Gazing at the three knights materialized before the Queen and feeling the undeniable aura of Servants radiating from them, Chiron's mouth twitched violently.
Are you kidding me? Is this fair?
This fourteen-Servant Great War was already absurd and beyond conventional bounds. First, a Master with combat prowess rivaling a Servant had appeared. Now, the enemy Caster was using a Noble Phantasm to summon an additional three Servants.
Looking at the big picture, the Red Faction essentially had four extra Servants!
But the most crucial detail was the identity of the enemy Caster and the True Names of these three knights: Gawain, Lancelot, and Tristan.
Are these not the Knights of the Round Table from British history?!
Chiron rapidly processed the information. In a flash, he deduced the True Names of the enemy Servants, including Mordred.
Based on the Noble Phantasm's effect of summoning the Knights of the Round Table, only two people in existence could possess such an ability: the radiant Twin Kings of Britain.
One was the founder and First Seat of the Round Table, King Arthur. The other was the one to whom the Knights swore allegiance, the Queen who led Britain to its peak: Morgan.
Knowing King Arthur's fame as the King of Knights, Chiron highly doubted she would be summoned under the Caster class. Therefore, the enemy Caster was undoubtedly the legendary monarch, the Master of Fairies, Morgan le Fay.
As for the Saber of Red who called her "Mother," based on her combat style, she wasn't Gareth or Agravain, but the final member of the Round Table, the Treacherous Knight, Mordred.
Having figured this out, Chiron felt no joy, only a bitter smile.
This intelligence was incredibly valuable. If he could bring it back to the Black Faction, even if they couldn't immediately defeat them, they could implement effective countermeasures and minimize casualties.
But looking at the current situation...
Watching the three Knights of the Round Table advance in an encircling formation, the bitterness in Chiron's eyes almost overflowed.
I have to fight the Knights of the Round Table? Seriously?
As Excalibur Galatine and Arondight slashed toward him, forcing him to raise his bow in defense, Chiron had only one thought in his mind.
I've trained so many heroic disciples. Why wasn't I given a Noble Phantasm to summon them? I wouldn't even ask for much—just let me summon my favorite student, Heracles...
Unfortunately, even if such a possibility existed, it was not something Chiron, summoned as an Archer, possessed. Trapped by Morgan's Bounded Field, Chiron had no choice but to endure a righteous group beatdown from the Knights of the Round Table.
Nearby, Mordred watched in stunned silence as Gawain relentlessly forced Chiron back with a flurry of fiery slashes. She cast a complicated look at Morgan. Seeing her mother's calm and indifferent expression, she swallowed the snarky comments she instinctively wanted to make.
Truthfully, she felt Morgan's Noble Phantasm was absurdly overpowered for any Holy Grail War. As a fellow Knight of the Round Table from Britain, she could feel the massive buffs emanating from Morgan's "Camelot." It felt as though she were standing in Britain, not Romania.
As for the summoned knights, Mordred could distinctly sense that their consciousnesses were genuine. Although they were manifestations of a Noble Phantasm and their strength was incomplete compared to a proper class summoning, under the coverage of "Camelot," that incompleteness was negligible.
Involuntarily, Mordred felt a trace of sympathy for Chiron, the enemy she had been fighting moments ago.
As if noticing her gaze, Morgan looked at Mordred.
"What is the matter, Mordred? Were you not going to save your Master? Why are you still here?"
Hearing that familiar tone, carrying the same indifference and detachment as in the past, Mordred felt a pang of disappointment but also breathed a sigh of relief.
As expected. Even though my goal has always been to gain my mother's acknowledgment, when it actually comes time to talk to her, I still don't know what to say...
Shaking her head in self-mockery, Mordred scratched her head and feigned realization.
"Ah, right! I need to go save that idiot Master of mine! I will leave this to you, Royal Mother. I am heading out!"
Without waiting for Morgan's response, Mordred fled the scene.
Watching her disappear through the golden wall of the Bounded Field, Morgan fell into deep thought.
She remembered what Souya had told her about Mordred not long ago. Even though they had just reunited, he seemed to see right through her, advising her to talk to the child more.
Is this the innate intuition of a father?
Morgan wondered how she should approach Mordred. As a mother, what should she say?
She realized that when it came to handling emotions, she truly was inferior to Artoria. She had seen Mordred acting affectionately with Artoria countless times, but around her, the child was always tense and restrained.
Involuntarily, Morgan felt a surge of frustration.
Right at that moment, Souya's voice rang in her ear.
"What is wrong, Morgan? Did something happen?"
She turned and saw Souya gradually materializing beside her amidst faint golden light and feathers.
This was the magecraft she had recently taught him, perfectly suited for rapid travel and disengaging from combat. Originally, it had strict requirements regarding a magus's elemental affinity. But with Souya's magical energy—which appeared to be Light-attribute but was practically a universal "Miracle"—such difficulties were easily overcome.
"No, it is nothing."
Morgan shook her head lightly. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the pink-haired girl tucked under Souya's arm, and she frowned.
"Who is she?" Morgan asked, displeased.
As Souya's wife, Morgan rejected almost any contact Souya had with other women. Upon their initial reunion, she hadn't shown it too strongly, but after witnessing the village girl's inexplicable emotions toward him, her vigilance had spiked.
"Fundamentally, she is a Servant. But due to the Black Assassin's interference, she currently lacks a Spirit Origin," Souya explained helplessly.
Souya was completely baffled as to why Elizabeth Bathory had been summoned alongside the adult Carmilla. He was in Romania, not Chaldea; he truly didn't know how to explain this anomaly.
