Chapter 101: The King's Army Arrives! The Desert is Stained with Blood!
In the garden, which should have been reserved for kings, a group of uninvited guests, the Assassins Hassan, who were accustomed to hiding their identities, brazenly intruded.
Waver's face turned pale, and he stumbled back to Iskandar's side, his voice shrill with fear.
"Damn it! What's with these Servants? Why do they keep appearing one after another?"
"We are separated individuals, both a collective and individual Servants."
"Both individual and collective—shadows!"
The Hassans' voices were low, echoing simultaneously from all directions, with an eerie sense of overlap.
"Separated individuals?"
Waver forced himself to calm down, cautiously peeking out from behind Iskandar's broad back, looking at the various forms of Hassan.
At this moment, Arthur, who was coldly confronting Artoria, frowned and also looked at this group of uninvited Assassins, his tone carrying an unresolvable chill.
"You scoundrels who used deceit to escape at the start, how dare you come all this way to die? Then let your blood be the sacrifice for my sword!"
Before he finished speaking, the terrifying magical energy storm around Arthur's body suddenly expanded, becoming even more solid, and the hard courtyard floor was actually scratched with deep cracks by the fierce pressure.
The Hassans immediately felt the pressure like a mountain, and almost instinctively drew their weapons, their bodies tense, held protectively in front of their chests, as if facing a formidable enemy.
Iskandar, who had just drunk a large cup of divine wine, waved his hands repeatedly, trying to ease the atmosphere.
"Calm down, Lionheart King. After all, this banquet is hosted by me. Let me handle these minor troubles."
Arthur glanced at Iskandar with a cold expression, his voice devoid of any warmth.
"I don't think a group of Servants hiding in the gutter will appreciate your generosity, Conqueror King."
Iskandar raised his hand and stroked his thick beard, the smile on his lips not diminishing but increasing, exuding a heroic spirit.
"A king must have the magnanimity and breadth of mind to embrace all comers!"
Upon hearing this, the surging magical energy storm overflowing from Arthur's body gradually subsided, and he nodded slightly, indicating his approval.
"Very well, Conqueror King, I will give you this face."
Seeing this, Iskandar let out a loud, hearty laugh. He suddenly slapped the huge wine barrel he had personally brought, and shouted with a voice like a booming bell.
"Everyone, those who wish to converse with us, may step forward and raise a cup to drink together!"
"The fine wine in this barrel is as precious as your blood, be one with it!"
Whoosh!
A short, piercing whoosh tore through the air, and a sharp dagger, carrying a strong gust of wind, precisely pierced the huge wine barrel all the way through!
Crimson wine gurgled out, pooling on the ground, like truly flowing blood.
Witnessing this scene, Gilgamesh, who had been observing with cold eyes, finally reacted.
He lowered his arrogant head, a look of undisguised contempt curving his lips.
"A pack of hyenas who only know how to follow orders. Conqueror King, it seems your proud 'tolerance' is misplaced."
Iskandar glanced at the rich wine wasted on the ground, a hint of undisguised regret flashing in his eyes.
He propped himself up by his knees, his previously relaxed posture gone, replaced by a solemn aura like a mountain, and he declared loudly.
"I have already said, this wine is your blood. Since you choose to discard it like trash, there is nothing I can do."
Before his words fell, a powerful magical energy current, far exceeding the ordinary, suddenly surged from Iskandar's burly body!
As the magical energy violently surged, his casual clothes were instantly replaced by battle attire—
Tough leather armor clung to his muscular body, and a huge crimson cloak, like burning flames, danced wildly in the magical energy currents, flapping loudly!
At the same time, Iskandar's voice, full of boundless heroism and absolute dominance, resounded throughout the garden, even piercing through the night sky.
"King of Knights, Lionheart King, Hero King! Next, is the final question of this Banquet of Kings!"
He paused, his gaze like a torch, sweeping over every king present.
"I ask—is a king necessarily solitary and aloof?"
Upon hearing this, Gilgamesh's lips curved into an unruly arc.
He didn't even bother to answer such a self-evident question in his opinion, only the contempt in his eyes grew stronger.
Artoria, enduring Arthur's indifferent gaze that almost froze her, and Iskandar's fervent gaze, parted her lips and gave her answer.
"A king stands above all others, looking down upon all beings… As a king, there is no choice but to be solitary and aloof."
Bang!
Iskandar slammed his fists together, emitting a dull thud.
He grinned widely, revealing a joyous and extremely proud smile, as if he had heard the most wonderful answer in the world.
"Then let me show you properly! My kingly way! My tyrannical way! And—the eternal and undying bond between us!"
"This is—Ionioi Hetairoi (Army of the King)!"
In an instant, the surging magical energy storm was no longer an invisible pressure, but transformed into a visible, tangible torrent, completely covering the entire garden, and pulling everyone within it—
Kings, Masters, Servants, and even those uninvited Assassin guests—into a completely different world!
The tranquil night sky, where the bright moon hung high, was instantly swallowed by endless white light. Then, a dazzling, scorching sun hung in the sky, mercilessly baking the earth.
