Dating Caster

"Oh? Are you asking me? If I have granted you the honor of beholding me, yet you do not even know my name, then your ignorance is truly beyond help. And for a mere mongrel to dare question the King... to have the fortune of meeting me yet fail to recognize my noble visage—such an ignorant fool has no value in living!!!"

In the empty sky, golden ripples surged alongside the golden Servant's voice, and then a dazzling radiance manifested before everyone's eyes.

Countless spears and swords emerged from the golden light, radiating a magical energy that could not be concealed; they were clearly no ordinary weapons.

"They are all Noble Phantasms?!"

Everyone was astonished. Could it be that Archer was skipping even the most basic probing and going straight for his trump card?

Meanwhile, in a dark corner unseen by the others, a gaunt man watched this scene through the vision transmitted by his familiar, unable to stop his entire body from trembling.

"Finally... Tohsaka Tokiomi..."

The man stared at the golden Servant in the magical projection with bloodshot eyes, his gaze filled with bone-deep hatred.

"Berserker, kill him!"

Destroy Tohsaka Tokiomi--!

Suddenly, a breeze swept across the faces of those on the battlefield. Every Servant standing there was a hero who had experienced countless battles; such a disturbance could not escape their notice.

The wind intensified, and only then did everyone realize that this wind was actually being pulled by the flow of magical energy—one could only imagine the terror of such power.

Under the stunned gazes of all present, the swirling magical energy gradually solidified into a shape, transforming into a stubborn and unyielding figure.

That shadow stood about two blocks closer to the sea than the four-lane road where Lancer and Saber were fighting.

--Yes, his form could only be described as a "shadow."

The man was tall and broad-shouldered, his entire body covered in armor.

But unlike the silver armor that encased Saber, or the luxurious, extravagant golden armor of Archer, this man's armor was black.

There were no exquisite decorations, no polished, gleaming colors. It was an extreme black, like darkness, like hell itself. Even his face was covered by a helmet. Deep within the narrow slits of the visor, one could only see the chilling light emitted by eyes burning like raging fire.

Such an ominous figure... what kind of Heroic Spirit could he be?

However, Medea had no time to concern herself with the scene on the battlefield; Kong, who was by her side, was already enough to keep her frantic.

Kong's condition was not good at all. Rider's appearance had already been a heavy blow to his nerves.

But with Rider's provocation, the successive appearances of Archer and Berserker had only added insult to injury for Kong's brain.

Pain--!

An indescribable agony was madly stimulating Kong's cerebral nerves.

His clenched fists had long since been cut by his own nails—dripping with blood. The veins bulging on his neck and his twisted expression actually gave those nearby a sense of terror.

Medea, watching the suffering Kong, felt helpless. This was already a matter involving the soul; if she were not careful, Kong might end up a vegetable.

Therefore, Medea ruled out the option of knocking Kong unconscious. She could only use minor healing spells to alleviate his pain.

Just in case, Medea also set up a sound-insulation barrier around them.

Archer--Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes.

Saber--Artoria, the King of Knights.

Rider--Iskandar, the King of Conquerors.

Berserker--Lancelot.

The memories regarding these people transformed into a terrifying tide, crashing against Kong's fragile yet resilient nerves wave after wave. Under the stalemate, the Memory Wave, after a brief lull, fused back into a monstrous surge, preparing for one final, desperate charge!

"Ah--!"

Unable to hold on any longer as he exceeded his limit, Kong let out a miserable scream before collapsing limply to the ground, unconscious.

The dam of his memories was violently breached. If Medea had been probing his soul at that moment, she would have been shocked to discover that the fine cracks previously covering his soul were actually beginning to heal.

But Medea had no time to notice this; another sudden event caught her off guard:

As Kong lost consciousness, Medea suddenly lost control of the magical energy in the surrounding atmosphere.

Although she regained control of the runaway magical energy in the next second, it was already too late--

Due to the surge of magical energy, the sound-insulation barrier Medea had set up shattered instantly!

"Oh no!"

The moment the barrier broke, Medea's expression changed drastically.

Her wide purple robes unfurled to wrap around the fallen Kong, and then she vanished from the spot.

The next second--

BOOM--!

The ground that had been perfectly intact just a moment ago now looked as if it had been carpet-bombed; it was pitted and scarred, with only a few scattered weapons stuck in the earth, as if testifying to what had just occurred.

"Tch, to think I let the rat get away."

Archer glanced dismissively at the spot where Medea and Kong had been standing, then turned his gaze toward Rider, his eyes filled with mockery.

"I must say, Rider, your kingly presence doesn't seem to have intimidated even a tiny mouse."

"Haha, well, it is Caster after all; such behavior is to be expected."

Although Rider said this, his slightly displeased expression made it clear that his first impression of the Caster pair was not very high.

To dare to ignore a king's invitation—

"Since the rat has been chased away, next..."

Archer turned his head, his blood-red eyes filled with killing intent as he stared at the black Berserker radiating an ominous aura:

"Mad dog, are you prepared to be slaughtered by this king?"

Golden light illuminated the warehouse district once again.

Running a fever, my head has been dizzy all day, so just one chapter today.

Sorry--

(Bows)

Chapter 21. Skirmish!

