Final battle of Camelot continued again (213) (Patreon)

Semiramis’ Hanging Gardens is a mighty Noble Phantasm. How could it be otherwise? A soaring, protected fortress with the ability to launch hundreds of magical projectiles against entire armies, each one easily capable of destroying a dozen targets at once. And if that wasn't enough? Semiramis could always use the main weapon of her Noble Phantasm, taking out not dozens of people at a time, but ready to bury the entire enemy army at once.

But even in the event that this was not enough, within the confines of her soaring palace, fortress, and mobile headquarters, Semiramis could use her full power, she could demonstrate abilities far beyond those expected of her. Taking out the fortress by defeating Semiramis is easier said than done.

Of course, when faced with the unassailable floating castle, taking on Semiramis seemed the much easier prospect. After all, in personal one-on-one combat, Semiramis did not demonstrate outstanding fighting ability.

But inside the confines of her palace, the Queen of Assyria did rule the battle.

And yet, as much as it galls her to say, even inside her palace, Semiramis' abilities were not absolute, neither in combat power nor in the speed of her attack. And thus the Servant who ripped through the earth and air toward her at a speed that was excessive even for the very distinguished Servant that she was, there was little Semiramis could do.

The almost instantaneous speed of the attack made the hundreds of magical blasts that blasted the ground could neither destroy nor even slow the Servant's moving blurry figure, and not because of any Stealth abilities. The enemy was simply moving so fast that only its afterimages could be seen.

Were she was to use the main guns of the Hanging Gardens though… With some probability, the destructive potential could theoretically catch the figure. No matter how fast the enemy moves, it was not fast enough to outrun an attack that could swallow entire cities. Too bad that it still needed time to rearm after firing at Camelot futilely.

Semiramis had a hunch that the enemy knew of that fact.

Semiramis' gaze shifted to Arash, who continued to send arrow after arrow, engaging in a kind of duel between two heroic archers. An idea bloomed in her head before she dismissed it immediately. It was unlikely that even a great archer could have easily dealt with the impending threat, and she would rather not let herself open to Tristan’s attacks regardless.

Besides, does she really need to pay special attention to the approaching enemy? Could Semiramis even call it a threat? Yes, the approaching Servant was fast, but that was all.

Even should it reach close to the Hanging Gardens, the palace is floating off the ground several kilometers in the air. And as far as Semiramis herself knew, none of the Servants of the Goddess possessed the ability to fly. So once he got to Semiramis' location, it would just…  Stay standing below?

Where’s the danger in that?

“Do you need any help!?” Sanzang's loud voice caused Semiramis, who had already forgotten her presence, to almost jump, for a moment. Indignant at the Servant making her display something inelegant, preparing a venomous remark, it died on her tongue when she was faced by Sanzang's undisguised eagerness face, shining like polished gold. She really wanted to help that she appeared more like an eager dog…  She was just a little more foolish than Semiramis expected her to be.

Okay, a lot more foolish.

Having swallowed a portion of the venom that Semiramis was ready to spit out, she only asked a question with a sigh, disappointed by Sanzang's level of intelligence, but not the least bit surprised by the fact. "Even if I do need something that you can help with. How are you going to do so?”

At these words Sanzang, who was smiling happily until then, suddenly blinked, clearly comprehending Semiramis' question, then opened her mouth, closed it, and repeated this movement several times and frowned thoughtfully.

Semiramis, who had watched this little comedy act, only sighed irritably and looked away, preferring doing something useful with her time than entertaining an idiot, watching the approaching problem.

If this Servant presents no danger to her Palace, shouldn’t she just get rid of the gnat and focus her attention back to Camelot?

“Arash?” she finally turned to the Archer standing beside her, who was concentrating on the duel with Tristan.

“Simple attacks won't work.” Arash, as befitting as a legendary Archer, still had the ease of mind to answer Semiramis, well aware of the meaning of her question, answered clearly and simply, continuing to send arrow after arrow in the direction of his adversary. Not that it’s doing much, it’s probably just like mosquito stings for Tristan, more like little pokes, completely non-dangerous, but certainly annoying.

