The red Berserker Spartacus was laughing, laughing like a child.
Note, this is not a grammatical error but a statent of fact. Spartacus's smile was very pure, radiating genuine joy from within, devoid of any adult complexity. Saying he laughed like a child is perfectly accurate—despite this "child" weighing several hundred pounds and his laughter sounding far from pleasant.
"Hahahahahaha!"
Amidst waves of mad laughter, the gladiator, a conglorate of muscle, continuously shook the sky and the earth.
Undoubtedly, it was his laughter that shook the sky, while the earth trembled under his powerful footsteps. Perhaps influenced by legends from his past life, Spartacus had been summoned with two massive lead balls bound to his feet. With each step, the lead balls would be lifted by his powerful calves and then crash heavily to the ground.
The inherent tremor and sound effects not only made him more imposing but also ensured that his every appearance was earth-shattering and impossible to ignore. Naturally, this man, who was determined to overthrow oppressors, never intended to hide.
His life was just like his current stance—identifying the oppressor and charging at them, either to topple them or be toppled.
Charge, charge, charge!
Those who obstructed him were crushed underfoot, slashed by his sword, smashed by his fists, or swept away by the dragged lead balls. Whether they were enemy dragon tooth warriors or allied puppets and homunculi, all who stood in his way were pulverized.
Driven by the instincts of a rebel and an indomitable spirit, he advanced toward those at the pinnacle of power. This unconscious desire led him to the most intense battle on this battlefield.
He slled it, heard it, saw it, felt it.
That was the target he must defeat, the highest authority. It was for this purpose that he endured humiliation and retained a bit of magical power to remain in this world.
However, just as he was about to charge at the target, intending to use his sword, fists, feet, head, and teeth—everything he had to smash that figure...
A force containing imnse, irresistible, and commanding magical power bound his body, interfering with his actions. This was the power of the Command Spell, which held absolute authority over Servants. Even the indomitable gladiator Spartacus found it difficult to resist under this compulsion.
The Command Spell didn't suppress Spartacus's desire to fight; it rely restricted his target, forbidding him from attacking the black faction's Servant. It wasn't that Avicebron didn't want to further restrict Spartacus's target; it was simply that Spartacus's ntal state was too abnormal, and this was the limit of what a single Command Spell could achieve.
Under the restriction of the Command Spell, Spartacus had to abandon his primary and most desired target, the black Berserker Vlad III, who had bestowed upon him imnse humiliation. Instead, he redirected his boundless fury and uncontrollable madness toward the red Lancer Karna, who was currently clashing with Vlad III.
"Death to all oppressors!"
Karna was prepared. After all, Spartacus's presence was so overwhelming that there was no need to look to know what he was doing or what he would do next.
The "Uncrowned Martial Arts" naturally ca into play as Karna sidestepped with a flickering movent, a rare smile appearing on his usually indifferent face.
"I see. I must apologize for misunderstanding your betrayal, Spartacus. It wasn't betrayal; you were simply fulfilling your role as a rebel. That is the entirety of your existence!"
Hearing this assessnt, Spartacus laughed even louder and more joyfully. He continued to charge forward, like a human bomb, but no one dared to ignore the power contained in this bomb.
Karna couldn't, Vlad III couldn't, and even Semiramis, seated high in the sky, couldn't.
"You dare co, mad dog!"
The Assyrian Empress's slender eyes overflowed with a terrifying killing intent. The magic that Shirou had restrained was finally unleashed. Four ancient spells, centered on the apex of the Hanging Gardens, were released in all directions, launching grand magic-level attacks.
The first wave was still a barrage of magical energy, but this ti it wasn't a wide-area attack; it was precise pinpoint shots.
Four finger-thick beams of concentrated magical energy shot out from the four corners of the diamond-shaped magical formation, each targeting one of Spartacus's limbs.
Caught off guard, Spartacus was unsurprisingly pierced by the magical beams and fell to the ground, gasping heavily.
Seeing this, Semiramis nodded in satisfaction. "A mad dog should obediently stay on all fours. Lancer, I'll handle this mad dog. You focus on Vlad III."
The latter part of her statent was amplified by a spell and reached Karna's ears, also causing Vlad III to halt his horse and look up at the Hanging Gardens again.
"Understood."
In the next second, the Immortal blade transford into a golden streak, striking straight at Vlad III.
Vlad III snorted coldly, and a deep, night-like magical power swept across the battlefield. Hundreds of black stakes rose from the ground, forming a black torrent that collided head-on with the golden streak.
"So, how should I deal with you?"
In the garden, Semiramis, having turned off the amplification spell, propped her chin with her hand, looking mockingly at the heavily breathing Spartacus.
"I think you shouldn't underestimate him," Shirou's voice reminded her. "This masochist—no, Spartacus—is not easy to deal with. Be careful not to get caught off guard."
Before Shirou's warning had fully landed, Spartacus's pierced wounds rapidly stopped bleeding, and the color of the wounds deepened, eventually turning into a sickening, overripe persimmon hue.
Amidst this strange transformation, the indomitable gladiator regained his strength and stood up, casually throwing the short sword in his hand.
"Hahahaha! There you are, there you are! You too stand at the pinnacle of power and are an oppressor I must defeat."
"See—"
Shirou spread his hands helplessly. Shakespeare, who had sohow appeared next to him, shrugged and loudly recited,
"—that indomitable heroic figure; hear that heartfelt cry of defiance."
"Silence, both of you!"
The Assyrian Empress glared at the two chatterboxes, and the previously halted magical cannons fired again.
Despite already suffering once, Spartacus still did not defend himself, letting the purple beams of magical energy ravage his body as he continued to roar at the sky.
"Not enough! It's still not enough ahhhhhhhhhhh!"
Faced with such provocation, Semiramis finally showed true anger. The other three magical formations activated.
Among them was a gravity-altering spell that exerted imnse pressure over an area;
A control spell that extended chains from space, precisely binding the enemy;
And a rain of lava, reeking of sulfur, descending continuously.
The Empress who once dominated an era finally revealed her terrifying power as a top-tier Servant.
Terrifying indeed!
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