C237

It goes without saying that no one there could match Vortigern's power individually. Even Scathach would have struggled to defeat Vortigern in his dragon form without a divine weapon to aid her.

Arcueid, who possessed the strongest individual strength on Shirou's team, faced her own challenges due to the weakness of her body. Her immortality was greatly diminished, forcing her to take a supporting role on the battlefield. She used Marble Phantasm to materialize beasts and provide assistance across the wide expanse of the battle.

In his fully transformed state as a white dragon, Vortigern displayed incredible resistance, healing abilities, and even immortality. Earlier, Shirou and his team had managed to destroy Vortigern's wings with a barrage of attacks, but they regenerated in no time.

Despite their best efforts, Shirou's team was unable to counter Vortigern's formidable maneuverability and the devastating power of the Horn Rhongomyniad. As the battle wore on, however, it became clear that the power of the Rhongomyniad was diminishing rapidly, visible even to the naked eye.

Undoubtedly, Gawain and others' frenzied aggression caused Vortigern to occupy less land, resulting in a gradual decrease in the power of the Rhongomyniad.

Nevertheless, Rhongomyniad remained a formidable weapon on the battlefield.

The white dragon soared through the sky, asserting its dominance over the battlefield and treating Rhongomyniad as nothing more than a projectile. It transformed into a bomber and unleashed a barrage of carpet bombing, inflicting heavy damage upon soldiers, stone giants, and even Dead Apostles.

Fortunately, Shirou had called in the reserve troops ahead of time and the battle was fought in a mountainous area with gullies, providing natural cover. Although the northern defensive line had been hit hard by the Evil Eye blast, the soldiers were able to use the environment and their own strength to mount a strong defense.

However, as the battle raged on, it became clear that the strongest defense was no longer the stone fortifications or natural barriers. It was the people themselves, who bravely shielded themselves with their own flesh and blood to protect their homeland.

It filled him with sadness.

Had there been enough time for proper development and planning, even the interference of Balor's Evil Eye might not have plunged the war into such a difficult situation. But the reality was far from ideal.

Shirou knew this all too well, having learned the hard way during the Fourth Holy Grail War. In times of conflict, time and resources were always limited, and unexpected problems could arise at any moment.

In the face of such adversity, he knew that the only option was to fight on with every ounce of strength he possessed. He had to either push himself to the very limit and cross the finish line, or perish on the grueling road of struggle.

Giving up was simply not an option, for to stop moving forward would mean certain death. Despite the sadness and fear that threatened to overwhelm him, Shirou refused to let them consume him. He would keep fighting, no matter the cost. It was simply not in his nature to back down or give up.

The epic battle raged on for three days and three nights, leaving everyone stunned by the outcome. Even Shirou, who had fought valiantly alongside his people, was taken aback by the astonishing outcome.

Despite lacking walls, defensive lines, or high-end forces, they managed to hold off the army of magical beasts for an astonishing three days. The white dragon's bombardment and the relentless roar of the beasts made the task all the more daunting, but they persevered.

Their unwavering determination paid off as Shirou's troops held their ground without yielding an inch.

However, he understood that their success was only temporary. With the white dragon reigning supreme in the skies and Rhongomyniad in its grasp, defeat seemed inevitable.

To reverse their fortunes, they needed to dethrone the white dragon from its position of power. Killing the dragon was out of the question; it was an insurmountable task. Instead, they had to find a way to cripple its air superiority or, better yet, claim Rhongomyniad.

But the question remained, how could they achieve this goal?

Shirou was stumped, unsure of how to proceed. All he could do was persist and endure through the harrowing days ahead.

The skies were a barrage of unrelenting artillery fire, and the earth was scorched by the unending flames of war. It seemed as if there was no end in sight.

The white dragon danced in the sky, and its terrifying white light swept across the battlefield.

No one was able to put a stop to the onslaught, and Alaya seemed to be aware of this fact.

She appeared to sense the king's predicament and offered a solution. "Do you need magical energy? If so, I can provide it to you. However, I will require your life after death in exchange."

The king was hesitant. He knew that only an endless supply of magical energy could rival the gods' power and turn the tide of the battle. Alaya seemed to have sensed this, as she offered a contract to the king.

Despite the tempting offer, the king hesitated.

As the king's mind raced, the faces of his people flashed before him. He hesitated for a moment, but then slowly reached out his hand, his fingers trembling slightly as he tried to touch this seemingly miraculous yet malevolent presence.

However--

The souls of the fallen on the battlefield emitted a radiant light, and the indomitable spirits that had passed away were transformed into a crystallized prayer for glory.

"What is that?" someone asked, as all eyes turned towards the radiant light.

"It's our fallen comrades, our brothers and sisters," someone replied, their voice tinged with sadness.

As the light grew brighter, a dying person smiled and spoke softly, "I will join that light, standing guard over those I love and the friends I leave behind." With those words, they closed their eyes, and their body emitted a brilliant glow that illuminated the battlefield.

The light of humanity converged and coalesced into a dazzling sword that shone brighter than the darkest night, illuminating everything in its path.

Wielding this sword of unbreakable will, the ultimate embodiment of fantasy, the Sword of Victory, soared high above, announcing its triumph with a thunderous roar as it charged towards Rhongomyniad.

Amidst the raging storm and booming thunder, Rhongomyniad unleashed the power of the gods, while the Holy Sword shone brilliantly, proclaiming the light of humanity. As they clashed in mid-air, the entire space seemed to still for a moment, until a deafening roar erupted, shaking the very foundations of the battlefield.

"Boom boom boom boom boom--"

The violent wind swept across the area, lifting trees up tens of meters into the air, as if caught in a tempest. Despite the fierce struggle, the power of the gods ultimately prevailed, bringing an end to the chaotic clash.

The Holy Sword's radiance was overpowered by the raging storm and thunder, which sliced through mountains as if they were mere paper. However, there was no denying that this side had gained a weapon of equal power and prestige to its adversary.

The king abruptly stopped his outstretched hand.

"Do you need magical energy?" Alaya persisted.

"I don't need anything from you, you lying snake!"

With those words, Alaya vanished into thin air.

Devoid of status, personality, and emotion, she was a mere machine designed to contain essential entities. Once a contract was signed, the entity would become her property. Unfortunately for her, the king declined her offer.

"My king!" Artoria cried out, her hands tightly gripping Avalon and Excalibur as she rushed to his side. She couldn't help but feel concerned upon seeing him looking so disheveled.

As the king's gaze fell upon the Sword of Promised Victory, his expression became complicated. "So you've finally obtained this sword."

Artoria felt a pang of unease at the king's words. He didn't ask how she had obtained the sword, as if he had known all along that she would obtain it. But at the same time, she sensed a hint of sadness in his voice, as if he had secretly hoped that she wouldn't.