Chapter 481: [481] Wallachia’s Lament
Too many conflicts and battles, too much bloodshed and warfare, have forged the names of heroes.
The Trojan War with its wooden horse; the Calydonian Boar Hunt; the siege of Bartra; the great battle between the Kuru and Pandava princes... Even Sakatsuki once brandished the banner of the Great Qin’s Mystical Bird, galloping across the lands of Rome.
But never had they witnessed such a breathtaking charge before. Though only six warriors advanced, each was undoubtedly a renowned hero—radiant as the stars, resplendent as gold.
Amidst the rumbling corridor and howling winds, the mythical hippogriff materialized once more, bearing the golden lance-wielding paladin charging at the forefront.
"Those afar, hear my voice! Those nearby, behold my form! I am Astolfo, one of Charlemagne’s Twelve Paladins! Here I stand—let us settle this with honor!!"
For a fleeting moment, the entire area fell into dead silence, broken only by the earthshaking roar erupting from beneath the hippogriff and the wooden stakes radiating outward.
A single rider against a thousand!
The ’Trap of Argalia’ shimmered with mysterious light, gathering the power of causality as it advanced alongside Astolfo like an iron wall. Any enemy daring to block their path would either be trampled mercilessly by the hippogriff or struck down by the enchanted lance, never to rise again.
The sweeping gale plowed through the remains of dragon-tooth warriors and scorched earth. Karna’s blazing flames intertwined with Sakatsuki’s golden lightning, shattering Avicebron’s golems and burning through Vlad III’s wooden stakes, exposing the dragon-slayer brandishing his cursed sword!
"The evil dragon shall fall—light and shadow severing all. The world now reaches its twilight hour—"
Sensing the gathering of malevolent energy, the intercepting Red Faction parted ranks, revealing the pale-faced spearman wielding his dreadful divine spear, his eyes now burning with scorching solar flames!
"O Brahma, Envelop the Earth—Brahmastra!"
"Phantasmal Greatsword: Heavenly Demon’s Descent—Balmung!"
The radiance of dusk and dawn collided once more as the Wind King’s barrier howled, carrying the Black Faction’s forces through the chaotic energy currents, charging relentlessly toward the Red Faction.
"You shall not succeed!" Achilles summoned his chariot, its three steeds thundering forward. Simultaneously, Aatlanta leaped nimbly into the air, drawing her bow like a full moon:
"Shooting the Hundred Heads!"
Chariot and arrows rode upon magical light, yet the Black Faction’s brilliance shone equally bright!
"Commence Operation—Set."
The premier puppeteer’s fingers trembled as if plucking strings. The Kabbalah’s foundation spread across the Empress’s garden, birthing life from the earth—creatures called ’golems’ that fell one after another, solidifying into unbreakable tripwires to hinder Achilles’ charge.
"O Scorpion, Pierce the Stars!"
The forest sage sprinted, drawing his bow with peerless precision to loose a rapid volley that intercepted Atalanta’s arrows while continuing unimpeded toward the huntress’s fair face.
Clang!
The sonic boom roared as the savage pistol shattered. Sakatsuki’s palm tilted back, yet his expression remained unchanged as he snapped his fingers. One after another, weapons materialized, locked onto electromagnetic trajectories before hurtling forth like cannon fire.
Zzzzt!
The sounds of shattering metal and wood erupted simultaneously. Amid the flying debris, Vlad III’s hair fluttered as he locked eyes with the cold-faced Sakatsuki. In the next instant, a crimson figure replaced the black-cloaked assassin—golden hair wild, eyes brimming with violent fury as they fixed upon the ’Father King’ who shared his appearance.
"Clarent Blood Arthur!"
The sword’s resplendent silver radiance twisted with hatred, the surging malice amplified a thousandfold as it shot forth, carrying nothing but the desire for that person to understand her feelings.
Everyone knew the target of this Noble Phantasm. Everyone made way, allowing the ever-victorious king clad in silver armor to step forward. Without wielding the Holy Lance, she instead drew the sacred sword at her waist, raising it skyward as she called upon the arrival of starlight and hope.
"Excalibur!"
Beneath the brilliance of fantasy, the maiden’s hatred was effortlessly purified. The converted magical energy surged forward as a stellar torrent, only to be torn apart by a streak of green. Achilles, gripping his spear, laughed heartily as his warrior’s aura physically shattered the caltrops on the ground. His divine steeds reared and neighed, joined by the famed horses of Greece, carrying the rider forward.
"Come, Black Faction’s Archer! Our battle isn’t over yet!"
"Stay out of this!"
Vlad III’s sleeves billowed as sharp stakes transformed into barriers harder than golems, forming a shield studded with spikes before him, halting Achilles’ charge once more.
"Tch!" Achilles scoffed, leaping into the air like an emerald comet.
His spear—released!
The violent lance-light swept through everything, destroying the stakes of Wallachia. Yet Artoria clenched her fist, condensing countless storms into a single thread that pierced the void in an instant, striking down the green meteor midair!
