Tristan!
And… the people of the mountain!
Across the infinite multiverse, none of the viewers watching the screen had anticipated this. Ritsuka Fujimaru's group had just stepped out, and their home base was already being attacked.
Detective Conan: "This couldn't have been Lancelot's plan. It must be Agravain. Only he is still so fixated on annihilating the people of the mountain."
Time Spirit: "Ara, what a stubborn fellow. Not that it's surprising. I just didn't expect Mordred to be among the mountain people's territory as well. Wasn't she on her way to the Holy City?"
Mordred: "Agravain... That bastard is truly disgusting! Father is one thing, but a mere adjutant dares to treat me like a beast, a tool?!"
---o---
"Let's All Explode, Normies!": "I feel... Mordred is kind of pitiful. Although she betrayed King Arthur in the epics, she's still King Arthur's subordinate now, and even her flesh and blood. Yet King Arthur..."
Utaha Kasumigaoka: "A deified King Arthur is still King Arthur. Did you really expect her to trust a knight who was responsible for her death? Give me a break. The Lion King not killing her on the spot is merciful enough. Don't ask for more..."
...
[On the light curtain, the image shifted to the Holy City.]
King Arthur... or rather, the Lion King, stood within the great hall of the Holy City.
The empty hall seemed exceptionally cold and desolate at this moment.
Although the Knights of the Round Table were numerous, only a handful were ultimately willing to continue following the Lion King.
And now, aside from Gawain who was guarding the main gate, the other Knights of the Round Table were all out on missions. Thus, only the Lion King was left standing alone in the great hall.
"Abominations from another world... they haven't been completely eradicated, have they..."
As the morning light slowly streamed into the Holy City's hall, the Lion King's expression was indifferent. Though she had failed to destroy the enemy, she seemed completely unconcerned.
She still wore that same icy demeanor, yet bathed in the dawn's light, she was filled with divinity.
Then, the Lion King raised the Holy Lance in her hand. White and red lightning crackled around it. Clearly, she intended to fire it again.
Within the Holy City, possessing the Holy Lance, this King of Saints could be called a true god. Her magical energy was practically infinite.
Forget firing it again; even scouring the surface of this entire Singularity with the Holy Lance would not be a difficult task.
Yet, at that very moment, an intangible aura suddenly appeared within the Holy City, halting the Lion King's next move.
The magical energy was distinct, as if it had appeared intentionally, for the sole purpose of stopping the Lion King from unleashing her Holy Lance again.
It vanished without a trace less than a second after appearing.
The Lion King, sensing the fluctuation of magical energy, stopped her actions and turned to look behind her.
A trace of surprise appeared on her cold face. Someone had already appeared within the Holy City, right behind her, and she hadn't sensed them at all.
For a Servant to achieve this, they must be an Assassin skilled in stealth. And for an Assassin to be able to sneak into the Holy City right under her nose... there was only one.
"Old Man of the Mountain, when did you infiltrate the Holy City..."
The Lion King's expression was cold as she spoke sternly, calling out the identity of that Assassin.
The Old Man of the Mountain... or rather, the first and strongest of all who held that title.
Among the Hassans of the mountain people, all others were like ants before the Lion King's immense divine power.
But he was the sole exception. Not only did he possess the ability to fight the Lion King, but he also held the terrifying power to instantly kill any of the Knights of the Round Table.
Inside the holy temple, the Lion King's voice received no reply. It seemed the other party had already left.
However, the Lion King did not believe so. Although the Assassin's aura had vanished in a flash, she knew that the Old Man of the Mountain had not left this place. He was watching her from some corner.
After a long wait, a weathered and composed voice, belonging to the Old Man of the Mountain, echoed from the dark shadows, reverberating throughout the great hall.
"O, King of Saints, King of Legends, King of Sorrows. Stay thy hand. That lance cannot kill them all. It will only cause this land of termination to fall into an endless abyss."
The mysterious Old Man of the Mountain spoke, his voice coming from the darkness, from all directions.
But even though he had taken the initiative to speak, neither the Lion King nor the viewers outside the screen could see his figure.
