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A huge hand rose from the sand, lifting the unmoving victim aloft in its grasp. The victim, whose body and armor had time to recover in the ten seconds that she had been left alone, along with her steed. Sadly, no armor could stop what happens next. With a forceful clasp, the hand made of sand, clenched, and with a disgusting sound, the steed and its rider disappear in a spray of blood and viscera.

In all directions, blood, bone fragments, bits of meat and other torn and minced body parts, like a liquid-filled juice packet sharply squeezed in the hand of a child, decorated the desert surface.

You could not even call such a picture terrifying. Everything happened so quickly and violently that an observer's mind could not even fathom that the minced meat splattered in all directions was a human being and not a mosquito crushed on the wall, leaving behind an ugly red stain. It was more like a strange, absurd delirium than a battle scene. And the fact that the huge arm, which looked like it belonged to a titan buried under the desert suddenly determined to move, vanished into thin air a moment later, without movement or sound, vanishing like a mirage before the observer's inflamed mind, only strengthened the image.

With the thing holding it aloft gone, what remains of the crushed body, fell from a great height in free-fall, no longer supported by the giant's arm. It was also fitting into this narrative.

Medb watched this scene with some interest, trying to determine whether her armor-clad opponent was dead. She also deftly ignored Sita's arrows and Nitocris' spells flying past her face, crashing into the much still able to move and not fully destroyed followers of the crushed Servant, trying to reach them.

The mutilated pile of meat lay motionless on the sand for a few moments, crumbling into the yellow sand, now stained crimson red, the body of the Servant motionless. Before, with a more sickening crunch than the one that had accompanied its crushing by Medb's illusionary arm, the torn pile of meat began to jerk, moving in defiance of the laws of nature.

The shards of shattered bones rose momentarily. As if in mockery of all humanity's knowledge of biology, they began clinging to one another, splicing again and again. The metal armor of the knight's armor then also began gnashing in the embedded flesh, rising with a bone-chewing sound in an attempt to return the body to its previous form.

The mutilated lump of flesh in no way represented the 'normal' state of the Servant's body, but her current actions represented an even more unnatural abomination to human nature.

"How interesting…" Medb looked with interest at the rising pile of flesh, quickly regaining its previous features. Medb began analyzing the power and information of the Servant opposite her, she could clearly judge, swear on it even, that her blow had killed her opponent. The huge hand possessed no other ability than its physical strength, every drop of which it used in this one single attack.

The fact that the Servant was reduced to nothing more than a lump of flesh and a pool of blood and viscera, proof to that claim. And yet, here it is, before her eyes, the viscera reforming into the figure of the Servant she had just killed. Even her armor were returning into its previously pristine from

Certainly, there were all sorts of creatures capable of amazing feats of regeneration, but this regeneration was no such trick. After all, one has to be alive, for regeneration to even be capable of saving a life – and the Servant was definitely dead for several moments before it began to regenerate again.

Resurrection, then? No, the creatures of this world have not demonstrated any such ability – and besides, Medb did not sense any magic activating the moment the Servant 'died'.

Her body was dead for a few seconds, but not herself – her soul, her mind, her… What did the 'players' call it? Her 'expi' had not left the confines of her body.

The body was dead, but not the Servant. In other words, this Servant's life was not about the state of her body, her life essence was contained somewhere else. Medb was intrigued somewhat, some beings have contained their true selves in phylacteries, using their bodies as an external terminal for interaction with the world, so this was not an absolute novelty to Medb.

Technically, she herself was…

Medb dropped the thought, returning to the present, watching the mutilated pile of flesh begin to regrow the skin, putting the girl's face back into place – before she began thinking on how to solve the current problem. Her goal was to kill the girl, and the seeming immortality was quite a problem in achieving that goal.

Anything could have become a phylactery – the notion that only a certain kind of object could, or that it must be an object in the first place, become a phylactery was fundamentally wrong. To be 'immortal until he crosses three rivers', 'until the Sun rises from the West', or until 'he fulfills his father's duty to the seven tribes of the sons of his enemies' also could keep 'expi' safe. In what could be called a 'phylactery', not a physical object but a specific condition, time, or place of action instead.