Semiramis wrinkled her expression in response to those words, before glancing at Sanzang, who was waiting nearby for orders as if she could help in any way with the current situation, before turning her gaze to Arash. She really rather not depend on the monk. “No way whatsoever?”

“Well… There is one.” Arash said slowly after a moment's reflection. “And I am not afraid to use it, but only at the right moment. I would prefer to do as much good as I can before I use my Noble Phantasm.”

Semiramis frowned slightly, but for all her demerits as a person or a ruler, at least she was not the type to give orders that are pointless, or even harmful in the big picture. Well, she only needs another dozen seconds before the main gun could fire, a very short time in reality. Might as well be an eternity in a fight between Servants.

But at least, with Tristan distracted, she could most likely achieve some result without difficulty.

However, as might be expected, reality was not so merciful as to accommodate Semiramis' plans and desires. And so, the massive build up of energy and light informed her that something had gone wrong even before Arash's voice informed her of it. “Noble Phantasm incoming!”

A golden glow, almost blinding in its brightness, covered the sky before Semiramis' gaze, spreading as if a new sun had risen on Earth.

Recognizing Excalibur's golden glow was no problem for Semiramis – if not for a few problems associated with Excalibur being here that made it impossible.

The first issue is that the Goddess did not possess Excalibur.

The second issue was that Excalibur, even though it was powerful in its power and impact, was still not a long-range attack. Even if it could cut through a mountain, even if it could destroy a hundred meters in its path, in the end it was only just that, it could not cut the sky. Against the Hanging Gardens of Semiramis, hovering at a great height above the battlefield, it could not reach even if the one using this Excalibur had gained the powers of the Goddess.

Semiramis' gaze found the small dot that had practically disappeared behind the golden glow of Excalibur in front of her face, the Servant responsible for this attack. She had to admit that she breathed slightly easier when she didn’t see the Goddess.

King Richard the Lionheart, the self-professed last Knight of Camelot.

His Noble Phantasm was neither Excalibur nor a shard of Excalibur, but, in itself, represented only the legend of King Arthur. Inspired by the ambition of perhaps the last man in all the British Isles to touch the wonders of olden times, his Noble Phantasm was a use of the legend of King Arthur, Camelot, and Excalibur. It was an imitation of the wonders of days long past that Richard had admired.

And now it is aimed her way.

The positives of such a Noble Phantasm meant that Richard did not need to possess Excalibur to use it, he could use it in conjunction with any weapon. The downside meant that no matter how powerful Richard was, his power would never be equal to the real Excalibur – just an imitation and nothing more.

However, if he was in Camelot, if he was in his own land, with the Goddess choosing to use all of her powers… Especially given the fact that Richard had already died in the past — and therefore was not obligated to keep his life in the present… Surely he could get to the point where his Excalibur was only inferior to the real Excalibur by some invisible tiny millionth of a percent.

As for how to reach her with Excalibur like that? He couldn’t – Semiramis was quite right, Richard had no ability to fly and could only jump like a big annoying and extremely strong grasshopper, trying to reach Semiramis. Some sweat began to gather on her brow as she saw the glow coming closer and closer.

The problem was that the height of Richard's jump depended on his speed and if you picked the right springboard for the jump.

And Richard the Lionheart had quite the fascinating and unique skill.

After all, the legend of Richard, in addition to his mythical inspirations, included some real facts of his biography — such as the fact of his outstanding, and surprisingly fast for his time, military campaigns and battles.

For the Servants with such a legend, though they sometimes received abilities primarily aimed at commanding armies, many such accomplishments mattered only at the level of personal achievement. And so Richard's skill was changed.

Godspeed – an ability that increased his speed, his Agility score in proportion to his time in battle.

For battles against Servants, this was not meant to be a decisive advantage, a Servant with significantly different strength could win – or lose, in just a few seconds. In the end, the very fact that this ability only existed during and for the duration of a single battle greatly limited Richard's options.

