General Titus began to laugh.
It was not the maddened cackle of before not the killing-intent-laced explosion that had frozen the battlefield. This was something else. Something warmer. Almost genuine.
"I commend you." His voice carried across the sand, steady and clear. "Your battle tactics. Your sense of camaraderie."
He looked at each of them in turn at Lancelot, at Galahad, at Tristan, at Percival, at Kay.
"Not only that you're all practical. Though you bear your chivalry, you don't let it get in your head." His smile widened. "Survival. All acting like a single organism."
He touched his chest over his heart.
"It's almost emotional."
A single tear rolled down his cheek.
He looked at the wound Galahad had given him the vertical cut from eye to thigh, still bleeding, still open. His fingers traced its edge, feeling the warmth of his own blood.
"But I have to rain on your parade." His voice dropped. "This battle none of you shall survive."
His eyes swept over them again, slow and deliberate.
"Not the weakest amongst you. Neither shall it be the strongest. Nor shall it be your king."
He straightened, his posture shifting from relaxed to something more intense.
"Ever since our emperor whom we loved laid his eyes on you..." His voice hardened. "You all were destined for death."
Above them, Darlington's eyes narrowed.
He could feel it the shift in Titus's demeanor. The weight of what was coming. His mind, that brilliant, overclocked engine of calculation, began to spin.
Something's about to happen.
He reached out to Lancelot, his mental voice sharp and urgent.
"Shout for everyone to stay on guard. I feel like he's about to do something really dangerous."
Lancelot's voice cut across the battlefield.
"STAND GUARD!"
The words rang out like a war horn. "HE'S ABOUT TO ATTACK!"
Tristan's stance shifted lower, ready, his weight distributed for rapid movement. Percival's eyes still bleeding, still strained widened, the muscles around them contracting in preparation. Sir Kay raised his sword, his other hand still gripping the bow he had taken from the fallen. Sir Galahad held the Sword of David in both hands, its edge gleaming with holy light.
They stood their ground.
All of them.
Waiting.
Darlington's mind raced, trying to predict what Titus was about to do.
If I remember correctly... it's something like that.
The memory came unbidden a flash of another time, another world.
A balcony. Sunlight. The smell of paper and ink.
Darlington stood at the railing, a comic book open in his hands. He had taken Hyacinth's advice for once and decided to read an isekai comic. Just to see what the fuss was about.
The main villain was giving a monologue.
Deep. Intense. Something about the human body, about limits, about transcendence. The words were well-written, the art was dramatic, but Darlington couldn't help but scoff.
What's going on? He turned the page, frowning. What's the use of this speech? He's on his last legs. He's going to lose this battle.
He was about to close the comic when
"Hey."
Hot breath against his ear. A voice too close, too sudden.
"Whatcha doing?"
Darlington's instincts took over.
His body moved before his mind could catch up. The comic folded in his hands, becoming a makeshift block, and he struck smacking it directly into the face behind him.
Right on the nose.
"OW!" Hyacinth stumbled back, clutching his face. "What the "
Darlington turned, his heart pounding, his eyes wide.
"You're lucky I'm not a girl." His voice was sharp. "If I was a girl, you would have gotten the beating of your life."
Hyacinth chuckled, rubbing his nose.
"So yeah why are you here?"
Hyacinth grinned that stupid, knowing grin that always meant he was about to say something insufferable.
"Well, I saw you doing something pretty interesting. So I decided to watch something entertaining."
Darlington held up the comic.
"Yeah, it was interesting. But the character here the villain he's getting his shit beaten up. And yet he's still giving his monologue." He shook his head. "It's pointless. He'll lose. And he'll die."
Hyacinth's grin widened.
"You're dumb, aren't you?"
Darlington's eye twitched.
"Well let me spoil it for you." Hyacinth leaned against the railing, casual as anything. "Whenever a villain talks like this, it means he's about to reveal something that will change the entire battlefield."
He tapped the comic's cover.
"He's about to pull out his uno reverse card."
His smile faded into something more serious.
"You should be afraid. Very, very afraid."
The present.
Darlington's mind snapped back to the battlefield.
What will be his reveal? The question echoed in his skull. What card is he about to play?
Below, General Titus tightened his muscles.
Every fiber of his body contracted not in preparation for an attack, but in concentration. His jaw clenched. His fists balled. His entire frame seemed to compress, drawing in on itself like a spring being wound.
And then
The damage disappeared.
The wound Galahad had carved into him from eye to thigh, deep enough to show bone, wide enough to kill simply... vanished. The flesh knitted together. The blood reversed its flow, retreating back into his veins. The missing eye reformed in its socket, whole and seeing.
It took less than a second.
General Titus stood before them, unmarked. Unharmed. As if the battle had never touched him.
Everyone was shocked.
Sir Galahad's sword lowered, his jaw slack. Sir Kay's bow drooped, his fingers trembling. Sir Percival's bleeding eyes widened further, unable to process what they were seeing. Sir Tristan's breath caught in his throat.
Even Lancelot reborn Lancelot—took a step back.
Only Darlington was not surprised.
He had expected it. Known it. The memory of Hyacinth's words he's about to pull out his uno reverse card had prepared him.
General Titus stretched his arms above his head, rolling his shoulders, savoring the feeling of his restored body.
"How is it?" He smiled wide and genuine and terrible. "Isn't it really fun?"
The uno reverse card had been played.
And the game had just become much more dangerous.