Smiling ♂ Boy / Banquet (Bonus Chapter)

"Um!"

Lily nodded vigorously, her amethyst-like eyes reflecting a bright light. Her adorable appearance made Wang Xiaoming instinctively reach out and cover her head.

I will definitely protect you.

Wang Xiaoming gently stroked Lily's soft, purple hair, gazing intently at the girl before him.

"Huh?"

Lily blinked, as if she were the Servant, wasn't she?

However, the clever Lily didn't bring it up. Instead, she closed her eyes comfortably like a spoiled kitten.

After all, Master looked really cool when he said those words!

Meanwhile, in a dense forest somewhere on the border of Trifas

A robust figure was constantly running; if one had to describe it—

That man was just a bunch of muscles.

No matter how you look at it, this is the only way to describe it. Although he is a burly man over two meters tall, the first thing that catches the eye when people see him is his extraordinary muscles. Then, when they look up to estimate his height, they feel even more hopeless.

The countless scars etched on his pale, bluish-white muscles easily suggest that he has accumulated terrifying cultivation and battle achievements. However, those wounds, though not yet penetrating his internal organs, are still clearly visible.

Using a knife to cut a huge iron ball wouldn't necessarily result in a fatal wound. Indeed, his muscles were just like steel. A sharp blade might cut his skin, and perhaps draw a little blood. But that would be about it.

His arms resembled those of a crocodile. Despite being completely naked, his massive pectoral muscles were as muscular and strong as armor. His gently moving legs were as powerful and resilient as the hind legs of a mammoth.

Although the leather belt tightly bound his entire body, including his face, the man showed no sign of pain; rather, a pleasant smile appeared on his face. His clothing was minimal—the leather covering his waist and hips had absolutely nothing to do with protecting his body.

But that was enough. His muscles were beyond the capacity of the armor, or rather, unnecessary. They were overwhelmingly super-muscles.

At dusk, the unkempt man walked through the ideal forest that stretched across the eastern part of Trifas.

In comparison, the giant octopus walking on the road seemed more realistic. He was so out of place in this forest full of natural beauty.

The man is the [Red] Servant -- Berserker.

"Stop right there, Berserker!"

Someone was chasing him like a freed beast, leaping and darting among the branches, while the girl repeatedly called out "Berserker."

The girl in the emerald green dress had eyes that held an inorganic, sharp quality reminiscent of a wild beast. Her hair was loosely styled, lacking any of the smoothness of a noblewoman's hair, yet it perfectly complemented her wild face. Indeed, she was a beautiful humanoid beast.

Berserker smiled, resolutely continuing his steps, and answered her question:

"Hahaha, Archer! Forgive me for disobeying that order. I must go to that fortress, to the side of the tyrant!"

Atalanta shouted anxiously:

"You idiot! I've already told you to wait for the right time, why can't you understand!"

But Berserker didn't stop. He continued to stride forward with strong, steady steps. He had been walking for two days and two nights now. It wasn't the first or second time that Berserker had been seen by passersby. Archer could only pray that the suspicious priest would handle the situation properly.

Waiting is not in my vocabulary.

Is this the end? Atalanta gave up on him. More accurately, she chose to follow the orders conveyed by the pigeon—if persuasion failed, focus on providing support.

"He's a berserker after all; is intellectual exchange impossible?"

A voice responded to her sighing soliloquy:

"Sigh, I knew it would be like this. After all, the Berserker class isn't just for show!"

Hearing the sound descending from the sky, Archer looked up at the tree branches above. A young man with a leisurely smile stood there. He was quite handsome. But his beauty was not the elegant chivalry that would make even the most noble person's heart flutter; the man's eyes were as sharp as a raptor's, and his strong physique, though robust, was not vulgar. It was the heroic demeanor that men, women, the old, children—everyone—longed for and admired.

The Achilles is considered by the entire Red Faction to be a man who can rival the immortal hero Karna.

"Shut up!"

However, Archer's expression turned sour upon seeing Rider: "If it weren't for you, how could I have possibly tracked you all the way here!"