Yet the Goddess had gifted her Servants with powerful and unique abilities – Immortality, the Midday Sun, the power of the Berserker…

And the Endless Crusade. An ability that changed the effect of Richard's skill.

It became not that he became faster, the more time he spent in battle, but he became faster the longer he fought under the banner of the Lion Goddess.

For Servants in battle, a minute was an excess of time. So how about two months?

And so Richard, who had jumped, had no ability to fly – but he hardly needed to.

And the golden glow of Excalibur covered the sky and swallowed up the Hanging Gardens.

***

Ozymandias allowed Gawain to survive another of his attacks without much interest, but without scorn, either. Gawain then had the honor of watching the great Ozymandias himself dodge the blow of his blade as a flash of fire and light slashed through the space beside the Pharaoh of Pharaohs. An attack that no Servant would survive unscathed, but instead of concern Ozymandias merely made a grimace on his face, an expression out of place on the perfect Pharaoh. "How ignorant to use the fire and light to fight Ra, I would have you flogged through the streets of every city and whipped if I should ever see you within my realm.”

“I’m sorry, but what can I do, Your Majesty? It is my only way to fight.” Gawain sighed, and then, with both feet planted, he leaped toward Ozymandias' soaring barque, intending to slice it in twain. Of course, the barque immediately replied with an attack of its own, one that sadly didn’t have any effect on Gawain.

Just as Ozymandias was perfectly immune to fire and heat, so is the Knight of the sun Gawain. But of course, a blade enveloped in flame, even if the flame doesn’t burn, iron is still iron.

A moment later, as Gawain's blade slammed into Ozymandias' barque, the latter was finally reluctantly forced to admit the need to display somewhat more of his strength, and swung his hand to the side, using his second Noble Phantasm. “Abu el-Hol Sphinx!”

A moment later, the monstrous power of the newly summoned creature caused the ground to shake, its mere presence tearing layers of earth and laying heavy burdens on the shoulders of all present. The power of the Divine Beast caused even Gawain, who had just cut through the barque of the great Ozymandias to stop, to turn toward the source of such monstrous power instead of pressing the attack on Ozymandias.

The enormous figure, towering a good dozen or so meters, showed one enormous lion's paw, then a second, then two eagle's wings that swept away the dust, and only then its overall figure, a huge sphinx, was revealed.

However, calling this creature ‘just’ a sphinx was like trying to call a huge wild wolf a chihuahua. It was unlike any previous sphinx seen in Singularity, even the one lounging in the Pharaoh’s city pale in comparison. It was an enormous creature whose skin seemed to absorb all light, so black, like the depths of cold space, but still speckled with thousands of tiny shimmering sparks, like stars scattered across an empty sky. Dots of blue, purple and reddish iridescence decorated the creature’s pitch black skin, like stars and galaxies decorating the night sky.

The combination of such striking appearance made the creature look more like a living gateway to another world – unexplored, terrifying, and beautiful.

The earth literally started boiling a few meters from the creature as a wave of heat struck in all directions, burning out the surrounding air. Just from once glance alone, one had to conclude that the star-speckled monster was as hot as the molten core of a star. Even the most powerful Servants would have had to work very hard to even survive being near it.

The thought of slaying it should never have entered the minds of the legendary heroes who had dared to incur the wrath, and at the same time the mercy and respect, of Ozymandias.

There was no other name for it, after all, it was a mercy, if not altogether a sign of favoritism, that Ozymandias the Great himself had decided to use a significant portion of his forces to fight the enemy.

Even Gawain, the invincible knight, felt for a moment the need to rush away and evaluate his situation a second time. At that moment, it was not a rational reason that spoke to him, but a primitive understanding, instincts that guarded men at the dawn of mankind from the darkness, the wild beasts, and the onslaught of the night.

However, as a Knight, Gawain is a cut above such a petty thing as survival instincts.

Banishing the thought from his mind, Gawain gripped his blade more comfortably, and didn't try to play the hero or for pageantry. His rational and irrational parts screamed at him in tandem, that the time for games and chivalry was over.

