"A king is naturally aloof!"
Saber declared.
"No! You don't understand! For those like you who fail to grasp it, I must show true kingly valor."
In an instant, a scorching whirlwind roared to life.
The wind, hot and dry, seemed to burn everything.
It wasn't the breeze of a night city or coastal air.
It blew from a searing desert, howling in their ears.
Waver felt gritty sand on his tongue, spitting to clear it, his saliva mixed with dust carried by this impossible hot wind.
Iskandar's crimson cloak billowed on his shoulders as the unnatural heat began to erode reality.
In this impossible phenomenon, distance and position lost meaning, transforming into a realm where dry, sandy gales belonged.
"How... how is this possible!"
Gasps came from Waver and Irisviel, who recognized the magic's nature. Samuel's power made anything seem plausible, but for Iskandar, a Rider, to wield a mage's ultimate mystery...
A Reality Marble.
A blazing sun scorched the earth. The horizon stretched endlessly, veiled by raging sandstorms under a cloudless sky.
From a nocturnal city to this scene was clearly a phantom overtaking reality—the pinnacle of magecraft, rivaling miracles.
"How can you manifest a mind's landscape? You're no mage!"
"Of course not. I couldn't do this alone."
Standing tall in the vast Reality Marble, Iskandar's proud smile dismissed Waver's doubt.
"This is the land my army once thundered across, etched in the hearts of the warriors who shared my trials."
As the world shifted, even the positions of those swept in changed.
Saber, once pointing her sword at Iskandar, was flung to the desert's edge.
Samuel, the Servants, and their Masters' kin were placed on a high dune beside Iskandar, granted a unique view of the scene.
But... alone? Perhaps not.
All eyes widened at the mirage-like shadows behind him.
Not one, not two, but four—hazy mounted figures multiplied, forming an army, their forms growing vivid.
"This world reappears because it's carved in each of our hearts."
Under awed gazes, the cavalry materialized around Iskandar. Diverse in race and gear, their robust frames and gleaming armor radiated martial splendor, a testament to the army's might.
The Masters grasped the truth of this supernatural spectacle.
"Each one... a Servant."
Only Masters with formal contracts could pierce the spiritual essence and judge Servants. Only they knew Iskandar's true trump card, his ultimate Noble Phantasm.
"Behold, my peerless army!"
The King of Conquerors raised his arms, boasting of the ranked cavalry with boundless pride.
"Though their bodies perish, their souls are summoned as Heroic Spirits. These are my legendary warriors, answering my call across time—my eternal comrades. Our bond is my greatest treasure! My kingly way! My ultimate Noble Phantasm, Ionioi Hetairoi!"
An EX-rank Anti-Army Noble Phantasm, summoning independent Servants.
Here were Antigonus, the war god; Porus, king of Paurava; Leonatus, governor of Hellespontine Phrygia; Ptolemy, governor of Libya and Arabia; and Hephaestion, Iskandar's most trusted vassal, alongside founders of later dynasties. Each hero bore a unique legend.
All were warriors who fought beside the great Alexander.
A riderless horse approached Iskandar, a magnificent beast worthy of being called a titan. Though not human, its strength matched the other Heroic Spirits.
"Been a while, old friend."
Iskandar's smile was that of greeting a long-lost companion, embracing the horse's neck.
This was Bucephalus, later deified, a legendary steed elevated to Heroic Spirit under the King of Conquerors' banner.
Their unyielding loyalty, even after death, was forged into this transcendent Noble Phantasm.
Saber trembled—not from fear of Iskandar's power. This Noble Phantasm shook the very core of her honor as the King of Knights.
Pure, unwavering support—
A bond with vassals so profound it reached the realm of a Noble Phantasm—
Something the ideal king, the King of Knights, never attained in her life.
"A king must live more vividly than anyone—be more admired than all!"
Iskandar mounted Bucephalus, shouting.
The aligned Heroic Spirits answered, clashing shields in unison, roaring in chorus.
"Gather all warriors' dreams and be their exemplar—that is a king. Thus—"
With overwhelming confidence and honor, Iskandar surveyed all around him.
"A king is not aloof, for his wish is the wish of all his subjects!"
"Indeed! Indeed! Indeed!"
The warriors' thunderous cries shook the earth, piercing the heavens. No army, no fortress could withstand the King of Conquerors' comrades. Their fervor could cleave skies and seas.
"I..."
Saber faced the vast army, unafraid, no matter their numbers.
But...
"Was I wrong?"
"Saber! Let me tell you why you're unfit as a hero! You say if you hadn't drawn the sword, hadn't become king, Britain wouldn't have fallen, right? Nonsense!!!"
Iskandar roared.
"Nonsense!!!"
The army echoed.
"You're just fleeing, shirking duty. You think not being king would give everyone a happy ending? That your nation would thrive forever? No, it would still fall. Nothing would change. All you'd do is brand your loyal warriors as fools for following you!"
"You're just a self-deceiving fool, an ostrich burying its head in the sand. You must bear the consequences of your actions, face the results you caused! Duty is the glory of heroes. A coward who flees it is unworthy of the title! So... you're unfit!!!"
"Unfit!!!"
"Unfit!!!"
***
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