From the moment the charge began, the Black Faction’s momentum had never faltered. The heroes advanced, advanced, advanced—
Until the ends of land and sky, until they reached the shores of wishes and dreams!
—This couldn’t continue.
Sakatsuki coldly observed the Black Faction’s charge, the golden gem on his chest absorbing scattered magical energy, gathering power.
He turned, asking Mordred, "Do we have enough magical reserves?"
"Don’t waste words!" the rebellious knight snapped. "As long as they don’t stop, I won’t either—even if it means using a Command Spell!"
Sakatsuki then glanced at Karna. The pale, handsome lancer responded with a firm nod.
"Act without hesitation. I’ll assist you to the fullest," Atalanta declared without hesitation beside the young man. Sakatsuki smiled faintly as he watched Achilles galloping ahead, disrupting the Black Faction’s vision, before his form dissolved like a shadow.
"Then, let us answer the Black Faction’s resolve."
The moment Sakatsuki severed his presence and vanished completely, Mordred let out a lion-like roar, crimson flames erupting around her. She aimed at the figure she so admired and unleashed the true name of calamity once more.
"Clarent Blood Arthur!"
Amidst the dazzling interplay of light and shadow, another figure soared into the sky. Though his golden armor was shattered, Karna’s divine-slaying spear would now strike with unstoppable might!
Three thousand flames extinguished, the solemn eyes of a deity unfurled behind him. Surging crimson dyed Karna’s hair as he hurled his nation-shattering spear with divine majesty and overwhelming pressure:
"Brahmastra Kundala!"
The divine spear shot forth like a colossal arrow, merging with ominous magical energy tainted by hatred, transforming into a terrifying beam of death—neither holy nor unholy—shattering both air and city as it descended upon the Black Faction’s Servants.
The azure storm was torn asunder, the Wind King’s barrier broken. Without hesitation, Artoria grasped her holy spear, bathed in sacred light that elevated her tall, ethereal form to goddess-like purity and dignity.
Standing before all the Black Faction’s Servants, her lips parted slightly.
"Rhongomyniad, release."
The Tower of Light that bound the stars was unsealed. Dazzling radiance surged forth, rivaling the incoming beam of death. Artoria raised the holy spear vertically before her chest like a sword, its spiraling brilliance expanding instantly. In that moment, a storm of light erupted from the vortex.
"The light fired from the world’s end—the storm’s fury that rends the heavens and connects the earth—Rhongomyniad!"
Light raced, light expanded, light purified and devoured all!
Releasing magical energy without restraint, the spear that sang of the stars’ distant light now exhibited unprecedented might. Even the Hanging Gardens trembled violently, their mysteries and concepts nearly cleansed by this strike, unable to maintain their presence in the world.
Not even the combined deathblow of two A+ rank Noble Phantasms could breach the holy spear’s radiance. Artoria alone had blocked the combined assault of Karna and Mordred!
Yet where light shines brightest, shadows grow deepest.
None noticed an assassin lurking within the crisscrossing lights and shadows—emerging in the heart of the Black Faction’s territory, appearing before their leader.
"Some lives resist death, but none escape its grasp."
Only when rainbow-hued blue illuminated the night did both factions realize in shock: a black-cloaked assassin had already raised his pistol, its blade-tip aimed at Vlad III’s spiritual core!
"All phenomena are transient; this fleeting world ends here. Farewell—Mystic Eyes of Death Perception!"
The assassin’s Noble Phantasm activated. The spear-blades of Kanshou and Bakuya pierced through stakes, through gales, through robes—until they struck true!
The sensation of the spiritual core shattering traveled through the weapon, but before Sakatsuki could savor his triumph, the man seized his arm in an iron grip.
"Finally arrived, Sakatsuki."
"What?!"
A sickening crunch of bone and flesh accompanied his startled cry. Sakatsuki recoiled in pain, his right arm hanging limp at his side—clearly broken.
What baffled him most was Vlad III’s current state.
"But... your spiritual core was destroyed..."
Vlad III didn’t possess skills like Battle Continuation—he should have been eliminated by now!
"To think that despite my constant vigilance, I still couldn’t evade your attack?" Vlad III lowered his head, gazing at his shattered chest with a fleeting trace of sorrow in his eyes, soon replaced by a surge of madness.
"Well done, Sakatsuki. You truly live up to being the most dangerous assassin in this war."
Compared to the Empress who ruled her garden or the radiant King of Knights, Sakatsuki was undoubtedly the shadow assassin who truly embodied the name of "Assassin."
Yet even as he praised Sakatsuki’s feat, Vlad showed no signs of fading. He didn’t even turn his head. What spilled from his pierced body wasn’t blood, but an unknown substance resembling black shadows. His once-elegant noble attire was torn to shreds—revealing not flesh and blood beneath, but shadows with tangible mass.
"The stench of corrupted blood..." Atalanta shielded Sakatsuki, her fur bristling as she glared at Vlad III. "You... willingly became a vampire?"