So, when the creature, taking its first majestic step, suddenly lunged at him with a speed that few Servants could display, and that surely such a giant should not have displayed, Gawain did not show any doubt for a moment.

His blade burned at its brightest, as the sun itself burned bright above him as he swung his sword.

“Excalibur Galatine!”

***

Scáthach against Gareth, Lancer against Lancer, immortal against immortal.

Certainly Scáthach was superior to her opponent, much, much superior. Gareth might be provisionally a part of the Knights of the Round Table, but only as a squire. Against the immortal thousand-year-old witch of the Shadowlands, she did not need even a tenth of her skills, abilities, magecraft and powers to drive her spear into her opponent's heart, without any Noble Phantasm, using only her own skills.

There was a problem, however.

It was not enough to defeat Gareth.

The spear that slammed into her heart caused Gareth to freeze for a moment, then, like a zombie, contrary to the mere logic of human existence, Gareth struck. Thrusting her body further onto the spear, Gareth used that opportunity to attack instead – it missed, of course. And, when Scáthach yanked the spear from her opponent's body, its barbs gouging a large amount of flesh, Gareth did even deign to react to it, responding with another blow, one that Scáthach easily evaded.

Seeing the attack proving ineffectual on Gareth, Medusa, as if having coordinated with Scáthach, and following zombie movie logic, coiled the chains of her blade around Gareth’s head, almost covering it entirely. Then with a sharp tug, the chain tightened around Gareth’s head, first fracturing the Lancer's spine, then severing her head completely with a resounding crunch and disgusting spurts of blood.

Gareth's body twitched as it fell, the headless body moving, a death rattle, seemingly for the last time. Only for the collapsing body to halt its descent as if time had frozen, and a new head quickly regrown from the bloody stump, bone by bone, muscles by muscles, then skin and eyes, until Gareth’s familiar visage returned.

The mere sight of such a thing was, in a way, both enchanting and repulsive, even Scáthach allowed her perpetually stiff lips to deepen slightly – which to her was tantamount to a scowl of disgust on her face. Medusa as well didn’t show much of a reaction, while Nitocris was busy dry heaving her breakfast.

Nitocris… Was there too?

She did attack Gareth as well, though her attack was lost in the frenzied spear battle between Gareth and Scáthach, and the gory finisher by Medusa. Even as an inexperienced Pharaoh, she was still a Caster class Servant. Even if her presence couldn’t turn the tide of battle – that was enough.

Gareth might be able to wedge in a sort of victory against Medusa and Scáthach, by squeezing in all her advantage of immortality, escaping is surely not an impossibility – that would be impossible with Nitocris here. Gareth could not oppose Scáthach, Medusa, and Nitocris all at once. Granted, having the advantage of a Goddess who was not stingy in supplying her Servants with mana, Gareth is capable of showing outstanding ability.

But, there is an insurmountable difference between Scáthach and Gareth that made the former able to play with the latter as much as she wanted. If you add Medusa and Nitocris to the equation on Scáthach’s side? It couldn't even be called a battle, more like some elaborate form of bullying.

The three Servants could not, however, ‘defeat’ Gareth.

A pierced heart or a severed head, anything up to tearing her limb to limb, it would not work on Gareth – nothing could stop her for more than a few seconds. That in turn meant that the three Servants could go no further.

Of course, the way the three Servants here could have easily toyed with Gareth might have given the impression that she was harmless – but there’s nothing further than the truth than that. It was easy enough for them to leave Gareth, but that would mean leaving Sita and Tawara vulnerable. And the fact that Gareth was far inferior to Scáthach did not mean that she was a weak Servant.

It was just that Scáthach was the worst measuring stick to measure such a thing.

So if Gareth's job was not to destroy the enemy, but only to bind them in combat? Well, that was a hundred percent accomplished job. Maybe three hundred percent, by the number of Servants bound in combat.

