202

Ainz watched the clouds floating below the soaring castle of Semiramis, as he gazed thoughtfully into the distance.

'Well, if Medb hadn't told me that I had disrupted her plans, then I hadn't disrupted them, simple as that… right?' Ainz wasn't even sure if he was trying to calm himself down more at the moment or making up excuses. It was both he would conclude. 'I mean, even if I had interrupted her plans somehow, if it was too much, Medb would have pointed it out, wouldn't she? I mean, she'd at least say so, or at least ask for new instructions, wouldn't she?'

Ainz hoped and assumed that this was the case, but his non-existent heart was still restless. Even the calming scene of rolling pastoral meadows beneath his feet could not stop his anxieties from running.

'I mean, I understand that pointing a giant soaring castle toward a potential enemy won't go unnoticed, but Medb also understands that, doesn't she? And if she understands that, then surely she'd say something to me if I were doing anything wrong, right!?'

Ainz felt his stomach gradually begin to twist into a tight knot as his thoughts began running through the maze of his mind. 'Somehow, logic tells me that I certainly didn't disrupt Medb's plans, but my guts are telling me that I did something completely wrong!'

Ainz could no longer stomach the anxiety, as he turned from watching the slow passing fields towards Semiramis. 'It's all because we've been flying for too long! Your soaring castle is too slow, Semiramis!'

Not that Ainz seriously thought so, there were hardly enough flying castles for him to compare the speed of this one to. For all he knows, this one might even be the fastest! It still doesn't help his anxiety in any way, though. Even if complaining out loud might help vent some of it, he doesn't exactly want to mimic the action of his old bad bosses, eager to shout at their subordinates at the slightest slight, perceived or not.

His Emotion Suppression might suppress any outburst or heightened emotional response for him, but it just meant that most emotions would just keep broiling under his skin. His anxiety might not be high enough to trigger it, but it just meant that it would continue to bother him.

'There's just nothing to do! I'm forced to spend my time worrying about everything.' Ainz exhaled through his nose a little irritably, causing Semiramis, who had been watching him closely the whole time, to tense up a little, not preparing for combat, though, in view of the utter futility of such an action.

'What has Semiramis been doing all day in this castle, anyway? Actually, what does she spend her time on?' Ainz thought for a moment, looking at the Servant, who instantly tensed up when she felt Ainz' gaze on her.

'It's a big castle, of course, plus it's soaring, but it does get boring after a while, just sitting on her throne and admiring her territories, doesn't it? What did Semiramis do with all her free time?'

Ainz tried to remember what he would do in the brief spare time available to him outside of work before dismissing the thought. His only source of entertainment had been playing YGGDRASIL, in which he'd completed quests, collected materials, shoot the breeze with friends, upgraded his equipments, tested new tactics, learned spells, and a lot of other things… All in all, there were many activities to waste time on. Ainz would clearly have died of boredom if he'd found himself a full immersion MMORPG set in Semiramis' soaring palace.

What could Semiramis do in her spare time, what could she do…

Ainz tried to imagine Semiramis and her possible source of amusement, but all he could imagine mostly revolved around either YGGDRASIL' activities – or at the various rumors about rich people's pastimes.

Semiramis hardly seems the type to enjoy driving expensive sports cars, visit brothels, or dine in expensive restaurants… Though maybe the last one seems possible?

Ainz gazed intently at Semiramis, causing her to first to try to stare back in challenge, before looking away first a dozen seconds later, acknowledging her defeat and feeling her whole being as Empress protesting over this silent humiliation.

Not that Ainz could tell, as he was busy imagining Semiramis behind the wheel of a high-end sports car.

'Well, I have to admit, at least she looks the part of a rich girl… Is it because of her facial expression? Or is it because of the expensive dress?' Ainz tried to analyze Semiramis' figure, lowering his gaze to her legs, then raised them, scanning Semiramis' appearance in his mind. 'She certainly does have the upper-class regal look down pat… Huh, do I really have so little to do that I wasted time doing such a useless thing? The answer is yes – anymore, and I'll just start watching the grass grow out of boredom.'

Semiramis, though, not hearing Ainz's internal reasoning, confronted only by the way Ainz ran his gaze over her body, as if looking over that for the first time since the moment of introduction, felt her indignation grow more and more. 'You, lecherous bastard… Don't tell me that now he has his eye on me too?! So it wasn't enough for him to steal my throne, my kingdom – now he wants me too!? No, not a chance!'