They couldn't even tell from which shadow the voice originated. All they knew... was that this voice was filled with a sense of oppression. There was no hostility, yet it held a formless pressure that made it hard to breathe.
Hearing the Old Man of the Mountain's words, the Lion King couldn't help but frown, a hint of enmity showing on her cold, beautiful face.
Without a doubt, this first Old Man of the Mountain did not stand with her, nor did he approve of her methods.
An area struck by the full power of the Holy Lance, if not purified, would remain barren for hundreds of years due to the residual magical energy.
For this Singularity, which was already on the verge of disappearing, such an act was undoubtedly harmful, not beneficial. It would only accelerate the destruction of a world already on the brink of collapse.
It was precisely for this reason that the Old Man of the Mountain had stopped her from unleashing the Holy Lance a second time.
She hadn't wanted to face this dangerous existence so soon, but since he had come to her, she didn't mind dealing with the threat of the mountain people ahead of schedule.
However, just as the Lion King was about to act, the Old Man of the Mountain paid no heed to her enmity. He simply spoke on his own: "This hell has reached its end. O, Lion King, thy Mandate of Heaven is not yet fulfilled. Continue to do what thou believest is right, before the evening bell tolls..."
As his voice faded, the presence of the Old Man of the Mountain vanished completely, leaving only the Lion King behind.
"..."
After confirming that King Hassan had left, the Lion King put away her Holy Lance. Her expression remained icy, but a trace of wariness had appeared in her eyes.
Without a doubt, this first Old Man of the Mountain was a figure with power sufficient to rival a god. He was truly a being who stood at the pinnacle of the Assassin class.
If the Holy Lance was not fully released, even the deified King Arthur would find it difficult to defeat him.
"The people of the mountain, is it... Since that first Old Man of the Mountain has appeared, then... there is no need to hold back against them."
The Lion King said coldly, turning her head to look towards the distant horizon.
The immortal monsters, the Sun King, the people of the mountain, and Chaldea. If they wished to come, then let them try.
The Holy Lance, Rhongomyniad. Although the Round Table of this Singularity had already crumbled, this lance could still unleash power worthy of its name.
Any enemy that stood in its way would be reduced to nothingness by the Holy Lance's immense magical power...
---o---
Light Curtain Commentary—
The appearance of King Hassan had clearly sparked intense discussion on the screen.
Rin Tohsaka: "This... This is the Old Man of the Mountain? A Hassan? No way, you've got to be kidding me. Isn't the Assassin class supposed to be weak? Besides, it's a Hassan. How can there be an existence powerful enough to rival the Lion King?!"
Magus of Flowers: "Oh my, oh my. I never thought he would make a move to stop Artoria. This is quite the surprise~"
The Zealot: "That visage... is it the First One? Yes, it must be. To think that great lord would also appear on screen!"
L: "The First Hassan, the Old Man of the Mountain, is also a Hassan among Hassans. For him to make the Lion King wary, his strength cannot be underestimated. Moreover... the pinnacle of the Assassin class, which means..."
Otto Apocalypse: "An interesting existence. To be able to infiltrate the Holy City so silently and appear before King Arthur... such stealth capabilities far surpass those of the other Hassans."
...
[The camera on the light curtain switched back to Tristan's location.]
The man, who was in the midst of slaughtering the refugees, spoke of sorrow with one breath while killing without a shred of mercy with the next.
That cold-blooded manner of killing, even having seen it before, was still unbearable.
And just then, a roar of absolute fury, like that of a demon, suddenly rang out.
In the next moment, a black shadow flickered. A giant arm wrapped in bandages came crashing down, grabbing a Purified Knight by the head and viciously slamming it into the ground, crushing it with a sickening squelch.
Taking a closer look, it was Ritsuka Fujimaru and his party who had arrived. And the one who had attacked in fury was none other than the Hassan of the Cursed Arm, wearing his skull mask.
He looked at the surrounding flames, at the Purified Knights, and let out an enraged question.
"Ahhhhhhh!!! Why did this happen!?"
"These people are no soldiers!"
"All that's here is a village formed by a group of people who barely escaped with their lives and clung to each other, desperate to survive!"
"And you! All of you...!!!"
"Are the Lion King's soldiers the kind to slaughter women and children!?"