Such a realization made Scáthach feel vexed, as their last bout only meant that she had just wasted her time and energy. But, as an accomplished warrior, Scáthach quickly changed gear, now she was starting to find ways to ‘defeat’ Gareth in other ways.

What limits does Gareth’s ‘immortality’ have?

There’s no such thing as a perfect defense, so there must be a way to circumvent this one as well.

Medusa had the right of it, a large debilitating attack is the way to go, in other words – a Noble Phantasm. And therein lies the rub. Scáthach’s Noble Phantasm, Gae Bolg - Alternative, was a legendary spear thrust, capable of always striking the enemy's heart if necessary, distorting the very notion of cause and effect to ensure that the target would be struck. Certainly, for ordinary Servants, if such a thing existed, it was synonymous with the concept of certain death. There were not many creatures capable of continuing to live, much less continue a battle, without a heart.

The problem was that Gareth belonged to a short list of these possible exceptions.

Medusa could have tried to trap Gareth, using her Noble Phantasm she could have tried to pull the same trick she had used in the past, destroying Gareth completely. That might have been difficult even for her more than outstanding and differently directed powers, but at least she could have used the trick she had used in the past against Alice. Instead of trying to destroy the target, just knock her out of combat entirely.

On the other hand, such a use of her powers would not only expose her capabilities, but it would also deprive her, the ability to react quickly to the changing conditions of battle. It would only be a short while before she could adapt to the new enemy, but it was a great risk nonetheless. Besides, unlike the past situation with Alice, where Medusa needed such a trick to win, in the current situation, Gareth… She simply existed as a problem in Medusa's way.

Even though Medusa was not the type to ‘play’ with her victim, the situation predisposed her to indulge in her innate sadistic nature. Especially now, when the walls of Camelot were still not breached and the need for a fast mobile unit, did not exist.

So, with some displeasure, Medusa dodged Gareth's blow, who paid for her attack with Scáthach’s spear instantly piercing her body. Then, almost lazily, Medusa flung her blade forward, then, as it plunged into Lancer's body, pulled it back by pulling her chain.

Well, as much as she liked or disliked to play, there was really no answer forthcoming in how to deal with the almost zombie-like Gareth for good. The good old classic of aiming for the head didn’t work after all.

"I hope the other battles are going on as lazily at the moment. I don’t really want the others complaining that I’m not doing my job properly." Medusa allowed herself to be distracted from the ongoing battle by a glimpse of a flickering shadow in the distance, then, noticing the strange picture of Arthuria flying away like a cannonball, she blinked. "Or not."

***

As people and legends said when Lancelot was knight of Camelot, he was the greatest of knights, as great as Arthur or greater even. If Arthur was the King of Knights, then Lancelot was the Knight of all Knights. This meant that he was honest, noble, incorruptible, intelligent, charismatic, handsome… and also, to the point of insanity, strong.

A spear, a bow, a mace, anything in Lancelot's hands became an absolute and deadly threat to anything living within a radius that a man who wanted to preserve his sanity shouldn't even think about. A branch, a stone, a cart’s wheel, a horseshoe, a rusty nail, even a handful of gold coins, if anything was in his hands, under his feet, in his teeth, or at least within sight of Lancelot, it already meant that he was heavily armed. Armed with a real weapon? This only took Lancelot's danger level from ‘incredible’ to ‘unimaginable’, which meant little to most of his opponents.

For Lancelot Du Lac, the Knight of the Lake, his abilities in this capacity were so great that this very possibility became the Noble Phantasm, Lancelot's Skill.

Eternal Arms Mastery – whatever the conditions, whatever Lancelot's weapons, and whoever his adversary might be, Lancelot was always at his best for a new battle.

Anything that fell into Lancelot's hands became a Noble Phantasm, of relatively low rank sure, but an opponent who suddenly encountered Lancelot's Noble Phantasm was a stick in his hands rarely had time to reflect on what rank it was.

The ability itself would cost an enemy a great deal in the heat of battle, but what of Lancelot's loyal blade, Arondight? The blade considered a mirror image of Excalibur, no less holy and not constrained by human hands, it not only answered joyfully to Lancelot's abilities, but also kept Lancelot at his best.

