Miss Surtr will ignite the world

"I didn't expect Surtr to know so much about the First Lord. To be honest, even we didn't know. But we have to give it a try. If we succeed, it will increase our chances of winning; even if we fail, it's just..."

Cursed Wrist didn't finish his sentence, but Surtr knew what he was thinking.

Even if we fail, it's just death.

After all, even the Noble Phantasm has disappeared. The Cursed Arm's current combat power is not much different from that of the Hundred Faces clone, and its role on the battlefield is extremely limited.

Why not use it to exchange for another opportunity?

Getting help is a huge win, and even if you fail, you don't lose much.

Surtr had no intention of refusing. If it were a living person, he might have hesitated for a second, but the other party was already dead.

To paraphrase a heartless person...

This is a necessary sacrifice.

Lost in thought, the group crossed the narrow, secluded mountain path, and an ancient temple built against the mountain came into view.

The temple looks quite old, like a secluded retreat for a hermit.

"We can already see it. That's the Temple of Azrael over there. We don't see any gatekeepers. It seems the First Lord didn't refuse us."

A smile crept across Cursed Arm's lips. Normally, there were undead guards around here, but not now; this was a good sign.

Thinking this, Curse Wrist led the group to the temple.

However, the closer she got, the more oppressive a feeling she felt looming over her. The surroundings became cold, but not in terms of temperature; rather, it was a chill that welled up from the depths of her heart.

There was no sound, no temperature, no feeling.

It felt like I was going to die.

The Sacred Round Table: Chapter Thirty-Three - If You Want a Head, Go Get It Yourself

If you were to ask Surtr what her impression of King Hassan was, her first thought would definitely be his attire, which was more like that of a berserker than a swordsman.

Whose assassin is two meters tall, wielding a greatsword and shield as weapons?

But when you think about how he was the progenitor of assassins, you can't say his style is wrong. If you really want to talk about it, this is the proper style of an assassin. It's just that later generations have misinterpreted it, which has led to other people having a stereotype of assassins.

The second point is his way of showing off.

Some people live in temples far from human habitation, while others pretend to be beggars and say things that sound profound and mysterious.

Whether it's his incomprehensible way of speaking, the timing of his appearance, or his invincible voice, everything about him exudes a strong sense of arrogance.

To be honest, she even suspected that the other person had secretly practiced in private.

Just like now.

The group entered the ancient temple through the main gate. The only light source in the spacious hall was the candlelight on the walls, and the sound of shoes hitting the stone bricks echoed in the room.

The air was frigid. Surtr slowly exhaled and subconsciously touched his arm, which was covered in goosebumps.

It wasn't because the temperature was too low, but an impulse from the depths of her soul that told her not to linger there.

The further you go in, the stronger this feeling becomes.

Whether it was an inherent effect of the temple or something King Hassan did on purpose, it's safe to say that the other party knew they were coming all along. Instead of coming out directly, he was probably using his EX-level stealth to secretly observe them, waiting for the right moment to appear.

That's it, once Surtr had this thought, he felt that his impression of King Hassan was gone forever.

But considering that this was the other party's territory, she felt it was better not to think about such rude things anymore; she didn't want to suddenly get a "clang" on her head.

Surtr was lost in thought, while at the front of the group, Curse Wrist lowered his voice, as if afraid of disturbing someone.

"Please remain extremely vigilant. This is the domain of the First Generation. Even I don't know what might happen."

He reminded him in a trembling voice.

He was also visiting this place for the first time, and compared to Surtr, who still had the mind to think about all sorts of random things, he was in a much more disheveled state.

And just as he finished speaking...

clang!

Two loud, bell-like sounds erupted from the crowd, jarringly clear in the enclosed hall. But compared to the steady tolling of a bell, these two sounds were undoubtedly much crisper.

That was the sound of metal clashing.

At the very back of the crowd, Surtr's pupils shrank to pinpoints as he held the holy sword to his chest.

The next moment, a burst of fire erupted in front of him, as if some kind of metal had collided with the blade. The force flowed from the sword into his arm, and his body involuntarily took several steps back.

But this attack was far more complex than it appeared. Surtr felt his consciousness freeze for a moment, as if he had fallen into the deepest abyss. Everything—images, sounds, touch—vanished without a trace, leaving only pure nothingness.

But this feeling only lasted for a moment.

Once she regained her balance, her vision returned to normal, as if it had just been an illusion, a momentary daze.

Before she could even savor this wonderful feeling, Roman's loud shouts came from in front of her.

"Hey, what's going on? Mashu blocked the attack, but Fujimaru's reaction disappeared in an instant! Based on the observations here, she died in that instant."

It seems she wasn't the only one attacked.

At the front of the group, Mashu held up her shield, her small face tense, her eyes constantly scanning the surroundings, searching for any possible enemy figures.

"Doctor, don't scare me, I'm perfectly fine."

Ritsuka retorted, it seems she hasn't realized she just died once.

This discovery put Surtr at ease a little; she had thought the old man knew she was secretly gossiping about him and was expressing his dissatisfaction with her.

It seems that's not the case. Ritsuka was also slashed in the game, so it must have been some kind of ritual, not a real intention to cut her.

It's impossible for Ritsuka to be speaking ill of the other person in her heart.

"The magician."

But just as Miss Surtr quietly breathed a sigh of relief, a sudden, silent, cold and profound voice, as if coming from a secluded valley, entered her ears from behind.

"..."

My hair stood on end.