After questioning Elizabeth and learning that she also had no idea why she was here and previously possessed almost no consciousness, Souya decided to keep her around for now. Even if she proved useless in combat, keeping her as a mascot wasn't a bad idea. She was, after all, Chaldea's famous comedic relief and the perpetual protagonist of Halloween.
As for why she was unconscious and tucked under his arm, Souya could only say: desperate times call for desperate measures.
"More importantly..." Souya noticed Morgan's dissatisfaction with his explanation and shifted his gaze to the battlefield.
Seeing Gawain, Lancelot, and Tristan, his eyes widened briefly before he realized this was Morgan's Noble Phantasm.
"Morgan, tonight's battle will have to end here," Souya stated.
Morgan froze, instantly deducing the reason. "Because of Ruler?"
"Not entirely," Souya shook his head. "Although Jeanne sensed the battle and is heading this way, since we have no desire for the Holy Grail and do not fear Command Spells, her arrival is an annoyance, nothing more."
"The main issue is that the Black Faction sent more than just Archer. Their Caster is also involved. And that Caster... is very likely an old acquaintance."
Souya glanced at Elizabeth, who was still unconscious with a large lump on her head. "I went to eliminate the Black Assassin, but at the last moment, he rescued her using an illusion."
Hearing the word "illusion," Morgan instantly realized who Souya meant. Her eyes narrowed. "Merlin? Impossible. I am certain that fool is still locked in the Garden of Avalon. He cannot access the Reverse Side of the World."
Souya paused, considering her words. "It is possible Merlin found a way to project a slice of himself through the Throne of Heroes. Or perhaps the Merlin summoned is not the one we know, but from a different worldline."
"...That is not impossible," Morgan admitted after a moment of hesitation. "Regardless, if the enemy is Merlin—whether it is the one we know or not—he will be a difficult opponent."
"Exactly. So let us end tonight's engagement. If my intuition regarding the Black Archer is correct, as a Sage, he will definitely be of help to us later. We should let him go."
Watching Chiron doggedly holding his ground against the combined assault of three Knights of the Round Table, Souya's mouth twitched. He never expected to witness the day the "Three Idiots of the Round Table" ganged up on Teacher Chiron. The Holy Grail War was truly full of surprises.
But as Souya said, whether the enemy Caster was Merlin or something even more insidious, when that schemer inevitably started making trouble later, having the Sage Chiron—possessor of "Wisdom of Divine Gift"—on their side would be highly beneficial.
"Very well. As you wish. Let him go."
Morgan showed no objection. She waved her hand dismissively and commanded Gawain and the others.
"Enough for now, Knights."
To her, whether Chiron lived or died was irrelevant. This entire war held little significance for Morgan. Her sole concern had always been Souya. If he wished it, she could effortlessly secure victory or destruction for any faction.
"Understood, my King."
Hearing Morgan's command, Gawain, Lancelot, and Tristan immediately halted their attacks, leaping backward to create distance from Chiron.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Chiron, pushed to his absolute limit, was completely baffled. When he instinctively looked at Morgan, he received a cold, indifferent reply.
"Rejoice, Archer. Out of my husband's mercy, I permit you to continue existing as a Servant in this war."
"Husband?"
Chiron's mind blanked for a moment. But noticing Souya standing beside Morgan, he instantly understood everything.
He didn't ask further questions. Offering a traditional Greek salute to Souya, Morgan, and the Knights, he dematerialized and vanished from the area.
Facing three elite knights armed with Holy Swords and a Demonic Bow simultaneously had left him in poor condition. He desperately needed to return and heal. Fortunately, the moment Morgan appeared, he had telepathically urged Fiore to retreat with Caules and the Black Faction personnel, so he had no lingering concerns.
Confirming Chiron's presence had completely faded, Gawain and the others breathed a sigh of relief. Their gazes immediately turned to Souya, standing beside Morgan, their eyes filled with complex emotions.
"You are..."
As Souya approached them, Gawain, acting as the leader, hesitated before asking cautiously.
Looking at these friends and comrades from centuries past, Souya smiled softly. He stepped forward and offered Gawain a fist bump.
"It is me, Lamorak. Have a change in hair color and clothes made me unrecognizable, Gawain?"
Hearing that familiar tone and manner of speaking, all of Gawain's doubts vanished. He bumped fists with Souya, then playfully punched him in the chest, laughing.
"I knew you hadn't disappeared! As expected, the Kings' expectations were not in vain!"
Hearing Gawain say "Kings," Souya knew he included Artoria. The smile on his lips deepened.
"I apologize. Due to certain circumstances, I couldn't bid you a proper farewell."
"It doesn't matter! As long as you haven't truly disappeared, that is enough!" Gawain grinned, his eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions. "If only Percival and Gareth knew this... they firmly believed you still existed right up until their deaths. Especially little Gareth..."
Seeing Morgan's expression darken at the mention of other women, Souya quickly covered Gawain's mouth, signaling him to be quiet. He then turned to Lancelot.
Looking at this Knight of the Lake—who appeared older and closer to his Chaldean iteration than the one in his memories—Souya smiled and offered a fist bump.
"Long time no see."
"Long time no see!" Lancelot returned the gesture with a smile. His eyes burned with competitive fire as he added, "When the next opportunity arises, we must spar properly. I will not lose this time!"
"Of course. I will oblige you to the end!" Facing this friend and rival who inherited the title of the strongest Knight of the Round Table after him, Souya returned a determined smile.
"Then, Sir Tristan..."
"Ah, I am so filled with sorrow... it is truly wonderful to see you alive, Sir Lamorak..."
Hearing Tristan's dramatic words, Souya silently withdrew his extended hand.