In a park not far from the warehouse district, a piece of purple fabric gradually expanded into the shape of a person.

From the violet-blue robes, female hands and feet emerged...

After landing, Medea casually tossed Kong onto the ground, then coughed a few times and vomited a pool of blood.

A miscalculation--

Medea sat slumped on the ground, her breathing ragged and unrefined; it was hard to imagine this was the usually composed her. Medea recalled the scene from just moments ago:

Archer had fired his Noble Phantasms in her direction. The moment those spears and swords were launched, the acceleration alone was enough to violently twist and tear the atmosphere blocking their path, carving ominous trajectories through the air.

The Noble Phantasms, wreathed in hurricanes, easily pierced through the defenses Medea had set up on the perimeter. Part of the damage Medea sustained was due to the magical backlash.

But most of it came from being caught in the shockwaves of the Noble Phantasms. Although her timely teleportation prevented them from being directly struck, judging by the terrifying trajectories those weapons carved through the air, it seemed likely that even space itself would have been pierced.

Medea let out a sigh of relief, feeling a sliver of joy at having survived, and then thought of the Assassin who had been subjected to the indiscriminate carpet-bombing of Archer's Noble Phantasms yesterday. Even though Medea knew they were acting, she couldn't help but feel a shred of sympathy for him.

"Cough, cough--"

After a long while...

When Medea stood up from the ground, she couldn't help but cough a few times. Even though she had used magecraft to heal herself, the damage caused by Noble Phantasms was not so easily undone. Furthermore, most of the magical energy within her had been consumed; Medea had to control her consumption to deal with sudden situations like the one that just occurred.

It was quite frustrating, really. As the most outstanding magus of the Age of Gods, Medea could not use magecraft wantonly, and Little Shirou, who had only just begun to learn the path of magic, could not provide that level of magical energy consumption. Therefore, the magical energy she was currently using was still what had been provided by the blood sacrifice ritual during her summoning.

Blood sacrifice--

In the Holy Grail ritual, the nature of a Servant changes depending on the summoner.

A summoner with darkness in their heart cannot summon a hero who stands on the side of the light.

Just as Kong had said, if Ryunosuke Uryu had performed the summoning ritual, then a misanthropic Servant like Gilles de Rais would certainly have appeared.

A twisted summoner will summon a twisted Heroic Spirit.

But there are exceptions--

Just like how the blood sacrifice ritual prepared by Ryunosuke Uryu ended up serving Little Shirou instead.

Heh--

But if it hadn't been for that blood sacrifice, Little Shirou wouldn't have summoned her, would he?

Medea thought to herself with self-mockery:

She truly lived up to the name of [Witch].

"Ugh..."

Her chaotic thoughts were interrupted by a groan from beside her. Looking down, she saw Kong's closed eyelids beginning to tremble slightly.

At this moment, Medea suddenly wondered if there was a connection between the previous magical energy surge and Kong's unconsciousness.

Because it was all just too coincidental.

"Yo--"

Kong opened his eyes to see a blurry purple outline. Once his vision cleared, he greeted Medea weakly.

"How are you feeling now?"

"I have no strength left."

Kong tried to stand up but found his limbs weak and sore; after trying several times, he could only change his position to lie flat on the ground.

"Then you can just lie on the ground and cool off for a while!"

Medea said irritably. If it weren't for the trouble this person caused, there wouldn't be so many issues.

"..."

Kong grinned helplessly.

It was mid-winter, and the ground was certainly plenty cool~

At this moment, Wang Xiaoming saw Medea approach him and reach out with her fair fingers to touch his forehead.

"Stop overthinking!"

She tapped Wang Xiaoming's head with her staff again, causing him to wince in pain. That was the Staff of Hecate, after all; was it really okay to use it to knock on someone's skull like that?

Medea, with her hand still covering Wang Xiaoming's forehead, cast a detection spell once more.

Cyan fluorescence flickered—

Medea was astonished to discover that Wang Xiaoming's soul, which had previously been on the verge of shattering, was actually showing signs of healing! A portion of the cracks that densely covered the surface of his soul had vanished without a trace, as if wiped away by an eraser.

It seemed that the return of his memories had played a significant role in repairing his soul.

"It looks like your gains were quite substantial."

After pulling her hand away, Medea said to Wang Xiaoming.

"I suppose they were..." Wang Xiaoming couldn't help but offer a wry smile at the mention of this. The feeling of his brain overclocking earlier had been truly unpleasant, and even now, his entire mind felt like a bowl of mush.

"Let me catch my breath for a second."

"Catch your breath? I'm afraid there is no time for that."

Medea's expression suddenly turned cold. Seeing this look on her face, Wang Xiaoming's sluggish brain hadn't even processed the situation before he saw Medea suddenly raise her hand—

Several magic bullets manifested in her palm and were fired instantly!

Boom—

Looking at the ground over there, which looked as if it had been plowed several times over, Wang Xiaoming instinctively swallowed his saliva.

Medea had no time to pay attention to Wang Xiaoming, her eyes, cold as water, fixed on a specific direction ahead.

"To think you would engage in such assassin's work; has the honor of being the chief Champion of the Irish Fianna been tossed into the gutter by you?"