The Ultimate Lich King of the Multiverse

The nickname "Lamp Post King" caused a wave of murmurs among everyone present. Rider nearly burst out laughing. But the amusement quickly faded. A terrifying killing intent surged through the air, overwhelming the minds and bodies of everyone nearby. As a mere human, Waver was the first to buckle under the pressure, collapsing clumsily into the carriage.

"Just die like the pathetic fool you are. Maybe such a miserable sight might even amuse me."

Archer narrowed his crimson eyes. With his cold and cutting declaration, swords and spears shot through the air.

He didn't even need to touch them—the weapons launched from thin air. This was why he was called the Golden Archer. However, using Noble Phantasms so carelessly was highly unusual. To a Servant, Noble Phantasms were like one's children. Throwing them around like stones was recklessly wasteful.

Even so, the destructive power was overwhelming. The road was torn apart like a bomb had gone off. Asphalt burst into dust and filled the air, clouding everyone's vision.

Everyone held their breath.

But the young girl who claimed to be a Servant didn't even flinch.

It was her Master who blocked Archer's attack.

Yoru raised a single hand before him. A crystal-clear ice shield instantly formed in the air.

Archer had fired four Noble Phantasms—two of them exploded into the ground like missiles, while the other two stabbed directly into the ice shield floating before Yoru.

A dull thud rang out. Shards of frost and dust scattered through the air. Archer's face darkened even more.

After all his arrogant boasting, such a dramatic attack had been completely nullified. The embarrassment practically radiated off him.

Yoru glanced at the ice shield. Cracks webbed across its entire surface. Though it hadn't shattered, blocking the attack had clearly taken everything it had.

"Looks like I underestimated you... Interesting. But in the end, it's just a weakling's pitiful struggle and cry for survival!"

Archer snarled, overflowing with killing intent. Light flashed once again around his towering figure. Behind him, a fresh batch of Noble Phantasms appeared—sixteen in total.

Not just swords and spears. There were axes, hammers, and halberds. Some of the weapons had bizarre, unidentifiable shapes and functions.

Each one glimmered like a polished mirror, surging with vast magical power. Every item carried an undeniable, mysterious aura—each one a genuine Noble Phantasm.

"That idiot..."

Waver let the words slip from his lips. No doubt, the others were thinking the same thing.

Servants usually had more than one Noble Phantasm. Some even had three or four powerful weapons on par with major artifacts. But there were limits.

This golden Archer, however, used his Noble Phantasms like a bottomless arsenal—releasing them one after another, never repeating a weapon, not even during last night's fight against the Assassins.

"If you think you can withstand this... then let me see just how many of my Noble Phantasms you can survive!"

With that, Archer gave the signal. The floating weapons surged forward like a tidal wave, aiming straight at Yoru.

The air quaked with thunderous booms. A storm of flashing lights seemed poised to sweep away the entire night sky.

The destruction was hard to believe—it was simply the tossing of weapons, yet the power rivaled a full-scale bombing.

This time, Yoru truly felt the pressure. If it were just him, he was confident he could dodge Archer's barrage.

But in his arms... he was still holding Irisviel.

At that moment, Flandre stepped forward. The petite girl stood in front of them all, shielding them from the carpet-bombing barrage of incoming Noble Phantasms.

Even Saber and Rider winced. They knew she was a Servant, but the sight of such a tiny girl standing alone was still hard to bear.

Archer, however, showed not a shred of pity. His relentless assault continued. The rain of weapons fell like divine lightning, as though he intended to erase not just Yoru, but the entire city block they stood on.

The onslaught didn't wane—instead, it only intensified.

Everyone was stunned.

They all knew how tense it was to face multiple enemies in such close proximity. But this scene—no one could have predicted it.

That tiny girl was standing in the middle of a bombardment, wielding her wand-like Noble Phantasm to deflect the incoming weapons one by one.

Could a Caster even do something like that? The other Servants questioned it silently.

Sure, perhaps they themselves might be able to survive such a bombardment.

But to stand there and repel each weapon head-on—that took immense courage and skill.

And the most shocking part: it was being done by a Caster, the supposedly weakest class in direct combat.

Both the attacker and defender had defied expectations.

Come to think of it, the Golden Archer and the mysterious Caster girl were unlike the others.

They were still unknowns—unrevealed names, identities cloaked in mystery.

Even Saber and Lancer felt chills run down their spines.

If they continued in this Holy Grail War, they might have to face these two someday.

But how could they prepare to fight enemies they knew so little about?

"That Golden Archer seems quite proud of his endless supply of Noble Phantasms. But now, having his attacks casually deflected by a little girl... I imagine he's about ready to explode with rage."

While Saber and Lancer stood speechless in shock, Rider was the only one chuckling, murmuring smugly to himself.

"And that little girl… is supposed to be the weakest of all, a Caster…"

"Are you belittling women, Rider?"

Saber cut him off sharply, still clearly holding a grudge over his earlier "little girl" comment.

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