[FDJ]Chapter 104: Back-up Preparation

Don Quixote was unaware that the information he desperately tried to conceal had already been analyzed. The rapid decline in his magical abilities no longer protected his body in its fantastical form.

If he hadn't encountered Berserker Godfrey tonight, Don Quixote would have had a certain confidence in attracting the "bubbles" in the sky and retreating unharmed. But now, even in his fantastical form, the unrepaired damage in his body caused him pain and hindered his full strength.

He had no choice. If he wanted to give his Master, Aphaf, a chance to survive, he had to allow Rider Eleanor to escape with the chariot. Otherwise, allies like her, considered luxuries in the Holy Grail War, could be discarded at any time.

Chaotic whispers reached Don Quixote's ears, intermittently accompanied by war cries from Valencia, tales of numerous Spanish knight legends, and even more stories he had never heard before. There was no doubt that his true identity had been exposed to the enemy. Servants would not be affected by such whispers to their mental state, so Don Quixote could only view these targeted whispers as provocations from the enemy.

"I know who you are now. Are you still coming forward to your death?"

Dodging the first wave of flashes, Don Quixote, who had finally made contact with one of the "bubbles," was instead filled with confusion. The spear he swung easily pierced through the anticipated resilient sphere, and he even pushed forward slightly due to the excessive force.

The second one, the third one... all the same. Don Quixote looked up at the vast number of "bubbles" in the sky but didn't see any tendency for them to gather into towers or surround him. They only kept separating a portion for him to eliminate. The rest of the bubbles continued to spread outwards. In just a few minutes, the ground within a three-li radius was covered in a layer of colorful bubbles, and from high above, it could be seen that the bubble clusters had formed into a massive spherical shape.

But for Don Quixote, who was in the midst of it, it created a different atmosphere. He could discern a 10-meter gap amidst the ten-thousand-meter-high sky, which was enough for him to charge through and break through the seemingly closed-off bubble clusters on the ground.

Don Quixote turned to look at Eleanor and the others behind him. The speed of the motionless war chariot had significantly slowed down. Eleanor had to continuously construct magical barriers to defend herself. In Don Quixote's eyes, as someone inexperienced, she might not even survive until dawn under the rapid spread of the bubble monsters.

In Don Quixote's imagination, he would activate his fantastical form, risking his life and battling the "bubble" monsters until he exhausted his magical power, buying Eleanor and the others time to escape. However, it seemed that the monster formed by countless "bubbles" had completely seen through Don Quixote's intentions. Contrary to the usual way, it chose to ignore the usually threatening Don Quixote.

Gaining his fantastical form from the book was a temporary concept of being the "protagonist," which was Don Quixote's biggest trump card. Following the chivalrous tradition that good triumphs over evil, he faced unknown monsters that posed a threat to this world with an extraordinary advantage. However, the easily shattered "bubbles" didn't require Don Quixote to demonstrate his reality-distorting abilities. With his ability to slay dragons but face an endless number of slimes, even a courageous "protagonist" would become frustrated and bewildered.

The number of bubbles shattered by Don Quixote quickly approached 300, engaging in the simplest "battle" of breaking them with a single strike. Don Quixote's magical power was nearing depletion. He wanted to leap into the air and attack the cluster of bubbles that seemed to be at the core. However, as he broke through the surrounding bubbles and leaped, more than a hundred bubbles at the location pointed to by his spear automatically burst open. It seemed like they didn't even bother to weaken their intensity to toy with this brave fusion knight.

The spear swung emptily, and Don Quixote looked at the sky filled with bubbles that had already reached a scale of blocking out the sun. He couldn't help but stop his movements. After he landed back on the ground, all the bubbles within fifty meters of him continued to burst open.

Don Quixote was certain that even after flipping through classical knight stories, he couldn't find a monster with the same "personality" as the one he was currently facing. Where could there be a scenario where the enemy voluntarily committed suicide before the "protagonist" even made a move? When Don Quixote was flipping through the book, he even planned to continue fighting until his combat ability expired and deal with more bubbles before dying in battle. Now it seemed that he might as well shake the spear in his hand and point at the bubbles that would voluntarily burst.

"If you have the guts, fight me!" Don Quixote couldn't help but shout in frustration at the ubiquitous bubbles. He felt a mix of emotions and found the situation both laughable and tear-inducing. The glory he envisioned, where the knight would charge into the enemy formation and fight to the bitter end, simply did not exist here. All he faced were countless bubbles, no matter how many he pierced, they wouldn't be eradicated. The opponent even mocked Don Quixote's foolishness by self-destructing.

The constant murmurs surrounded Don Quixote like a tidal wave, continuously impacting him. Most of them were not in a human language, and the majority of what Don Quixote could hear were excerpts praising knights for their bravery.

"Does mocking the knight's spirit make you proud?"

"Yes."

The clear and resolute answer echoed from all directions, spoken in the same Spanish language but with different tones from men, women, and children. It converged together, giving Don Quixote a shock no less significant than that of a Noble Phantasm.