In other words – the opponent in front of her could be, technically speaking, unkillable to Medb. She was not specialized in gathering information or possessing brute force or special abilities, like Ainz, to forcibly kill the Servant before her or disrupt the phylactery.

"Annoying…" Medb grumbled slightly. The Servant could not defeat her, but neither could Medb destroy the Servant. In other words, it was a stalemate – the most annoying situation of all.

For all her power, Medb could not solve the problem before her, to deal with her adversary to the end. And Medb did not like problems that she could not deal with.

After all, what would Ainz think if she saw that Medb wasn't capable of dealing with such a weak enemy! Ainz had already seen Medb at the bottom of her life, and had personally helped her overcome her weakness. He had lifted her up on a pedestal again, making Medb inwardly vow never to let Ainz question her strength and capabilities as a ruler.

She definitely didn't want to let his gift go to waste!

So Medb, looking at the seemingly immortal Servant before her, felt her irritation quickly wash away the sympathy that came from looking into the eyes of the tired, submissive Servant.

"You're quite annoying." Medb remarked simply, as she looked at the pitiful Servant, her expression not at all befitting someone that had returned from Death. Or perhaps quite befitting, if this wasn't her first time being revived.

Whatever it is her expression would sport next, Medb didn't care, she would at least be magnanimous enough to give the girl her eternal rest. Several hands, not at all as huge as the one before, rose from the ground, seeking to dig into the Servant's legs and topple her, possibly dragging her under the desert sand. But this time, the Servant was ready for such an attack, darting away with the speed and agility one would only expect from the highest ranked and most powerful of Servants.

"At the command of my king, I bid you surrender to the mercy of her court. A just sentence will be placed upon you." Ignoring Medb's words completely, the Servant darted away from her next attack before a disproportionately large spear, seemingly created of magic and technology. A spear, which looked like an ancient occult artifact and a missile with a pointed tip on a stick, glinted in her hand.

Despite the tiredness in her eye, the Servant moved with alarming alacrity.

"So you demand my surrender for a trial, but the verdict is already known?" Medb asked, not counting on any answer. Judging by the dead look in the Servant's eyes, and the way she acted, uttering her memorized, emotionless speech, the Servant was not listening to Medb. It was unlikely that she even had room in her mind for any thought at all, except to analyze combat situations and repeat her memorized phrases like a broken tape recorder repeating the same words.

"I guarantee you a fair trial in the name of my king and my goddess – lay down your arms and face your sentence with dignity." The servant uttered with a dead tone once more, before lunging forward to pierce Medb with her spear. It seems that, by her actions, a death sentence was fine too.

A warrior with a shield of emerald brilliance and brass, rising from the ground, took the blow, though the shield cracked a moment later. The Servant's spear accelerator, evidencing its rocket-like nature, exploded, shattering the creature's shield and slamming the point of the spear into his chest, sending the warrior flying a moment later. But the creature had done its job, stopping the Servant's charge.

But no emotion flashed across the Servant's face, no joy, no surprise, no rage – like a mannequin, the Servant's expression did not change at all, nor did the tone of her voice. "I swear this on my name and pride as a Knight of a Round Table, sir Gareth, that you'll be treated fairly."

"Gareth, hmm?" Medb was only interested in the name of the Servant before her, paying no attention to the message of her speech.

'A Knight of Arthur, then – the younger brother of Gawain, the younger sister, in this case, the niece of King Arthur. The first victim of Lancelot's madness, who she squired under.' Medb creased her face slightly and lowered one eyebrow involuntarily at the memory of the taciturn King.

'I've always disliked Arthur, and he could never tolerate me… Though, what else would you expect from Titania's favorite pup?'

In the past world, the Gareth that Medb knew was a weak knight. Though formally called a part of the 'Knight of the Round Table', it was a more of a common term rather than an official position. Gareth was not a member of the Twelve Knights of Camelot, the clique of the most powerful and loyal of knights. Excluding all the fiascoes with Mordred and Lancelot, that is.