His words were already incoherent. Extreme anger and grief had driven this man to lose his sanity. With a furious roar, he charged toward the other Purified Knights.
Though he was an Assassin, at this moment, he displayed a frenzy akin to a Berserker.
Naturally, his furious questioning did not sway the Purified Knights in the slightest. Seeing this powerful enemy, a group of them immediately moved to surround him.
The flames raged higher and higher. Amidst the inferno, the Hassan of the Cursed Arm fought madly against the Purified Knights.
But how could one man be a match for so many Purified Knights? He was quickly suppressed.
Even so, the man paid it no mind, wanting only to annihilate all of these demons of slaughter.
It was then that Tristan made his move. With a slight twitch of his fingers, he suddenly strummed his bowstring, and a blade of air shot towards the Hassan of the Cursed Arm, who was locked in battle with the Purified Knights.
The Hassan of the Cursed Arm sensed the fatal danger, but it was too late. He was not a particularly outstanding Heroic Spirit to begin with; among the many Hassans, he was mediocre at best.
How could he possibly be a match for the renowned Knight of the Round Table, Tristan?
At that critical moment, Li Sushang acted. The blades in her hands flew out, appearing before the Hassan of the Cursed Arm in the nick of time, blocking the fatal blow for him.
It was only then that Tristan sensed the others through their magical energy.
Ritsuka Fujimaru and Mash, Bedivere, the Hassans, Xuanzang and Tawara Touta, Guinaifen, as well as Lancelot and Li Sushang.
Nearly ten Heroic Spirits, plus the three high-end powerhouses Lancelot, Li Sushang, and Xuanzang. This lineup was nothing short of extravagant.
Seeing this, Tristan, though his eyes were closed, still sensed that familiar aura. He immediately spoke: "Sorrowful, truly sorrowful, Sir Lancelot. What I see is you, seemingly standing with the King's enemies."
"I'm sorry, so sorry. Because my eyes cannot see, I can only make such a guess... Sir Lancelot, you... have betrayed the King once again, haven't you?"
"..." Staring at his former comrade, Lancelot did not speak.
The words "once again" stabbed deep into his heart. Although he had already agreed to oppose the distorted King, when it truly came time to face a former comrade, Lancelot hesitated once more.
After all, Tristan was not Agravain. Lancelot had always wanted to kill Agravain, but he held no murderous intent toward Tristan.
"Sir Tristan," taking a deep breath, Lancelot looked at Tristan's sorrowful expression and said, "The King is no longer the King. Listen to the wails of these people. Is this truly what you wish to see!?"
Hearing Lancelot's words, Tristan paused for a moment. Then, in a tone of immense grief, he said, "Ah... ah, is that so? Sir Lancelot, is that so? Who was it that deluded you, to make you betray the King a second time for such a ridiculous reason? Ah... how truly sorrowful!"
Immediately after, the Failnaught in his hands suddenly erupted with sound, and a blade of air shot towards Lancelot at absolute speed.
Boom!
As the strongest knight in martial prowess, Lancelot would not be so easily hit. He blocked Tristan's arrow-blade with the greatsword in his hand.
"As expected... communication is impossible." Lancelot sighed. Although he had anticipated this, seeing Tristan like this, he still couldn't help but sigh.
At that moment, the Hassan of the Cursed Arm could no longer suppress the hatred in his heart. He stared daggers at Tristan and roared in fury, "This is too ridiculous! Don't you find your tone utterly hypocritical? So this is what a Knight of the Round Table is like?"
"You red-haired demon, Tristan! You have brought death to this land and made its people suffer slaughter. Does your knightly soul not weep?"
Faced with the Hassan of the Cursed Arm's questioning, Tristan was extremely calm. "Life is fleeting. Sometimes, to meet is also to part."
"But this is also a matter of helplessness. People are killed, and they die. This is the norm in war."
"Your fates are destined to be burned to ashes along with this miserable village."
"Though it is sorrowful, this is already a decided matter, and it will never be changed."
As he finished speaking, Tristan prepared to act again.
But just then, the sound of something slicing through the air rang out. An arrow, imbued with magical energy, suddenly flew towards Tristan from a distance.