The exquisite flowers with their elegant fragrance and the pavilions all disappeared, replaced by a vast, boundless desert of yellow sand.
The howling strong winds whipped up sand and gravel, fiercely striking everyone's faces and bodies.
The rough texture and scorching heat clearly proved that this was not an illusory phantom, but the most real existence!
Arthur surveyed this strange world, a rare and intense surprise flashing in his eyes, almost simultaneously with the equally shocked Irisviel on his left, he exclaimed.
"Reality Marble!?"
This was one of the highest magical achievements, pursued by Magi throughout their lives, hailed as the closest to the realm of 'magic'.
A grand bounded field that materialized the caster's powerful inner landscape in the real world, forcibly encroaching upon and rewriting reality!
As the Rider class, generally considered the least skilled in magic, how did Conqueror King Iskandar manage to do such an unbelievable thing?
Iskandar, standing with his back to the crowd, like the Master of this desert, seemed to have already seen through their surprise and confusion.
He spread his arms, in a posture of ruling the world, fully displaying the magnificent world before them, his voice filled with unspeakable pride and nostalgia.
"Here, was the land where I and my invincible army once roamed and conquered everything! Here, is the landscape that lives forever in the hearts of the brave warriors who shared life and death, and endured hardships with me!"
"This world, this scene, was able to form because it is the shared inner landscape of all of us! It is the manifestation of all our wills!"
"Come! Respond! My peerless, undefeated great army!"
In response to their king's resolve and call, heavy and rhythmic footsteps thundered from the distant horizon.
The sound, initially faint, quickly converged into a terrifying, earth-shattering roar that made the entire desert tremble violently, and the sky-high yellow sand flew up with it!
As everyone gazed at the valiant warriors in various ancient armors, wielding sharp weapons, emerging like a breached flood from the other end of the horizon, their reactions varied.
Waver, as the Master, was completely stunned by the extraordinary sight before him.
He had never expected that the Conqueror King, who often appeared eccentric and comical in daily life, harbored such a world-destroying divine bravery and power.
His mouth agape, he could only repeat mechanically, as if in a dream.
"Those people… every one of them is a Servant? How… how is this possible…?"
Gilgamesh narrowed his red eyes, carefully observing the seemingly endless army, then let out a cold, indifferent snort.
The King of Heroes remained in his lofty posture, yet made no disparaging remarks.
Artoria gazed with complex emotions at the magnificent, united, battle-hardened army, exuding an aura of iron and blood.
She seemed to see something she once possessed but had lost in that endless military formation, and she murmured to herself.
"Ionioi Hetairoi… Is this… the bond between a king and his subjects, strong enough to transcend time and space?"
Arthur's eyes sparkled with keen interest, and he exclaimed in wonder.
"The concept of the army itself as a Noble Phantasm… I suppose this is the Noble Phantasm that best represents your legend, Conqueror King Iskandar. It is indeed extraordinary."
Amidst the vast, dust-filled yellow sand, a magnificent black warhorse was the first to charge out of the army.
Its four hooves flew, its mane streamed, like a black lightning bolt, galloping directly towards Conqueror King Iskandar.
Iskandar's expression was calm, even with a hint of tenderness, as he raised his hand and gently stroked Bucephalus's mane, murmuring with deep emotion.
"Long time no see, old friend."
After speaking, he suddenly turned his head, looking at the kings behind him with their varied expressions, and shouted with an incredibly proud, incredibly self-assured look, as if proclaiming to the whole world.
"Listen carefully!"
"The 'King'—is one who lives a life more brilliant and dazzling than anyone else, capable of captivating, enchanting, and inspiring all his subordinates to offer everything!"
"Indeed!"
"Indeed!"
"Indeed!"
A thunderous, unified chorus of responses, like mountains and oceans, erupted from the tens of thousands of mighty warriors!
They simultaneously raised their weapons and struck the ground, that fervent fighting spirit, as if to incinerate the desert, mixed with endless loyalty and reverence, soared to the sky, stirring up the winds and clouds!
Clearly feeling the surging, all-consuming aura of his generals and soldiers behind him, Iskandar's face broke into a satisfied smile.
He leaped gracefully, swinging onto Bucephalus's back, and looked up, his gaze like lightning.
About a kilometer away, those dozens of small black dots—the Hundred-Faced Hassans—appeared exceptionally tiny, like ants, against the vast desert backdrop.
"Now, the after-party of the banquet should begin, Hassans."
He bared his teeth in a smile, a hint of Conqueror's cruelty in it.
"As you can see, this battlefield is a vast, boundless plain. Unfortunately, we, who have the advantage of terrain, also have a slight advantage in numbers."
Iskandar didn't care if the Hassans could hear this pre-battle declaration; he simply drew the sword hanging at his waist, its blade pointing distantly at the desperate Assassins directly ahead.
With the force of a thunderbolt, he issued a concise and ruthless command.
"Trample them!"
The Hundred-Faced Hassans in the vast desert now felt as if they had fallen into an ice cellar, engulfed in unprecedented despair and fear.