24 23

Dracula felt the moment when a creature similar to him was summoned even before the dark mist acquired its final shape, outlining long claws and a twisted mouth full of teeth. The feeling of grave cold and the barely perceptible smell of death passed over his bones like sandpaper, terribly similar to the feelings that Dracula himself bestowed on his allies as they approached.

"Vampire" Vlad instantly realized this, "Extremely strong one".

The vampire that appeared out of nothing was not weaker than Vlad himself.

Of course, in a battle inside Vlad's Kingdom, taking into account the help of his Master, his summoning and Noble Phantasm, Vlad believed that he was still stronger than the summoned vampire, but if he had to face him in a one-on-one battles on neutral territory... Vlad was not sure his victory was assured. And even it were, it would not be an easy victory.

"Creating a creature of such power ..." Dracula looked into the sky, where his opponent continued to evade the whirlwind of stakes that was chasing him "Who are you even?!"

The vampire that appeared from the black fog, however, did not bother with Dracula's thoughts and instantly rushed forward, forcing Vlad to respond to his movements.

The claws of the summoned creature met a spear in the hands of Dracula, leaving deep dents on it, then, feeling something was wrong, Vlad threw away the spear, which, after a second, disintegrated to smithereens due to the force behind creature's blow.

Vlad retreated a step, after which, intercepting with a newly conjured spear, he blocked a new strike of the creature, which was followed by another.

Left without direct control from Lancer, the whirlwind of stakes in the sky unexpectedly slowed down, after which, almost lazily, slowly crawled behind the wizard, who teleported again. Without Lancer's control, the whirlwind lost most of its speed and maneuverability, which meant that with only one move, Ainz instantly virtually neutralized all the danger from the Kazikli Bey vortex that arose earlier, while creating a really strong opponent for Dracula, capable of fighting him on an equal footing.

"Great..." despite the fact that Dracula was full of disgust for his opponent's stingy and dishonest style of battle, he could not help but admit the genius of the move of his opponent, "In one move he was able to neutralize me, my main and the most deadly trump card for him, and provide himself with a powerful ally at this crucial moment of our battle. So this was your trump card?.. As expected from my opponent."

Dracula greatly overestimated Ainz, although at the same time Ainz himself greatly overestimated Dracula. Ainz created the Vampire Lord as a temporary solution. Ainz saw Kazikli Bey appear as a whirlwind, but he considered that this ability was necessary to Dracula only to buy Dracula some time to prepare one of his trump cards. He needed to disturb Dracula's concentration, and he considered it best to create a temporary puppet in order to buy some time for himself before he decided on which battle strategy was best.

However, to the surprise of the mage soaring through the sky, the undead that emerged at his behest was not only not killed in battle, he unexpectedly forced Dracula to retreat from his position, defending himself from the merciless blows of a newly created vampire, while the soaring whirlwind of spears slowed down and turned into a lazy cat barely crawling across the sky in a reluctant pursuit of Ainz.

For Ainz, this meant only one thing.

"He prepares some powerful ability!" Ainz felt like a panic attack rose inside him, which got wiped out in an instant his passive skills "I should do something!"

The most suitable action was to use one of the high-level spells. However, Ainz could feel that his body could not withstand such a thing, even the use of Napalm was quite exhausting for his body. In other words, the use of high-level spells in such conditions was a last resort.

Ainz used teleportation to get away from the slowly approaching stream of spears, and then he looked at his opponent, who continued to fight the summoned "Vampire Lord." Unfortunately, the mental command of the summoned creatures was inaccessible to Ainz, so he was forced to accept the loss of his summon. However, contrary to Dracula's thoughts, this summon was not his trump card, but Ainz still did not like to waste summoned creatures in vain.

Perhaps it was a miracle of fate or a warrior's instinct, but when Dracula saw how Ainz stretched out his hand to create a spell, Dracula realized that this was the end. The summoned vampire continued to attack with the ferocity of a beast, while the spears of Kazikli Bey remained just a useless cloud littering the sky.

Dracula had to act.

Even if he dies at the end, he had to show that he would not die so simply. That he is still able to fight, and surprise.

The vampire, with whom Dracula continued to fight, suddenly dug into Vlad's throat, without meeting with the usual resistance from the Impaler. The beast's fangs pierced the defenseless neck of the Great Vampire, after which, obeying its ancient instinct, the ugly monster began to fondle the blood of an enemy that had not yet been killed.

Fine. Just the way Vlad wanted.

Having discarded defense, Vlad again concentrated on the whirlwind of lances, which, having received an order from it's creator, rushed forward at an incredible speed.

As the spell left the hands of the soaring mage, fire took shape. It was not like the fire that Dracula had been dealing with for the entire battle, no, it was a fire that burned ten times hotter. Like a small Sun, the flame descended hundreds of meters from the sky, but the fire still did not reach Dracula. Having crashed into the spears forming the cloud of Kazikli Bey, the fire instantly devoured them, turning the incarnated Vlad's legend into dust and ash in a heartbeat, while the resulting fireball continued to devour more and more new spears.