They were close associates of King Arthur, the 'First Knight', while Gareth was only Lancelot's squire. Gareth was not strong like, despite her position as one of the Knights of the Round Table. Even the weakest of them would have no problem fighting Gareth, even with one arm tied behind their backs.

But when not comparing him with those 'distinguished' knights, but with other knights, Gareth was far stronger than any mere knight. Definitely several heads above any squire, to the point where comparing them with each other was meaningless and simply stupid.

This Gareth though…? It was hard to judge at this point whether the Gareth of this world was stronger than the Gareth that Medb knew. Judging only by physical characteristics, the Servant before Medb was superior to that Gareth. The question of ability, however, was still up in the air.

On the other hand, possessing some sort of immortality, without a clear way of bypassing it, greatly increased the level of danger the Servant represented and Medb's evaluation of her. It also greatly increased her annoyance with the Servant that is currently once again charging her.

A moment later, Sita's arrow was within inches of Gareth's face, but she dodged it with no problem, not even seeming to notice the presence of another opponent on the battlefield. The following spells from Nitocris, that smashed into Gareth's back who was covered with full steel armor, didn't even make Gareth turn around.

Gareth's eyes were only on Medb. Whether it was because she knew that only Medb represented a danger to her, or because she had determined that Medb was the leader of the group, was hard to tell. Gareth's gaze was just as dead, and like she saw almost nothing in front of her. It was like a mindless robot turning its head at the sound it's capable of picking up, without realizing exactly why it's doing it, obeying only the program programmed into it.

A moment later, Gareth finally had to retreat, evading the strike of a warrior armed with a massive two-handed sword that appeared before her eyes, allowing Medb to lean back. Medb lazily lounged on the throne that had appeared where she fell, a move done so smoothly, as if he had done the same move hundreds of times before.

Once Medb was on her throne, one as if carved out of a single green crystal shimmering in all the colors of the rainbow, multiple spears appeared below where Gareth landed after dodging the warrior's strike. Unbidden, faster than Gareth could have responded, the spears severed her joints and ligaments with surgical precision.

Medb didn't know the condition that triggered Gareth's revival ability, but Medb had learned from the best, from Ainz. And so she knew that being able to recover from a bloody mince in a few seconds didn't mean being able to repair all the specifically damaged critical nodes of action of her musculoskeletal system in those same seconds. Not to mention that such actions might have required an expenditure of strength, or might not have been available on a permanent basis…

'Culdown', as the Players called it.

Gareth's body hung in the air for a moment, as if she were a butterfly nailed to a board by pins, while Sita's arrow slammed into the open visor of Gareth's helmet. Sita's arrows penetrating one of Gareth's eyes, destroying her eye socket and skull wall, entering precisely into her brain and making Gareth twitch reflexively one last time before she goes limp.

Medb waited a second, staring as the Servant lifelessly hung on the illusory but still so sharp stakes, before she turned her gaze to Sita. Who, not trusting Gareth's sudden mortality, a moment later placed a new arrow on her bowstring, and drove that shot into the Servant's other eye.

Medb then shifted her gaze to Nitocris, who was clearly trying to look away from the horrifying sight before her. But was seemingly forced to keep an eye on the visceral sight of the two arrowheads sticking out of the Servant's eyes. She was clearly uncomfortable from watching such a scene, and yet morbidly interested at the same time.

'Rookie' Medb gave Nitocris a brief assessment before looking at Gareth again, whose body was starting to twitch again. 'She's not dead… But recovery takes longer this time than last.'

Seconds later, when Nitocris clearly wanted to question Gareth's condition, her body twitched, tearing her limbs from Medb's stakes with shards of bone and scraps of meat. While the arrows that pierced her head burst from her head with a disgusting sound, falling softly to the blood-soaked sand.

"Very annoying." Medb's face creased slightly as she stared at the knight's spasming, reviving body.

"BUDDHA!" An unfamiliar voice suddenly resounded out of nowhere, forcing Medb to tear her eyes away from the reviving Gareth to the source of the voice. It seems that, distracted by her battle with Gareth, she had become completely oblivious to her surroundings. A failing for sure, but fighting skills were not exactly Medb's strong point.

