Type-Moon: My Destiny Guide

This not only means that the Red Team will launch a full-scale attack, but also that the war has fully advanced to the next stage—a truly brutal war in which no effort is spared, even at the cost of unleashing Noble Phantasms and revealing the true names of heroes.

What's the current situation over there?

Fiore, standing beside him, asked in a slightly trembling voice. Facing the Master who was trying to remain calm, Chiron, the only one with clairvoyance, smiled and said, "Stop. Although it's just my speculation, it seems that the Red Team intends to use this grassland as the battlefield."

"So, it's going to be a full-scale battle?"

“Indeed, Master, you should retreat to a safe place first. I’m sure the enemy will deploy their forces with Servants and Familiars.”

"It seems so. They appear to have summoned Dragon Tooth Soldiers, presumably to fight against our androids and puppets."

With a "thud," Danic landed on the city wall. It turned out that he had just boldly looked around at the fortress floating in the air.

"Uncle..."

"Let's go, Fiore. Now we can only rely on the Servants to decide the outcome."

“You’re right, Danic. This is our territory now.”

The light particles began to converge, forming the outline of a person, and the noble fantasies that transcended time descended upon this place, gathering here.

Black, Chiron.

Black Frankenstein.

Black, Avisbro.

Black, Siegfried.

The Black, Artoria.

And Vlad III, the leader of the Black Faction, gave a heroic smile and silently watched the fortress.

“Not only do they offend our land with such ugly things, but they also scatter unspeakably filthy skeletons everywhere.”

They displayed obvious hatred; the moment they invaded the territory, they were the enemy, the conquerors, the Ottoman Turks.

The intense sense of duty that "they must all be killed" instantly bound Vlad III's entire being.

"My lord, let's take refuge in the city first. But if we're going to have a major battle on that grassland, we can fight with our backs to the street. Please fight to your heart's content."

Danic bowed respectfully, while the Grand Prince of Wallachia nodded proudly.

"Also, release the cavalry and the Red Berserkers; they must join the battle." As if sensing Danic's hesitation, Vlad III smirked.

"Since the other side is eager for a full-scale confrontation, it would be proper for us to commit our full strength as well."

"Understood, I'll go right away."

Darnic led the Masters away, while Vlad III didn't even turn his head, only staring at the invaders on the horizon, issuing commands without looking back.

"You'll join me in commanding the assembled android force."

"clear."

Just like the last operation, you'll be in charge of dealing with the enemy.

"No, please forgive my intrusion." Beneath the black robe, the Knight King's clear voice rang out, rejecting the Grand Duke's order. "I have already found the opponent I must fight in this battle."

"Is it an enemy swordsman?" According to Liudao Lingxia's report, Vlad III also learned of what happened in Sighishwara, and that their assassin seemed to have an ambiguous relationship with the Crimson One. "Very well, if you insist on doing so, then I will handle it..."

“No need, Your Majesty,” Chiron volunteered. “If it’s that cavalryman, besides you, only I can handle him.”

While sensing the emotion in Chiron's words, Vlad III also perceived the firmness in his words, so he nodded with satisfaction and turned to look at the silent Avisbroun.

"Please wait here for now. The opportunity to remove the red shackles is up to you."

"Understood. Also, as the king, you certainly cannot participate in battle on foot. I have had horses prepared, although they are merely man-made artifacts (magical puppets)."

"Oh--"

Upon hearing this, he immediately looked at the warlock's horse with great interest.

It was a huge bronze-iron horse, a spotted horse made of iron and bronze, with eyes made of rubies and sapphires that shimmered with an eerie light.

“Not as good as my East Starion…” Artoria muttered under her breath, driven by a subtle competitive spirit.

Despite some differences in appearance, Vlad III was quite satisfied—not because of the puppet horse itself, but because of its symbolic meaning.

This meant that Vlad III, the Grand Prince of Wallachia, was no longer alone; he had capable subordinates, and his men were willing to offer him their loyalty.

