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Onlookers gazed at the two towering giants, wondering why their king possessed such terrifying creations. However, due to the presence of an external enemy, many assumed that the giants were Mystic Codes given to him by Morgan.

The two Evils divided into countless hands and began attacking the magical beasts on either side of the road. While the large hands were effective in slaying the creatures, the smaller ones that split off were easily ripped apart by the stronger and sturdier magical beasts.

The cursed aura emanating from the Evils spread throughout the area, affecting even the magical beasts and causing them to move sluggishly and weaken.

Without warning, a True Ether was unleashed with a deafening "crack," similar to the one used by Morgan, possessing a terrifying destructive force that pierced straight through the black giant. Like a flood, the energy surged forward, slamming into Caerleon's defensive barrier.

"Crack, crack, crack..."

The attack caused visible damage to Caerleon's defensive barrier.

Shirou transformed the giants into two surging waves of darkness and blood liquid. One wave was as black as the darkness of the world, while the other was blood-red, resembling the evil of Cath Palug.

The two waves of Evil formed two circles, each with a radius of one hundred meters. Any magical beast that passed through these circles would be cursed.

While the magical beasts couldn't be directly cursed to death, being afflicted with the curse weakened their bodies and spirits significantly. This made it much easier for Gawain's infantry to deal with them.

A vast plain stretched out before them, with a sky that was teeming with wyverns that seemed to fall like rain. On the ground, magical beasts were as numerous as ants, dotting the landscape as far as the eye could see.

Morgan's giant and Shirou's evil waves collided with the magical beasts, causing a barrage of magical explosions that lit up the battlefield, illuminating it brighter than the sun in the sky.

Meanwhile, the human army held the front line, brandishing their swords and shouting out their heroic cries, engaging in a fierce battle of words and roars with the beasts, creating an epic poem of their clash.

This was truly an epic chapter in the annals of mythology, marking the final chapter of an age long gone.

Tristan stood atop his horse, calmly surveying the battlefield and issuing commands with precision. Gawain's soldiers were like sharpened blades, working in perfect coordination with Shirou's evil waves, Morgan's giants, and the magi's magical bombardment. Together, they managed to breach the tide of beasts, tearing open a gap in their defenses.

Tristan's voice rang out across the battlefield. "Artoria, the rest is up to you!"

Artoria, who had been preparing for this moment, gave a firm nod. She tightened her grip on the reins of her silver horse, raised Caliburn high, and cried out, "Charge!!!"

"Clang clang clang clang~~~!!!"

Following in Artoria's footsteps, a group of 243 cavalrymen wielding Gae Bolg charged fearlessly into battle, their solemn expressions betraying their determination.

As they charged forward, a strong wind blew up, causing sand to swirl around them and obscure their vision. Clad in desolate cloaks, they charged forward like a group of sharp swords, their determination shining through their eyes.

"Thud thud thud thud thud thud!!!"

Iron hooves stamped mercilessly on the ground, crushing the flesh and blood of fallen comrades beneath them.

The cavalry had launched their attack!

Artoria's face remained calm and composed as she rode her horse, tightening her legs around its body. She held Gae Bolg in her left hand and the king's sword in her right, taking a deep breath. The red dragon factor in her blood roared with excitement, while the Dragon Heart, a magic furnace within her chest, beat rapidly. It reminded her that she belonged here, on the battlefield!

Terrifying magical energy surged inside her petite frame, causing her entire body to be enveloped in a powerful aura. The Caliburn in her right hand emitted a faint golden glow, adding to her already imposing presence on the battlefield.

With a wave of her hand, she unleashed a barrage of magical energy from Caliburn, the sound of which reverberated across the battlefield.

"Boom boom boom boom boom~~~!!!"

The beam of magical energy shot forth, directly striking dozens of magical beasts that had rushed towards her, instantly obliterating them.

As the true king, Caliburn was rightfully her sword, and it was no surprise that she was able to wield its true power after gaining its recognition.

With Gaebolg and Caliburn in her hands, she cleaved open a path through the sea of magical beasts, charging towards the enemy's stronghold like a war god of the heavens!

In that moment, she stood alone as the dominant force on the battlefield. Behind her, 243 cavalrymen wielding Gaebolgs followed in her wake. Though the spears they held were mere projections and they were not the great heroes who had created them, their sharp blades allowed them to effortlessly tear through the tough skin and bones of the magical beasts, shredding their lives as they charged forward like the great heroes of mythological tales.

But more often than not, the cavalrymen were knocked off their horses and torn apart by the ferocious magical beasts. Their internal organs mixed with minced meat, spilling onto the ground in a dark and thick mass. The dark blood flowed down along the soil, interspersed with pieces of flesh and meat, painting a gruesome picture of the carnage that had taken place.

Merlin had already contacted Artoria with some kind of spell, using Clairvoyance to observe the enemy's highest commander and informing her of his location.

Riding atop her silver horse, she led the cavalry like a sharp sword, tearing through the battlefield with unparalleled ferocity. She embodied the spirit of a lion leading a lion army, fearlessly facing down any foe that stood in her way.

...

As the sun slowly began to set, its light turning dim and yellow, soldiers continued to fall one after another. The once-beautiful sea of flowers was now stained with blood, creating a stark contrast of purity and filth.

The ground was littered with the broken bodies of both human and monster alike, their blood and gore mixing together and staining the earth. It was a desolate scene, with shattered blades and bones of beasts scattered around like a bleak reminder of the fierce battle that had taken place.

The magical beasts suddenly ceased their attack, changing direction and running towards another target. Tristan breathed a sigh of relief, exclaiming, "The princess knight did it!"

Gawain wiped the sweat from his forehead, exhausted from the intense battle, and marveled, "She's amazing! She really did it!"

Gaheris chimed in, "A lone knight who tore through the sea of beasts, unparalleled in the world!" The three of them shared a moment of awe and admiration for Artoria's unparalleled skill and bravery on the battlefield.

Shirou retracted his projection, feeling the immense depletion of his magical energy. However, the surrounding sadness provided a source of replenishment. He rode on horseback and turned to look at Merlin, asking, "What about my soldiers? How are they?"

Merlin was about to reply, but Shirou interrupted and said, "Don't tell me! Let me wait here with hope, hoping for their safe return!"

This was the shared hope of the surviving soldiers. 243 brave warriors had attracted a staggering army of 30,000 magical beasts and charged towards the volcano, achieving a truly heroic feat.

However, the question of how they would return remained unanswered. With the daunting terrain of the volcano and the massive army of beasts surrounding them, it seemed like an insurmountable challenge.

No one had an answer, not even Shirou. All they could do was wait and hope, knowing that the unknown held the possibility of success. Despite the odds, they held onto the belief that a way would be found to return.

As the sun set in the far west, light and darkness intertwined in the midst of a yellow sandstorm. Amidst it all, Artoria rode forward on her horse, holding the severed head of a man in her hand.

Throwing the head in front of the gathered crowd, she declared, "This battle... we have won!"

However, there was no one behind her. When she came, people had followed in droves, but as she returned, she was alone.

Despite their victory, there was no sense of happiness among the survivors. Instead, a pervasive sense of desolation enveloped their hearts.

These were heroes who had fought and sacrificed for their cause. Yet, no one remembered their names, their origins, or their stories. Who were they? Where had they come from? Who were their parents? These were all questions left unanswered, lost in the midst of the battlefield.

Shirou looked at his own innate ability, Heroic Mortal, and suddenly understood. He knew their names now. He knew their stories now. They were ordinary heroes, nameless and seemingly insignificant, but true heroes nonetheless.

...

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