Semiramis almost made an attack, her chains rising from the mana concentrated in her castle, before she froze, stumbling at the last second. 'He has defeated me twice already… No, what if this is just another provocation! Does he want to defeat me a third time? To make me humiliate myself even more by turning me from a proud queen into a mutt only capable of throwing themselves at a bone thrown at them? Even when he had already driven just how weak she really is – does he want to beat any thoughts of betrayal out of me by defeating me in battle time after time? Ha ha, nice try, Ainz - but you can't break me that easily!'

'Speaking of which, she has quite long ears – I'd almost mistaken her for an elf! She certainly has that cool beauty charm to her.' Ainz, having absolutely no idea what was going on in Semiramis' mind at the moment, only continued to ponder some useless thoughts.

'Really, I don't remember any elven royalty with her name… Hmm, can I ask her now about whether she is an elf? It wouldn't be too personal a question, I think? I mean, it could be seen as an attempt to find out about a person's origins – even their parentage, and that might not be very polite, but it wouldn't be weird, would it? Just asking if she is an elf shouldn't be too rude. Okay, I should just ask… Wait, how did I even come to this point of asking such useless questions? Yeah, right, boredom in flight!'

'And now he's looking me in the face again, as if he's reading my mind…' Semiramis squinted her eyes a little, looking at Ainz as he scrunched his eyebrows a bit.

'Are you waiting for the moment where I'll attack you!? Commendable, but you won't get a wound on me so quickly and easily, You are not omnipotent Ainz! Even if you could defeat the Old Man of the Mountain, you will stumble eventually. One day it will happen, and I will not forget the loss of my throne, nor the loss of my kingdom, nor my humiliation! I'll get you then, Ainz! So don't try to play these silly games with me!'

'Should I suggest that we play cards? I think I have a deck of cards in my Inventory somewhere…' Ainz thought for a second. He knew a couple of card games he'd been taught by his friends in the past, but not to say he was a master at them, but he had played a couple of them with his friends… After a few moments mulling over it, he decided not to, Royalty wouldn't enjoy such mundane games? Besides, he'd probably forgotten half the rules by now, so card games were definitely out of the running for possible time-wasting activity.

'Ahem, maybe… Ah, I don't know, maybe just offer to socialize? I mean, from the looks of things, Semiramis and I clearly aren't friends, but she wouldn't mind just chatting with me for a bit, would she? If I communicate carefully, maybe I'll even find out if she's an elf or not!'

Semiramis, of course, caught the brief moment when a spark slid in Ainz's eyes, as if he'd come to some conclusion, or figured out a complicated riddle. And guessing exactly what conclusion Ainz had come to was not difficult, not for someone like Semiramis. 'So you're thinking the same thing, and aren't shy about the challenge… Hmm, what, do you really think you can outdo me not only in battle, but on the field of verbal battle as well? Do you think that you are all-powerful, that your own strength will be enough for you to achieve your goal? And what exactly is your next goal!? You already took away my throne, you took away my kingdom, you trampled my confidence with your overwhelming power, and that's not enough for you!? You are evil, Ainz, evil of a much higher order than mindless monsters and conquerors – you are not satisfied simply being declared victor, you wish to continue your assault until your enemy is destroyed… But you are mistaken. You cannot defeat me so easily. And as ironic as it is for me to stand in defense of humanity, if it is necessary for me to stand in defense of humanity in order to avenge my humiliation on you, so be it!'

"Semiramis." Ainz addressed the strangely excited Servant, trying to sound casual, but both participants knew that it was just a ruse. Really, what in Ainz's eyes sounded like an attempt to have a little dialogue to pass the time on the road, for Semiramis was a challenge on the battlefield. "Do you mind having a little chat?"

"With pleasure, Ainz," And Semiramis accepted the challenge.

So far, Ainz had no idea how dangerous, evil and ingenious of an opponent he really was in the eyes of the legendary queen of Assyria. And even if Ainz had known, he would hardly have understood.

All these thoughts of Semiramis and her train of thought seemed too complicated for Ainz.

So begin the most one-sided dance of wits ever witnessed, too bad one side didn't even know they were fighting in the first place.

Scáthach continued to silently observe the idyllic life of the city. Some were opening their shops, hoping to earn a little money for their daily bread during a day of trading. Some were patrolling the outskirts of the city, yawning desperately to stave their boredom. And some were trying to drown out their problems with alcohol, dispensing news of monsters and witches, while not forgetting to empty their mug of alcohol still stored in the cellars during the breaks.