A bubble suddenly appeared in front of Don Quixote and slowly released a flash towards him, just a hair's breadth away. It left a black mark on Don Quixote's breastplate, but he didn't even feel the attack. However, he felt that he couldn't escape it either. He had truly fallen into the despair called abandonment.

Another flash burst on Don Quixote's face, giving him a slight stinging sensation, and then shattered before he could raise his hand to slap it away.

Strictly speaking, maintaining his fantastical form did not consume much more magical power whether Don Quixote stopped or continued to wield his spear. Before his magical power was completely depleted, he could still choose to dispel his fantastical form and return to his normal elderly state. As the possessor of the highest-ranked resistance to magic, he was capable of shielding himself from constant erosion and whispers.

"Does mocking the knight's spirit amuse you?"

"Yes, Don Quixote."

In the low whispers, there was a peculiar resonance, as if all the bubbles were laughing, waiting for the heroic knight to fall due to his depleted magical power. Dealing with a knight is always most effective not with mighty long spears, great swords, or powerful bows.

There was no trace of honor left. Even charging forward had become a laughable act on the stage. Don Quixote felt as if he had a ridiculous jester's hat on his head, wearing a colorful costume, and performing a farce on the battlefield. It was "successful"; he amused the enigmatic monsters.

"Are you delighted?"

This time, there was no answer.

Don Quixote, in despair, loss, exhaustion, and aimless confusion, struggled to lift his head. He saw a rusty lance that had somehow pierced through his chest, and fresh blood slowly flowed down from the tip of the lance behind him. Undoubtedly, it was his lance, and the hand gripping the handle was his own.

"This..."

His opponent didn't even need to kill his "honor." The farce came to an end with a bizarre act of self-destruction, which amused the enigmatic monsters even more.

In an instant, his body aged, and Don Quixote's fantastical form was dispelled. The book fell to the ground and scattered, disappearing.

The elderly knight stared blankly at his hands, which couldn't release their grip and the old lance that pierced through his chest. He gradually knelt. He had truly been defeated.

With a flash of light, the Servant disappeared along with the lance.

Meanwhile, the two Servants who truly required the monsters' attention had arrived. They split into two sides, and the similar holy light swiftly penetrated the weaker "bubbles" on the ground.

Unlike when dealing with Don Quixote earlier, now each bubble had returned to its normal strength, but they were still as fragile as thin paper under the blades of these two Servants.

Eleanor could see that the swarm of bubbles was about to catch up with her chariot. Without horses to pull it, her speed was no match for the monstrous carpet-like spread. Just as she hesitated about whether to resort to a last-ditch method, two beams of holy light shot through the swarm of bubbles from a distance. She involuntarily released the pendant she had been clutching in her hand.

On one side, there was an uncertain battle. On the other side, there were two injured and unconscious Masters. Eleanor's tense and rigid expression relaxed completely. Her plan had completely deviated from her expectations. She hadn't anticipated such abnormal circumstances, and even when Berserker had caught up to her earlier, she hadn't been as flustered as she was now, almost on the verge of changing plans and resorting to her trump cards.

The sky-obscuring swarm of bubbles suddenly stopped expanding and rapidly shrank by half its size, gathering into several towering tower-like structures. They were formally confronting the Holy Knight-class Servant who had just defeated them consecutively.

"You're lucky to be alive," Eleanor said. She summoned a magically constructed horse and used simple magic to treat the injuries on Suzuki Yuki and Aphaf's bodies. Suzuki Yuki's condition was better, just normal unconsciousness. However, when she carefully examined the younger girl, Aphaf, she discovered that Aphaf's Mystic Eyes and the neural connections to the Mystic Eyes were completely burned, and most of her entire magic circuit throughout her body was damaged due to overload. Especially the magic circuits in Aphaf's head were destroyed.

It was already a miracle that she survived, and if lucky, she could live a few more years in a vegetative state. Eleanor made this judgment from her perspective, but she didn't stop using her magic. Because Aphaf had already lost her competitive ability, Eleanor was even more determined to save the girl.

However, just as Eleanor finished treating their bodies and was preparing to accelerate their retreat, Aphaf swayed her body and stood up.

"..."

She murmured incoherent phrases, trying to touch the objects around her. Eleanor naturally moved aside to avoid her.

"What do you want to do? Little girl, I never expected that you stored a fragmented consciousness within your Mystic Eyes."

At first, Eleanor didn't understand the reason, but when she saw the abnormal magical sigils appearing in Aphav's eyes, she immediately understood the principle. To exploit the value of the Mystic Eyes to the fullest extent, even in the face of dual destruction of the body and the Mystic Eyes, unable to stop the activation of backup magic, as a magus, this ruthlessness toward oneself was commendable.

"The book..." Aphaf struggled to raise her right hand, revealing the back of her hand covered by her robe, where clear command seals remained.