"Faster, hurry!"
As Fujimaru Ritsuka urged the refugees to retreat, he kept a close eye on what was happening atop the high walls by the city gate.
That familiar figure brought not a sense of warmth, but an overwhelming threat.
Mordred was no longer the Londinium knight who had stood by his side in the London Singularity. Now, she was merely a hound serving under the Lion King—a clear and unmistakable enemy.
He was frantic with worry. Only Mash, Leonardo da Vinci, and Hans Christian Andersen were holding back the Purge Knights, but how could three people possibly defend against several hundred Purge Knights? Too many refugees had already been killed. Anno and Pindo could not break away either, tangled up with two other Knights of the Round Table. They likely would not be able to free themselves anytime soon.
The only one they could rely on was themselves.
"Damn it. There's no way to unleash my Noble Phantasm here, or I'd blow all these tin cans straight into the sky!" Da Vinci gritted her teeth in frustration. As a Servant elevated from an artist like him, she might not compare to Lawrence in medicine, but when it came to offensive power—
Lawrence: I acknowledge Da Vinci's offensive power.
"Then I'll do it!"
Andersen gritted his teeth. "As long as one of those two up there can quickly finish off their opponent, the pressure on our side will ease up a little, right?"
"Then—"
Whoosh—
He abruptly swung his arm and adjusted his glasses. Magical energy began to surge around him.
"I may not be able to do what that big sister can, but I'm still a Servant, aren't I?" Andersen snapped his fingers, a calm smile on his face. The obvious gap in strength had not robbed him of