Chapter 20: You Say the Word "Impossible" Too Much
If the "Simulated Creation Picture: Avesta" were activated, Shirou's power would rise to an even more terrifying degree in proportion to the strength of his enemy.
Unfortunately, he had yet to encounter an enemy capable of forcing Shirou to unleash his full power.
Naturally, the Type-Moon world contained existences that could reach such intensity, but Shirou had not yet encountered them.
However, that was only a matter of time.
This world, a convergence of many fused parallel worlds, already contained every possible existence. The Ultimate One (UO) of an alien planet, the Savior, the Sefar (Velber's scout), Chaos, the Old Gods, the Great Old Ones, the Outer Gods...
Any one of them, if pulled out at random, would be a character capable of destroying the Earth with a sneeze.
But before that, Shirou had to bring Saber back.
While Shirou was thinking about these things, he suddenly noticed something.
Piercing through the mist with his gaze and casting it toward the vast desert, Shirou could already see the pure white Holy City, which stood out incomparably in this region filled with swirling yellow sand.
At this moment, outside the gates of the Holy City, the five Knights of the Round Table were leading the Knight Armaments in a tight formation.
Shirou looked back at Gudako, King Hassan, Bedivere, Arash, and the others, who were all prepared. In the end, he decided not to spoil their fun by intervening.
King Hassan was the first to speak: "Then, I shall proceed as planned and spar with that 'Sun Knight,' Gawain."
Bedivere gritted his teeth, his eyes filled with an unyielding will.
"I want to face the 'Knight of the Lake,' Lancelot!"
Pick yourself up from wherever you fell. That was what Bedivere was thinking.
Next was Arash: "Well... as for me, I'll go and test my strength against that knight called Tristan."
Then Mash and Da Vinci both thought for a moment before finally choosing Agravain as their opponent.
Only one person remained...
Shirou shrugged as he looked at the gazes directed at him.
"It seems Mordred can only be left to me."
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.
.
A massive shadow emerged on the horizon, causing the knights arrayed outside the Holy City to look up.
"They're here...!"
Mordred stared intensely at the temple slowly descending in front of them. Standing at the very front of the temple were some of the strongest warriors around.
The Hassans, who had already assembled, and the forces of the "Sun King" Ozymandias were already standing at the ready.
"Everyone, let us begin our war!"
The moment Ozymandias's voice echoed out, a roar filled with momentum and overwhelming murderous intent swept across the entire battlefield.
Gawain, Lancelot, Mordred, Agravain, and Tristan—the five knights issued the order to charge in unison.
In an instant, smoke and dust began to permeate the battlefield, filled with the clashing of weapons.
The battle situation gradually intensified; the Knights of the Round Table had to deal with their respective opponents while also minding the formations of their armies.
"Left wing, retreat to the position of the Fourth Squad and merge with the right wing! I am going to use the Holy Sword to wipe out the enemy troops on this side!"
The "Sun Knight," Gawain, shouted to the soldiers around him.
Upon hearing Gawain's words, the soldiers were immediately excited.
"Ohhh! Is Sir Gawain finally going to make a move!"
As the excited soldiers quickly retreated, Gawain looked up at the sky, where the sun was at its zenith, and revealed a confident smile.
"Although I have the blessing of 'No Night,' it truly makes my heart race to fight at a time like this!"
The "Excalibur Galatine" in his hand seemed to feel Gawain's mood, igniting with raging flames that burned and flickered continuously under the sunlight.
Just as Gawain was about to strike, he felt as if the scene before his eyes had torn for an instant. In the blink of an eye, a tall skeletal swordsman appeared before him.
He stood there quietly, the ghostly blue flames in his eyes carrying an indescribable pressure—like the incarnation of a Grim Reaper from the Underworld.
"There is no need to strike, 'Sun Knight' Gawain. Your path has been erased by me."
The skeletal swordsman spoke calmly; his voice was like an ancient, giant bell—hoary and resonant.
Gawain examined the skeletal swordsman before him with a solemn gaze.
"No matter who the opponent is, there is nothing my sword cannot sever!"
As if taking an oath, Gawain swung his flame-burning sword.
"『Excalibur Galatine』!!!"
Facing this strike from Gawain, the skeletal swordsman had no intention of dodging, swinging his own sword to clash with Gawain.
Clang—!
Steel collided, and sparks flew.
The skeletal swordsman before him did not budge, while Gawain was knocked back several steps by the recoil. The "Excalibur Galatine" in his hand almost flew out of his grasp.
"How is it possible... Who on earth are you?!"
"Hassan-i Sabbah, come from the Deep Valley, only to take away the living."
The ghostly blue flames in the skeletal swordsman's eyes burned even brighter.
"The funeral bell for you has tolled."
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"I really didn't expect you to dare to face me again, Bedivere."
The "Knight of the Lake," Lancelot, looked with slight surprise at the silver-haired knight confronting him.
"Are... are you not afraid of death?"
"Death is no longer a frightening thing to me."
Bedivere shook his head gently; a light breeze blew through his silver hair, making the beautiful, androgynous knight look a bit sorrowful.
"More than death, I fear not being able to restore the King's heart."
Saying this, Bedivere raised his right arm. In his emerald eyes was an unprecedented firmness; even his voice was slightly hoarse, laced with a trace of anger.
"『Dead End Agateram』!!!"
An extreme flash of light erupted.
Lancelot sneered at the sight.
"Do you think a move that didn't work the first time will be effective if you use it a second time?"
Wielding "Arondight," Lancelot's figure turned into an afterimage, attacking Bedivere.
Clang-clang-clang-clang—!!!!
The two of them turned into silver and purple lines, crossing and interweaving on the battlefield.
The clanging of weapons rang out incessantly; Bedivere and Lancelot had already exchanged blows dozens of times.
"Heh, you've made some progress, haven't you? But you should realize that it is impossible for you to win against me!"
Lancelot grinned, his sword techniques becoming violent, causing Bedivere to feel strained all of a sudden.
Boom!
The silver-haired knight flew backward like a kite with a broken string.
However, he scrambled to his feet with a speed that surprised Lancelot and rushed forward once more.
"You...! "
Lancelot couldn't help but feel shocked, but his sword-swinging movements did not falter in the slightest.
After several more clashes, the silver-haired knight was covered in wounds, and even his stance was wobbling slightly.
The "Silver Arm" indeed gave Bedivere the strength to trade blows with the Knights of the Round Table, but he had not been acknowledged by the Holy Sword, and naturally, he could not exert the sword's original power.
"Stop, Bedivere. You should understand that it is impossible for you to step past me..."
Remembering their days together at the Round Table, Lancelot couldn't help but advise him. Based on his knowledge of this knight, his swordsmanship should have been in the lower tier of the Round Table.
Yet, why could he still stand, and why could he still fight him?
Then, the silver-haired knight raised his left hand and gently wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.
"Even in the most terrible predicaments, the only way to solve it is to charge forward."
Bedivere swallowed the blood in his mouth and rushed once more toward the "Knight of the Lake."
"You say the word 'impossible' too much!"
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