"If we take the initiative, I do have a few ideas."
Cursed Arm Hassan pondered for a while, seeming to come to a decision before looking at Anno.
"What are we most lacking right now? The answer became clear the moment you decided to come to East Village and join forces with us Hassans."
"Combat power."
"Now, in addition to the three of us Hassans, there are also Sir Arash, the monk Xuanzang, Tawara Tōta, and the others."
"But honestly, even with all of them, I fear we still wouldn't be able to stand against the Lion King."
"I understand what you mean." Anno let out a solemn sigh, lightly tapping the tabletop with his fingers. "Setting aside the Lion King's own strength, the Knights of the Round Table under her command cannot be regarded as ordinary knights in terms of Servant-level combat ability."
He had killed Gareth, and the Storm King had killed Mordred. Those were undeniable facts. The sensation of their Spirit Cores shattering had been crystal clear; under normal circumstances, Gareth could not possibly have survived.
Yet she had indeed survived, though she had undergone a slight change.
Her Spirit Origin, which had been on the verge of dispersing, suddenly erupted with immense magical energy of unknown nature. Even he had been forced back more than a dozen steps by the instant it burst forth before he managed to steady himself.
Then, Gareth was enveloped by that magical energy, as though she had transformed into a white cocoon, giving the impression that something was about to burst forth from within.
Next, tattered white wings wreathed in black mist emerged from the cocoon.
The Vile King's wings, the White Dragon's form—yet unlike during the previous upheaval in Camelot's Royal Court, Gareth did not simply use her claws and