Type-Moon: My Destiny Guide

"Have you run out of ideas? It's the red team."

Despite being repeatedly humiliated by the new moon, Vlad III remained the composed and unperturbed Grand Duke in the presence of the other Servants, the undisputed King of the Night.

"So, do you wish to submit to me?"

"Stop spouting this nonsense that's neither a joke nor sincere, Black. Since we both harbor desires rooted in the Holy Grail, surrender is absolutely impossible, and besides—"

Atalanta's words were cut short as Vlad III, having lost his patience, raised his right hand. A palpable killing intent surged from the ground, and iron stakes sprang up like mushrooms after rain, eyeing the huntress's every move. At the same time, something far more terrifying seemed to be stirring—a hunter's intuition that deeply unsettled Atalanta.

Recalling how Shuoyue had shielded her from a sneak attack and then unhesitatingly drawn her sword to injure herself, Atalanta finally abandoned her hesitation, nocked two new arrows, and shot them into the starry sky:

"Dedicated to the two great deities... the petition arrow!"

Then the rain of stars fell again, but the Grand Prince of Wallachia showed no fear, his pillars rising up behind him to block the thousands of arrows. But Atalanta had already achieved her goal. While Vlad III was focused on dealing with the Noble Phantasm, she once again unleashed her amazing speed and quickly withdrew from Vlad III's encirclement.

“The cunning lioness, if it weren’t for the new moon cutting down too many rafters…” Vlad III’s face darkened as he watched the fleeing huntress and began to give chase without hesitation.

"Even so, my territory is not a place you can come and go as you please!"

Chapter 459 Hero Saves the Cat 20

Chapter 460 Hero Saves the Cat 2.0

Even if they descend in human form, Servants are ultimately different from ordinary humans.

Magic is their lifeblood; the more magic they consume, the closer they get to death.

Such is what a Servant is: burning their life force for seven days to leave a lasting and significant mark on the memories of the mortal world.

Unfortunately, Atalanta didn't have so much sorrow and grief. Her aesthetics existed only in pursuit and hunting. The reason she used her magic to release her Noble Phantasm again was simply to escape Vlad III's prison.

After unleashing two Noble Phantasms in succession, she could clearly sense that the Master's magical energy supply was beginning to weaken. Unlike the Black Faction, the Red Faction did not have artificial batteries to supply their magic power. Even if the Masters were all trapped in the room and focused on supplying their magic, their magical energy was still limited.

Atalanta's apology to her Master lasted only a moment. She calculated the extent of her weakened strength and recklessly squandered her magic power, dodging the relentless attacks of the rafters, and sped toward a certain battlefield.

"Where do you think you're hiding, Red Party member? I will not let you, who are both heretics and invaders, go unpunished!"

The bronze and iron horse crafted by Avisbroun came into play, galloping freely on all fours under Vlad III's command, chasing after the distant emerald figure. Meanwhile, the "demon" king who ruled the country manipulated the rafters, constantly delaying Atalanta's progress.

The hero was defeated before him.

This fact encouraged Vlad III, who had been at a disadvantage in all the wars so far due to the oppression of the new moon. Even someone as proud and tyrannical as him would ask himself these questions in the dead of night.

Am I qualified to command the Black side?

Do I have the confidence to protect Wallachia from invaders?

Can I... make up for the regrets I had in my life?

In today's battle, his question was answered. The epic of the Grand Prince of Wallachia was not forgotten by the world, but was passed down from generation to generation, and finally became a miracle that even the heroes of the Age of Gods could overcome.

Ah, these are my people, the strength my life has given me—

My heart was surging with emotion, and it was hard to accept without shouting it out.

Then Vlad III spoke again, his voice deep and resonant: "Stop, Red, if you greet me with the dignity of a hero, I will not hesitate to offer my due condolences after your death in battle."

“I refuse. I’m given a second chance at life, and I don’t want to be tortured to death.”

Atalanta refused without hesitation. It was only then that Vlad III realized they had stumbled into another battlefield, littered with the corpses of androids and golems. Even the bronze and iron horse that Avisbroun had personally crafted could not maneuver through the pile of corpses and had to wade into the mess himself, smashing through all the obstacles in his path and getting covered in blood.

"Damn it... Is this your method, Hongzhi? You actually used inferior blood to stain my robes!"

