Fate: How About a New Savior?

That night, Scáthach didn't actually do anything—and nothing happened to Shiomi, either.

Regardless of whether there was even time for intimacy with a long, grueling war on the horizon, Scáthach's concern lay elsewhere. What she truly cared about was whether Shiomi's heart could endure the sight of a battlefield drenched in blood and corpses.

Their enemy was an army of Celtic warriors devoid of self-will. Even with Edison's mechanical soldiers as the main force, facing off against such foes would turn the frontline into a literal meat grinder. Only by pouring in constant reinforcements could they hope to push the line forward.

"Northern Army: Edison, Helena, Florence Nightingale, Elizabeth, Nero, Karna. Central Army: Rama, Li Shuwen, Tesla, Billy the Kid, Robin Hood. Southern Army: Scáthach…"

As they rode, Scáthach sat behind Shiomi on horseback, glancing over the troop assignment one last time.

Caren would accompany the Northern Army. Rama would lead the Central Army on his own. And the Southern Army would be led by Shiomi and his Master together.

"So all the fighting strength except me has been sent to the Northern Army?" she remarked. "Aren't you being a bit too protective of Caren?"

"Caren's not like me. She won't survive a fatal blow." Shiomi patted the steed beneath him. "That's why we're concentrating our strength up there."

Starting from Dallas, the army advanced to Montgomery—already within striking distance of Washington—then split into northern and southern divisions, preparing to push toward the capital along two separate routes.

Though the Holy Grail was still producing Celtic warriors, no reinforcements had arrived overnight. That could only mean one thing: the Mad King's injuries hadn't healed yet, and most of the Grail's power had been diverted to his recovery.

"Still, we can't rule out the possibility it's a feint," Scáthach cautioned.

"I don't think Medb, who's obsessed with romance, could pull off a strategy like that," Shiomi replied. "If anything, I'd say it sounds more like Fionn's kind of move."

He tugged the reins sharply, urging the horse into a faster pace to avoid being overtaken by the advancing mechanical army behind them.

Since their forces were led by mechanical units, only he and Caren were assigned horses. The other Servants could spiritform during the march to conserve energy.

"But would Medb even give Fionn that kind of say?" Shiomi asked. "Would she—or the Mad King—actually listen to him?"

"Never underestimate your enemy," Scáthach said, smirking as she gave Shiomi a light swat on the head.

"I've thought about all this," Shiomi nodded. "That's why we split our forces. Without enough manpower, they can't block both the northern and southern fronts at once. If I weren't confident in our chances, I would've opposed this whole plan and looked for another opportunity to strike their headquarters, like we did before."

Morgan had echoed a similar stance: "Victors win first, then fight. Losers fight first, then seek victory. The power gap between us and the enemy is precisely what gives us our chance. Besides, once they learn of my husband's location, will they see the southern army—with so few Servants—as the main force or simply bait to draw them out?"

More importantly, once Diarmuid learned that Shiomi was part of the southern army, he likely wouldn't sit still—he'd come out to face them himself.

"So," Scáthach mused, gazing across the open wilderness toward the hills and stones on the far horizon, "will our thinly staffed southern wing run into the main Celtic force… or will they simply ignore us altogether?"

She had barely finished the sentence when an arrow, brimming with killing intent, tore through the air, heading straight for the two riders.

Scáthach's relaxed expression vanished in an instant. Her face sharpened with focus as she disappeared from the saddle and dashed forward to intercept the magical assault.

"Well, well. I didn't expect to run into the Queen of the Land of Shadows herself. Guess my water magecraft won't be much use now."

Fionn and Diarmuid stepped out of spirit form.

Their attempt to gain the upper hand with water-based magecraft had failed entirely.

"Master!"

Shiomi suddenly urged his horse into a fresh burst of speed, casting Reinforcement Magecraft over its entire body. The spell dulled its sense of fear and pushed its limits.

Within seconds, the warhorse broke the sound barrier, closing several hundred meters in the blink of an eye.

Scáthach immediately understood the meaning behind Shiomi's call—it was a signal. She leapt deftly to the side, holding down her wind-tossed hair as she watched the horse charge straight at the two newly appeared Servants.

Caught off guard, the pair were forced to break formation. Though uninjured, the impact left them stunned and rattled.

Diarmuid rolled across the field before springing to his feet. Raising his twin spears, he looked at Shiomi with gleaming eyes and admiration.

"I never expected your horsemanship to be so refined. What a shame—I couldn't bring my own steed to the battlefield. A mounted duel would've been ideal."

"Diarmuid," Fionn called out, "I recall you once said you lost to that man. Shall we trade opponents?"

"No need, my lord," Diarmuid replied, rising with resolve.

This time, he was determined to face Shiomi from beginning to end.

Realizing his horse would no longer be useful in the fight ahead, Shiomi leapt down and sent it galloping away from the front line.

"Very well, then I'll take Scáthach," Fionn said, twirling his spear. "In the end, we're merely commanders of the Celtic army."

As he spoke, a formation of Celtic warriors began advancing from the slopes of the rolling hills. Among them marched various beasts and monsters, with wyverns circling ominously overhead.

They didn't outnumber the enemy—but the surreal, fantastical makeup of the army was enough to exert heavy psychological pressure.

The only silver lining was that every soldier operating the mechanical units and all the infantry marching behind them had come to this battlefield by their own will.

"It's been twenty years since our last fight," Shiomi said, locking eyes with Diarmuid.

Diarmuid let out a clear laugh. "You look exactly like the man I saw in the records. But tell me—have you grown weaker in those twenty years?"

"Weaker?" Shiomi smiled, shaking his head slightly. "Did you really think I was going all out back then, Diarmuid?"

The tone was casual—like chatting with an old friend—but something felt off to Diarmuid.

Before the Masters from Chaldea had arrived, he and Fionn had already crossed spears with Scáthach. That queen… also wielded twin spears.

"Don't tell me—"

Even as Diarmuid muttered in shock, Shiomi raised both arms, revealing a pair of twin spears that he began to spin into position, smoothly shifting into a combat stance.

It wasn't some spur-of-the-moment trick—Diarmuid could tell at a glance.

A surge of fierce energy erupted from him like a crashing tide.

"Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, of the Knights of Fianna—reporting!"

...

(100 Chapters Ahead)

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