"PUNCH!"

A moment later a huge hand, woven of golden light, slammed into the convulsing body of the dead-yet-not-dead Servant, making her fly like a cannonball to the distance. She flew so far away, so quickly, that it was difficult for Medb to follow its path as it disappeared into one of the distant sand dunes, before being buried in the sands. Seeing that he had lost sight of Gareth, Medb shifted her gaze to the one who had punched Gareth.

It was a short girl with long brown hair, dressed in what one could only stretch to call the garb of a Buddhist monk, over it she wore a yellow cloak, while holding a strange staff in her hand. She smiled with a slight proud smirk, while her pale eyes wandered over the faces of Nitocris, Medb, and Sita, as if a child were proudly showing their handiwork. 'Well, how do you like me?' her expression seems to be saying.

Medb shifted her gaze from the strangely garbed Servant, to the Assassin girl whom Medb herself had accidentally saved from the knights' attack, before sighing. "I saved an Assassin and was punished for it, forced to now entertain a disciple of one of the Buddhas… Indeed, no good deed goes unpunished."

Mashu was staring intently into Bedivere's back, as if trying to discover Galahad's hitherto undiscovered ability to read the minds and memories of people just by staring at them. Much to Galahad's displeasure, that is, forced to look through Mashu's eyes and hear her endless and barely shifting internal monologue, and nervousness. Unable to bear it any further, the spirit simply offered the obvious solution, to his host's conundrum. 'Just go and ask him!'

"What?!" Mashu was momentarily distracted from her futile effort of discovering her latent psychic potential, instantly rolling her eyes slightly reflexively at Galahad's idea. It was as if she was trying to look into Galahad's eyes, who were trapped inside her head, before realizing that doing so just makes it look like she had suffered a stroke. "No way! That would be rude!"

'What's rude about honestly admitting that you were distracted by outside thoughts and missed some kind of heartfelt and important information that Bedivere had revealed to you a little earlier?'

Upon hearing the words he had spoken, Galahad thought about it for a moment before correcting himself a bit. 'I mean, yes, sure, it's a little rude, but at least it's honest! And it saves a lot of trouble down the road, and a lot of headache for me having to hear you fretting about it. What if he's revealed some important information to you that affects the Singularity going forward!? Wouldn't it be easier to deal with the problem right now, quickly and simply. Doesn't it sound much better than to try to play a game of guess what happened to Bedivere in a magical world full of the most incredible stories of curses, blessings, and who knows what else?'

"But Bedivere sounded like he was revealing some terrible secret about himself! I don't want to offend him by telling him that I was not listening to him at that point! What if I caused him to dislike me, or Ainz for that matter!" Mashu complained. "You know Bedivere, don't you? You were Knights of the Round Table together! So, you must've known what terrible secret he had spoken about!"

'Me and a hundred others. It's not like there were only a dozen of us, you know!?" Galahad sighed inwardly, disappointed that the simple solution seemed so far away now. 'I didn't communicate with all the Knights of Camelot – I didn't even know some of them personally! Our duties gave us a very limited amount of free time, and at different times at that, not to mention, the fact that we took different positions away from each other most of the time. Some even disappeared for some reason, while some would show up one day and be suddenly inducted into the Knight Order. I never even really interacted with Mordred much, or Bedivere for that matter. Bedivere had little contact with any of the Knights of Camelot at all, actually, he always stayed close to the King, as his trusted adjutant, a little away from us. So, I don't know him that well, even if we were, um, 'colleagues' for a while.'

Galahad paused to think about his words more, perhaps even surprised by the fact, now that he recalled his time as a knight, how little he interacted with his fellow knights.

'And that's just talking about the Bedivere I know! Not bringing magic, Singularities, and Camelot arising on the Holy Land into the situation, who knows what happened in that time. So, my list of assumptions ranges from things like that he got a mission from Root to exterminate evil in this world to an account of how much he values knightly honor. Either that, or he had succumbed to Merlin's inane ideas and embraced his true nature as a princess, causing him to try a dress he had suddenly fancied! Any assumption of mine would be completely random!' Galahad mentally shrugged, causing Mashu to strain her imagination a little, trying to convey to her co-pilot the feeling of Mashu looking intently into his nonexistent eyes before giving up.

