Type-Moon: My Destiny Guide

"Um, could it be—"

After sighing, Ta-Miao patted the Saintess's shoulder as if to comfort her.

"I'm so sorry, I'll leave the rest to you."

"Wait--"

Atalanta, the red team's heroine, is known for her agility in Greek mythology. Even Joan of Arc could not match her running speed.

"what!"

Watching the girl's departing figure, Joan of Arc withdrew her outstretched hand, feeling as if she wanted to cry but had no tears.

Hey you, stop right there!

The shaking of the earth forced Joan of Arc to look away. She raised her head with a pitiful expression and glanced upwards, only to see an alien hero... no, a monster. And what was worse, it had already locked its gaze on Joan of Arc.

Yes, Spartacus was a fighter against all those in power, even the adjudicator.

At this point, Zhen Gongping once again recalled the fear of being dominated by giants.

We've been tricked.

Atalanta harbored no hostility. However, the Master seemed to have a different opinion.

The person I must meet has already reached the aerial fortress. How can I catch up with him...? If only I had wings that could fly.

But staying here means having to fight the monster in front of me. Should I activate my privileges?

No. He wouldn't stop unless she ordered him to die, but as the Arbiter, she couldn't arbitrarily decide the life and death of an innocent follower. Should they retreat then? That was also hard to say was the right choice; she had a premonition that once they left this battlefield, some things would become inevitable.

In that case, there is only one option left.

"Delaying time... huh?"

Now that she has lost the options of retreating or engaging in battle, Jeanne's only course of action is defense. If she persists in defending, the Servants from either the Black or Red faction will likely come and defeat her.

That's purely wishful thinking, and the worst-case scenario is that neither the black nor the red side comes to help, but just waits on the sidelines to watch the show.

It felt as if everyone had become the enemy. Joan of Arc longed for this situation, which would probably terrify most people.

Mockery, hatred, and deception—despite bearing it all alone, her faith remained unwavering. For her, who had no Master to fight alongside her, loneliness was a common occurrence.

No, it can't really be called loneliness.

Despite having no proof, Joan of Arc inexplicably believed that as long as she called out that person's name, the young man would definitely travel from afar to reach out to her—wanting her to continue fighting; that was enough.

Red roared, "It's coming!"—Joan of Arc raised the holy banner, ready to meet the challenge.

Just before the powerful punch landed, the girl's holy banner deflected it. Two enormous whip-like arms followed closely behind, also blocked and deflected, but yet another arm lurked behind!

"Woo——!!"

Struck directly, she was instantly sent flying, rolling several times on the ground. Fortunately, the Dragon Tooth soldiers ordered to kill her became cushions for her impact. As the price for taking the hits, three Dragon Tooth soldiers were smashed to pieces. Without those cushions, she would probably have been sent flying to the edge of the battlefield. That was a technique that required incredibly powerful force and constantly accumulating magic to execute.

No, could that just now really be considered a technique?

Joan of Arc, who had stood up again, wiped the blood from her lips. Even though she was a veteran of countless battles, she had never encountered such a grotesque monster during the Hundred Years' War between England and France. If she had been hit by that attack while completely unprepared, she would probably be close to death.

As if seeing through her hesitation, countless beams of light suddenly poured down from the sky.

"What!?"

Those seven-colored beams of light, which would even be considered beautiful if not for the battlefield, were not targeting her—

"Ooo ...

It was a howl mixed with anguish and joy; the monster, wounded, immediately began to heal its torn flesh. However, even the rebellious hero Spartacus was probably nearing his limit.

...No, in fact, he had already surpassed his limit. He kept enduring, kept enduring, bearing all the suffering and pain. All he needed to do now was release it.

In an instant, Joan of Arc understood the Red Army's intention in shooting the beam of light from the sky and Spartacus's own goal.

With a deafening roar, his target was the oppressor and his subjects, which meant—

"Should we destroy everything on this battlefield?!"

There will be another update in ten minutes.

I wrote about 10,000 words on the train. That's so cool of me (smug)!

Chapter 473 An Ideal Land Isolated from the World

Although the Red Team is not immune to Spartacus's indiscriminate halal attack, they can relocate to the floating fortress, moving to an area inaccessible to the berserkers.

As for the Dragon Tooth Soldiers, they were nothing more than grunts to them, and of course they didn't care about the lives of these artificial beings.

The problem lies with the Black side. This situation was probably unexpected for them as well. Who could have predicted that "Roar of the Flawed Beast" would be such a terrible Noble Phantasm?

The immense magical power he had accumulated, along with the physical changes that occurred during that accumulation, had likely already broken free of the contract. Even under normal circumstances, it would take two Command Seals to make Spartacus, a rebellious hero, obey orders. In his current state, even using up all the Command Seals wouldn't be enough.

Yes, that means the gladiator will absolutely not stop. Assuming he unleashes his next attack with all his might, the area of ​​effect would likely encompass the entire battlefield, possibly even the fortress of Mirania located between the city and the battlefield.

So, what should be done? Joan of Arc, in her distress, received a divine revelation, or if one had to describe it, it was through a 'revelation,' a feeling akin to mutual resonance.

"This is?!"

The girl stared in astonishment into the distance, where she spotted a beautiful blonde woman.

Her skin was soft and white, with long, flowing golden hair, emerald green eyes, and a face that was beautiful even without makeup.

If those emerald eyes were replaced with purple, the same description could be used to describe myself.

There was no other reason than that the two women looked so alike that for a moment Joan of Arc even thought she was her long-lost sister.

