Fate: How About a New Savior?

The idea of creating simple battle familiars from hair was inspired by the homunculi of the Einzbern family.

As a means to probe Tristan's traps, they were the ideal weapon.

"What are you spacing out for, my husband? Time waits for no one. The Lion King could activate the Holy Lance and summon the Tower at the End at any moment." Morgan extended a finger, pointing toward Tristan in the distance. "Get going."

At her command, the familiars—woven from strands of her hair—launched their assault on Tristan.

Goshawks, owls, falcons—these hair-crafted creatures dove with sharp talons or fired magical projectiles. Their sleek, agile forms wove through the web of threads Tristan had laid across the area, slicing through them with a series of sharp, snapping sounds.

Tristan frowned deeply, fingers moving swiftly across his bow. Each note that rang out transformed into invisible arrows, intercepting the oncoming attacks.

Explosions erupted one after another, sending up plumes of smoke. With a rising sense of danger, Tristan dodged sharply—just in time for a longsword to graze his cheek and strike the ground hard.

The blade was made of the same material as the familiars—another attack conjured by Morgan, formed from her hair.

But this one differed from the bird-shaped familiars in speed, strength, and durability. Even when struck by his arrows, it couldn't be destroyed in a single blow.

"To think you'd only counter me with familiars... seems I've been underestimated, Morgan." Tristan's fingers moved even faster across his strings.

More arrows surged forward, shooting through the thinning smoke and heading straight toward their position—yet no sound of impact or deflection followed.

Realizing something was wrong, Tristan spun around—only to see Bedivere, sword drawn, swinging down and forcing Tristan to parry with his bow.

Before he could make sense of how Bedivere had approached without triggering the untouched threads, the cloaked girl—her face hidden beneath her hood—seized the moment. She thrust a crimson spear at his exposed neck.

Tristan twisted away just in time, and only then noticed: Shiomi was gone. Only Morgan remained.

To avoid his threads and strike so directly, there was no doubt in Tristan's mind—this was Morgan's Magecraft at work.

"Stand down, Sir Tristan!" Bedivere growled, teeth clenched.

He wasn't a true Servant. He didn't possess the strength to overpower Tristan, who had been granted the Gift.

"Your voice is as sincere as ever... but it doesn't stir me. I don't even sense your grief." Tristan freed one hand and grabbed the spear from Gray's grasp. "Lady, this is a moment for me to speak with an old friend. Please withdraw."

With that, he shoved Gray back a few steps and plucked his bowstring.

More threads flew toward her. Even without seeing how many, Gray could sense the danger. She raised her spear to block—but was immediately entangled, spear and all.

At that moment, feathered arrows rained down from the rooftops, aiming for the immobilized Gray.

"Nuisances," Morgan said, snapping her fingers lightly.

A sudden whirlwind swept through the street, catching the arrows mid-flight and scattering them. The Enforcement Knights lying in ambush above were caught in the expanding wind blades—their bodies gradually torn apart.

Earlier, Tristan had laid a 20-meter radius of thread traps across this area to stop Shiomi and the others from circling around.

Now, all of it had been obliterated by Morgan's Magecraft.

Amid the roaring wind, Gray broke free from her restraints and regained her mobility. She raised her hand to shield her face as her hood was blown back.

But what shocked her more was the sheer number of Enforcement Knights and soldiers lying in ambush on the rooftops.

From the very start, Camelot had anticipated the breach of its gates and had quietly stationed a massive force inside for a citywide ambush.

The only reason this particular area had appeared empty was because of Tristan's tendency to cause friendly fire—he had deliberately spread his forces out and hidden them to avoid collateral damage.

"...That girl..." Tristan was silently taken aback when he saw Gray's face.

It was the first time he had realized that someone in Chaldea's group bore an uncanny resemblance to the King.

Was she of royal blood? Or perhaps...

"She hails from a village where a certain ritual has been passed down for generations to revive our King," Bedivere said, already familiar with Gray's origins. "This young lady bears the fate of being the King's body."

"The King's body..." Tristan immediately understood what that meant. "So that's why you sided with Morgan, Sir Bedivere?"

Bedivere shook his head firmly. "No! The ritual to revive King Arthur may have been Morgan's doing, but I travel with them because this young lady seeks to sever all ties with the King!"

"I see... A righteous decision, but one that places you before the King as her enemy." Tristan suddenly moved, shoving Bedivere back, sword and all, before swiftly loosing an arrow.

While Bedivere's silver arm blocked the invisible shot, more Enforcement Knights began pouring in from the alleys and streets, surrounding them.

"Call me dishonorable if you wish. Whether you're my dear friend, the King's vessel, or anyone else..."

Tristan slowly opened his eyes. In those golden irises, only a chilling emotion remained.

"If you want to get through, you'll have to do it over my dead body."

He felt nothing for Morgan, and Morgan in turn had no opinion about being ignored by Tristan.

They were simply enemies on this battlefield.

"I see. Then I'll just have to kill you here, Sir Tristan." Morgan raised her hand slightly.

She had chosen to stay behind not out of duty, but curiosity—she wanted to witness firsthand what kind of knight "Tristan" truly was.

And so far, it seemed the name "Fairy Knight," as bestowed upon that child, was not unworthy.

...That said, the child had stayed by Shiomi's side for two thousand years, nurturing and caring for him.

While she—she had become more like a divorced mother, long cut off from her child...

Still, it couldn't be helped. After all, he was the type who could fight a war and raise a child at the same time.

Lost in her own musings, Morgan remained expressionless as she unleashed her Magecraft to obliterate the approaching Enforcement Knights.

As long as Gray and Bedivere could still fight, she saw no need to handle everything herself.

Besides...

Among these knights were those warped by Mad Enhancement. Agravain was likely lurking nearby as well. She had to clean up the foot soldiers while watching for any sneak attacks from the other Knights of the Round Table.

Or perhaps... Agravain had already gone ahead to intercept Shiomi.

The thought made Morgan reconsider her tactics.

"Noble Phantasm..." She raised her hand slightly.

"Roadless Camelot: The Now Unreachable Utopia."