"Okay, I get it!" Mashu sighed, defeated, before trying to square herself off a little, as if preparing herself to ask Bedivere something outrageous. "Do you think he will take offense to me asking him to repeat his, very likely to be personal, information?"

'No idea, but he's always seemed like a soft and calm guy to me, so he shouldn't.' Galahad tried to give Mashu a little confidence in her next move, if only to spare himself any future headache. 'So go for it!'

Mashu breathed in deeply, to gather her courage, before suddenly realized that she had lost track of Bedivere in her internal monologue with Galahad. Looking around, trying to find the feminine-looking man, who was previously aimlessly hanging around the settlement, among the sparse stream of refugees rushing about. Suddenly, her gaze was caught by the figure of Administrator, hurrying at the moment toward Mashu.

"Where is Arthuria?!" By the look on Administrator's face, he was in too much of a hurry to get close enough to talk to Mashu comfortably, which made him almost have to shout for Mashu to hear him. Seeing the panic on his face, Mashu immediately ran closer – Administrator was definitely not the kind of person who would worry about nothing and run around the camp in a panic if the situation didn't call for it.

"Probably on the other side of the village, watching over Camelot." Mashu answered clearly and quickly, immediately dashing after the Administrator as he hurried toward Arthuria, before she could ask what was wrong. "What happened?!"

"Acrobat is back, and shit is going to meet the fan soon." At once clarifying, and making the situation even more mysterious, not passing any actual information to Mashu, Administrator only hurried forward. "Acrobat has already gone, to make sure that the worst wouldn't come to pass… and that Bedivere – I have no faith in him, but I also have no choice. Beggars are not choosers after all."

"What exactly is going on? An attack?!" Mashu almost clenched her fists reflexively from these thoughts.

"It's kind of like that, but not exactly!" Administrator didn't dignify the girl's question with a glance as he continued forward. "From what he said, two detachments of knights had left Camelot this morning, and it's the first time that's ever happened, so we don't know what it meant. It looks like someone had provoked the Goddess into action – one squad went after the Leader, and it won't take long for her to be dealt with. We're next in line for being 'dealt with' after her."

Administrator seems to pause and shiver in fear at the prospect of fighting the knights, before returning to his hurried movement.

"The Second squad… We don't know exactly where they've gone, and that's another potential problem. For all we know, they're headed in this direction!" Administrator briefly outlined the situation to Mashu before turning his gaze away. "Arthuria's here, Bedivere here, and Acrobat here, too, so we at least have some fighting chance, at least enough to buy time for the others to evacuate."

Finally, the two of them could see the errant Knight, Bedivere, in the distance, talking to someone. Mashu reflexively shifted her gaze to the rather tall and thin figure of a man, completely hidden behind a black cloak, on whose face rested the same white skull-like mask as the Assassins. He was shifting slightly from foot to foot, standing next to Bedivere in a kind of nervous excitement.

Administrator didn't go for details or long talks, outlining his plan, while still on a brisk jog. "In half an hour, at best, a band of knights will be here with orders to slaughter everyone, especially the Servants. Questions?"

"Who exactly will show up here?" Arthuria, who had joined the duo of Mashu and Administrator as they arrived next to Bedivere and Acrobat, out of nowhere, immediately asked the pertinent question. The question causing Administrator to look at the now identified Acrobat, causing him to speak. His voice was surprisingly high for a man, Mashu thought privately.

"I'm not sure, I've only seen the leader of one of the groups. Her spear was unmistakable even from a distance. It's Gareth." Acrobat's words made the Administrator almost spit in anger, but Galahad's reaction to the pronouncement was very different. 'Huh, Gareth? That cutie?!'

'Gareth was a woman!?' Mashu questioned Galahad, causing him to roll his eyes as he answered.