"Becoming a vampire won’t help. The destruction of a Spirit Core is irreversible." Sakatsuki pulled Atalanta back swiftly, dodging another barrage of stakes. "He’s merely clinging to life through that skill."
"My lord?"
Hearing Sakatsuki’s judgment, the Black Faction’s momentum faltered as they instinctively turned to their leader.
The monstrous figure with crimson cruel eyes and exposed fangs returned their gazes. Despite his ghastly appearance, his voice remained icy and composed.
"Trust... in me!"
Under the watchful eyes of the Black Faction’s Servants, Vlad III twisted his arms and drove his hand like a blade into his own chest, tearing it open with brutal force.
Rip, rip, rip!
Like paper being shredded, flesh tore, nerves snapped, and bones crumbled into dust—all sacrificed to transform into swarms of winged bats and stakes sharp as fangs, spreading outward in unprecedented numbers and density!
Cursed bats gnawed at the Red Faction’s Servants while stakes shattered barrier after barrier. The Black Faction’s Servants rallied around their dying king, breaking through defenses as they advanced toward their goal.
This was the blood of Wallachia’s ruler—a vampire’s sacrifice!
Achilles, Karna, and Atalanta instinctively moved to intercept, but suddenly, their expressions twisted in shock as their energy plummeted like a geyser, their very forms growing unstable!
"What’s happening?!" Achilles’ chariot dissipated on its own as he stared at his hands in disbelief. "The contract... has been severed?!"
"Could it be... the Master?!" For the first time, intense emotion flickered across Karna’s face. Exchanging glances with Achilles and Atalanta, he decisively abandoned the Black Faction’s Servants, dashing toward the faintly sensed direction.
With iridescent blue light flickering in his eyes, Sakatsuki watched the three deserting Servants before turning to the weakening ’vampire.’ Unconsciously slowing his steps, he bowed his head in solemn respect for this lord who had fought relentlessly until now.
"Using what little reason remains to weaken his own vitality, then relying on ’Bloodsucking’ to enhance his attack power... Truly insane."
As for the anomalies of the three Servants on the Red faction, he showed no surprise. At this moment, only the figure of Vlad III filled Sakatsuki’s vision.
"Even resorting to the power of corruption to reclaim the Holy Grail... Such obsession commands my deepest respect."
The figures of the Black faction vanished from sight, like the second life belonging to Vlad III slowly drawing to a close.
————
—Just a little more, and my wish will be fulfilled.
Passing through the endless corridor, the Black faction saw the sole door ahead. Beyond it lay the omnipotent wish-granting device they so desperately sought.
Deprived of his magical energy source and having overexerted himself, Vlad III could barely move, supported by his subordinates as they inched forward. The power of corruption lingered, causing his crumbling body to mutate uncontrollably—shadows sloughed off and regrew, an eye burst with a wet pop, and the empty socket writhed with shadowy tendrils like grotesque flesh buds.
The vampiric taint consumed him.
Yet the will of a hero forcibly suppressed it.
"My lord..." Standing before the door, Astolfo hesitated for a long moment before turning to gaze at Vlad III.
In the man’s sole remaining intact right eye burned a light so piercing even Mordred could scarcely meet it—an obsession to cleanse his tarnished name with the Holy Grail.
Struggle was necessary; disgrace held no fear.
History is written by the victors. Thus, by seizing that golden chalice of wishes and inscribing his desire upon it, all past wounds would be healed—
His eyes spoke volumes. Swallowing tears, Astolfo pushed open the door without further hesitation. Beyond lay a vast stairway of brick descending straight downward, where an enormous church structure pierced through the highest layer.
There it stood—the radiant, omnipotent wish-granting device: Fuyuki’s Greater Grail.
"...Ah."
Not only ahead of the Red faction but even outstripping the Ruler—Vlad III had finally reached the Greater Grail.
Now, all that remained was to reclaim it...
And then...
His wish...
Would be...
Granted...
His eyelids slowly closed. The shadows shrouding Vlad III ceased their writhing, crumbling into black dust that cascaded away, revealing the monarch’s ravaged yet serene visage.
Siegfried and Astolfo knelt on one knee. Avicebron stood silent. Artoria pressed a hand to her chest, her saintly blue eyes shutting softly.
The obsession had dissipated. As in life, so too in death—the hero’s will reigned supreme. Exhausted beyond measure, Vlad III could no longer see or hear. His emaciated form, cradled by the heroes, was now but an empty, weighty shell. Before the Greater Grail he had so longed for, the King of Wallachia drew his last breath.
The church stood sacred and still. Golden sunlight streamed through stained glass as countless motes of shadow dispersed, alighting upon Vlad III’s noble features like halos. Distant bells tolled, as if bearing witness—the Father’s mercy, the Son’s passion.
Golden particles scattered into the sky, vanishing without a trace; azure spiritrons materialized in the air, which Chiron reached out and grasped.
Vlad III, the Lancer of Black - the king who guarded Romania - now rests here eternally.