In other words, life in the city could still be called 'normal' – as far as the word 'normal' could be applied at all to the current conditions of life within Singularity. In fact, there was no point in observing exactly what people were doing at that hour – not for Scáthach, nor for anyone else.

Nothing was happening, the city's life was going on as usual.

Still, Scáthach watched the city like a hawk, undeterred, as if desperately searching for a detail she could latch on to. She sensed, not as a Servant or a mage, but rather as an experienced warrior, a haze of unknown power floating in the air – some small erroneous detail that she could not quite grasp that would prove her suspicions, but… There's nothing.

Usually her gut instinct twinging meant the presence of some evil, maybe an evil god gone mad, or a monster from the Lands of Shadows – a black mage would fit that description to… The typical enemies Scáthach would face.

Normally, places that caused her instincts to flare like this, weren't worth examining for long for signs of black magic or anything like that. Simply because the signs would be so obvious, even the blind could tell. Scáthach was more used to the sight of mounds of collected skulls, the mutilated bodies of hundreds, mutated agonizing creatures, of pain and horror.

But Scáthach could not, no matter how hard she tried, could not find what she was looking for.

A secret occult ritual? The sacrifices of innocent children in dark dungeons? The mutilated bodies of disfigured women hidden with cloaks? In general, the usual things that follow such a sense of something monstrous floating in the air.

But there was nothing

And it annoyed Scáthach greatly because it didn't fit into Scáthach's simple logic. It was the same as discovering a family of ghouls a little earlier that tried to protect women and children from her! Or like hearing information that Ainz wasn't trying to destroy the world, but instead was moving to save it.

This was just wrong, it didn't fit Scáthach's understanding of the world.

Scáthach sniffed the air, as if a slight whiff of the air could tell that Jacques was connected to something monstrous, something that could truly and without any pretense be called 'evil'. But…

That thought never progressed further, it didn't move forward.

It was as if it was a random detail about a man mentioned in casual conversation, 'he's left-handed, drives a car, and is an avatar of the pagan god of hate'.

It was just… Wrong, in Scáthach's perception. It doesn't work that way!

Scáthach desperately wanted to find proof for her instinct to be right. Some occult rituals turning the world inside out, secret meetings of vivisects discussing experiments on suffering living people, a mad monster prowling the back of dark back alleys, but… There was none of that! It just wasn't there!

Scáthach stooped to the point where she began to look not so much for direct evidence of Jacques and her subordinates' horrible accomplishments, but for 'circumstantial signs of circumstantial signs'. Things like bar brawls, theft of provisions, and bitterly hurtful arguments that turned to insults of religious dogma and family relations.

And while Scáthach found many of such things occurring, it was just the usual amount expected in where groups of people gathered. In fact, compared to other cities, the crusader city was much more peaceful! People certainly remained human in all situations, and even in the face of the world's impending end, they continued to clash over the most petty things. But in the end they still found a measure for their conflicts, stopped before they crossed the line. Or, at the very least, calmed down under the influence of external factors, whether an invocation of God's name or a good fist bump to the solar plexus.

Scáthach felt… Irritation, certainly. Confusion. And some kind of childish resentment. As if for the first time, she was confronted with the fact that the lesson she had learned all her life was not applicable to all situations in the world.

All Scáthach could do was throw up her hands and say only a completely useless argument, which was hardly even an argument. "It doesn't work that way!"

Scáthach's thoughts, unfortunately or fortunately, however, could not change the reality of the situation – it should not have happened, but it did.

Jacques represented something dark, no matter how the Crusader was connected to it, she was undeniably tainted by something foul and evil. And yet, the ordinary people under her command and control not only did not survive through the horror – but they existed quite well off, in spite of it.

And while this blow, too, could not break Scáthach's will so easily, after all, and yet, it was still another blow against all that Scáthach had known for hundreds of years before.

"Ainz knew exactly how to make his move against me." Scáthach gritted her teeth at the thought of the great evil lurking behind her Master's human facade. "And he did, and now, even knowing that it was a weapon prepared against me… I cannot deny its effectiveness."

Scáthach had seen for centuries the horror of which the creatures of the Shadow Lands were capable of. Her mind could not be changed simply by showing only one or two beautiful scenes in which the creatures of darkness behaved like other humans or living beings. It would take thousands of such examples, centuries of confrontation, to outlast Scáthach's experience…

And yet, Scáthach could not say that such scenes didn't affect her at all.

