"Boom!"
Taking Shirou's punch head-on, Achilles roared, "You are
forbidden to fight with Big Sister's body!"
"Eh? Why?"
"Can't you bring yourself to attack her?"
"That's just too laughable!" Wielding his longbow as a staff, Shirou's attacks were relentless. After a flurry of punches and kicks, Achilles was clearly in a poor state, barely able to maintain his defense, with no chance to retaliate. After all, it wasn't just his body that was out of sorts, but his mind as well.
This wasn't because of the appearance Shirou was using; he wasn't so foolish as to be distracted by an enemy's disguised appearance. What truly shook him was the fact that his teacher, Chiron, had beco his opponent. As Shirou had said earlier, Achilles was incredibly cruel to his enemies, but completely unguarded with his allies.
This stemd from his trust in his friends. At this mont, without Chiron's words to steel his resolve, Achilles inevitably fell into turmoil. Therefore, facing Shirou's intense offensive, Achilles imdiately found himself in a crisis.
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"What?!" Even Jeanne, who had gained knowledge of all Servants upon her summoning, was utterly speechless when she saw that sight.
"Hmm? You there, you must be the Ruler!" A clear voice like a cool breeze, and light movents reminiscent of leaves swaying in the wind. A verdant girl landed beside Jeanne, spinning in the air. In her hand was a large bow, completely disproportionate to her stature.
"It's the Red Archer." Jeanne imdiately heightened her vigilance. Having been previously attacked by the Red Faction's Lancer (presumably), vigilance was naturally to be expected. But the Red Archer looked at Ruler with surprise and said, "What, you're the Ruler, right? Can't you even distinguish who you should be wary of now?"
"No, of course I can." Jeanne relaxed her guard slightly.
From the other party's expression, she could tell that the Red Faction's opinions were probably not entirely unified. It seed that at least she and her Master did not consider Ruler an object to be killed. Indeed, the one she should be most wary of now was not her.
"Is it Spartacus, the Black Faction's second Berserker?"
While that was true, Jeanne found it hard to believe. Was this truly a possible phenonon? Jeanne initially thought it was a small hill. Then, the thought "Could it be stacked corpses?" crossed her mind. Finally, she had to reject these ideas and conclude.
"Is it Berserker?"
"Yes, I really didn't expect it to be this bad. The more arrows I shot at him, the stronger he beca, completely losing human form. As expected of a Berserker, I didn't think he would go mad to this extent." Atalanta, the one involved, sighed as if feeling utterly helpless. Before their eyes stood a monster like a small mountain.
If it were just gigantic, Jeanne certainly wouldn't have been speechless. The reason she was too surprised to speak was Spartacus's current state. He had a total of eight arms, three of which had no bones in their joints. They looked like an octopus's tentacles and would likely smash enemies like whips when swung.
His legs, thick as old tree trunks, had countless insect-like appendages. It was probably a way to distribute his weight, as he couldn't support his massive body with just two legs. His head was almost entirely sunken into his neck, while his shoulders protruded with objects resembling a dinosaur's upper and lower jaws.
"Crying Warmonger." Rather than a Noble Phantasm, it was more appropriate to call it a cursed tool! Jeanne thought so. Spartacus was still alive, still moving, and more importantly, he was still seeking battlefields and victory everywhere. He converted a portion of the damage he received into magical energy, continuously accumulating it to enhance his own abilities.
Presumably, this also included healing capabilities. He sustained damage, converted it into magical energy to enhance his own abilities, and simultaneously healed himself. There was absolutely no room for a Master to intervene. The problem was that the cycle operated too quickly. Due to the uncontrolled healing ability, his body deviated from its normal state. Despite this, his physical abilities continuously improved with each injury he sustained, resulting in his body gradually transforming into a monstrous form.
"There it is!" The five eyeballs located on Spartacus's
shoulders, neck, and abdon simultaneously stared at Atalanta and Jeanne. Instantly, the two seed to be flung apart, separating to the left and right. Spartacus paid no heed, unleashing a full-power strike forward. The shattered earth, blasted away, assailed Jeanne and Atalanta like shrapnel.
"Guh, ugh!"
"Ugh!" Stones and rocks grazed the skin of both, and Jeanne even sustained damage to part of her armor. If it weren't for the magical energy accompanying the attack, Servants would never be injured. However, the sword swung by Spartacus was imbued with overflowing magical energy, and even the shattered stones and rocks were contaminated by it. This was the sa principle as a Servant throwing a short sword. However, the phenonon of magical energy affecting stones shattered by a sword strike was an unprecedented experience for Jeanne.
"Hmm, it seems I dragged you into this as well. My apologies, Ruler." Jeanne slowly shook her head at Atalanta's apology. "No, these minor incidents happen often. However, from my position, I cannot be hostile towards him. After all, the current scope only involves this battlefield."
"Mmm. Actually, I have no objection to that, but still!" Atalanta looked at Jeanne with a bitter expression.
Feeling a sudden chill run through her body, Jeanne couldn't help but tighten her expression.
"But what?"
"Due to orders from my Master, I should probably withdraw soon."
"That, could it be?" After sighing, Atalanta patted Jeanne's shoulder as if to comfort her. "I'm truly sorry, I'll leave the rest to you."
"Wait a mont!" "Red Archer Atalanta, one of the heroes renowned for her swift movents in Greek mythology.
Her running speed is sothing even Jeanne would struggle to match. "Ah!" Before Jeanne could speak, her
figure had already vanished into the forest.
Jeanne silently looked up. Before her was a monstrous hero. He held a short sword, which looked like a small needle compared to his body's size, and had locked his target onto Ruler. Yes, Spartacus was a fighter who rebelled against all authority. In that sense, even if the opponent was Ruler, he was no exception.
"I've been played." Jeanne sighed helplessly. "It seems the Red Faction is indeed hiding sothing, they don't want to et soone!"
"This is truly helpless!"
"So what should I do next?" Looking at the monstrous figure before her, Jeanne couldn't help but show a bitter expression.
But at that mont, in the distant sky, outside Semiramis's Hanging Gardens, a fierce blast of light suddenly descended, shooting towards Jeanne's location.
"Caster's attack? Targeting ? No, the target is!"
"Spartacus!"
"Oh no!" Jeanne, realizing what was about to happen, instantly showed a horrified expression. The crisis of death imdiately assailed her.
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