With just one sentence, Rider's high spirits were completely extinguished. Rider scratched his head and explained sheepishly, "I didn't expect him to react like that. We can clearly communicate."

Archer sighed, "That being said, this is completely different from the Berserker we know as knowledge."

"Indeed. Because he's a Berserker who can talk, I thought his Mad Enhancement level was quite low."

[Red] Berserker's Mad Enhancement level is outside the evaluation criteria. Because he can converse, one might initially think his Mad Enhancement level is low, but Berserker can only talk and cannot communicate his thoughts. Rather than disobeying orders, it's more accurate to say he fails to understand them. Even commands using Command Spell, unless two are combined, only exert physical pressure on him and cannot stop him from acting.

"Spartacus, the Thrace gladiator, the symbol of rebellion—truly a man of peculiar character."

Chapter 184. Smiling Boy

[Red] Berserker, Spartacus. A slave gladiator in Rome, he one day led seventy-eight companions in an escape. He was a hero who defeated a pursuing force of approximately three thousand, inspiring slave militias to rise up across the land. Although ultimately betrayed by his trusted pirates and torn to pieces by the Roman army, he had been invincible in battle until then. For the weak slaves, he was truly a beacon of hope.

He hates all tyrants and is driven to fight against all the strong. He protects, cares for, and heals the weak. And most importantly, he is a berserker who fights for rebellion.

Watching the Berserker race forward on its own, Archer, close behind, sighed and asked the Rider beside him:

"Rider, are you saying that we have no choice but to abandon him?"

After hearing his companion's question, Rider shrugged and replied:

"Sigh, what can you do? That thing is just a monster that thinks about fighting. Compared to it, you trying to persuade it are the stranger thing, aren't you?"

"I'm quite adept at controlling raging beasts. I even considered just shooting him through the knee with an arrow, but..."

If he did that, given Berserker's personality, he would undoubtedly change his target and launch a counterattack against Archer.

"You'll be a huge help if you can just take care of yourself, big sister."

"By the way, why did you follow me here?"

Rider seemed to have been waiting for this question, and answered with a knowing smile:

"Of course it's because I'm worried about you. Isn't that obvious?"

"Oh, really?"

She showed no blush, no surprise, not even anger; she was completely unresponsive. For an ordinary woman, no matter how virtuous a wife, such words would undoubtedly have made her blush with shyness.

But sweet talk meant nothing to Archer, who had lived alongside wild beasts. His flattery was met with a curt rejection, and Rider scratched his head sheepishly. Then, he coughed and returned to his original task.

"In short, our mission is to provide rear support, which means to protect the Berserker to the best of our ability, while gathering intelligence as much as possible."

"That guy will probably arrive at the fortress late tonight. However, there should be some miscellaneous soldiers to meet him before then."

"Phew, anyway, I'm really eager to see the guys on the Black Faction first."

Archer and Rider were both top-notch hunters and warriors. The fortress, where the seven Servant on high alert, was one that they did not believe could be won by simply charging in with half their numbers.

"To stop that Berserker, we need at least two Servant, or even the entire party, to subdue him; otherwise, it's impossible."

That's right, even so, stopping the Berserkers will still require extraordinary efforts.

"By the way, Rider, what happened to your horse?"

"I came here to gather intelligence; I can't just hand over my own information to the other side. This time, I won't use them."

Archer didn't show any sign of worry, as if he had complete confidence in Rider's abilities.

"If it's you, it shouldn't be a big problem, right? So, should the weapon be a sword or a spear?"

"A gun, of course!"

Rider answered without the slightest hesitation.

Although Rider and Archer were somewhat distracted by their conversation, Berserker remained within their sight; after all, walking straight and slowly, there was no way they could lose him.

"Speaking of which, big sister, I have a question for you."

"What?"

"Have you ever seen Master's face?"

"No, no. I only met Master's intermediary, that priest."

Upon being summoned, Archer immediately realized that the man in front of him was not his Master. He was accompanied by a figure who clearly resembled a Servant, and most importantly, he didn't feel any connection to the system.

"Me too. Oh well, maybe that's just how Magecraft are."

