Fate: How About a New Savior?

At the same time...

Bedivere and Gray were racing toward the royal capital. With the Tower of the End now activated, the streets of the Holy City were collapsing. From the tower where the royal palace stood, magic shells—fired with the same specifications as the Holy Lance—rained down, bombarding every corner of Camelot.

Dodging the destruction, they picked up their pace.

Morgan had gone ahead. All they needed to do was catch up.

"Are you all right, Sir Bedivere?" Gray asked.

"Don't worry, milady. I'm fine," Bedivere replied.

She was referring to Tristan's death.

When Morgan unleashed her Noble Phantasm, Tristan had immediately countered with his own, The Phantom Melody of Sorrow.

But the two were incomparable. Tristan was defeated, grievously wounded. After exchanging a few final words with Bedivere, he passed on, his heart torn between regret and relief.

Though Bedivere hadn't struck the final blow himself, witnessing the death of an old friend still left him somber.

He couldn't—and wouldn't—blame Morgan. Had she not intervened, Tristan might have stalled them there, preventing Bedivere from ever reaching the Lion King.

The ground trembled again. Bedivere stumbled and fell forward.

Gray reached out to catch him. He was just about to thank her—when his eyes narrowed, and he drew his sword, pushing Gray aside.

The air scorched with searing heat as a surge of mana, blazing like the sun, bore down on them. Bedivere gritted his teeth as he blocked the strike from the Holy Sword—said to embody the sun itself.

"Gawain..." he murmured in shock.

Gawain, who had vanished into the sandstorm and gone missing, had returned. But he looked changed—like he had faced something deep within. His expression was more resolute than ever.

"I didn't expect you to make it here. I underestimated you, Sir Bedivere." Gawain clenched his teeth and pressed down with force.

Gray lunged with her spear, but Gawain freed one arm and blocked with his armored gauntlet.

She was better with weapons like scythes or siege tools. Although Add had sealed the Holy Lance, Gray had little training in true spear combat. Right now, she was relying entirely on physical strength far beyond that of a normal human, attacking with basic technique.

Against a seasoned warrior, that alone wouldn't be enough.

"Who are you...?" Gawain was startled to see a girl from Chaldea who looked so much like the king.

But he didn't pry. Instead, he caught her spear with a reverse grip, lifted Gray—spear and all—and hurled her far into the distance.

Even now, Gawain held back. He wouldn't kill a woman unless it was absolutely necessary.

Besides, it was obvious she wasn't comfortable with her weapon. He guessed she had been forced onto the battlefield.

"Please, stop, Gawain..." Bedivere pleaded, forcing the words out. "Sir Tristan has already fallen. I don't want to watch another friend die because of me!"

To Bedivere, Tristan's death was his responsibility.

Gawain paused, frowning deeply. "I see... So Sir Tristan is gone... Then there's no more need for hesitation! This time, I'll fulfill my long-held wish—to serve my king to the very end!"

With a burst of strength, he shoved Bedivere back and widened the distance between them. Then he hurled his Holy Sword into the sky.

The artificial sun within the blade began to revolve, and radiant light engulfed the sword—transforming it into another sun.

"May night retreat from this brilliance! Its enduring protection shall shine upon this earth...!"

The light coalesced into a long blade and returned to Gawain's hand, now stretching over ten meters.

Bedivere no longer hesitated. He switched the sword to his other hand, and his silver right arm flared with brilliance.

"Take my soul and go forth! Switch On…!"

Merlin had once warned him—every time he invoked the true name of this Noble Phantasm, a piece of his soul would be consumed, until he reached his limit and collapsed.

Since awakening from his long slumber and arriving at this Singularity, Bedivere had remained a mere human. In life, he had never excelled in combat. His soul had already been worn thin by the long journey.

This was the third time he offered his soul to unleash his Noble Phantasm.

Perhaps next time, his soul would vanish completely...

But Bedivere felt no fear. At the very least, he still had comrades he could trust—ones he could entrust with what he hadn't yet finished.

"Excalibur Galatine!"

"Agaterám!"

Bedivere's Noble Phantasm, at its core, was still of the same caliber as Gawain's Holy Sword—the one that had never been returned.

Their powers clashed, slicing through Camelot's once-prosperous but now desolate streets. Buildings split clean in half, stone walls crumbled, and the once-flawless city was rapidly turning to ruins.

Gawain was sent flying by the impact, crashing into the wreckage. But the next moment, he swung his sword and scattered the debris covering him, rising steadily from the rubble.

Bedivere, on the other hand, wasn't so fortunate. The strain of having his soul devoured left him nearly unconscious. He could only barely support his body on one knee, struggling to rise again.

"It's over. Even with that Noble Phantasm, a man abandoned by his allies can't win—"

Before Gawain could finish, a chilling wave of killing intent surged from behind.

He turned swiftly, blocking with his sword just in time to deflect a strike aimed at his heart—but a crimson spear still pierced his shoulder.

"Sensei!" Gray cried out in alarm.

Wasn't he supposed to be with the Lion King? How was he here?

"Still standing, Gray?" Shiomi gave her a nod before moving to help Bedivere up. "Don't use your Noble Phantasm again. If you unleash it one more time, your soul will—"

"It's all right. This is my choice." Bedivere panted, barely managing to stay on his feet.

After Morgan chose to take over the fight with Agravain, Shiomi had originally intended to push forward. But when he noticed the battle here, he turned back to support them.

"Then let's end this quickly. At this rate, forget reaching the Lion King—if this drags on, the Tower of the End's indiscriminate bombardment will wipe out the entire allied force." Seeing that Bedivere's resolve was firm, Shiomi said no more.

Gawain rotated his shoulder slightly. The wound still throbbed painfully, and he couldn't regenerate like a normal Servant—but it wasn't enough to stop him.

"Perfect. Then I'll stop all of you here—for my king!" Far from being angered by Shiomi's ambush, Gawain's fighting spirit only burned fiercer.

"Heeheeheehee! All the Knights of the Round Table are such thick-headed idiots! Now I can't even stay asleep!"

"Add?"

Hearing that sharp, familiar laugh from under her cloak, Gray quickly pulled Add from its cage.

"Let's tear it up, Gray!"

"Yes!"

She didn't know what had triggered Add's sudden awakening, but joy surged in her chest.

Gripping the scythe Add had transformed into, Gray nodded silently.

Then, with a swift motion, she hurled the red spear in her hand toward the city gate.