Vlad III angrily raised his hand, and an endless stream of rafters shot out, sweeping across the scene like a giant hand, completely clearing away the pile of 'rubbish' before him, and roared at the huntress who walked on the ground as if it were flat ground.

"Do you think you can make me retreat by doing this? On the contrary, such insults and contempt can only be repaid with blood!"

As the Grand Prince of Wallachia raged, the ground shattered instantly, and amidst a deafening roar, turbid currents surged across the arid land.

Those are rafters, countless sharp rafters!

Like a dark horde that even hunters fear, the rafters pierced trees, corpses, blood, and space, roaring toward the astonished Atalanta.

This is a turbid wave that even the strong feet that crossed Arcadia could not cross, a blood-red rage destined to be overtaken!

"How can someone be so unreasonable?!"

Atalanta had no idea that Vlad III would fly into a rage over filth. Caught off guard, she could only leap high to dodge the first wave of rafter thrusts. But under the Grand Duke's control, the vast, surging mass of rafters suddenly rose and crashed down on Atalanta, who was now airborne and unable to move.

"Well!"

With no way to escape, she could only swallow the bitter pill of her miscalculation. Atalanta closed her eyes, awaiting the punishment of being pierced. At the critical moment, someone grabbed her soft waist, and stretched out his right hand close to her pretty face, allowing Atalanta to easily see the blue magic circuits that appeared on his arm.

"Projector, unfold!"

A pink petal shield filled Atalanta's vision. The five petals stretched out, seemingly delicate, yet supporting a calm and peaceful scene.

Amidst the creaking, shrill sound, the young man turned around, brazenly turning his back to the torrent of death, and reached out to smooth Atalanta's furrowed brows.

"It's okay, I'm here."

Strangely enough, even though the sense of crisis that made her furious hadn't dissipated, Atalanta suddenly relaxed the moment she saw the new moon, like a cat returning to its den, its tail wagging slightly, its head lowered obediently, and it quietly responded.

Um. "

Click click click.

The petals covering the seven rings of the blazing sky fell one after another, and the sound of them breaking seemed to be complaining about their master's shameful behavior of unconsciously flirting with girls at a time like this.

Five pieces aren't enough to form the complete form; they can't withstand any attacks!

But for Shuoyue, defense was never a consideration. The reason for setting up defense was only to launch a better attack.

With a fist in hand, his iridescent blue eyes reflected the tangled lines of deadly rafters. The petal shield shattered with a mournful cry, petals swirling in the air, fragments of rafters grazing his cheeks, drawing blood. But the young man's eyes sharpened, and he pulled the trigger, unleashing a deluge of bullets!

Bang bang bang!

The hammer struck the bullet, gunpowder exploded, and a fiery red light illuminated the deep night. Like a snake struck at its vital spot, the rafters receded like a tide, revealing Vlad III, who could not hide his anger and fear. But the new moon seemed not to see it and continued its conversation with Atalanta.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, you're not injured and can continue fighting."

"It's good that you're alright, but this time the situation was special. I can't say I can protect you every time. You still need to be careful in the future."

"Okay." As she answered the question, Atalanta's eyebrows relaxed and a faint smile appeared on her lips.

He neither shouted "Hurrah!" and launched a fierce attack on the enemy, nor did he pat his chest in a macho manner to show that he would protect her... In Greek times, such a good man was quite rare.

While Vlad III was conversing with Atalanta during the new moon, he also came to his senses and whispered solemnly:

"So, this is why you ran away, Hong?"

In the end, he faced the enemy he least wanted to encounter.

But why didn't he show up? Did he desert his post?

"Waaaaah, Your Majesty, you've finally come to save me!"

Speak of the devil, and he appears! A handsome knight riding a mythical beast arrived from the horizon, covered in dust and dirt. Upon seeing Vlad III, he burst into tears, wailing and rushing towards him, smearing dust and blood all over his exquisite robes.

"Let me tell you, Mr. Shuoyue is really fierce, and so is that berserker! I couldn't get involved in their fight at all! In the end, Mr. Shuoyue got hammered into the ground by Spartacus... Waaaa QAQ, I was so scared that I could only summon my eagle!"

"You, what exactly is going on! What happened to Hong? Explain yourself... No, first untie Yu, untie her!"