"Very good." With a satisfied smile, he leaped onto the horse's back. The horse did not neigh; it simply stood there obediently.

"Oh dear, you want to ride a horse? Then I really have nowhere to stand!"

A slightly louder voice rang out, instantly creating a tense atmosphere. It was Black Astolfo, who had just been released. He stretched his slender body and spoke to them with a cheerful attitude.

Faced with such undisciplined cavalry, Vlad III drew his sword from his side, the blade almost slicing through his endearing cheek.

"Now that things have come to this, I won't ask whether you've reflected on your actions. Just show me your strength—show me the strength you have as one of Charlemagne's twelve warriors."

To this, Astolfo patted his chest: "Yes, leave it to me! This is this, that is that; after all, this war is my mission!"

With the expedition imminent, Vlad III spared the unruly paladin and turned his attention to the floating fortress that was silently watching over it.

The wound on her chest, which had been punctured by enemy assassins, had long since healed. The girl's heterochromatic eyes, a blend of gold and blue, revealing an inorganic quality, were now fixed on a distant, ethereal figure atop the fortress.

After being injured by Sakumoku, she became increasingly withdrawn. Now, only Master Corles and Little Jack can bring out her other side.

"You are free. You can fight to the very end, dance wildly on the battlefield."

In response to this encouragement, Frankenstein unleashed a torrent of electricity, prompting Vlad III to withdraw his gaze and speak in his deep, purposeful voice:

"Well then, everyone, our seven Servants have assembled. Although we've also obtained Crimson, that's just a 'weapon' to be used and discarded. In other words, we've mobilized our full fighting force."

"On the other hand, the enemy has probably gathered six Servants besides the Berserker, as well as a mysterious assassin from the Mage's Association who once injured me and me. In other words, we are not in a numerical advantage."

"Meanwhile, the enemy's spearmen have proven their bravery is no less than our swordsmen's, and the superb skills of their cavalry and archers have been clearly demonstrated in the battle. Not to mention that assassin who calls himself 'New Moon,' he is absolutely the most troublesome enemy, without exception."

This frank statement reveals the enemy's strength. Indeed, even if it's not an overwhelming advantage—in a normal confrontation, the disparity in combat power between the two sides could very well lead to defeat for our side.

"So, I have a question for you. Gentlemen, are you prepared to accept defeat?"

Everyone expressed their refusal through words and actions.

The difference in combat strength was obvious, and the probability of defeat was quite high—a fact that Vlad III and the other Servants remained unmoved in the slightest. These are the true Heroic Spirits; only those who can laugh off overwhelming disadvantages and desperate situations deserve to be called heroes.

There is no warrior who is defeated without a fight, and no hero who is cowardly before the battle even begins.

Even though there were dark forces lurking within the camp, Shuoyue made it clear to the blue team members before the battle even began that they would go all out in this fight!

A battle fought without reservation, a fierce and exhilarating fight, where legends come to life and collide, proving the bravery of heroes and the courage of valiant warriors!

This is the true charm of the Holy Grail War, and the embodiment of the dignity and pride of the Heroic Spirits!

"Yes, that's right. We will definitely win! If we can't overcome this level of disparity in combat power and this level of despair, what right do we have to call ourselves heroes!"

Vlad III, the grand duke who ascended to the Throne of Heroes on a foundation of blood and bones after the massacre of 20,000 Turkish soldiers, spoke out loudly as he rode a tall horse.

“Those are barbarians, defiling my territory, arrogant and rude laughing hysterically—they are fools who can only atone with their deaths, so just kill them while laughing! For those who lack the concept of terror, we must thoroughly re-educate them with the whip!”

Don't let them go back alive. That was all the leader of the Black Faction wanted to say, and that was also what the other Servants hoped for.

"Then let me lead the way."

Having successfully rallied the Black side's morale, Vlad III grabbed the reins and, along with his horse, leaped off the hundred-meter-high fortress.