Just like when she was caught using her phone in class during high school and the homeroom teacher secretly touched her back, the chill made Miss Surtr, who was already feeling a little guilty, freeze on the spot.

A terrifying image of a two-meter-tall skull staring at her with blue eyes had already appeared in her mind.

Fortunately, his head was still hanging on his neck, which at least showed that the other party did not have any hostility towards him.

Miss Surtr quickly grasped the situation. Her strong adaptability allowed her to relax quickly, turn around, and greet the old man with the sword with a polite smile.

Have you eaten?

A clear, melodious voice rang out in the oppressive space, but for some reason, the air, which had become silent because of Wang Hassan's appearance, seemed to have gained an awkward, stammering quality.

Even the important question of why the first Hassan was a swordsman was temporarily ignored.

After a moment of silence, Wang Hassan's voice rang out in the hall.

"This body does not need to eat."

They really responded.

The same thought popped into everyone's mind: Could it be that this important figure with the skeleton is actually a very easy person to get along with?

Doubts swirled in their minds, but the first to react were Cursed Arm and Hundred Faces at the front. Although they didn't know why the First Generation Lord had deliberately gone to the back of the line, they still showed the proper etiquette.

Curse Wrist and Hundred Faces turned around and bowed deeply to someone at the back of the line.

"First Lord, please allow me to shamelessly visit the temple."

He spoke frankly about his current predicament.

"We wish to fight the Lion King, but we are still lacking in strength. We hope you can lend us a hand."

With his head pressed against the ground, Curse Wrist was unsure of what the old man was thinking, so he could only keep a low profile and even his breathing became cautious.

Silence once again enveloped the hall. Wang Hassan's deep blue eyes fell on everyone present. Even without saying anything, he could still exert a great deal of pressure on them.

Time ticked by, and finally, as if they had thought it through, the other person spoke.

“A disciple of magic, and a being that is no longer human.”

"Your voices have been heard. The significance of your desire to save the era has been recognized by my sword."

"Now that you understand what lies ahead, let's skip the tedious procedures. When the decisive battle arrives, my sword will open the gates of the royal city for you."

Wang Hassan's words sounded like an agreement to help, which made Ritsuka, who was standing next to him, feel a little uncomfortable.

"You agreed so easily?"

What else do you want?

"Um, doesn't this usually require going through some kind of trial?"

"Your strength has already been verified by my sword; no further trials are needed."

Verifying strength? Could you be referring to that very first sword strike?

So that wasn't a ceremony after all.

Surtr thought everyone who came would be attacked with a sword, but let's leave that aside for now.

"You don't seem to be planning to take the Lion King's head?"

She understood from Wang Ha's words that the other party didn't seem to intend to help them directly.

"The Lion King's destiny is not in my hands. If you want her head, go and get it yourself."

The Sacred Round Table: Chapter Thirty-Four - Respect for Individual Destiny

After leaving the temple, the group walked along a narrow and steep mountain path.

Surtur intended to teleport directly, but the journey to the temple seemed to be part of the worship, and the two Hassans insisted on completing it.

"That big shot with the skull looks fierce, but he's actually quite easy to talk to. He not only agreed to help us, but he also spared the cursed wrist. I was really shocked when I found out that the price for asking him for help was your life. Don't be so presumptuous in the future."

Ritsuka pulled Surtr's arm and carefully stepped onto the road, her tone reproachful.

The request for help went exceptionally smoothly this time.

She had actually already decided to accept the other party's difficult behavior.

After all, that's what novels always say: to get help from important people, you have to win their favor.

But the result was unexpectedly smooth.

Ritsuka, completely unaware that she had just brushed with death, thought to herself.

But as they were preparing to leave, the other side surprisingly planned to take Hassan's life as the price.

No wonder those two were so afraid of each other; after all, it was a matter of life and death.

Fortunately, the other party did not insist.

Otherwise, she might have to get into a conflict with the other party, although she would most likely lose.

"I'm sorry, I didn't discuss this with you all."

As Cursed Arm apologized, he was touched by Fujimaru Ritsuka's concern, but he did not regret it. If he could exchange his life for the help of the First Generation, it would undoubtedly be worth the effort.

"Fortunately, the result was not bad, but it seems that the other party does not intend to directly attack the Lion King and the Round Table, so it feels like this is no different from not helping at all."

Ritsuka realized the blind spot: since the other party didn't intend to take action against the Round Table, where would they target if she asked for their help?

"There might be something we haven't noticed. That kind of person wouldn't lie to us, but we probably can't count on the Lion King for a fight."

Despite saying that on the surface, Miss Surtr still felt that this kind of eccentric guy was troublesome.

They always do things in a way that leaves people scratching their heads.

You've already killed the Sun King, so what's one more Lion King? It's just a piece of cake. Besides, the other side doesn't have any ability to survive in the temple. If King Hassan had been willing to help, none of this would have happened.

Of course, this is from an objective perspective. From Surtr's personal perspective, she was quite grateful that the other party didn't just kill the Lion King directly.

There aren't many strong individuals in this singularity who can fight her. So far, there's only the Lion King left, and perhaps Gawain as well, with Lancelot barely qualifying.

There are only three of them who could be expected to drop loot. If the Lion King hadn't killed Ramses II, she would have had another target to eliminate, but unfortunately...

So now Miss Surtr is very pleased with the old man's behavior of letting his teammates get kills.

Of course, this is on the premise that she can defeat her opponent. Hopefully, things will go smoothly for Leonardo da Vinci and Nitocris.

"The First Generation Master must have had his own considerations."