"You, you are..."

"There's no need for further words."

A girl exuding a dignified and holy aura stepped forward, first giving a deep look at the chest of the dumbfounded Jeanne d'Arc... before looking up at the increasingly dangerous 'giant bomb'.

"It seems that Shuoyue's calculations were correct; it wasn't in vain that I left everything else to come here."

Calculations? Something else? ...New moon?

Element detection!

"Wait, you mean the new moon?"

Even with the crisis looming, Joan of Arc was clearly delighted. She clasped her hands together, her amethyst eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Excuse me, where is he now? Is he doing well? Was he injured in the battle? Oh, and also... were you sent by him to help me?"

Artoria squinted at the Saintess, who was both expectant and apprehensive, and felt a strong sense of déjà vu.

It seems I often have these thoughts myself... but I've always kept them to myself and never said them out loud.

No matter which form Shuo Yueqing takes, she is just so lovable.

With a helpless sigh, Artoria replied emotionlessly, "He's fine, he's alright, yes."

"Phew...that's good." Joan patted her ample bosom, then quickly blushed. "Ah, no, that's not what I meant. I was just asking as a judge, it wasn't out of curiosity or concern..."

She's so cute, I'm starting to like her a little.

Looking at the girl who looked remarkably like herself, Artoria's expression softened slightly. She patted the girl's shoulder and then stood in front of Jeanne.

"Leave the rest to me. As the arbitrator, protecting the Black side is not your responsibility, but mine."

As the Knight King proclaimed his authority, a blue-gold scabbard appeared.

Nine years—and that was during my most sentimental teenage years, living together with him.

He was a father and a teacher; an elder brother and a close friend. For him, the son of a hero, blessed by the Olympian gods, and already the object of soldiers' awe and admiration at a young age, the number of people who could be called friends or teachers was pitifully small.

Chiron was undoubtedly one of them. He was someone Chiron could rival his good friend Patroclus in, and the most trustworthy person to him.

However, that hero is now standing in his way in his quest for the Holy Grail.

As the black side, as the enemy, as the opponent fighting against oneself—

"I'm going to go now, teacher."

"That would be unnecessary, Red."

Responding with harsh words, Achilles, who had initially been somewhat deflated, immediately rallied and thrust his spear forward. The two began fighting at a distance where they could converse—in other words, it was a battle between an approaching archer and an attacking cavalryman.

Despite a hint of guilt, the spear tip was still sharply pointed at the opponent's heart. However, the forest sage, with fearless courage, instead took a step forward to meet the spear's trajectory.

Achilles, renowned for his swift steeds, possessed spear skills so high that he could easily be summoned as a spearman. Generally speaking, any archer would be easily pierced through the heart.

However, Achilles forgot the most fatal point.

The spear tip did not pierce Chiron's heart, but grazed past him.

"what?!"

"Have you forgotten? Who was the one who gave you this gun and taught you the basics of marksmanship?"

Chiron's words had a profound impact on Achilles. Indeed, as he said, his spear skills were not honed through his own efforts, but rather he had learned the basics from his master, Chiron. Furthermore, the spear itself was a gift from Chiron to his father, Peleus, to celebrate their marriage, so he also knew its effective range perfectly.

Then he displayed astonishing skill. As he took a step forward, he had already loaded the arrow into the bowstring. It was practically a rapid-fire shot, an unavoidable strike from point-blank range.

You'll die, won't you?

Chiron aimed at his opponent's skull and fired his arrow without hesitation. Achilles reflexively ducked backward. With incredible speed, he barely escaped the life-or-death situation.

A sharp pain shot through his chest. Losing his balance from the enemy's kick, Achilles was sent flying, crashing heavily into a tree. In the instant the distance increased, a deadly arrow came hurtling towards him.

Something shifted in Achilles' mind; he gritted his teeth, glared resolutely at the 'enemy,' and charged straight at the incoming arrows. As he leaned forward to dodge the arrows, he immediately raised his spear and unleashed a sweeping attack—which was also dodged.

A strange joy welled up within him. He roared and continued thrusting his spear. Chiron dodged the barrage of spear thrusts, which resembled a hail of bullets, and skillfully adjusted his distance while nocking an arrow.

Archers can't engage in close combat; once they enter the lance's range, victory is assured—such a simplistic idea of ​​his own was utterly foolish. His opponent was Chiron, after all. Not only himself, but countless heroes like Heracles, Jason, Castor, and Asclepius had received his teachings; he was a true sage.

A draw is only possible under very close conditions. Under these circumstances, if one doesn't unleash their full power in an all-out attack, defeat is inevitable!

The valiant spearmen skillfully employed thrusts, sweeps, and feints to launch a fierce offensive against the sage. The archers, on the other hand, would dodge, deflect attacks with their bows, and sometimes even combine hand and foot techniques, drawing their bows and firing arrows whenever they saw an opportunity.

Even with his best efforts to dodge, Achilles was inevitably injured when sniped at point-blank range. Even a body blessed by the gods was defenseless against an attack that also possessed "divinity".

All of his attacks were completely anticipated by his opponent because his fundamentals were entirely taught by Chiron. This included his stance, the timing of his thrusts, and even his sweeping strikes and other techniques.

Don't be fooled by him.

He did indeed teach me the basics. However, since he began fighting in his youth, he hasn't relied solely on those basics to achieve victory. He possesses various applied skills and has found a way to survive in dire situations. He has fought against numerous heroes and has continuously honed his skills.