One was from Uruk, one from Britain; one wielded an axe, one wielded a sword; one couldn't use magecraft, while the other bit their tongue just reciting a spell. How embarrassing!
At least he, as an Archer, could fire a few arrows. Heracles's body, woven through Third Magic, could casually pick up a bow and shoot an arrow a hundred kilometers. They just didn't shoot arrows because it sometimes wasn't exciting enough. These Casters were the ones truly neglecting their proper duties.
Luckily, there was the Magic King to cover for these embarrassing fellows. He commanded the Seventy-Two Demon Gods, and his body itself was the Temple of Time Grand Servant. That guy couldn't possibly be doing Muay Thai, right?
"Enough small talk. I have a lucky pouch here. It can defeat the strongest enemy you encounter on this journey. It just seems that you don't want to believe me." Merlin shook his head regretfully.
Shirou immediately admitted that his defeat was certain.
"I lost. GG."
Grand Casters basically didn't lie. It was only a matter of how much truth they chose to tell.
With something this bug-level already brought out, what was wrong with Shirou admitting defeat? Better than actually dying.
"So straightforward? Here." He handed Shirou the lucky pouch and was about to leave when he heard Shirou mutter.
"Zhuge Liang at least gave three lucky pouches. Why are you only giving me one?"
"His three can't compare to my one. Mine alone can decide victory or defeat. Remember, you may only open it when you face the most perilous danger."
Merlin couldn't be bothered with the nonsense Shirou was about to say. With a wave of his hand, he kicked Shirou straight out of the illusion he had created.
Shirou scratched his head and felt around beside