Chapter 369: Red Lancer vs. Black Saber

Chapter 369: Red Lancer vs. Black Saber

Regarding the participants in this Holy Grail War, who left the worst impression on Shinji? First is Celenike, and second is the fat guy, Gordes.

Celenike is hopelessly beyond redemption. Even if she has a pretty face and a nice figure, it's all for naught. Her twisted nature rivals that of Ryuunosuke Uryuu.

Gordes, on the other hand, isn't completely wasted yet and might still be salvageable. However, he's currently in a state of self-inflation. If he doesn't get a few harsh setbacks, he'll eventually become as irredeemably twisted as Celenike.

By that time, Shinji might feel the urge to get rid of him—well, to be honest, he's already feeling a bit like hitting him now.

You have to understand, Shinji's personality is considered quite good among transmigrators. He isn't arrogant, doesn't mind working for others, and can even tolerate some posturing—as long as you have as much clout as Lorelei or Kayneth.

But what does Gordes have? He has some skills, but not enough to justify his extreme arrogance. Even Kayneth wasn't this overbearing!

You don't realize it until you compare: there's always someone dumber than the last.

Of course, Gordes was unaware of Shinji's inner ridicule. His anger had already shifted from Karna to Shinji—who do you think you are, to speak to me like that?

"Fat-Fatty!!! Just a mere Servant, how dare you be so disrespectful to a Master."

"My Master is Fiore, not you, you dead fatso," Shinji casually sat beside Jeanne, still not sparing Gordes a glance.

The upgraded insult made Gord's anger burn even hotter.

"Fine, remember this: when we get back, I'll have Fiore deal with you properly."

"Suit yourself. But before that, I have a reminder for you—I'm an Assassin. Is it wise to threaten an Assassin like this? If you provoke me, be careful of my tenfold retaliation—rest assured, I won't leave any evidence, and not even Darnic or Berserker will be able to do anything about it."

At this, Shinji finally lifted his head, and the coldness in his deep blue eyes made Gordes shiver, making him realize the immense power of a Servant far beyond modern magi.

Gordes, though arrogant, wasn't entirely brainless. When his anger was doused by the threat to his life, his intelligence kicked back in.

"What's the point of being ruthless? If you have the guts, go deal with the Red Servants, like Red Lancer."

This statement made Shinji look at Gordes with newfound respect.

"Huh? You can say something sensible, Fatty. But I would have done that anyway. However, I won't take action this time because it's meaningless."

"How can it be meaningless? This is a great chance to kill the Red Lancer."

"No, it's not," Shinji shook his head. "You've been here for a while, just wanting me to test Red Lancer's strength, but you didn't approach."

"You noticed me?" Gordes was surprised. He had indeed been nearby since Jeanne and Karna met, but following Saber's suggestion, he stayed out of the Servant's perception range. There was no reason he should have been detected.

"It wasn't me, it was Ruler. She had no change in expression when you appeared, indicating she noticed something."

This was only half the reason; the other half was the mysterious way the story was written. If Shinji wasn't present, it would have been Gordes bringing Black Saber to rescue Jeanne. Unfortunately for Gordes, his approach was wrong, and Jeanne didn't appreciate it at all.

"Because you were far away, and I used an anti-army Noble Phantasm, you missed many details. Red Lancer isn't someone we can kill even if Saber and I team up. A forced kill will only lead to mutual destruction."

As Shinji said this, he glanced at Karna.

The latter was just focused on confronting Black Saber. Whether it was Gordes wanting to kill him or Shinji acknowledging his strength, there was no reaction. Black Saber was the same as if completely ignoring the conversation between Shinji and Gordes.

"Impossible, Saber is—!" Gordes didn't finish the last part of his sentence; it was something unmentionable.

"...!?"

Witnessing the extraordinary scene, the red lancer immediately retreated. He put some distance between himself and the black saber, casting a glance that seemed to freeze him in place.

"Such shallow wounds."

It wasn't just one strike; in fact, seventy-eight thrusts had hit the black saber. Each strike had landed precisely on a vital spot—yet the saber stood unfazed, poised in his stance.

He wasn't uninjured. But the wounds were absurdly shallow. Normally, it wouldn't be surprising if his arm was shattered or his eyes gouged out. At least, the red lancer had thrust his spear with such power.

However, the fact that Gordes' healing magic immediately closed the saber's wounds indicated that the saber's injuries were shallow enough to regenerate instantly.

How could this be? If all those consecutive strikes had been blocked, it would be hard to believe but theoretically possible. But, to have taken direct hits and yet sustain such minimal damage was impossible!

This was both an impossible event and a phenomenon that had indeed occurred. So, there must be a reason. Either he was blessed by the gods like the rider from his camp, or he had undergone rigorous training, or—

"—Ah, I see. I finally understand."

A long-forgotten feeling of exhilaration surged in the lancer's chest. This black saber was indeed similar to "him."

The black saber was equally astonished. His exceptional ability, "Armor of Fafnir," which recreated the legend of the hero Siegfried who bathed in dragon's blood, nullified attacks below B rank. Even attacks surpassing B rank would first be reduced by B rank before affecting his body, which explained why the otherwise fatal wounds were so minor.

In other words, normally—without fully activating his Noble Phantasm, merely using his spear as a regular weapon—there was no way to harm the saber.

Yet, all seventy-eight strikes from the lancer had injured him. Although they were minor wounds, easily healed by Godes' healing magecraft, this fact was enough to make the heroic spirit Siegfried shiver.

This meant that the red lancer's spear contained physical attack power equivalent to an A rank. Needless to say, the spear itself must be a rare treasure. But it was the combination of incredible strength and exceptional technique that produced such destructive power.

Magnificent!

The black saber's joy was evident. In his lifetime, he had never fought such a hero. Since defeating the dragon that destroyed thousands of villages, he has created countless legends with his immortal body.

Yet, the feeling of crossing the line between life and death had long since vanished.

Any attack was ineffective against him, and Siegfried merely slaughtered his enemies with ease—this wasn't combat; it felt more like a chore.

But this battle was different.

Look at that spear, piercing through my dragon armor.

Look at that skill, already reaching the divine. How many legends has he forged, and how many hardships has he overcome?

Just thinking about it filled the black saber with admiration. The lancer before him seemed to share the same sentiment.

They remained silent, nodded to each other, and once again, plunged into battle.

The thrusting spear once again aimed at the black saber. The spearhead contained fighting spirit, battle intent, and a steel-like will.

Saber raised his great sword again, and the lancer gripped his spear with both hands.

Though it was night, it felt as refreshing and exhilarating as basking in sunlight.

The two rare heroic spirits clashed once more, spear against sword.