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"We have already encircled Ravenna, and we anticipate the city's surrender within a few days, without the need for any confrontation!"

"Absolutely! This success is a direct result of King Arthur's astute leadership."

"Indeed, his wisdom has played a pivotal role."

The army has swiftly reached the outskirts of the city, forming a tight perimeter around Ravenna.

The neighboring kings, who hold strategic positions in relation to the Camelot, are lavishing praise upon King Arthur. Some have even covertly reached out to him, expressing their eagerness to collaborate with Camelot in both defensive and offensive maneuvers.

A nation's lack of diplomacy renders it weak, as the strength of a king is intrinsically tied to the overall power of the nation. The formidable 100,000-strong army of Camelot has struck fear into the hearts of these kings.

With the exception of rulers like Attila, who thrive on chaos and annihilation, most kings have displayed a profound respect for Camelot.

Leading the crowd, Shirou strolled deliberately towards the front line, his eyes fixed upon Ravenna's formidable walls looming in the distance.

The ghouls that once plagued the outskirts of the city have been largely exterminated, while all communication channels have been severed, rendering the city an isolated bastion amidst the desolation.

Currently, numerous factions have begun contemplating the division of war spoils. Their foremost concern is to retain the territories they have already conquered, and quite a few are even coveting lands belonging to others.

However, these factions dare not entertain any crooked thoughts about the lands that Camelot has set its sights on.

This army struck terror into the hearts of all who encountered them, particularly the royal's army of three thousand soldiers under Shirou's command. They represented the epitome of excellence, having survived the grueling initial battle in Cornwall.

Every single soldier was equipped with formidable weapons like Gae Bolg, Holy Swords, and possessed innate skills. Their mastery of combat techniques had been honed through years of warfare, making them capable of commanding entire kingdoms as esteemed generals. The fact that there were three thousand individuals of such exceptional caliber, armed and united, ready for battle, was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

In the presence of these extraordinary heroes, it was impossible not to be overwhelmed by a mix of fear and admiration.

Ravenna stood as a mere flickering firework, destined to fade away before long. The emperors who once laid the foundations of the mighty Roman Empire could hardly have foreseen such a bleak future for their descendants.

The ebb and flow of dynasties, the perpetual march of progress—everything is in constant motion and subject to change. Only the fittest survive, while the unfit meet their demise.

In this ever-shifting reality, the true essence of kingship lies in remaining steadfast and adaptable. Embracing the winds of change and navigating the currents of transformation is the path that befits a true ruler.

The army resembled a relentless swarm of ants, encircling the isolated city in a vast sea of people. Despite this overwhelming force, the fortress's formidable walls stood as a formidable obstacle, impervious to easy conquest. 

Shirou calmly awaited any updates from Altrouge. However, even before receiving any word from her, his attention was captured by two figures standing atop the city walls. 

"Who are they?" one of the soldiers asked.

Arcueid couldn't suppress a shiver that ran through her body involuntarily.

Noticing her reaction, Shirou turned to her and asked, "What's wrong, Arcueid?"

"I... I don't know. As soon as I saw them, my body trembled instinctively," she replied timidly, fear evident in her eyes.

Beside her, the True Ancestor spoke solemnly, "O, great King among men, behold the Crimson Moon!"

Understanding the gravity of the situation, Shirou issued a command, "I see... Inform the army to fall back several miles! What lies ahead is not merely a war, but a true battle!"

The world existed in a constant state of flux, where absolute individuals were nonexistent, and only relative individuals prevailed. Among these armies, the Crimson Moon stood as an entity that closely resembled an absolute individual—a force beyond comparison. Similar to confronting Gods and Bodhisattvas who governed vast galaxies, they became the embodiment of absolute power.

If Shirou lacked effective means to counteract this force, he would never willingly choose to face the Crimson Moon. It was precisely because he possessed a strategy, a means to confront and challenge the Crimson Moon, that he decided to take a daring gamble.

The war had already concluded, and what lay ahead was a battle—a clash between formidable individuals, each wielding immense power.

"What is that?"

"Who is that?"

"Could it be a surrender?"

As Shirou tactfully retreated, he skillfully preserved his forces, aware of the importance of strategic preservation. Meanwhile, the other kings pressed forward, their ambitions fueled by the desire to devour more benefits.

Shirou's advantage lay in his possession of crucial information, which granted him the ability to control the situation at hand. In contrast, the other kings, lacking such insights, fell prey to deceptive appearances.

Nevertheless, he made a deliberate decision not to warn them. By allowing neighboring countries to weaken, he understood that his own dynasty could secure its safety and stability.

Crimson Moon stood tall upon the city wall, his indifferent gaze sweeping over the army below, resembling a swarm of ants.

"So, Trhvmn, is this what you fear?"

"Your majesty, the tide has turned. It would be wise to consider a retreat for now. With your endless life, there is no need to be obstinate about this."

"You fail to grasp the true essence of my existence. I am the Crimson Moon," he declared.

The sky, drenched in a haunting shade of blood-red, cast an eerie ambiance as it stretched overhead, engulfing the earth in its crimson embrace.

Against the backdrop of the city wall, the Crimson Moon began its gradual ascent, creeping higher into the sky, accompanied by the haunting presence of the Blood Moon.

His eyes, crimson and devoid of warmth, fixed upon the world below.

"He's taking to the skies!"

"Is that the magus from the Western Empire?"

"What does he intend to do?"

"Anyone who dares confront my army shall meet their demise beneath the weight of my relentless iron hooves!"

"This city shall be mine for the taking!"

The kings roared with fervor, their voices echoing through the ranks, instilling a fierce determination within their troops to unleash an onslaught upon Ravenna. The allure of wealth and land possesses a profound ability to stir the hearts of men, particularly when they lie tantalizingly within grasp.

Meanwhile, the generals of the formidable Hunnic Empire were also poised for attack, but Attila stopped them.

"What seems to be the matter, Your Majesty?" the generals inquired, their brows furrowed in confusion. Knowing their king's fiery temperament, they had expected her to charge ahead fearlessly. However, the current situation demanded urgency, as delaying their departure could allow another force to seize the city—an event that would require tremendous effort to reclaim later.

Wearing an expression devoid of emotion, Attila delivered her command, "Depart swiftly. Failure to do so will render our retreat impossible."

"Is it possible that the Western Empire has set up an ambush?" one general asked.

"No," Attila replied, shaking her head, her gaze fixed upon the slowly retreating Camelot army.

The generals shared meaningful glances among themselves. They owed their remarkable military successes to Attila, so they refrained from probing further. Instead, they dutifully followed Attila's instructions, orchestrating a deliberate and gradual retreat of their respective armies.