Capítulo 486: Chapter 486: Red and Black Showdown · The Arrival
Vlad III did not retreat out of fear; his will remained as unyielding as iron. However, his body reacted faster than his will when faced with such an aberrant threat.
Of course, after a single step back, Vlad III immediately regained control of his body's instincts. Yet, this still filled him with an overwhelming sense of shame.
How could I, Vlad III, the supreme ruler of Romania, take a step back before a mere rebel, a monster that has even deviated from humanity?
This shame quickly transformed into immense anger, directed not only at his enemy but even more so at himself.
This disgrace could only be washed away with blood, repaid with Spartacus's life!
In his rage, Vlad III forgot that the fear brought by the unknown is greater than that of known threats. His past ability to repel Turkish invasions was also due to his excessively brutal methods, earning him the name "Demon."
In 1462 AD, the Ottoman Turkish army of 150,000 invaded Romania, while Vlad III led only 10,000 Wallachian troops. Through thorough guerrilla warfare and scorched earth tactics, he exhausted the Ottoman forces, even evacuating the populace to defend the deserted capital.
Leading the Ottoman forces was Mehmed II, known as "The Conqueror," who had previously captured Constantinople with its triple walls. Known for his bravery, even he turned pale upon reaching the capital, Bucharest.
Surrounding the fortresses were countless stakes, impaling their comrades, their colleagues, and their commanders—20,000 Turkish soldiers in total. At the sight of this, any hatred for the killers of their comrades vanished instantly.
It was simply too terrifying—they could think of nothing else. The person responsible instilled in them a profound fear. Their previous acts of plundering, ravaging, and slaughtering were merely the result of accelerated desires. But this—the approach before them—was utterly horrifying.
It was an inhuman method. As a result, Mehmed II was forced to retreat. At that time, Mehmed II had said:
"I fear no man. But a demon is another matter."
The stakes strewn across the battlefield before Vlad III were an ascended form of this legend. As this tale spread, fermented, and was embellished, it laid the foundation for the infamous vampire Count Dracula, a name completely distinct from the hero Vlad III.
Now, Vlad III tasted a sliver of what Mehmed II once felt, though it was a mere fraction.
Kill you!
Kill you!
Kill you!
His eyes filled with frenzied killing intent, and the rational side that had previously dominated began to fade. After all, he was a Berserker, a class defined by madness. Previously, his heroic side had the upper hand, but now, stimulated by another berserker, the true nature of his class started to emerge.
Just as Vlad III was about to disregard everything and unleash his full power, willing to expend all his stakes to kill the rebel, countless beams of light suddenly rained down from the sky.
"What...!?"
Those seven-colored beams, beautiful enough to be admired outside the battlefield, were not aimed at Vlad III.
"Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh!?"
It was a familiar howl, mingling agony with joy, which he had heard countless times.
Due to the damage he received, the Red Berserker immediately began healing his torn flesh. However, even for the rebel hero Spartacus, he seemed to be near his limit.
No, in reality, he had long surpassed his limit. Continuously enduring, bearing all the suffering and pain, now all he needed was to release it—
In an instant, Jeanne d'Arc understood the Red faction's intention behind the beams of light shot from the sky and Spartacus's own goal.
The target of his deafening roar was the oppressor and his subordinates.
That means—"Is he planning to destroy everything on this battlefield...!!"
Although the Red faction was no exception, they were all at the floating fortress now, so moving to a place beyond Spartacus's reach was not impossible.
As for the Dragon Tooth Warriors, they were mere cannon fodder to them, so naturally, the Red faction wouldn't care about the lives of these artificial beings.
Karna's subsequent actions confirmed this. The son of the sun opened all the plates of his golden armor, shooting out highly concentrated solar flames, and ascended into the sky.
"Wait, Red Lancer!"
"Master's summoning command. Farewell, Ruler, and Black Berserker."
Karna ignored Jeanne's call, leaving a calm farewell. Then, with his solar flames at maximum output, he propelled his body upwards at high speed, like a golden rocket.
Jeanne instinctively clenched her fists but quickly released them. The Red faction had retreated, and the troublesome ones were now the Black faction.
This was likely an unexpected situation for them as well. Who could have anticipated that the Crying Warmonger would be such a disastrous Noble Phantasm?
The enormous amount of accumulated magical energy and Spartacus's body, which had transformed during the accumulation process, had likely already broken free from the contract's restraints. Even a Servant with A-rank Magic Resistance might only be able to withstand a single Command Spell, and it probably wouldn't be enough to control him.
Command Spells are a binding from master to servant. No matter how lowly the existence, as long as they are the master, they stand above the servant.
For the rebel hero Spartacus, even in his usual state, it would take two Command Spells to make him obey an order. In his current state, even three Command Spells might not suffice.
In other words, the Red Berserker would not stop. If he unleashed his next attack with full force, the damage range would likely encompass the entire battlefield. Worse, even the Millennia Castle situated between the city and the battlefield might not be spared.
So, what should we do? Jeanne, troubled, suddenly turned pale, looking in the direction she had come from with a mix of panic and surprise.
Although she couldn't visually capture the targets, she could sense the unique magical energy of two Servants.
That, that is—
A petite "Valkyrie" wielding a lance, riding a swift eagle, soaring through the sky.
A dark blue-haired, dark blue-eyed Assassin, wearing Feathered shoes, gliding along the ground, swiftly approaching.
Estado de energía semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Piedra de
Poder