Like a general with only one man, an army with only one man—Black rode straight towards the enemy camp. Although it was a peaceful grassland, it would probably be reduced to scorched earth after the war.

Having gained subordinates and been resurrected in the modern world, the Fierce King is now once again facing an unfavorable battle. But as always, he feels no fear.

Above the sky, the young hunter, who also possessed the skill of 'clairvoyance', suddenly opened her emerald green eyes.

"The time has come."

As she said this, she loaded the two arrows onto the bowstring of her beloved bow, Tauroporos, just as they had agreed.

—With her Noble Phantasm, she ignited the flames and smoke of war!

This is an unprecedented Holy Grail War, which is not just about fighting and conspiracies in the dark. Due to the unique nature of the Servants on both sides, although it is a battle between seven Servants, the number of participants is as high as several thousand.

Looking down from the Sky Garden, black puppets and pure white androids emerged from the Black Square Fortress, their black and white forms intertwined like a surging tide covering a verdant grassland.

The moonlight was piercing. A massive cauldron, three meters in diameter, passed over the bow of the boat in the courtyard, swirling back in a moment of boiling bubbling. Instantly, the yellowish bone fragments inside scattered onto the ground like rain.

As they landed, the bone fragments grew like plants, eventually forming skeletal soldiers with lizard-like heads. They were imbued with matte magic, as if they had become one with the night, and charged towards the mixed army of androids and puppets.

Such a massive spectacle would be enough to shatter the spirits of any participant, even in a traditional Holy Grail War.

However, the heroes present—whether they were the Grand Duke who slaughtered the Asman Turks, the paladins under Charlemagne, the Empress who ascended to the throne, or the archers and cavalry who participated in the wars of ancient Greek mythology—all deeply understood that this was not a battlefield of 'quantity'.

Only quality, quality that can override everything else, is the key to victory.

Now, the Red team's archers will stake their first bet—

The cool, dry wind unique to late autumn blew through the girl's hair, and the beast's ears twitched slightly.

Time is up.

Atalanta nocked two arrows onto the bowstring of her beloved bow, Tauroporos, aiming not at the vast land before her, but at the night sky illuminated by the hazy moonlight.

"With my bow I beseech the protection of the sun god and the moon goddess."

The arrows began to gleam. Her Noble Phantasm was neither the bow nor the arrow shot from it. Both were merely catalysts. Her Noble Phantasm was the very principle of "loading an arrow onto a bowstring and shooting it."

"Such a calamity has been offered up—[The Arrow of Lawsuit]!"

Two arrows shot into the air traced dazzling trajectories as they pierced through the clouds and vanished without a trace. This was the signal fire, the very first arrow.

That was a plea to the gods: Apollo, the sun god, and Artemis, the moon goddess, both deeply connected to the sun and the moon. Apollo was also the god of archery, while Artemis was the goddess of hunting.

In exchange for protection, they demanded disaster—that is, to inflict disaster on the enemy.

And now, just as Atalanta had hoped, the silver moon in the sky once again bestowed its grace upon her. The mistress of the beast and the lord of the wilderness heeded the call of their believers, smiling as they poured the moon from their cups. The moon transformed into flowing water that merged into the Milky Way, and the sky was illuminated by the goddess's radiance.

The blessings offered to believers and the calamities offered to enemies have come!

I've written too much again, so I'll just stick to this chapter for today and get back to my experiments.

However, the Artemis in your story isn't as handsome as the one I wrote. The love-struck goddess is quite interesting, haha.

Chapter 456: Shooting Down a Hundred Heads, Another Chapter!

Chapter 457: Shooting Down a Hundred Heads, Another Chapter!

A faint glow filled the night sky, accompanied by soft sounds like raindrops dancing in the wind. But this was no gentle breeze or drizzle. It was the torrential rain, a furious downpour, poured down upon the earth as the god of calamity sought sacrifices.