"No matter how you look at it, it's all very unusual. But if you imagine what awaits us in the end, it's probably just death."

The primary concern in this Great Holy Grail War is not defeat in the war itself, but what happens after victory. Regardless of which side survives, the chances of all seven remaining alive are slim. However, the possibility of only one surviving is also impossible.

Moreover, the Holy Grail can only grant the wishes of one group. Therefore, the moment the great battle is won, internal divisions begin. Every Magecraft, regardless of who they are, aims at the "Root Vortex," located on the Reverse Side of the World, which records all the past and all the future. If a relic containing that possibility is right before their eyes, even comrades will naturally turn on each other.

Of course, Servant are no exception. In order to achieve their own desires, they must kill their comrades-in-arms.

Therefore, even if they fight together, that kind of relationship can probably only last until the final moment, the moment before victory is decided.

So, that's why you don't want to show your face?

"No, no, they should at least show their faces. Something about that priest and his Servant seems very suspicious."

"Assassin, huh? He claims his real name is Semiramis, right?"

During the meeting, the Red Assassin openly revealed his real name, leaving even Archer and Rider speechless.

It's nothing. Precisely because I am an Assassin, my very existence is precarious. At least I'm revealing my real name, hoping it will serve as proof of our shared struggle.

Despite what she said, neither Rider nor Archer believed her. The intense aura of despair surrounding her made the two, being pure warriors, feel anxious and distrustful.

"Yes, Her Majesty Semiramis, the Empress of Assyria. Ugh, why do all these so-called kings, regardless of gender, act so arrogantly? It's so annoying, so incredibly annoying."

Rider scratched his head in annoyance, while Archer remained completely calm.

"Getting used to being served will probably lead to that kind of attitude. But we're on equal footing, so there's no need to..."

"Ahhh, you lackeys of the dictator, we've finally found you!"

Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden burst of laughter. Following the sound, Rider and Archer saw that Berserker had finally stopped.

However, it wasn't because he had a change of heart, but because there was something in his way that was preventing him from moving forward.

--Blocking Berserker's path were the Yggdmillennia's vanguard, the Homunculus, and the bronze golems (Golems) who boasted of their enormous bodies, which even Berserker had to look up to. There were over a hundred of them.

"What should we do? Should we help him?"

Rider's proposal was somewhat disappointing, but it's understandable that he wasn't interested, since there was no need for him and others as Heroic Spirit to intervene at this level.

Just as Rider had expected, before he and Archer could even discuss their plan, Berserker had already reactivated and charged into the enemy formation, a bright smile on his face.

"So, let's start the rebellion now! Be prepared!"

Requesting votes, razor blades, and donations.

Chapter 185. The Banquet (Bonus Chapter)

Compared to the Red Faction's Servant who were constantly on the move, the [Black] faction's Servant, "waiting in comfort" within the Millennia Fortress, seemed much more relaxed.

The royal court of Millennia Fortress, once a venue for tactical meetings, has now been transformed into a lavish banquet hall.

The enticing aromas emanating from the various foods laid out on the long table were constantly enticing the Master and Servant seated on either side of it.

Because there were participants from all over the world and dishes from all over the world, the banquet was a buffet. Only Lancer sat in a chair and let the artificial beings bring him food, but as the king of the [Black] side, no one would be so tactless as to raise any objections.

"To be able to do that is incredible."

Even the well-traveled Darnic couldn't help but sigh in amazement.

"Well, this isn't just my achievement; it was thanks to the help of excellent androids that we reached this level."

Archer didn't take credit, as if these things in front of him were just trivial matters he did casually.

That's right, the person who prepared the dishes laid out on the long table was Archer.

It wasn't something I made on purpose; it just happened during a chat when I mentioned that my special skill in life was cooking, and Astolfo egged me on to say, "How about you try making it?"

In this Great Holy Grail War, the [Black] faction adopted a strategy of defending the fortress.

With the Greater Grail in hand and a fortress-level stronghold, this strategy is logical. However, focusing solely on defense would place a significant burden on the morale and spirit of the [Black] faction.