Miracle Summoner

"Ugh...! Ah...!"

Watching as the Silver Knight charged toward her with an unyielding determination, even while being battered and broken under the barrage of radiant destruction, Artoria clutched her head with both hands, letting out a cry of anguish.

She couldn't help it.

Bedivere's valiant loyalty struck a chord deep within her, triggering an unprecedented upheaval in her memories. A searing pain gripped her mind, making it hard to even breathe.

Memories of all kinds flooded into Artoria's consciousness, one after another, bringing forth a cascade of vivid scenes.

Among them—

A young girl, yet to become a king, training tirelessly with her sword to hone her skills.

A newly anointed king, having drawn the sword from the stone, meeting the Knights of the Round Table one by one.

A leader, grown into a true and worthy monarch, leading Britannia to countless victories on the battlefield.

And finally—

The kingdom fell as the Round Table shattered. Bloodied and broken, she knelt upon a hill of corpses, surrounded by the echoes of ruin.

All of these memories surged into Artoria's mind.

Then, within those memories, a knight's figure surfaced repeatedly.

He was there—when she, the young King of Knights, rode into battle.

He was there—when she, seated upon her throne, ruled with unwavering resolve.

He was there—when she walked through the palace halls.

He was there—when she stood atop the castle walls, gazing upon her kingdom.

This knight was the first and last to stand by King Arthur's side, unwavering in his loyalty. Though weaker than the other Knights of the Round Table, he never once wavered, staying by her side to the very end. He bore witness to both her coronation and her final moments—he was the one who watched over her always.

Such an irreplaceable existence...

"Why did I ever forget...!?"

Yet, even now, Artoria could not recall his name. Only his appearance and presence remained, overlapping with the Silver Knight charging toward her.

He was neither a Servant nor a Hero—just a wandering soul who had spent 1,500 years searching for her, seeking to return the sword she had cast away.

Such unwavering loyalty. Such pure righteousness. It shook the very foundation of Artoria's divinity.

And yet—

And yet—

"I will never accept that sword again!"

That's right.

Never.

If she accepted that sword, she would cease to be the Ruler of the End, no longer the Warden of the Holy Lance. The Last Flame Project would collapse entirely, and everything that was Artoria would be undone.

This was a matter of existence itself—there was no room for hesitation.

And so—

"You and that sword shall vanish together, wretched knight who disturbs my being!"

Artoria's aura surged as she raised the Holy Spear high.

A radiant light, blinding beyond compare, erupted from the spear's tip.

Not just the spear—

Even the steed she rode, Dun Stallion, neighed loudly, its body radiating dazzling brilliance.

The light of the Holy Grail.

At this moment, Artoria poured every ounce of her being into this one attack, channeling all the gathered radiance into her Holy Spear.

"Beyond the skies, the far side of the earth!"

"This is the wedge of light that stands at the ends of the world!"

Artoria cried out—

"Rhongomyniad!"

At last, she unleashed the true name of the Holy Spear.

"Boom!"

In the next instant, as Artoria thrust her spear forward, the radiant pillar of destruction erupted forth—a celestial anchor that would obliterate all in its path.

The pillar of light obliterated everything in its way. The very ground, even where the attack merely grazed, crumbled and shattered, as though struck by an invisible storm hammer. A deep trench carved itself into the earth as the beam tore through the battlefield.

Bathed in blood, Bedivere continued his charge.

His form was so small. So battered.

Yet he ran headfirst into the descending pillar of light.

"Sir Bedivere!"

Mash's voice rang out like a desperate wail.

"Tch...!"

Artoria [Alter] couldn't help but step forward instinctively.

"Be careful!"

From Chaldea, cries of alarm erupted from all present, their voices filled with horror.

Only Rozen remained calm.

His golden eyes flashed as his resplendent wings spread wide, surging with spiritual energy that shook the very world's end.

"————————"

Without a single error, he chanted the incantation with astounding speed.

With the amplification of high-grade mana, the divine blessing of the war god Vaisravana descended upon Bedivere at that very moment.

"————————"

Rozen's ten fingers moved in intricate patterns, forming a series of sacred hand seals.

Ten radiant threads of magical energy wove together, forming a colossal sigil that shot forth, imprinting itself upon Bedivere.

The war god's divine blessing surged to its peak.

"Go, Bedivere!"

Rozen bellowed.

Bedivere roared in response.

"Burn my soul to ashes and surge forth, O Holy Sword!"

The Holy Sword in his hands erupted with radiance to match the Holy Spear.

"Ooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh—!"

With a defiant cry, Bedivere leapt skyward and slashed down toward the descending pillar of destruction.

"Sizzle...!"

In the searing agony of his soul and flesh burning away, Bedivere's body reached its limit.

Mid-air, his form crumbled to dust.

And yet—

The Holy Sword's radiance still struck.

"Clang!"

As the blade descended, the oncoming pillar of light was severed.

Like a waterfall being cut apart—

Artoria's ultimate attack had been cleaved in two by Bedivere, who had sacrificed his very existence.

Even after losing its wielder, the Holy Sword still carried forth its momentum, streaking through the air like an arrow, as though it possessed a will of its own.

It shot straight toward Artoria.

At last—

The Holy Sword and the Holy Spear collided.

"Clang—!"

Sword-light and spear-light erupted in unison.

"Boom—!"

A sound like shattering glass rang out.

In that instant—

Time itself came to a halt.