'Does that still surprise you? Gareth was always one of the youngest of us, she was a charming girl. Fun-loving, outgoing, a fan of fighting and one that was eager to learn everything she could, while also being kind, polite, and open-minded. All in all, she only had one flaw.' Galahad sighed.

'She was insanely loyal to my father, which ruined her in the end. Really, it puzzled me, why did they get so worried about her? Gareth was a promising student, but nothing more, more a squire than a knight – she never equaled the other knights in her strength and abilities, not to mention her character. She wouldn't even want to harm a fly. The only thing I would worry about in the current situation, knowing that Gareth was moving toward me, would be that we wouldn't have enough food to meet her. She had always loved to eat.' Galahad gave out a brief impromptu dossier and his own opinion of the girl, causing Mashu to raise her voice in question to the rest of the Servants with her.

"What's the problem with Gareth? Isn't she a squire?"

At these words, both Administrator and Acrobat both turned to Mashu with a curious, confused look, as if they were seeing her for the first time. It took a while before they realized that she lacked important, pertinent basic information regarding their state of affairs.

"Initially yes, in fact, each time we encountered her in the past, she was quite the affable figure. But it didn't last – the Goddess gifted each of her faithful knights with great, and terrible abilities. She gave each of them strength, speed, mana, all the things that determine the strength of Servants, and assorted unique abilities – her so-called Gifts. For Gareth, it is her 'Wolfhound', she will not die until…" Administrator suddenly went silent, not because he had lost his train of thought, but because he currently lacked a brain to think anything.

A hole had suddenly opened on Administrator's head, killing him instantly.

A sharp glint of light in front of Mashu's eyes caused her to reflexively cover her eyes, however, Arthuria reacted in a more appropriate way, exposing her blade. The glint of light that had pierced Administrator's head, twisting its flight path, to pierce the Acrobat's head, and curved again, crashed not into Arthuria's head, but into the blade of her sword.

The impact was so great that it caused Arthuria's heels to drag several meters across the ground, leaving a shallow trench on the ground.

Blocking the ray of attack, the situation seemed as if it could go either way –either Arthuria would be overwhelmed by the attack, or she would successfully block it. Then the balance was overturned as Arthuria overpowered the attack, deflecting the beam of light with a sharp swing. Turning her attention toward the attacker, while the surviving Servants heard a quiet, melodic ringing, as if from a xylophone, as the beam of light shattered.

"So, so sad…" The enemy Servant's voice was calm and melodious, full of cold detachment, as if the speaker were not simply speaking, but reciting a Greek tragedy, lamenting at the injustice of the world. "I had hoped for such a swift end for you, my King, but I must prolong your suffering… Oh, how tragic!"

Mashu turned her gaze to the man standing a fair distance away, the enemy that had killed the two Assassins with one attack, and had almost overwhelmed Arthuria. He was a tall man, with a white cloak draped over his shoulders, lined with white fur. With his long red hair down his shoulders, the man had a somewhat feminine appearance, but not one that elicited any feminine aura, but one for the heroes of love novels targeted towards women.

He was standing with his eyes closed, as if it hurts him to look at this world, giving the whole appearance of a 'tragic hero', right now experiencing the drama of his life.

In his hands he held what could charitably be called a bow, not that it looked like a weapon at all – only at a stretch. If it resembled anything, it was primarily a harp – a bow with many strings, serving not as a weapon but as a musical instrument.

However, as what had happened less than a moment ago suggested, its musical nature did not mean the weapon lacked any destructive capability.

'Oh, this guy again…' Galahad uttered slowly in Mashu's mind, tinged with a muted hatred.

'Well, Mashu, I have bad news and good news for you.' Galahad spoke seriously, lacking his usual playful nature. 'The bad news is that even without any gifts given to him by the Goddess, that creep is strong. With the extra power, it's hard to say if the three of you can take him down.'

"And what's the good news?" A shield appeared in Mashu's hands a moment later, as her gaze bounced between the Servant's weapon and his face.

'The good news is that you will help me fulfill a long-held dream of mine!' Galahad exclaimed excitedly in Mashu's mind. 'I've always wanted to punch Sir Tristan in the face!'