If Excalibur was the blade of the ‘worthy’, then Arondight was the blade that would make its bearer ‘worthy’.

A great knight, called the best of all, that would turn any blade in his hands into a great weapon, then, holding a great weapon in his hands, that would turn its bearer into a great knight. One only had to add to this the fact that Lancelot possessed incredible strength through the patronage of the Goddess now, and was close to the stronghold of his power, Camelot. And, as if that were not enough, the Goddess's gift, like the eternal midday sun for Gawain and immortality for Gareth, and it was not hard to guess the current course of Lancelot's battle.

Lancelot, as if in mockery of all the other Servants forced to at least pretend that their armor or heavy plates constrained their movements, moved with offensive ease and speed. Mashu's attempt to strike Lancelot, seemingly distracted by Arthuria's strike, ended with the hilt of Lancelot's blade striking Mashu in the solar plexus. The attack knocked her out of breath and made her momentarily unable to breathe, her lungs burning with the desperate need for air.

But the worst part was not that when Jaques's blade slammed into Lancelot's exposed back, ending only with a vicious screech of metal scratching metal, sliding across it without any effect. Nor was it the almost apologetic, pathetic smile with which Lancelot looked at the attempted attack. Then, dodging Arthuria's punch, he rammed his fist into his former king's face, the attack literally sweeping her off her feet.

The worst part wasn't even that the actions of Lancelot's past, and his actions now, couldn't be washed away with just one apologetic smile. And not even that Lancelot knew it and was still trying to squeeze an apology out of himself, aware of the gravity of his past sins. But that Mashu, fueled by Galahad's hatred, could not ignore the expression and actions of Lancelot.

Worst of all, Galahad himself, puffed up with hatred for his father, sensed somewhere in the back of his mind that maybe he could, on some insignificant level… sympathize with Lancelot.

The worst part was not that Lancelot continued to act this way, but that his actions were working.

This realization only fueled the anger within Galahad's mind, and at the same time, spurred Mashu to act more aggressively, completely oblivious to his role as a ‘shield’.

“Mashu!” Bedivere's voice, even when he’s near, sounded distant. Lost amidst Galahad's seething and boiling hatred, in which Mashu herself was no longer sure who was in control of her body now – she, Galahad, or something in between.

Bedivere needed only to get to Lancelot in order to disable the effects of his Gift from the Goddess; it would not win the battle, but it should certainly level the playing field, at least a little. But Lancelot understood that as well as anyone, dodging Bedivere's rapid attacks with mocking ease.

Fueling Galahad’s hatred even more, was the fact that Lancelot was still not fully committing his full capability to the fight. More than once or twice he could, if not take the life of one of his opponents, then at least attack back – but he didn't.

His blows, capable of crumbling walls and stone, might have seemed terrifying – but to Servants and relative to his true capabilities, they were warning blows at best.

“Do it, coward!” Bedivere's attempts to get through to Mashu, were muffled by Galahad's outburst of fury, who had decided to use his shield not as a means of defense, but as a great flat bludgeon.

Lancelot responded to the angry diatribe with an even more pathetic smile, and then, repulsing Galahad's attack with a perverse ease, only said, in an apologetic tone, the last thing Galahad wanted to hear.

“I'm really sorry, Galahad…”

A blood-red veil covered Mashu's eyes, forcing her to attack relentlessly, trying to bash in Galahad's negligent father's head. But after a dozen strokes, when Mashu thought her mind had finally dissolved into a bloody haze… It was over.

Not the battle or the Singularity or Mashu herself – everything, was over.

Sounds seemingly froze in the air, the sun shuddered to a halt in its passage through the sky, the falling dust particles froze in silence. It seemed that if even a single grain of sand were to fall to the ground now, it would be the loudest sound in the universe.

A shadow loomed over the world. The shadow of unequivocal and imminent death…

And Mashu heard a voice, chilling and yet familiar.

“For whom the bell tolls…”