The hungry beast continued to lap up Dracula's blood, never stopping, drinking more and more with every second, just like Vlad wanted it to do.

"Kazikli Bey!" he used his ability for the last time. It activated like his ability before, but at the same time it was a unique ability, bestowed upon him by the nature of his summon, by his vampiric nature "The Blood-stained Demon King!"

It was a unique power bestowed upon Vlad by interweaving his true life and the Legend of Dracula. It was his vauled treasure, a trump card that Vlad had as a secret weapon, yet he never actively tried to keep it secret, using it openly the entire battle.

How did Vlad get his endless spears time after time, from a thin air?

From his own blood.

The blood absorbed his opponent drank from his neck submitted to the words of Dracula, and instantly turned into hundreds of spikes, tearing the greedy vampire that wanted to eat Dracula himself, to pieces.

Moments later, everything around became clouded with smoke and ash.

The Witch's body burned with pain.

Her muscles were screaming in pain, bones seemed to be trying to break through her skin, blood slowly and reluctantly flowed out of her veins, burning her mind, as if it was made of fire.

The sword in her hands grew slower with each blow, as if was getting heavier.

Serenity's shadow emerged from nowhere, which made the Witch jerk in an attempt to brush her aside, but the deft figure effortlessly walked away with the sway of the blade, after which, several throwing daggers penetrated the witch's skin, causing her to hiss in pain.

Gravity seemingly doubled, it became even stronger for the Witch, which led her to drive her black blade into the ground to lean on it and not fall, and Serenity's shadow, who appeared from nowhere, did not hesitate to take advantage of that.

Two more blades entered the Witch's body, and she fell, feeling the last of her strength leaving her body.

In her current state, her Phantasm was useless, she could hardly gather enough strength to even pronounce it's name.

Serenity suddenly appeared next to the Witch, and mercilessly knocked her down with a kick straight to the face. The Witch expected to see Assassin's triumphant face, but Serenity's face seemed to be bored. There was no smile, no grin, or even disgust on her face. Just routine boredom.

"You lost," Serenity said it calmly.

The hate inside the Dragon Witch rose like a tongue of flame, burning her inside out. Her opponent had to rejoice, she just triumphed over her, over Jeanne d'Arc herself! she should have been happy... smug...willing to make demands... anything! Her opponent should not have looked at her with such a bored look, as if she were an ordinary enemy, just like everyone else, insignificant, and so lacking.

"Go to hell!" having gathered all the power into a fist, the Witch tried to move for the last time, but with this, her energy was finally exhausted and she fell flat on the ground.

Serenity did not even flinch when the Witch made her last attack, observing her actions with the calmness of a pathologist looking at a new corpse.

"Now you finally shut up," the girl said it calmly, then leaned over the Witch's face.

The Witch did not want anything more in the world at this moment than to stick her teeth into the neck of the killer bending over her, but the red-hot stream of pain and exhaustion spreading through her muscles chained her to the ground with invisible chains.

"All my attacks are poisonous," Serenity bent over the girl at that moment, and then she touched the Witch's face with her own hands. From the cold fingers, the Witch felt an intolerable heat, as if acid was slowly spreading over her face, "My body is poison. My blood is poison. Even my breath is poison. Any blade that has been in my hands is poisonous."

The Witch wanted to swear, but all she could do was mentally curse the Assassin and Jeanne, who at that moment had managed to rise to her feet.

"Jeanne played her role in this battle," Serenity slowly raised the Witch's head, who did not even have the strength to resist such actions, "It was enough for me that you considered me less of a threat than her. You took to a few blows from me in order to get Jeanne out of the game. This means that Jeanne played her role, this was enough for me."

The Witch felt the pain of poison spilling over her body mixed with phantom pains from the fire of the Inquisition, which was eating her from the inside, so all she could do was twist her lips in a grin "Go to Hell with your Saint."

"She is not my Saint," Serenity calmly objected, and then forcibly opened the Witch's mouth. "I used to give death to my enemies through a kiss in my life. I always thought it was very poetic and beautiful, but after finding the Master…"

After these words, Serenity paused and took a deep breath.

"To burn your body and mind," the girl exhaled, but instead of exhale, a cloud of dense purple smoke burst from her mouth. The Witch understood that this smoke would be her end, but her body was already depleted. She did not even have the strength to push Serenity away from her. All she could do was watch the smoke burst into her throat unobstructed "Zabaniya."

The heat and pain in the Witch's body intensified a thousand times after the name of the perfect poison was uttered, and the Witch's mind was devoured by the poisonous smoke brought by the sad Assassin.

Violet smoke absorbed every cell of her body and penetrated every capillary, bringing torment.