Even if she knew that it was a manipulation prepared for her observation, a manufactured scene that goes against everything she stands for, the fact that it exists is still a great blow to her. What a wicked plan, Ainz! He knows that showing such a scene to her would make her compelled to prove its falsehood – and with every instance that she was proven wrong, it would be another blow to her!

In other words, Scáthach felt beyond irritated. Both by the fact that Ainz had dared to show her such a picture, by cheap manipulation trying to disrupt her mood and defeat her worldview. And by the fact that it was an effective tactic.

It was as if Scáthach had been caught in combat at the simplest trick, the simplest stunt. And as a result, while directing her anger at her opponent, she couldn't help but direct the same at herself for falling for such a simple trick.

"And the main problem is that… I don't see how I can respond!" Scáthach could grit her teeth as long as she wanted, but the people in the crusader city lived a relatively good life, relative to their surroundings. And Jacques, even when being an unknown evil, did nothing more villainous than simply to exist and feel like 'something evil'.

Scáthach could scrutinize Jacques and her actions, prepare for battle, try to decipher her mystery and search for secret plans all she wants, but she actually had no reason or opportunity to act! At least not in a way that wouldn't make her look like a deranged monster like the ones she had to deal with in the past.

She would not stoop so low as to attack simply because of her gut feelings! Doing so would make her no different to the monster that she had dedicated her life to putting down!

Scáthach appreciated her self-control, but under the current circumstances she could do nothing more than let out a growl with the fury of a beast, then head toward some training grounds and blow a few staged wooden dummies to smithereens. She had nothing else that would allow her to blow off some steam before she did something unfortunate.

"AINZ!" Scáthach roared with the emotions overwhelming her, but she couldn't just attack Ainz.

Even if she were to compromise on her morals, attacking someone who was sort of trying to save humanity at the moment would be the worst thing to do. Though, as much as it pains her to admit, she doesn't possess the ability to actually hurt Ainz.

Scáthach might not care as much about her reputation as a witch who had devoted her life to protecting humanity in distant lands, a being beyond human existence itself… But it still galled her to admit that she doesn't have the ability to beat Ainz. Moreover, one could argue that Ainz, who had caused such emotional damage by taking advantage of Scáthach's experience, causing an internal conflict over her view of the world, had drawn first blood. All without raising a hand, he had struck a blow simply by disrupting her cold demeanor and sober, logical calculation.

Scáthach might have been angry about it, but as long as she was angry, Ainz was winning. And the only way for Scáthach to stop Ainz from winning was to stop being angry.

And to do that, Scáthach needed to remove the underlying conflict in her views, to add the possibility of reconciling her experience and the current reality before her eyes.

There was only one way Scáthach could do that…

Scáthach felt the gears of her mind bleed with every movement, with every turn, as she adopted a new outlook on life. Through clenched teeth, she slowly uttered something that she wouldn't even utter while under the most painful of tortures. "I suppose that… Not all dark beings are unrepentant evil and an enemy of humanity… "

Even though with this admittance she had dulled Ainz blow, Scáthach felt as if she's actually getting closer to losing the fight instead of getting closer to winning.

"Ainz, you diabolical bastard!"

A beautiful melodic sound reached Mashu's ears. It was something between the sound of a harp and a xylophone, music suitable for enjoyment in an opera house, sitting in a plump seat and looking intently at the orchestra performing for the judgment of a sophisticated spectator.

This music might even have been called beautiful, if it were not for the fact that at the same time each note is played, a dozen deadly glittering arrows crashed into Mashu's shield. A shield she had hastily placed in the path of the attack, which turned to shards of later a moment later with a sad chime, bellying its destructive nature, almost knocking Mashu off her feet.

'LEFT!' Galahad's voice made Mashu, obeying reflexes rather than trying to comprehend what was said, move her shield, putting it out to the side to take another hit on her shield. 'FRONT OF ARTHURIA!'

Mashu found herself in front of Arthuria a moment later, holding on for dear life as each shot of Tristan's seems to get only stronger and stronger.

"So, so sad…" Were the only words that Tristan uttered, a voice equal parts full of bitterness and boredom, as if he was saddened by the action seen before him, but not the least bit surprised. It was quite surprising that his voice even could be heard amidst the cacophony of battle.

"Could you just move out of my way and let me finish this sad battle? Accept this kindness."

