Shinji Matou at Your Service-Chapter 1085: The Knight King’s Royal Knights vs. The Emperor’s Brotherhood

Chapter 1085 - 1085: The Knight King's Royal Knights vs. The Emperor’s Brotherhood

As the yellow sand billowed, the mighty Army of the King advanced, shaking the earth beneath their march.

Amid the deafening war cries, the first command was issued:

"Antigonus, you take the lead."

"As you command," the one-eyed old general responded loudly, spurring his horse forward.

"First infantry line, raise your spears! Charge!"

At his command, an infantry unit broke away from the main force and marched toward the enemy. Although they were charging, their formation remained pristine—no one fell behind, and no one made a mistake.

This alone earned the admiration of the Knights of the Round Table.

"Incredible, quite impressive," Kay whistled.

"Sir Kay, we are in the presence of the King," Agravain, the advisor, glared coldly at him, then added, "These are no ordinary elite troops. Who exactly is that old general?"

"Antigonus I. You may not be too familiar with the name, but back in his day, he was known as the God of War," Merlin dutifully explained, fulfilling his role as a sage, educating the less-informed knights.

"Antigonus, the God of War?"

Gawain nodded slightly.

Mordred, however, scoffed dismissively.

"God of War or whatever, he thinks he can take us down with a handful of men? Just an empty title."

"Don't underestimate them! It won't be that easy!"

Bedivere quickly cautioned.

Sure enough, halfway through the charge, the one-eyed general, known as the God of War, suddenly waved his hand. The charging infantry's pace slowed, and they switched their spear grips from forward to reverse. Then, all at once, every spear was thrown.

That's right—both the charge and the Macedonian phalanx were decoys. The real danger lay in the javelins, Antigonus' true intention.

At this range, the thrown javelins were far deadlier than arrows.

Hundreds of javelins flew through the air, their force capable of overwhelming anything in their path.

If you're going to use numbers to overwhelm the enemy, then you must fully exploit that advantage. Otherwise, Antigonus wouldn't be worthy of the title of God of War.

"The King was right; they are formidable foes. But—"

Under the barrage of javelins, Lancelot, standing at the front, remained unfazed.

"This level of attack is insufficient to defeat us. Galahad!"

Without a word, the young man at the rear stepped forward. From start to finish, he hadn't even glanced at Lancelot. He was Galahad, Lancelot's son, but their relationship was strained due to Lancelot's past failings as a father.

However, as the most virtuous knight of the Round Table, Galahad didn't let personal feelings interfere with his duty. He walked past the King, past his father, to the edge of the oasis, standing at the forefront of the formation. He raised his shield high, and with a voice filled with devotion, he chanted:

"I will stand on the seat of catastrophe. That which heals all wounds and grudges, our glorious homeland. Manifest yourself, Lord Camelot!"

A pure, radiant light emanated from the shield—Galahad's inner light, the light that resided in the hearts of all knights.

In that light, a city rose from the ground.

A pure white, solemn, and sacred city—a city that embodied infinite beauty. It was the heart of ancient Britain, the object of the Round Table's protection: Camelot.

Though long fallen, though now distant, not a single knight had ever forgotten this city, which was filled with their ideals.

Engraving such a vision into one's heart was never the exclusive privilege of the Conqueror King's army. The knights of the Round Table, too, had etched this eternal image into their hearts.

As long as they stood with this city behind them, no attack could defeat them.

A few hundred javelins? Even if there were ten thousand, it wouldn't matter. As long as the knights' resolve remained firm, the defenses of their ideal city would never be broken.

Artoria ascended the city walls, her knights following behind her—just as they had always done. No matter how many years passed, those marks would never fade.

"Sir Tristan."

After the wave of javelins ended, and shaking herself free from the memories, Artoria called a name.

"At your command, my King," a red-haired knight, always with his eyes slightly closed, stepped forward.

"I'll leave it to you." freёweɓnovel.com

"Understood."

Tristan removed the weapon from his back, which resembled both a harp and a bow and gently plucked its strings.

Each pluck released a melodious note.

And with each pluck, an enemy fell. Whether pierced through the heart, the head, or the throat, their vital points bled as though struck by arrows.

As notes of music and death intertwined, this knight—who seemed more like a bard—began to sing softly.

"I am so sorrowful. Though this is a momentous reunion with my King, why must I pluck this cursed bow and take others' lives?"

"If you hate it, stop pulling the bow. It's not like you're the only one who can do this," Lancelot shrugged.

"Yeah, you always say the same thing. We haven't forgotten what you said back then," chimed in Gareth.

Like Mordred, she was one of the only two knights present wearing a helmet, and aside from Artoria, the only other female knight. The purpose of the helmet was to hide her identity as a woman.

"How about you say it again? That line to the King—"

"No, no, stop! I was wrong!"

Tristan's hand plucked the cursed bowstrings faster, and the chaotic notes reflected his inner turmoil. Of course, the speed at which enemies fell outside the oasis also increased. No matter how Antigonus shifted his formation or responded, he couldn't block the invisible arrows of slaughter.

"Song of my pain and sound of my grief. Failnaught..."

This was Tristan's Noble Phantasm, manipulating the atmosphere with his bowstrings to shoot arrows of vacuum.

Since there was no need to load physical arrows, the speed of his shots was unparalleled. It was nearly impossible for even the fastest of heroes to dodge them all. Even more terrifying was the vast area the enchanted bow could cover. In this long-range battle, Tristan alone was suppressing Antigonus' entire unit.

By this point, Antigonus realized that the battle was unwinnable, so he decisively ordered a retreat. His mission was already accomplished—not only had he forced out the Noble Phantasms of Tristan and Galahad, but he had also confirmed the knights' ability to use their Noble Phantasms.

Had they charged recklessly like last time, they might have already lost. Everyone familiar with Iskandar knew that, once his blood boiled, he would charge headlong into the front lines without hesitation. If he had been targeted by those Noble Phantasms, the consequences would have been disastrous.

But that problem no longer existed, for the shadow who could stand in for the King, issuing commands and reigning in his recklessness, had returned.

Not only had she returned, but she had brought new powers and fresh allies.

Now, no matter what enemy they faced, they would not lose.

Antigonus, the God of War, had never been more certain! His comrades felt the same.

At that moment, the second command was issued.

"Leonnatus, take your men and support Antigonus. Perdiccas, you go too!"