And death.

It was difficult enough to fight Saint Martha on her own. Fighting her summoned dragon was impossible.

Archer retreated time after time, trying only the distracting blows on Tarrasque. His Reality Marble was never able to completely absorb such a powerful creature, which is why at the moment, he was limited in his options, but even if he was not, it is unlikely that he would have found something so strong as to destroy the real dragon.

"This is clearly not a wyvern," Archer noted to himself and shook his head inwardly, thinking that he now understood the reaction of his Master and Summoner. Further thinking for him was impossible due to a blow from the huge paw of the summoned monster.

"Is that all you've got?!" standing on the back of Tarasque, Martha shouted at Archer with a sneer, "Is that all you can do? Fight the defenseless Servant of the God, and run in fear at the sight of monsters?!"

'Even in a nightmare, I wouldn't call you defenseless,' Archer had only thought of that for a second before escaping from another blow. A replica of the holy sword flashed in his hand, a copy of Durendal, but without the full materialization of the Reality Marble, all he could create was a weak copy. Even overloading his blade completely to the highest point, his next blow, which exploded with a hundred gleams of light on the dragon's scales, did not even make him slow down.

"What a problematic opponent..." was the only thing Archer could think of before he had to move away from the next blow.

"What?" throwing another scoff, the Saint smirked, "Maybe then you would run away, like your boyfriend?!"

Assassin was able to instantly assess the situation.

"I am not suitable for fighting monsters, only for killing people" was his words before he disappeared from the battlefield.

A bright light surrounded Archer and he prepared for what follows next. In an instant, the explosion absorbed him, but his opponent was not strong when it came to offensive magic, because of that, he felt only a slight push and a burning sensation, as if he were doused with hot steam.

"These are not Master level attacks" after that, Archer shivered when he remembered the power of the necromancer. Whoever he really is, his strength served as a clear argument in favor of his right to command.

Archer had already foreseen the next blow from Tarrasque, therefore, having jumped aside, he was able to instantly charge the bow that appeared in his hands with a copy of the created sword. Caladbolg went flying, this time aiming not at the dragon, but at Saint Martha herself.

"Is that all you can come up with?" the girl just grinned at this, while the dragon shielded the girl with his body, "This way you can never beat me!"

"No," Archer calmly agreed. "But I don't need to."

Hassan fled in order to help other Servants in their battles and then bring them to aid Archer, who was in a difficult situation. At least that's what Martha thought.

It is stupid to fall for the same trick twice.

Hassan did run away, but not at all to find someone to help battle the enraged Taraque. Moving a decent distance from the battlefield, Hassan performed the most logical action in the current conditions. Came back.

But invisible.

Hassan had an extremely high rank of Presence Concealment, he could be not afraid to be revealed by almost any Servant, barring a few exceptions, but even if Saint Martha could detect him, then under current conditions he was virtually invisible to everyone. In the collision of such forces, the two Noble Phantasms, the Reality Marble and the dragon, Hassan was like a leaf among the trees. Even if he had not been hiding at the moment, he most likely would not be spotted before it was too late. However, Hassan chose not to risk it, therefore at the moment he moved in silent invisibility following the elusive dragon.

"Could you stop taking the dragon further every time I prepare for the jump?" Hassan sighed once again when the beast left the last trajectory which Hassan was preparing. Despite even his invisibility and the battle that was happening opposite him, Assassin did not want to take risks, so he prepared himself for the fact that this would be his only chance. His opponent was a dragon, a real dragon. Even in the current conditions, if the dragon retained even a part of his awareness, it would be no problem for him to see Hassan jumping onto his back, and therefore it would not be difficult for Martha to detect his presence.

Therefore, Hassan sneaked behind, waiting for the moment. One movement, second, third one...

"A chance!" Hassan responded instantly and was in the air before the dragon could move.

He let his black, tattered cloak slide off his shoulders and down to his waste, where his belt kept it in place, this exposed his hands. More precisely, only the right hand.

Hassan's left hand was wrapped with a variety of black belts and seals, like a priceless relic, which it actually was. In his life, Hassan sacrificed not only his face, but also his left hand, in order to gain the strength necessary for the new leader of the Hashishin clan.

Instantly, his left hand, wrapped in straps, swelled, and before Assassin's feet touched the dragon, the seals on his hand burst, exposing what was hidden beneath.

Hassan was extremely tall, even though he was painfully thin and constantly stooped, his height exceeded two meters, and yet, the hand that emerged from under the wrapings was disproportionately huge for his body. If Hassan had exposed it completely, it would easily have reached three meters, and that would still not be the limit.

The red hand, filled with a painfully scarlet color, contained something within it, a sealed evil... a Shaitan.

And Hassan was going to take full advantage of its power.