Despite his words, however, Tristan did not slacken his blow. A moment later, several more arrows slammed into Mashu's shield, making her involuntarily let out a light wheeze, before several arrows snaked through the barrier of her shield, curving their trajectory in an attempt to strike Mashu from behind.

Arthuria made her presence known as she batted the light arrows away, protecting Mashu, before she lunged forward.

Arthuria, possessing the highest speed and noticeable strength of the three, she seemed the most ideal option of all in this defensive battle. With her abilities, if she were able to bring this fight into a melee, Tristan, as an Archer, possessed no hope in winning.

Of course, this fact Tristan knows well, and another volley of projectiles, each arrow warping and changing their trajectory to find the best way to strike the rushing Arthuria, either to stop her charge or to just kill her outright. Mashu could have blocked the attack, but to do so, she would have had to get in Arthuria's way, which meant disrupting her movement, not to mention the fact that Mashu simply couldn't get to Arthuria in time.

Arthuria, however, was not at all frightened by the situation – though given her eternal, stoic, cold mask, it was no surprise.

Arthuria's blade flit upwards, a moment later, it was filled to the brim with mana – before her blade then exploded with a forward thrust, sweeping Tristan's attack out of the way. Her skill, Mana Blast, combined with the near-total lack of mana consumption limits from Ainz, worked wonders.

'Speaking of which – if you've been thinking about asking Ainz for help, now would be a good time!' Galahad reminded Mashu of an important feature, but she couldn't commit to such an action in time. Whether Tristan knew of her capabilities or was just trying to keep all enemies in his sight, several shots crashed into her shield, causing Mashu to divert her attention from trying to contact Ainz.

Arthuria used the opportunity in the lull of having Tristan's full attention on her, and approached the bowmen instantly. Another Mana Blast, and then a second, overcoming her speed limits, Arthuria was now at arm's length from Tristan, her blade poised to strike. The music spilled out in a crescendo, as Tristan thumbed the strings of his bow fully, to defend himself.

But, even if Tristan's attack reached Arthuria, her blade would still reach his neck.

"So sad." Arthuria's black blade lunged, intent on penetrating the Knight of the Round Table's body, Tristan unable to even react to the King's action. When the blade lunged at him, Tristan abruptly released his weapon before his hand collided with Arthuria's lunging arm… And snapped at her, his hands closing in a deadly grip on her blade.

Arthuria's blow, which should have easily passed through the Servant's flesh, stopped, as if it had struck an insurmountable barrier.

The inertia of the movement threw Arthuria forward, but Arthuria didn't allow the almost nonsensical series of events to distract her, almost immediately she found her footing and tried to leap away. Only to find that she couldn't move.

Arthuria's blade didn't budge, trapped in Tristan's grip.

The few notes turned into arrows pierced her body a moment later, causing Arthuria's expression to finally change into surprise, as a copious amount of blood spurted out of her wounds. A deadly wound to any other Servant lacking her great Endurance.

Tristan, as if to prove that his demonstrated strength was no fluke, easily tossed Arthuria, an outstanding Servant in her fighting power and strength, away, demonstrating the excessive strength not just for Archer, but for many Servants. Then the discarded harp reappeared in his hands, and volleys of arrows soon followed after. "I'm so sad that it has come to this."

'Oh great, so Tristan was equipped with Berserker strength for close combat, neutralizing his main weakness as an Archer. Great!' Mashu literally felt Galahad sigh in frustration. 'I don't want to be that guy, but I think it's time to summon Ainz!'

'I'd love to, but I need a second for that! And I don't think the Archer would be giving me that anytime soon!' Tristan's arrows slammed into Mashu's shield, causing her to dig her shield into the ground in an effort to allay some of her opponent's strength, using the ground beneath her feet for leverage. 'Any idea how to do that?'

Judging by the fact that Galahad didn't respond to Mashu's words, he had no ideas, and even if he did, at least he didn't see fit to deliver something as obvious as 'hit him over the head!'.

Arthuria, despite the grievous wounds she had suffered moments ago, rose from the ground a moment later. Her stance giving no sign that the blood flowing from her flesh in brief rivulets was reducing her fighting capabilities, but Mashu knew that even her steely will had its limits.

"Sad! What terrible sadness…" Tristan seemed to only repeat once again his feeling of sadness, as if it were the only word in his vocabulary. "Is it really so necessary for you to continue this sad fight?"

