Chapter 51: The Reunion of the Chains of Heaven

As soon as Kenneth’s command was spoken, the binding power of the Command Spell descended upon Rider. His magical resistance, which was no stronger than a protective amulet, stood no chance against such a direct order. The Conqueror King’s brows furrowed even deeper; he hadn’t anticipated that their differences in tactical thinking would lead Kenneth to such an act.

Yet under the compulsion of the Command Spell, he could only whip the reins and drive the divine chariot straight toward Archer. Even so, just before launching his attack, he narrowed his eyes in a rare gesture and, with a cold voice, gave Kenneth a warning.

“Master, you will regret this!”

“Rider! I am your Master!”

Kenneth, meanwhile, met Saber’s gaze unflinchingly, his eyes icy and devoid of emotion. If he’d known the Conqueror King was so reckless a fool, he would have reconsidered his choice of Servant. But now, he could only make do.

Though his heart rebelled, the chariot’s charge brought new momentum to the battle. Empowered by the Command Spell, Rider’s war chariot crashed toward Archer like a falling meteor, its ferocious speed and force overwhelming.

“Another fool with no sense of self-preservation dares to challenge me!”

Gilgamesh, despite his keen insight, was forced to redirect his firepower as Rider’s charge closed the distance in an instant. Most of his Noble Phantasms were now aimed at Rider.

Clearly, this was a different battle from before. With abundant magical energy backing him, Rider’s charge would not be halted by such attacks.

“Though it is against my will, Golden Fool, your assault alone is not enough!”

The divine bulls stamped their iron hooves in midair, splitting the condensed wind pressure with every stride, their movement whipping Rider’s cloak and forming a majestic backdrop at the chariot’s flanks. Countless purple lightning bolts shot skyward, the spectacle resembling the thunderous judgment of gods.

Unlike Berserker’s skillful technique, Rider, wielding his sword and standing at the chariot’s front, braved Archer’s attacks head-on, relying on the vehicle’s raw momentum.

“Is that so, mongrel? Then taste this!”

To Gilgamesh, Rider’s words were nothing but contempt. He concentrated nearly all his firepower on Rider.

In an instant, golden ripples shimmered all around Rider’s chariot—front, back, and sides. From these portals, countless weapons emerged, launching toward Rider.

He had no time even for a gasp before Rider was swallowed by the explosions of Archer’s attack. Yet Archer, too, would pay a price for his miscalculation.

With the barrage of weapons no longer obstructing him, Berserker, beast-like, lunged forward, shrinking the already minimal distance between them, leaping at Archer and cleaving down with full force.

Clang!

As the blades clashed, sparks flew, and Gilgamesh’s expression grew darker still. This Holy Grail War was, in his eyes, nothing more than a listless game. Unable to find his rhythm, his performance was far from his peak. Even so, Archer’s defenses would not break entirely. To unleash his full might for these buffoons would be, in his view, the height of irony.

He was a hero among heroes, the king of kings. Whatever the shifting tides, Gilgamesh would not abandon his proud, arrogant stance, confident that victory would be his.

But to be so insulted at his first appearance—Archer had no intention of enduring it.

A clear golden ripple flared around Berserker, poised to attack again, but this time, the chains that shot forth carried a pure aura.

As the Chains of Heaven ensnared Berserker, Gilgamesh moved back, frowning at Rider, who had emerged from the aftermath of the prior assault.

Though forced into battle, Rider laughed heartily. Rather than attacking immediately, he used his chariot’s aerial advantage to circle the field. Kenneth’s overall strategy might be questionable, but he understood tactical deployment; the Command Spell didn’t demand Archer’s death, only that Rider support Berserker. This avoided the farce of handing victory to another.

Such mobility also made it difficult for Archer, whose main attacks were thrown weapons, to achieve immediate results.

“Hey, Golden Fool, instead of focusing on me, you’d better keep your eye on that Berserker.”

The Conqueror King’s laughter prompted Gilgamesh to turn his head instinctively, and what he saw made his eyes nearly burst with rage.

Berserker, bound by chains, not only broke free but attempted to seize the links with his bare hands.

All the heroes present knew from earlier battles that Berserker possessed the power to steal others’ Noble Phantasms. But unlike those soiled, disposable treasures, the Chains of Heaven were special to Gilgamesh.

“Mongrel! Don’t touch my ‘friend’ with your filthy hands!”

Archer ignored Rider’s threatening presence, unleashing a volley at Berserker with far greater intensity than before, blasting him away.

In moments, the situation shifted again. Amid the chaos, no one wanted to take the lead, but once someone did, others would rush in to seize the opportunity.

With Archer displaying his formidable Noble Phantasms in this two-against-one for justice, a hint of fatigue showed. Considering the threat he posed, this was enough to tempt certain parties.

“The Hero King, Gilgamesh... If the legends are true, and he possesses countless originals, he’ll be an incredible menace.”

Danic watched the aura behind the Hero King and the makeshift camps of the other Masters, finally making his decision.

With others already acting as the main force, he could add fuel to the fire. If Archer could be eliminated here, it would be worthwhile.

“Lancer, assist those two Servants. Kill Gilgamesh. Can you do it?”

Danic stared at Enkidu, expressionless. Though Enkidu called himself a weapon and showed absolute obedience to his Master, Danic intended to use this moment to probe his true feelings, given the relationship between the two. He knew well: Servants were not mere high-class familiars, but heroes with personalities. One misstep could ignite disaster.

Yet Lancer showed no resistance to the order; instead, he smiled gently.

“Though this is not a fair duel, I doubt he would mind such details.”

As if he’d been waiting for this, he rushed toward the battlefield, leaving Danic watching his retreating figure, his gaze growing more uncertain.

Just as the furious Archer began a new round of barrages, each Noble Phantasm he launched was struck down by sword and spear from afar.

“A new Servant has appeared?”

All the Servants present instinctively turned their eyes toward the source of the attack.

In the advancing footsteps from that direction, a soaring emotion was evident—even the Masters ignorant of heroic combat could sense it.

But before Lancer himself arrived, a song flowed forth from deep in his throat, as clear as water, as celestial as the music of the spheres. It streamed out, resonating with the world itself.

At the first sound of that song, the anger vanished from Archer’s face as if it had never existed. Stunned, he watched the Chains of Heaven beside him tremble. This Noble Phantasm, symbolizing the bond of friendship, announced a long-awaited reunion.

Archer then burst into wild, unrestrained laughter, as if some chain had finally been lifted.

“It seems this war is worth the effort it will take for me to show my true power!”

With Archer’s proclamation, a dazzling array of hundreds upon hundreds of Noble Phantasms rose behind him, ready to turn the dark night golden.