The instance Hassan landed on the dragon's back, he rushed forward at incredible speed, and even faster, he threw his left hand forward. Stretching out like a serpent, his clawed scarlet hand ignored all the laws of physics and anatomy, bending as if without bones, in pursuit of its goal.

Saint Martha was defended by a miracle. A true miracle, given by the Lord. A miracle that directed her hand when she attacked and kept her body safe from harm, increased her strength and allowed her to avoid her fate. But even a miracle has its limits, as it did not provide immunity against another miracle such as magic capable of a miracle, or a crystallized miracle...a Noble Phantasm. So when Martha finally responded to the threat that appeared from nowhere, it was too late.

One touch of the cursed hand ended everything. Touching the Saint's heart, Hassan felt a ghostly connection with the her appear in his hand.

"Zabaniya," he said detachedly and in an instant, when Hassan was near the Saint, her heart spattered in his hands in all directions with blood. Saint Martha merely coughed up blood, feeling how instantly all energy disappeared from her body, and her dragon froze in place.

"This is the end," Hassan said calmly, after which, he glanced at the dying woman.

However, she, having fallen, was unable to support her body even with her staff, instead of dying, only found Hassan's gaze and, instead of a curse, she twisted her lips slightly in a smile.

"Do you think that's all?" To this, Martha only stretched her lips even more, turning a smile into a foxish smirk "I was not known as the Saint that summons dragons. I was known as the Saint, who subjugated the dragon."

And with these words, Martha gave one last laugh and, with a sigh, closed her eyes.

However, her dragon did not disappear.

Hassan stopped for a second before he felt a shiver. This tremor did not come from within him, but from the creature on which he stood. From the dragon.

And it was not a shiver of panic or horror, but a shiver rising from the depths of rage.

Sensing this, Hassan just instantly jumped off Tarrasque's head, thinking only of one thing.

"I hope that now at least someone will help with our battle..."

Arthurias's body ached from the stresses and wounds inflicted by Lancelot.

Even if he fought with a wooden trunk, he was not inferior to the King of Knights. His attacks were accurate, his skill was unmatched, and his strength was undeniable.

Arthuria avoided a strike, then jumped back, breaking the distance with the insane knight.

Her mana reserves came to an end, and the mana bursts became less and less frequent, she was exhausted from the battle.

However, her opponent was also exhausted.

Lancelot still continued to look at her with unspeakable hatred, and his attacks were still as terrifying as they were at the very beginning of the duel, but Arthuria knew her old friend too well to miss all the signs of his fatigue. Now he stood a little more uncertainly than at the beginning of the battle, the end of his weapon was slightly tilted to the ground, and Lancelot himself allowed Arthuria to break the distance, instead of rushing after her, trying to inflict a crushing defeat on her with a series of bestial attacks.

Lancelot was stronger than Arthuria and significantly more skilled in fencing, but that did not mean that he was invincible. Despite all his accomplishments and his nature as a Servant, he was still vulnerable. Not in any way weak, but not omnipotent.

An extended battle would exhaust Lancelot completely, leaving him defeated.

If not for the fact that Arthuria was exhausted and wounded much more than Lancelot.

Despite the fact that Arthuria took the place of the leader, she was not the strongest among the knights of the Round Table.

However, unlike Lancelot, she had one trump card.

Arthuria, noticing her opponent approaching, managed to react and rushed to the side. If Lancelot was less tired, then with this maneuver Arthuria would not be able to escape from his attack, but in the current conditions, Arthuria could not afford the luxury of avoiding using a mana burst.

The battle in the current conditions was impossible.

If only she had asked for help from Ainz...

'No,' she brushed aside this thought, 'Lancelot is my mistake, and I must be the one who ends his life.'

Firmly grabbing her black blade with her second hand, Arthuria stopped.

Dark energy swirled around the blade, which did not reflect light, becoming like a tangible storm.

Once, her blade was a holy sword, giving hope, the blade of the true king, beloved by the people and ruling the knights.

No, Excalibur still remained undefiled, in her real identity, the identity of Arthuria Pendragon, the King of Knights.

But the Arthuria who fought now was not this noble king. She was a Tyrant who seized power in Britain, a desecrated black king, who accepted his power, his dragon's blood and his hatred. And her Excalibur was distorted like her personality, from a holy sword, embodying the king's divine right to power, it turned into a symbol of her downfall, a symbol of her unlimited tyranny, a symbol of her black hatred.

Grabbing the blade tighter, Arthuria focused her eyes on her opponent who, sensing something was going to happen, rushed toward her.

She and Lancelot were not so different. Lancelot plunged into the abyss of madness, rejecting his knighthood, as Arthuria rejected her honor, plunging into power.

"Excalibur..." Arthuria raised her arms above herself to unleash the power of her blade upon her adversary.

