Fate: How About a New Savior?

Fionn mac Cumhaill, loyal knight of the High King of Erin, slayer of evil gods, and protector of the people from invaders and monsters, had long stood as a shield for his homeland.

His legendary feats made him worthy of the title Knight Commander, even among the storied Knights of Fionn.

Though wise and deeply respected by his fellow knights, the radiance of his glory had been dimmed by time.

Even the greatest heroes, as the years pass, find themselves burdened with more to protect.

Power. Justice. The people...

The more one wishes to safeguard, the more clouded the eyes become.

And so, men gradually lose their freedom.

In the end, Fionn never let go of what he sought to protect. No matter how bitter the burden, he remained at his post as Erin's unwavering guardian.

Ironically, it was that very persistence that led to the knight order's collapse.

To Diarmuid, Fionn would always be the lord he respected and remained loyal to. Even if his own fate ended in tragedy, he never once regretted the path he chose.

There was no hatred, so Diarmuid held love for Gráinne.

There was no resentment—so he understood Fionn's anger.

But if there were ever a second chance—if he could once again take up a spear as a knight, relive life anew, and fight with his former lord by his side...

...

Four streaks of crimson light—the twin spears of master and disciple—wove together into a net descending upon Fionn and Diarmuid.

He had heard the reports: Shiomi and Scáthach had infiltrated Washington together. Even ambushed by Arjuna, they managed to gravely wound the Mad King and escape intact.

Now, Shiomi was back on the battlefield, while the Mad King still lay in recovery, tended by the Holy Grail.

What sort of opponent was this?

Diarmuid, a veteran of countless wars, knew full well—what bound this master and disciple was not some fleeting romance. And it was precisely that bond which made their assault as relentless as the tide, leaving him and Fionn with no choice but to defend, never finding an opening to strike back.

Still, a predicament is only a predicament.

That was true for Diarmuid.

It was just as true for Fionn.

What mattered more—on this perilous battlefield, he once again stood beside a comrade of the past.

Scáthach knocked aside Diarmuid's longsword. She didn't need so much as a glance—Shiomi's spear was already surging forward, a serpent's deadly tongue slithering through the chaos, aiming straight for the radiant knight's throat.

Missed!

Diarmuid's heart lurched in shock.

But Fionn's spear intervened just in time. He parried Shiomi's killing strike—at the cost of taking a hit from Scáthach's spear himself.

Both sides broke apart once more.

"Did you notice?" Scáthach asked quietly.

"Yeah... Their coordination is actually getting better." Shiomi gave his crimson spear a shake.

He had thought that, after being given a second life, this master and servant—who had once been torn apart by betrayal—would still carry a rift between them. But clearly, he'd miscalculated. It was precisely because they now shared the same wish that they could move forward in unison, stronger than before.

"I am deeply grateful, my lord," Diarmuid said, guilt in his eyes as he looked at Fionn's wounded arm.

Fionn waved it off, raising his injured arm with a calm gesture. "Dragging this out with close combat won't do us any good. It's time to unleash our Noble Phantasms."

"Yes!" Diarmuid responded with a nod.

"Once I activate mine, I'll be immobilized. That master and disciple won't let such a chance slip by," Fionn said.

"I understand! Even if it costs me my life, I'll stop them!" Diarmuid replied firmly.

Fionn gave a satisfied smile as mana surged through his body.

"It's a Noble Phantasm. Even if we hurl our spears now, Diarmuid will block it with everything he has. Use Rune Magecraft to defend," Scáthach instructed, beginning her spellcasting.

Behind them were their allied forces. If they chose to dodge the Noble Phantasm here, it would surely sweep through the mechanical soldiers and infantry behind them—ripping open the southern front.

"Defend? No—we counter!" Shiomi stowed his crimson spear and pulled out his staff.

Scáthach glanced at the wand again, but held back her questions.

A wand crafted from a piece of the World Tree... just how had her beloved disciple acquired such a thing?

Yet what surprised her even more came next.

Mana surged around Shiomi, rising to a level that matched Fionn's—a sight that even startled Fionn himself. But the moment had come. He stepped forward and released the magical energy stored within his spear.

"This single blow has slain even fallen Divine Spirits! Taste its wrath!… Mac an Luin!"

"This is my ideal, my hope, my path—fate as both man and not-man—'Roadless Camelot: Reaching the Ultimate Utopia'!"

Fionn's Noble Phantasm, infused with the divine authority of Nuada, god of flowing water, transformed into a surging torrent across the battlefield, clashing head-on with the bombardment released from Shiomi's staff.

A Noble Phantasm?

Fionn and Diarmuid both looked astonished.

But Scáthach understood—this wasn't a true Noble Phantasm. It was a conceptual one. By using Primordial Runes to reach into humanity's deepest ideal, it merely received a name akin to a Noble Phantasm.

A Noble Phantasm—the embodiment of mankind's most exalted fantasies.

And so, with the two overwhelming forces locked in stalemate, both Scáthach and Diarmuid reached the same conclusion through instinct alone.

They had to strike now, while the other two were locked in place.

"This is the moment that decides life and death—!"

Diarmuid soared into the air and unleashed the magic sword in his hand.

Among all his armaments, this was the most fearsome—guaranteed to kill in a single strike and secure victory from the first blow.

To draw this sword meant triumph for him—and defeat and death for his enemy.

A Noble Phantasm that could be said to command fate itself.

But his wasn't the only one capable of such power.

"This spear is an embodiment of who I am. And I am the epitome of the spear. Gáe Bolg Alternative!!"

"—Moralltach!"

Scáthach's twin spears met Diarmuid's Noble Phantasm head-on.

When weapons share the power to alter fate, all that remains is the strength of their wielders.

He would win—or he would die.

Diarmuid felt no fear. But as his sword descended toward Scáthach's face—it stopped. Not an inch further.

He had been pinned mid-air by the first spear.

Then, Diarmuid remembered a tale he had heard since childhood—of the Child of Light, and the deadly techniques wielded by the Queen of the Land of Shadows.

"Incredible…"

Their paths crossed—Scáthach passed him, and blood burst from Diarmuid's body.

At the same time, the clash of the two Noble Phantasms below reached its climax. Diarmuid crashed to the ground, rolled twice, and tried to rise on his sword—but could only drop to one knee.

Scáthach landed softly behind him, while Shiomi charged forward past them both.

Unlike Fionn, he still had enough strength left after unleashing an attack on par with a Noble Phantasm.

Seeing the results of their all-out clash, Fionn felt no anger. As the crimson spear came for his heart, his face lit up with a smile—pure joy from a battle fought to the fullest.