"Who's there?!"
Bulat swiftly leaped back onto his feet, gripping the crimson spear tightly. Everything had happened too quickly, faster than his mind could keep pace.
It wasn't that Bulat couldn't react to the attack, but in that critical instant, all of his attention had been solely focused on dealing with Liver's devastating water assault.
He'd had no time to anticipate such a sudden ambush.
Yet Bulat refused to believe Tatsumi would be defeated by that flute-wielding Teigu user.
He had faith in Tatsumi's strength—though the boy might not match a seasoned Teigu wielder, he certainly had the ability to hold his own. At the very least, defeat couldn't have come so swiftly.
And Bulat knew all too well what defeat at the Empire's hands meant.
His gaze anxiously shifted toward the other side of the battlefield.
No clash of swords, no cries of battle—apart from the shock of his own collision with the deck earlier, all Bulat could hear was the quiet whisper of the wind.
Following his gaze, he saw Tatsumi and Nyau lying motionless not far away, apparently unconscious.
"Tatsumi!"
Bulat surged forward with explosive strength, racing toward Tatsumi's fallen body with desperate speed.
He refused to let anything happen to his junior comrade.
In his rush, he didn't even consider where Liver, his previous opponent, had disappeared to.
Shing—!
A sharp, piercing sound of a sword leaving its sheath reached Bulat's ears.
He instinctively turned, pupils shrinking in shock.
Standing there was a red-haired youth gripping a silver katana.
"[Sword Breathing—Wind Form, Claws—]."
A streak of silver flashed out, tearing through the air with unstoppable momentum, aiming straight for Bulat.
Clang—!
Bulat barely managed to raise his spear in time, desperately blocking the strike.
"[—Purifying Wind]!"
His crimson spear suddenly flew from his grasp, spinning through the air like a fiery comet before embedding itself into the deck with terrifying force.
From the very beginning, Shirou's target had been Bulat's weapon.
But chaos erupted again!
"Die—!!"
Liver's enraged voice echoed fiercely as three spiraling water streams surged from behind Bulat, roaring like shooting stars and sealing off every possible escape.
Disarmed, Bulat had no means to defend himself.
Facing this coordinated attack, despair flooded his heart.
Yet the young man in front of him suddenly exhaled a breath of icy mist, instantly conjuring three European swords out of thin air.
"[Ice Breathing—First Form, Piercing Frost]!"
Standing protectively before Bulat, Shirou seized the swords and launched them like lightning, the blades spiraling in midair before colliding violently with Liver's attack.
Splaaash—!
Liver's concentrated streams collided with Shirou's blades like steel on steel, erupting into massive sprays of water.
"It's not over yet—!"
Liver had no idea why Shirou had suddenly blocked his strike after disarming Bulat, but he knew this was a fleeting chance. If he couldn't capitalize on Bulat's disarmed state, he'd never have another opportunity.
A sickening sweetness rose in Liver's throat. Drawing power from his Teigu meant enduring immense strain—this backlash was unavoidable for every Teigu user, and the reason why one could never wield two simultaneously.
Bulat, however, hadn't wasted that brief opening. He exploded forward, sprinting desperately toward his fallen weapon.
He didn't fully grasp what was happening anymore. All he knew was that without his weapon, he was defenseless.
Eyes now flooded crimson with blood, Liver roared furiously as he summoned all the scattered water around him once more.
The water rapidly coalesced in front of Liver, forming a massive, crystalline blade.
But Liver didn't direct it toward Bulat or Shirou.
Instead, he launched the translucent blade straight into the sky.
Cough—!
Blood splattered from Liver's lips. He could no longer suppress the hemorrhaging in his throat.
"You'll die if you keep this up!"
Shirou could clearly see Liver's state; he no longer had the strength to wield his Teigu without killing himself.
"For… Lady Esdeath!!"
Liver suddenly jabbed a syringe into his own neck.
Shirou had no time to stop such a reckless act.
He instinctively realized it was some kind of stimulant or performance enhancer.
"Rise higher—!!" Liver bellowed at the sky.
Pop—! Pop—!
A series of sickening bursts echoed in Shirou's ears.
Liver's body became drenched in blood pouring from his ears, eyes, nose, and mouth.
Yet even while bleeding profusely, Liver kept pushing his power to its absolute limits.
Whoosh—!
The crimson spear was somehow already back in Bulat's hand. Without hesitation, he summoned an immense gust of wind, tightly wrapping it around his spear.
With a fierce cry, Bulat hurled it directly toward Liver's heart.
As the spear left his hand, Bulat's armor shattered from unbearable strain, and he collapsed helplessly onto the deck.
He'd poured every last ounce of his remaining strength into that strike.
Though uncertain of Liver's exact intentions, a dark premonition compelled him: If he didn't stop this now, something terrible would occur.
Swish—!
The spear screamed through the air, a brilliant streak of red tearing space apart. The sheer power of the throw shredded the wooden deck below, hurling shattered planks skyward.
In a blink, the terrifyingly powerful spear appeared behind Liver, the oppressive airflow squeezing the very space around them.
Bulat didn't merely intend to finish off Liver—he'd also resolved to eliminate Shirou, whose intentions remained unclear.
Shirou was with Liver, and Bulat couldn't gamble with Tatsumi's life. He couldn't trust that Shirou would spare them. Such a critical decision couldn't be left to a stranger from the enemy camp.