Instincts screamed at once inside her. If she remained the one Arthuria Pendragon, who carried the holy Excalibur in her scabbard, her mind would put out her instincts, allowing her to deliver the final blow, but the mind of this Arthuria was like a predatory beast, forcing her to obey her animal instincts, forcing her to immediately rush away from the source of danger.

Lancelot, even if he was an unsurpassed swordsman, in such a mad form was not able to obey his mind, and therefore could not escape from imminent danger.

For a few seconds, everything around Arthuria was clouded with smoke and fumes, forcing the girl to cough before the roar hit her ears and a wave of air dispersed the veil around her. Arthuria was able to stand on her feet, not allowing the shockwave to knock her down, and after only a few seconds she was able to re-evaluate the situation in which she found herself.

Understanding og what happened came to her after a few seconds, when her eyes could find her Master soaring in the heights, slowly lowering his hand after creating a spell.

"Another of the Master's incredible spells" the puzzle has finally formed in her head. The Master applied another of the spells of the Age of Gods, and its area of effect reached the battles of other Servants. This has already happened the last time when his opponent created the spears throughout the battlefield, but now the incident was less ambitious, but much stronger. Arthuria saw how great the destructive power of her Master's spells was and understood that even with her enormous resistance to magic, she could not escape unwounded from it.

Therefore, when the ashes finally fell to the ground, Arthuria expected to see the imprint of destruction on the whole area around.

But she did not expect not to see Lancelot.

The fireball generated by the necromancer swallowed Lancelot, and when the spell finally subsided, the black armor did not emerge from the fiery blaze ever again.

Feeling as if she had found herself in some kind of silly joke, Arthuria looked around and even looked up. However, this also remained true. Lancelot was not in her sight.

Arthuria blinked once, then a second time and a third, completely confused and not understanding what situation she had found herself in, then she looked at her blade.

The black energy of the defiled Excalibur was still circling around its blade, but gradually began to fade, turning from a storm into a snowstorm, and then into a barely noticeable black fog around the blade.

"No" Arthuria blinked "This shouldn't be like this."

Arthuria fought with Lancelot because he was her mistake, she decided to kill him with her own hands because he remained solely her mistake.

He could not just die, by chance, like some kind of insignificant fly.

He was her friend. He was her enemy. She was his executioner.

And Ainz took him away, quite by accident, without even paying attention.

Arthuria lifted her gaze to the sky to find in it a soaring mage, who did not even look in her direction.

Arthuria continued to look at him, ten seconds, twenty...

She would not feel hatred for her summoner, but, looking at the mage now, in her soul, a feeling rose most of all like... An insult? Yes, maybe a grudge.

The girl continued to look at the sky, after which her attention was attracted by a loud roar from the scene of the battle of Archer and Hassan. Moving her gaze to the dragon that was raging there now, Arthuria squeezed her hands on the sword, then rushed to the aid of the other Servants, feeling how an unfamiliar feeling towards the Master was rising in her soul.

She lost?

The one who was called the Dragon Witch asked this question, feeling the heat penetrate her bones.

She is dying?

It was inevitable. This is the result of her loss.

She seemed to be tied back in the center of the fire, watching helplessly as the flame approaches her body.

No!

NO!

N O!

Jeanne burned at the stake.

But the Witch will not allow this to happen again.

Serenity was still bent over the Witch after she delivered the death sentence with her breath, the Witch's fate was finally sealed...but a sharp blow with a plate glove sent Serenity on a short flight.

A bestial roar, as if the Witch had completely lost her mind, slowly began to rise from her chest.

All the Witch's pain and hatred could not be described in simple words, and the girl, burnt by these feelings, could only make a loud roar, like a wild beast that does not have the words to describe all the sensations devouring it.

The girl slowly began to rise from the ground.

"Impossible," Serenity's voice seemed shaken for the first time in the battle. The Assassin, who had risen after the strike, watched the Witch's actions with disbelief, continuing to stay away from the Witch, "Anyone who touches my poison dies. This poison has no antidote and there is no safe concentration, one drop can kill anyone. The only way to escape from this poison is not to become its goal."

However, the Witch did not listen to these explanations. Having risen from the ground, on all four limbs, like a wild dog, the Witch shuddered, after which, a black mass gushed from her mouth like a stream.

Instantly, the sweetish smell of flowers struck Serenity's nostrils, and she glanced at the spreading puddle of black color with disbelief and horror. When it came in contact with the ground, the flowers instantly dried out and the grass died. Serenity was able to identify her poison at a glance.

The Witch's body shuddered several times, throwing Serenity's poison out of itself before it subsided. However, after this, the Witch did not rise, instead she snarled once more.

In this roar there was nothing even resembling human language, only endless bestial cruelty and hatred, and since at that moment, the Witch continued to stand on all four limbs, her resemblance to a beast was even greater.

The girl squeezed her hands into a fist, and then, without straightening up, rushed forward on all fours.

