83 Morgan le Fay Pendragon

However, at that very moment, a black cursed sword materialized from the void with a sinister hiss and thrust straight toward Artoria's back.

"Watch out!"

Lamorak, who happened to witness this scene, roared, but he was currently surrounded by three Chimeras and couldn't break free.

*Swish!*

The black arc of light cut through the air, and the cursed sword pierced Artoria's body.

"NO—!!!"

Lamorak's eyes widened in agony.

"Hmm?"

Suddenly, a man's voice filled with skepticism echoed from the void.

Even though the cursed sword had penetrated its target's body, not a drop of blood flowed from it. The sensation transmitted through the hand was far from what should be felt when touching a solid object.

Was it an illusion?

Before the owner of the cursed sword could contemplate further, a holy sword radiating golden light swept in from the side.

The man was forced to withdraw the cursed sword for defense, and as the two swords clashed, a powerful force surged through the blades, propelling him out of the void.

A tall man in a black robe, his face unnaturally pale, exuding an eerie aura.

Artoria turned around, golden particles swirling around her, giving off a distant and ethereal aura, as though she had transcended this dimension, entering another world.

This was Artoria's Noble Phantasm—Avalon, which had already transcended the boundaries of world rules.

When fully activated, Avalon completely shields its wielder within the domain of the fairies, the everdistant utopia, completely isolating its user in a world completely separate from the regular world.

"Despite having the strength, you choose to attack from behind. It's a despicable act that tarnishes the honor of a knight. Blasphemer, reveal your name." Artoria said calmly as she gripped Excalibur tightly, her delicate face stern.

"The honor of a knight is something I discarded long ago. Now, I am nothing more than a creature of darkness that shuns the light."

The man in a black robe spoke with a flat tone, raising his cursed sword calmly.

"Rizo-Waal Strout, a knight who abandoned the light and embraced the darkness. If you think names have any significance, try to remember it."

"Rizo-Waal Strout, is it? According to the code of chivalry, since you've revealed your true name, I must respond in kind." Artoria held her sword firmly. "I am Artoria, a squire of His Majesty the King."

"Don't you have a last name?" Strout furrowed his brow slightly. 

"I do, but for now, I am not worthy of bearing that honored surname." Artoria shook her head slightly.

"Honor...? They're ultimately meaningless..." Strout said lightly as his figure blurred; he dashed towards Artoria like a black lightning bolt. "Only with great power can one forge an eternal legacy!"

A tempest gathered, and Artoria's azure eyes were crystal clear. She rose on her toes and her petite figure charged forward like a wild dragon, meeting Strout head-on!

===

Noticing that Strout had already engaged in a battle with the golden-haired girl, Altrouge's lips curved into an elegant smile.

"Now, there's absolutely no room for failure." She murmured softly.

Altrouge turned her gaze towards the three hundred knights who were battling the Dead Apostles and the Chimeras, her crimson eyes fixed on them. She extended her right hand forward, fingers slightly curved as if grasping something.

"Offer me all of your blood!"

Lamorak brandished his long spear, beheading three Chimeras that surrounded him. Just as he prepared to seek out other enemies, a faint painful sound escaped his lips.

"Ugh..."

He clutched his chest in pain, his expression remaining stoic even in the face of pain.

*Ba-dump! Ba-dump—!*

The pounding of his heart became alarmingly rapid, the beats more than double their usual frequency, like a wild, untamed steed on the verge of explosion.

Lamorak was not the only one experiencing this anomaly as the other knights around him suffered a similar fate. Fortunately, their comrades noticed and rescued them from the clutches of Chimeras and Dead Apostles.

"This is... magecraft!"

Lamorak realized, his teeth clenched, sweat pouring down his face. His extensive experience quickly unraveled the cause of this disturbance.

'To counter the enemy's magecraft, we need a more powerful mage, or we have to eliminate the mage itself!'

With eagle-like eyes scanning his surroundings, Lamorak searched for the hidden mage but couldn't locate them.

*Pffft—!*

Suddenly, the blood vessels in his arm burst, spraying blood grotesquely and horrifyingly.

'I can't go on like this, or I'll really die!' Lamorak clenched his teeth, enduring the excruciating pain, and slowly rose to his feet, using his long spear for support.

"Oh? You still have the strength to stand in a situation like this?" Altrouge's eyes gleamed with interest. "You possess a very strong will. You seem like an impressive character. If I were to convert you into a Dead Apostle, you might have a power rivaling a True Ancestor."

"What a pity, you're my enemy..." She added as she shook her head lightly.

Altrouge aimed her hand at Lamorak, her face twisted into a cruel expression.

"Goodbye!"

With that, she decisively clenched her hand into a fist.

However...

Lamorak stood still, seemingly unaffected.

"..."

Altrouge stared at Lamorak, her eyes showing a hint of confusion. She had exerted her power on him, and given her control over blood, he should have exploded like a firework by now.

Why hadn't anything happened?

What on earth was going on?

"Your little tricks, I think you've had enough of them."

A voice as cold and noble as a high mountain snow lotus suddenly came from behind her, and Altrouge was instantly covered in goosebumps.

Altrouge was a vessel created by the King of the Moon, Crimson Moon. She was a mixed blood of True Ancestor and Dead Apostle, with a sensitivity to the presence of all life that exceeded the ordinary.

Yet, someone had managed to bypass her perception and approach her from behind without her noticing.

Altrouge instantly transformed into a crimson mist, dispersed on the spot, and reformed her body several dozen meters away.

Her eyes revealed an intense vigilance as she looked forward.

In her original position, a tall woman figure stood.

A black dress with blue edges outlining her voluptuous figure, pale golden hair cascading down to her waist. Her exquisite face exuded indescribable nobility, resembling a queen. Her eyes, filled with disdain and a commanding gaze, surveyed the world.

"Who are you?!" Altrouge yelled in surprise.

"While I'm not particularly inclined to let a rat hiding in the dark know my name, you seem a little different from them."

The woman in the black dress spoke with a disdainful tone, her lips curving into a beautiful smile, her graceful, fair neck slightly raised, resembling an arrogant swan.

"So, let me bestow upon you this special honor."

"Remember, the one standing before you now is the Crown Princess of Camelot, the ruler of Orkney, and the successor of Britain's Power of the Island—"

"Morgan le Fay Pendragon."