D' Ultimate Lich King

"Wh-what's with this number?!"

Waver, watching the circle of Assassins closing in, let out a near-scream of disbelief; the sheer number felt like cheating.

"We are a Servant whose whole is greater than the sum of its parts; each individual is merely a shadow of the whole," the Assassins said in chilling unison, advancing.

Trying to win through sheer numbers? Who do they think they're facing?

Saber looked at the approaching Assassins with disdain. Their numbers weren't intimidating; they were a threat only to ordinary people—Rider's Master and Arthas's wife.

But Arthas seemed prepared, and Rider wasn't a pushover; these Assassins wouldn't gain much.

What was their objective? This suicidal attack against four powerful Servants—who gave these Assassins such confidence?

The Assassins lacked such confidence; summoned for the Grail, they naturally desired victory.

This reckless, suicidal charge violated Assassin doctrine, but unfortunately, they couldn't disobey the Command Seal.

Kotomine Kirei had used a Command Seal, ordering them to "win at all costs." A Command Seal is absolute; they had no choice but to obey.

They were pleased to see the supposedly strongest Servant, Saber, so cautious, but she wasn't their target. The designated target was Rider's Master.

While Rider possessed powerful Noble Phantasms, their destructive power was directional; a multi-directional assault would surely reach the cowardly, short Master.

This was a critical moment for Iskandar.

But… why was this giant Servant still calmly drinking?

"…Ri…Rider, hey, hey…"

Even Waver's anxious calls didn't faze Rider. He looked at the surrounding Assassins, his expression unchanged.

"Hey, kid, don't be so panicked. Guests have arrived at the feast; the wine keeps flowing."

"They don't look like guests!?"

Rider sighed, then, with a simple expression, addressed the surrounding Assassins.

"Could you tone down the malice? My friend is scared."

Saber thought she'd misheard; even Archer frowned.

"You're inviting them to join the feast, King of Conquerors?"

"Of course. A King's words should be heard by all; whether enemy or friend, it doesn't matter."

Rider said calmly, scooping wine and offering it to the Assassins.

"Help yourselves. This wine is one with your blood."

Pshhh… A piercing sound cut through the air.

Rider held only the ladle handle; the bowl lay on the ground. One Assassin had done this; the wine spilled across the courtyard.

"…."

Rider looked down at the spilled wine. The skeletal masks seemed to mock him with their laughter.

"They really are unwelcome guests…" Rider sighed silently, his calm tone a stark contrast to his earlier self. Everyone noticed the change. "I said this wine is one with your blood; since you want it spilled, then…"

Before he finished, a scorching windstorm erupted, threatening to consume everything. This wasn't the wind of a forest or castle courtyard—it was a desert wind, roaring in their ears.

Waver spat out sand; it was real sand, brought by the wind—impossible in this place.

"Saber, and everyone else… at the end of tonight's feast, I ask you, Kings… are you solitary?" Clad in battle attire, his wide cape billowing behind him, Rider, mounted on his warhorse, addressed the others.

"Kings… are solitary." Saber answered instantly.

"Tch…" Archer merely scoffed, seemingly mocking the question's foolishness.

Flandre remained silent; the question was meaningless to her. Bloodkin are bound by blood; the Scarlet sisters didn't need to display royal aloofness. Their subordinates' loyalty was absolute.

Rider laughed heartily. The whirlwind intensified.

"No answers! Let me show you true kingship!"

The strange phenomenon engulfed the world; distance and position lost meaning. The hot, sandy wind transformed everything.

"Wh-what's happening…"

Waver and Illya cried out in surprise; the scene was astonishing.

"It's—a Bounded Field?!"

A scorching sun, a clear sky, a sandy horizon. Nothing obstructed the view.

Einzbern's night had transformed; it was clearly an illusion warping reality—the pinnacle of miracle-level magic.

"A Bounded Field?"

Even Arthas was awestruck; he understood what this meant.

A Bounded Field—the pinnacle of magecraft, the ultimate magic that distorts reality.

"This isn't something I could create alone."

Rider laughed heartily.

"This is the land my army crossed. My loyal warriors imprinted this scene on their hearts."

"Behold, my invincible army!"

Proud and confident, the King of Conquerors stood before his cavalry, arms raised.

"Even in death, their spirits are summoned; they are my loyal warriors of legend. Friends who answer my call across time.

They are my treasure! My path! Iskandar's strongest Noble Phantasm, Ionioi Hetairoi: 'Army of the King'!!"

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