Serenity managed to prepare her blades, but even if at that moment she pierced through the heart of the Witch, she would not slow her down even for a second. Her blades entered the Witch's body, who easily knocked the girl down.

The Assassin fell to the ground, after which, before she had time to do anything, a leg chained in a plate boot struck her in the chest. However, instead of knocking the girl away, the Witch's leg pressed Serenity to the ground, pressing her into the soft grass.

Looking at the Witch's face, Serenity thought that she wanted to say something - but even if the Witch had once been able to speak, now her look was devoid of all hints of logic or reason, so the black blade instantly appeared over Serenity's face.

The Assassin did not even have time to prepare for her death before the situation changed again. In an instant, the pressure of the boot was gone from the girl's chest, after which, Serenity was able to notice how the body of her opponent was sent into flight by a blow.

"I'm sorry" Mashu's voice became noticeable for Serenity earlier than her huge shield casted a shadow on her lying body. "The evacuation took longer than I expected."

Mashu extended her hand to Serenity, but she easily rose from the ground on her own, after which, she looked at the Witch rising in front of her.

It seemed that any semblance of humanity in the Witch at this moment disappeared completely, even her movements now did not belong to a human, but to some monster resembling one.

Issuing a low roar the Witch clutched at her blade.

Medusa continued to fight.

Her wound significantly reduced her capabilities, but Saber, who was left with one arm, also lost in his abilities in equal measure.

Stalemate again.

Medusa continued to attack Saber time after time - and each time it all ended the same way.

Nothing.

Time after time, Rider's blades collided with Saber's sword, each time her chains touched the swordsman's body, his blade left a scratch on Rider's body.

One to one. Rider took off her hat to her opponent. If she had a hat of course.

Continuing this battle in the current conditions was meaningless, and at the same time it was the only thing they both could do. Exchange the same blows with the same result.

Rider was engrossed in her battle and could not be distracted by how the battles of her friends went, because of that, she could not count on their help. She had to act.

Medusa had four trumps, but one of them was useless and one of them her opponent had already managed to see, and paid for it with his own arm. In other words, all that remained for the girl was one of her Phantasms - and a bandage.

Once again, when confronted with a swordsman with blades, the girl retreated to the starting position, again and again, creating a hundred-meter distance between her and her opponent.

"Lady?" her opponent looked at the girl for the last time, then pointed at her with a blade, "Did something happen?"

To this, Rider only raised her hand to her bandage.

Saber instantly realized that he should have interrupted the girl's subsequent action, but even rushing forward, he did not have time.

Rider's hand slid across her face and, for the first time her summoning, her eyes glanced at this world.

The yellow, unblinking gaze of the eyes with black, wide, rectangular pupils glanced at this world, and instantly, Saber felt his body as if plunged into viscous glue. His hands stopped obeying him, and his legs instantly turned into cotton, barely capable of supporting his body.

Saber was able to instantly realize both the nature of the incident and the identity of the individual who was behind this effect.

"Medusa Gorgon," Saber said clearly, noticing how the opponent rushed at him for the final blow "I will remember our meeting."

Saber also had several trump cards.

"Fleur de Lys," Saber's words took form, "Sword Dancing In Falling Lilies."

While his opponent was hiding her eyes, all of his Noble Phantasms were useless. However, now, that Rider had taken off her bandage, she also gained tremendous weakness with strength.

What appeared before the eyes of the girl was a young man. It was impossible to determine whether he was a man or a woman, his short-cropped hair the color of the early sun at dawn, and blue eyes, like crystal-clear water, seemed to be created by the hand of a master who wanted to approach the ideal in his creation. The fragile figure could seduce any person who looked into Saber's bottomless eyes, and the grace with which Saber made every movement was so polished and perfect that they seemed unearthly.

Looking at him, Medusa could feel only how her feelings clouded her mind, and her hands lowered at the sight of such beauty - which is why the white glow of the shining blade did not attract her attention.

In the next instant, Chevalier d'Eon's narrow sword slashed both of Medusa's eyes.

Instantly, Rider was again blind, the pain in her head was given off by blood spilling from her cut face. And Saber, once again having the opportunity to take a deep breath, feeling how Medusa's enveloping pressure had disappeared, did not stop.

Dashing forward, taking his blade, Chevalier prepared to deliver the final blow, only for Medusa's own blade to race toward Chevalier's belly, forcing him to bark in surprise and pain. Chevalier retreated in an instant, regaining control over his senses again.

"I fought you blind before" Medusa "looked" at her opponent "Why did you decide that something has changed now?"

At this Chevalier just broke into a smile, "Lady, you are amazing."

Then, frozen for a second, Chevalier suddenly turned away from his opponent, and then turned to Medusa again "I beg your pardon, noble lady, but I am afraid that this time our battle will remain without winners."

After that, in one instant movement, Chevalier rushed away, having easily beaten off Medusa's daggers thrown at him, dissolving into the distance.

