Chapter 122: Wild beasts on the loose! Undercurrents in the forest!
On the country road leading to Millennia Castle, Arthur and Mordred stood by the old ford, waving goodbye to Ruler, who had requested to get off midway.
The Saint's figure quickly vanished into the depths of the dense forest. The Master and Servant exchanged glances and shrugged in understanding.
"Naive like a fool."
"Indeed, asking to get off for no reason, anyone would know there's something fishy going on."
After speaking, Mordred excitedly twisted her neck, producing a crisp 'crack'. She turned to Arthur, who was deep in thought beside her, and asked, "Master, can you sense what's happening?"
Arthur smiled helplessly, "You give me too much credit. Ruler's perception abilities far exceed the ordinary; I'm equally outmatched."
Hearing this, Mordred immediately gestured with her chin towards the direction Ruler had disappeared.
"Then should we follow along and join the fun? If Ruler is rushing over, it must mean someone has started a fight!"
"Hmm—wait a moment."
Arthur reached into his Pregnant, and with a flick of his fingertip, a magic crystal used to contact the Clock Tower quietly slipped out.
The moment it touched the ground, starlight bloomed, intertwining into lines of cold text.
"Romanian intelligence personnel around Romania are successively losing contact. The final distress signal came from the outskirts of Trifas."
"The Holy Church is frequently trading with foreign forces, purpose unknown."
"Berserker has lost control and is rampaging towards Millennia Castle. Rider and Archer attempted to intercept but failed."
Seeing the last message, Arthur's lips curved into a knowing smile, instantly discerning the truth behind Ruler's hurried departure.
But for him, this was not good news either.
This Holy Grail War was supposed to be a balanced seven-on-seven competition.
Any increase or decrease in the number of Servants on either side would completely tip the scales of victory.
He and the Lancer team had just teamed up to take down the Black Faction Saber at night, and now the Berserker team was rushing to give away a kill to the other side?
Mordred, who had also finished reading the message, grinned, her tone full of schadenfreude.
"What's wrong, Master? It's just a Berserker, a class that's bound to die first after the fighting starts. Is it even worth caring about?"
Arthur bent down to pick up the crystal, his fingertips caressing its residual warmth. He looked at the indifferent Mordred beside him and calmly shook his head.
"Of course I don't care. From the moment I decided to go solo, I never considered them companions."
"Whether Berserker lives or dies is irrelevant to you and me. I just want to use his life to probe the Black Faction's intelligence, and incidentally... find the unknown entity."
Hearing Arthur mention this unfamiliar term again, Mordred irritably scratched her golden hair.
"The filth that can silently erode Servants... other than waiting for it to expose itself, does it really have to kill the host to reveal itself?"
"I've never heard of such a troublesome thing!"
At this moment, Arthur had taken a briefcase from the back seat of the car, his hands flying as he smoothly assembled a metal falcon.
He shrugged, "At least that's how it's been the few times I've encountered it. Alright, stop complaining. Let's be the fishermen for once."
A sharp flapping sound tore through the air, and the metal falcon shot into the dense forest like an arrow from a bow, disappearing without a trace.
...
East of Trifas, Ideal Forest.
A burly man over two meters tall, with a twisted yet brilliant smile on his face, was striding straight ahead with reckless abandon.
The defense line constructed by homunculi and golems reappeared.
The loyal creations swung their battle axes and long spears, fiercely cleaving into Spartacus's pale blue muscles, drawing streaks of blood!
The massive golems possessed astonishing arm strength, raising millstone-sized rock fists to violently strike his face, producing a continuous series of dull thuds!
Spartacus was smashed so hard his neck twisted, but he forced it back with even more terrifying monstrous strength!
There was no pain on his scar-etched face; instead, an innate, chilling pleasure emerged from the intense pain.
The crazed Warrior of Rebellion never thought to dodge.
He simply endured, endured, and endured again!
Spartacus roared and raised his hand, easily tossing aside a golem, and casually swept his long sword!
Where the blade passed, flesh and blood flew, and an entire squad of homunculi was instantly cut in half at the waist!
Through the metal falcon's view, Arthur and Mordred saw this bloody scene and both frowned.
Mordred couldn't help but gasp, "Master, is this ball of flesh that only knows how to take hits really from our Red Faction? He hasn't been possessed by those unknown entities, has he?"
Arthur's voice calmly denied, "Unfortunately, the unknown entity's puppets all have emotionless, dead faces; they wouldn't show such a disgusting smile."
Having received the answer, Mordred's brows furrowed tightly, utterly contemptuous of the madman on the screen who was enjoying the slaughter.
"To be in the same faction as this scoundrel is truly disgusting! The Black Faction had better send someone powerful to deal with him quickly!"
"As you wish." Arthur controlled the falcon to gain altitude, his tone indifferent, "Here, the powerful guy you wanted has arrived."
In the scrying magic's image, Astolfo, holding a golden lance, flashed into view, blocking the way.
And behind him was a vast, dense army of golems, far outnumbering the previous ones, like a surging tide!
Spartacus swung away a giant tree blocking his path, his twisted smile widening even further. He spread his arms and let out a thunderous roar.
"Come! O Oppressors! This is the proof of my rebellion! This is the supreme moment of trampling the strong's dignity underfoot!"
However, the Black Faction Servants had no interest in prolonged combat with him.
Astolfo's Noble Phantasm, his lance, instantly activated, nullifying his mobility.
Immediately after, countless golems swarmed forward, forming a constantly compressing and shrinking earthen prison!
Finally, a bronze warhorse stomped the ground, and Vlad III appeared with a cold demeanor.
He raised his arm, and countless sharp wooden stakes burst from the earth, pinning Spartacus firmly to the ground, completely immobilizing him!
Seeing this comical and reckless scene, even Mordred, who had just wished for the berserker's demise, had an expression of displeasure.
"What the hell? Forget about probing the enemy's True Name, this guy couldn't even manage to charge into the castle?"
Arthur remained silent, his gaze fixed on the heavily wounded figure in the scrying magic.
His body below the knees was forcibly spiritualized, his entire body was crushed by golems, and every inch of his flesh, except for the spiritual cores located in his heart and brain, was pierced by stakes!
Such injuries, if truly contaminated by the unknown entity, would be enough to trigger its instinctive malicious counterattack.
However... nothing happened.
With this thought, Arthur slowly withdrew his gaze, abruptly turning his attention to another area on the right side of the dense forest.
There, several birds, as if startled by some invisible presence, flapped their wings in panic and flew high from the treetops.
"Berserker is no longer of value."
Arthur casually closed the scrying magic, a playful smile returning to his lips.
"Let's go, Mordred, let's go meet the other Servants of the Black Faction."