"Ah!" Afu suddenly remembered something, readily released Vlad III, jumped onto the hawk, and fled with only one sentence left behind.

"Your Highness, watch your step!"

"Varied--"

Before Vlad III could react, a violent tremor struck beneath his feet. Soil was ripped away, turf was torn apart, and amidst the earth-shaking tremors, a giant monster with bluish-white muscles broke free from its restraints and burst forth from the earth's shackles.

"Hahahaha, this is rebellion!"

And coincidentally, Vlad III's foothold was right on the head of this enormous monster!

The Grand Duke has been persecuted yet again. Oh dear, it's truly heartbreaking. Where can I find a kindred spirit? (laughs)

Chapter 460 His name is Spartacus

Chapter 461 His name is Spartacus

Under a bright moon and sparse stars, the Red team's Sky Garden floated in mid-air, while the Black team's Fortress sat on the ground, like two silent, confronting giant beasts. Under their gaze, the heroes galloped across the battlefield with abandon, engraving their lives and glories in each other's eyes.

But this is not a fighting arena, where there are no rules of one person taking the stage after another. Flames and demonic energy dance together, and sword light and arrows blaze. Amidst the dazzling light and shadow that mortals cannot replicate, even the battle cries of the puppets, dragon tooth soldiers, and androids are insignificant.

No matter where the battlefield is, it is difficult to ignore the deafening roar coming from somewhere.

boom! boom! boom!

It was as if a giant, shirtless, was wielding a mallet and beating a drum. The sound was magnificent, the drums and gongs deafening, and it was not fleeting, but rather wave after wave, one after another, until finally, it transformed into a continuous surge of waves like the rising tide of the Qiantang River!

If anyone could escape from this battlefield and look toward the source of the sound, they would see a burly man with a deathly gray complexion laughing wildly, violently colliding with a tall, upright young man in a black robe.

The gladiator's sword had been shattered by the Ferocious Fist and the Mystic Eye, but Spartacus never relied on external things, but on his indomitable spirit, and the muscles and heavy punches honed in suffering!

Gladiators are beings who are solely focused on killing their opponents, and will stop at nothing to achieve it. Their swords, their fists, their roars, and even their howls are all weapons for slaying their enemies!

"boom!"

The ferocious fist, no less powerful than that of a gladiator, struck his arm. The muscles, which even a lion couldn't tear apart, instantly turned a disgusting color like a ripe persimmon, and then burst open with a "poof." But as soon as the blood bubble appeared, the blood vessels and cells rapidly proliferated, transforming into increasingly swollen and dense muscles.

In contrast to the pain of his destroyed arm, Spartacus's smile grew ever wider.

"Hmm, I'll repay that pleasure...doubled!"

It sounded like a several-ton iron bar crashing down; the sound of it cutting through the air was enough to send chills down one's spine. The young man in the black robe was completely shrouded in the shadow of the arm. Faced with such a dangerous attack, he neither dodged nor avoided it. Instead, he straightened up and twisted his waist, completely disregarding the excessive difference in size, and swung out another cannonball.

It was like an egg hitting a rock, but what broke was not the egg, but the rock—a thick arm falling with tremendous force!

The iron bar falls, but it breaks!

The unexpected result shocked everyone. Looking at the young man, who was still in black robes and unharmed, it was hard to imagine how such a thin body could unleash such terrifying power.

He channeled his force into the earth, causing countless cracks to appear on the ground. The new moon exhaled a long breath of white air, feeling a burning pain in his internal organs, and once again complained about losing the Dragon Heart.

In contrast, Spartacus was in a much worse state. Gradually losing his human form, he involuntarily stumbled backward. His ruptured arm rapidly healed itself, further destabilizing him and ultimately forcing the gladiator to collapse to the ground. However, the man showed no resentment; instead, he grinned with increasing delight.

"Hahahaha... I am immortal, and so is rebellion! Besides, nothing gives me more pleasure than being a shield for the weak!"

Spartacus, a gladiator in ancient Rome, led the Spartacus Revolt, a slave war. Although the rebellion was suppressed, he is remembered in history, and the oppressed people regard his name as a symbol of hope.

“You and I are truly destined enemies. I am destined to be the oppressor, while you are determined to rebel against us.”