Swaying a little on the spot, Medusa slowly and quietly slid to the earth and covered her missing eyes.

Slowly, the ashes from the burnt stakes dissipated, spreading with the mist in all directions from the spell Ainz used, allowing Vlad's figure to emerge from a smoky cloud, as if the only surviving victim of a battle. In a sense, that was the case.

Ainz continued to look at his opponent with a careful look, expecting movement on his part, however, instead, Vlad only continued to look under his feet, not paying attention to the reality surrounding him.

"Ha..." he finally managed to pronounce, after which, as if somewhat emboldened by what he had said, he continued, "Ha-ha..."

"Ha-ha-ha..." saying again, as if trying out what was said to taste, Vlad was silent for a second, after which he continued, "Ha-ha-ha... Ha... Ha…"

In the end, as if at some point, something finally knocked out Vlad's last bit of sense, the vampire burst into mindless laughter - "HA-HA-HA-HA! HA-HA! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!"

Ainz continued to carefully observe the actions of Vlad, assessing his condition, while the vampire himself was trying to cope with the incessant laughter.

"How long have I waited!" finally, stopping his laughter, Dracula smiled at Ainz floating in the sky, "For how long I waited! For such an enemy... such power!"

"My respect for you, Adam's descendant," Ainz was a little wary of these words, getting ready for Dracula's actions, but instead of attacking, Dracula just smiled at him "But you cannot hide your personality endlessly, even if you tried to do everything to prevent me from guessing, only one was the lord of fire and necromancy on this Earth. My respect to you, Patriarch Canaan."

At this Ainz continued to only silently review his enemy's words, thoughtfully reflecting on what was said by the vampire.

"But what should I do now?", at this, the vampire looked up at Ainz, after which, he threw up his hands, pointing to the surrounding spaces, "My kingdom is destroyed, my trumps are crushed, my lances are burned and my body is mangled. My respect to your strength, patriarch."

Vlad really could not do anything else. Nothing but one.

"But this," the vampire smiled at these words, "I would never have dared to use it under normal conditions, but now, let me enjoy even such meanness, the understanding that you will not be rewarded with a victory over Vlad III. Rejoice that you could only kill Dracula."

"Legend of Dracula," and with these words pronounced, Vlad III, the king, disappeared. In his place came Dracula, a vampire.

Cu Chulainn continued to use rune after rune, having long since switched from the simple throwing of fireballs to difficult tactics. He tried to catch his opponent in a trap, limit her movements, create an illusion, make her explode on a trap lined up in advance, but with persistence and the intuition of a wild beast inside, Carmilla continued to avoid every trap, forcing Caster to frown, inventing new non-working victory tactics.

"Really..." - Cu Chulainn winced - "I will have to use...the second Phantasm?!"

Cu Chulainn called as Caster served as an amalgam of people's ideas about the Druids, so he was able to find his first Noble Phantasm, the Wicker Man, who took the form of the oldest and most famous of the rituals of Celtic priests, the embodiment of cruelty and the power of beliefs in the Old Gods. However, this figure was still created around one existing personality, around the personality of Cu Chulainn, the great hero, and therefore a part of his legend, reflected in people's perception of ancient magi, was embodied as his "personal" Phantasm, his personality, embodied in the beliefs of the priests and people.

It was the main and most powerful trump card up his sleeve. Just thinking that he will have to spend it in the very first battle...

However, Cu Chulainn had to win. Therefore, instead of continuing to draw runes in the air, his hand descended to the belt where his real weapon was kept, the original runes.

His opponent, as if instantly understanding Cu Chulainn's idea, fell to the ground like a wild beast, and then, before Caster touched the perfect runes, rushed forward.

Cu Chulainn's hand touched his weapon, after which his mind touched the Noble Phantasm...

However, his opponent, not stopping, continued her run. When Cu Chulainn prepared to bring the pristine power of the original runes into this world, Carmilla approached the magi, instead of trying to hit him, or chain him again, she jumped over Cu Chulainn like he was an obstacle, and rushed away from him. For a second, Caster was taken aback by this development of events, and therefore, when he turned to his opponent again, she was no longer alone.

At some distance from Cu Chulainn there were three opponents. Carmilla was one of them, her dress was singed, her face was disfigured, and her skin was ripped off her bones in many places, but even so she still had a mind, which was impossible to say about the Dragon Witch.

It seemed as if the Witch was possessed by a demon, her movements were torn and jerky, as if at a spoiled clockwork doll, and the look that continued to wander around the faces around her was like a rabid, harassed dog, ready for its death.

At the last second, next to the two girls appeared... One more. The Servant's body and face were such that it was impossible to determine whether they should belong to a boy or girl, the beauty of the Servant's face blurred up any possible differences between the sexes, which made the mind refuse to perceive the face of a boy or girl as something specific from the fear that the disagreement of the real sex of the Servant with the ideas could spoil his beauty.

