdue the Gordius Wheel, along with the Assassins guarding him, then turned his horse around.
“We withdraw for now.”
“Why? They are clearly lacking in strength.”
Lancer watched Berserker struggle desperately to control the divine bull, striving to prevent the strange black-and-red mist from enveloping him, while the Assassins closed in around him. The red-and-yellow twin spears in his hands seemed almost eager for battle.
If only he could find an opening and land even a single thrust—
Hum—Crack!
A bolt of golden lightning struck directly through the blasted wall, hitting the ground just before Lancer with uncanny precision. The pressure of the wind and the magical power contained within the radiance could not be ignored. When the golden light faded, Lancer saw that it had been a strange weapon with a crescent-shaped hook and twin cutting edges, known as a halberd.
Without a doubt, it was a legendary Noble Phantasm.
“I suspect that Archer is extremely arrogant,” Rider said, glancing outside the window. “He likely refused to fight inside such a narrow building, which is why he has not acted until now. But the breach in the wall has given him the conditions necessary for long-range attacks. We cannot fight three heroic spirits at once. Even if our purpose is to drive Archer out of the battle, we have no choice but to withdraw.”
“Damn it…”
Diarmuid glared furiously at the black-armored mad warrior before following Iskandar toward the staircase leading to the upper floors.
“Oh, go-ho-ho-ho-ho—!”
At last, Berserker managed to calm the two divine bulls and let out a roar of celebration.
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