'I have no idea what was done to him, but he annoys me even more than usual now!' Galahad gritted his teeth distinctly, but Mashu could only let his comment pass her ears without comment, busy as she was holding back blow after blow, seemingly pouring in an endless stream.

"And it saddens me so much that…" Tristan continued speaking before he lost his train of thought, as he opened his eyes suddenly for the first time during the battle, turning sideways. Exactly at that moment, a figure hidden by a gray, tattered traveling cloak rushed from behind him.

'Bedivere, that's where he was!' Galahad managed to insert the remark as Tristan raised his harp bow upward, defending himself from Bedivere's strike, who by some unknown ability managed to hide both from Mashu and Tristan. A moment later the cloak was knocked from Bedivere's body in a rising gust of air, exposing his figure, his face, and…

Instead of a blade to attack his opponent, it's Bedivere's right hand that was drawn.

Only, Bedivere had no right hand, or, more accurately, Bedivere had a hand, a prosthetic made of silver steel or similar metal. A hand that was used to strike at Tristan. A hand which a moment later lit up in a light so bright that it made Mashu squinch in surprise.

"Airgetlam!" Bedivere's entire metal arm erupted in a golden glow, so bright like a small sun on Earth, before it slammed into Tristan's body.

There was a grinding, terrifying rumble, as if Bedivere's blow had crashed into a mountain of steel. Mashu had to drive her shield even harder into the ground, as she was struck by buffeting wind, as if a tornado had just formed not a few meters in front of her.

"This-" Arthuria's voice, however, reached Mashu even through the blaring sounds. Given the deafening rumbling, it meant only one thing.

As unbelievable as it was – Arthuria had raised her voice. From surprise, of all things.

The golden light continued to shine for a few more moments, each seconds of which Mashu felt through her bones. The seconds felt like an eternity as the Sun continued shining, each second heralding even stronger winds – before slowly the Sun finally faded.

Mash could finally make out the figures of the two opponents before her.

The first thing Mash found was Bedivere – his face was pale and covered in a cold, clammy sweat, as if he were shivering, and his whole figure was barely on his feet. While Tristan… was missing an arm.

Mash saw Tristan take a step back, then another, and another. Tristan's absent arm oozed blood as that man's tattered cloak rippled in the wind, exposing the result of Bedivere's attack.

'Airgetlam?! Why the hell does Bedivere have Nuada's arm?!' Galahad's surprised voice echoed in Mashu's mind.

'And that destruction was the action of Nuada's hand?! What the… Argh, this story doesn't add up, doesn't add up at all!'

"It's somewhat… Unusual." For the first time in the entire battle, Tristan did not mention 'sadness' in his words. Before with his remaining arm, he covered his eyes, an unusual action, such a strong deviation from his usual pattern of behavior.

"But it is also sad… I am sad, Sir Bedivere, that…"

After a moment, Tristan stopped speaking. He froze, as if in surprise, before glancing at Bedivere, at least that's where his head was facing. "Ah, so that's how…"

Then, like a doll whose string was cut, Tristan fell to the ground, an arrow sticking out of his back.

Mashu hurriedly shifted her eyes to the Servant who had attacked the knight, while Galahad only sighed unhappily. 'Well, looks like we have an anonymous Archer Club meeting here…'

Mashu's gaze was instantly fixed on the figure of a short guy with… Frankly, an unimpressive face. It looked as if he'd come off an Archer assembly line. He sported a simple, slightly disheveled dark hair, an unsophisticated face and a simple bow in his hands, with a simple metal breastplate for armor. Everything there was to describe the word 'simple', fits the man's appearance.

The man next to him, however, was anything but 'simple'. With outstanding height and muscularity, his turquoise-colored hair tied in a high ponytail, and with a huge bow that hardly even matched his height, over whose shoulders was slung a huge bale stuffed to the top. The other Servant looked far more colorful – especially compared to his companion.

From the look of him, he was the origin of the arrow between Tristan's shoulder blades.

'I have no idea who exactly these people are,' Galahad said as both a warning and a comment, making Mashu tense slightly in response. The fact that they attacked Tristan spoke in their favor – but the enemy of my enemy was not always a friend.

The tall man, however, unable to hear Mashu's inner thoughts, glanced over the heads of the Servants, lingering for a moment on Arthuria before exhaling loudly.

"My friend, I have to state… We are indeed lost for good! Argh, why does this happen every time this monk is trying to reach the West!?"