Three Servants, all that remained of the army of the Dragon Witch. Cu Chulainn could not vouch that his own group did not manage to incur irreplaceable losses, but regardless of what happened, Caster was inclined to call this battle a victory. Their enemies, who attacked them themselves, retreated.

As if to confirm these words, when the Witch attempted to rush forward, Saber's hand instantly grabbed her by the steel plates and pulled back, as if pulling a dog, after which the Servant himself smiled.

"I ask you to forgive us, noble gentlemen and ladies," Saber smiled for a second, "But I am afraid that our battle is postponed for a certain period of time. Milady is not feeling well."

The next second, Saber slightly leaned toward the Witch, and at that, no matter how fogged her mind was, she lifted her face to the sky and roared, forcing Cu Chulainn to prepare for a new round of battle, but instead of that, black viscous smoke escaped of all the joints of her armor, enveloping the Witch and the Servants surrounding her, rising into the sky. A second later, when a gust of wind dispelled the black cloud that had arisen, the remaining enemy Servants disappeared.

Ainz continued to float in the air, looking at how the transformation of Dracula occurs with increasing horror.

In Yggdrasil, the vampires were not beautiful, they were creepy and terrifying monsters. There was only one mob of vampires, the beauty of which was undeniable, the Vampire Bride. There was also the ability to customize the look of a created NPCs, which allowed someone to recreate the popular trend of the "aristocrats of the night."

The rest of the vampire monsters in the game remained terrifying, and the Lord of Vampires summoned a little earlier by Ainz was one of the most peaceful options.

Dracula's face continued to bend, turning into a monster's mouth, his body continued to stretch, his hands grew claws, and the terrible wounds covering his body were slowly closing before Ainz's eyes.

Ainz felt a surge of panic at the moment when Dracula began to turn, slowly looking like a monster more suitable for Yggdrasil.

"Now he will come in full force!" a moment later, the emotional suppression left only his bare mind "Of course, that's how it would happen. Turning to his true form, the form of the trusted Lieutenant of Cainabel, was to become his Noble Phantasm... of course..."

Ainz's mind told him that if Dracula could still turn into Yggdrasil's Dracula this time, then Ainz would have to throw away his body and fight to the fullest. However, at the same time...

The roar of a demoniac beast came from behind Ainz. A dragon, the real dragon ... Not a wyvern that Ainz could easily destroy, but a dragon... A dragon is almost a death sentence for any player of the hundredth level on his own.

Ainz felt the realization of the impossibility of continuing the mission slowly rise inside. No, he may even have to use Noble Phantasms. Ainz was sure that his chances of victory would be minimal in a battle with Dracula and an unknown dragon, at least in Yggdrasil, which is why, even with all the Servants on his side, he was in a very shaky position.

"Guillotine Breaker"! A resounding girlish voice distracted Ainz for a second. In any other conditions, he would have cursed himself for it, but at that moment, it was for the best, because in this way Ainz could see how the Servant girl who appeared from nowhere, rushed forward to the raging dragon.

The ice, pure as a rhinestone, instantly swallowed up the dragon, climbing up monster's legs and body before Ainz could see that the girl was not moving on her own, all this time she was riding a glass horse, as if made of pure crystal. Ainz saw how the dragon, absorbed in ice, tried to move inside, trying to destroy the ice mountain in which he found himself, before the girl riding the horse headed to the very center of the ice mountain. However, a second before the collision, the girl made a jump, worthy of a gymnast, after which, she landed on the ground at the same time her glass mare struck the ice barrier, which instantly exploded. For a moment, millions of fragments reflecting the light hid the figure of the huge dragon. However, when they finally fell to the ground, there was no longer any monster in place.

Ainz, looking at the events unfolding before him, just now noticed that a man was with the girl, whom he had not noticed before, after which he turned his gaze to his opponent who had finally finished taking his new form.

Dracula was finally able to take on his disgusting form of a beast, but having got rid of one distraction factors, Ainz was ready to try to fight a new one.

"Napalm," he said instantly, after which he teleported upwards and continued, "Napalm."

Emotional Suppression - is a unique skill of the Overlord race, the highest form of magicians among the undead and undead among magicians.

This skill is similar to many Servant skills by the result of its action, since it provides protection for the mind of its user from certain mental effects. However, it is extremely different in the mechanism of its action. While the Protection of Faith provides protection of the mind through endless faith in God, and Detachment through the denial of emotions, this skill virtually expels emotions from the mind of its user. Instead of just putting them down or finally making them disappear, this skill not only destroys the emotional imprint, but also all possible judgments or conclusions that could be affected by the emotion. Although this skill may be the most effective from a practical point of view, because it provides the absolute efficiency of the user's mind, the absence of empathy for certain things can be a problem.