Shinji Matou At Your Service - Chapter 462: Red vs. Black Showdown: Magic Cannon 

“Black Berserker, I believe you must be Vlad III.”

Karna’s expression remained as cold as ever. The stakes standing around him, the distant battles between homunculi, golems, and Dragon Tooth Warriors—none of these elicited any emotional response from him.

In contrast, Vlad III’s expression was much more composed, reflecting the poised demeanor of a superior.

“Oh, so it’s you, the one who calls me by my true name. You must be the Red Lancer, Karna, son of the sun god Surya?”

“Yes, and for a certain reason, I must defeat you.”

“You have to kill me, and I have to kill you. Although it’s regrettable, this is the natural course of things. Moreover, defeating the invaders of my homeland is my duty as a lord.”

Before the words even faded, Siegfried’s figure quietly appeared, forming a pincer with Vlad III. The great heroes of the East and West met once again after their initial battle.

Facing Karna, who had previously fought with him and earned his respect, Siegfried broke his usual silence.

“We meet again, Red Lancer.”

“Yes, Black Saber.”

Karna’s gaze shifted from Vlad III, and his expression finally changed, indicating that Siegfried held a much higher place in his heart than Vlad III.

The widely traveled knight of the Netherlands looked regretful: “If possible, I would like to have a fair fight with you. Unfortunately—”

Karna also spoke with regret: “—unfortunately, this is war. You and I do not just represent ourselves but the Red and Black factions.”

“Sorry.” (Finally, the famous line of Siegfried.)

“No, it’s I who should apologize.”

Karna said, raising the immortal blade, and the golden divine spear and golden armor burst forth with dazzling light—the light of the sun.

Vlad III and Siegfried’s expressions suddenly changed as they looked up at the sky—there, from a corner of the Hanging Gardens, an astonishing amount of magical energy was spreading outward.

Whether it was a pre-arranged spell or not, the deep purple glowing magic circle looked like a fully loaded cannon.

In the next second, the “magic cannon” fired a silent roar, and the deep purple beam of magical energy shot out, engulfing the positions of Karna, Vlad III, and Siegfried.

The air on the battlefield seemed to be drawn by something, converging towards the explosion center at an extraordinary speed, and then fiercely rebounding with even greater speed.

It was as if a heavy hammer had struck the heart, and the intense muffled sound began to assault the eardrums. The force was greater than Achilles driving his chariot, greater than Atalanta praying to the sun and moon gods for disaster, and it accompanied a storm that seemed to escalate to the level of a natural disaster—a storm that, when observed from a distance, took the familiar shape of a mushroom cloud known to all military enthusiasts and explosion art lovers.

Everyone, whether inside or outside the battlefield, turned to look at this strike.

The Masters hiding in Millennia Castle were deeply worried.

Avicebron, who was controlling his puppet, paused in his actions.

Astolfo, who was treating his injuries with the “Staff of the Goddess,” widened his eyes and murmured, “Amazing.”

Chiron and Atalanta, who were constantly changing positions and firing arrows at each other from a distance, both stopped in their tracks.

Achilles, who had just exchanged punches with Shinji, whistled loudly: “Oh, oh, that’s spectacular. Who knew that woman had such skills.”

Shinji rubbed his chest, which had been hit by Achilles, spat out a mouthful of blood, and said, “Well, it’s just spectacular. The combat power of magus’ aside, the visual impact is certainly stronger than that of warriors. However, such an attack alone cannot defeat Saber and Lancer.”

“Indeed,” Achilles nodded in agreement.

“Although the destructive power of that strike is extraordinary, it’s ultimately a large-scale attack with limited localized damage. I haven’t seen the Black Berserker yet, but the Black Saber, who also possesses immortality like me, will at most suffer minor injuries—what is that woman thinking?”

This was also what Shinji wanted to know. Although he didn’t have clairvoyance and couldn’t see precisely what was happening, the location of the mushroom cloud and the characteristics of the magic indicated that it was an attack by the Red Assassin, Semiramis, aimed at Vlad III and Siegfried.

However, as Achilles mentioned, the wide-area magic cannon had limited localized damage. Why would Semiramis use such a “flashy but impractical” attack?

As Shinji pondered Semiramis’s intentions, Achilles had already given up thinking: “Never mind, I never understand what that woman is thinking anyway. Let’s continue fighting; that’s what you and I should be doing.”

Shinji naturally didn’t refuse this perfectly reasonable suggestion.

Thus, the two Servants with the most Noble Phantasms in this Holy Grail War once again raised their fists and clashed in battle.

In the Hanging Garden of Babylon, Red Caster Shakespeare spread his arms and loudly praised the rising mushroom cloud in the magical projection:

“Suffering and calamity, swell up!

“Flames, burn!

“Cauldron, boil!”

His increasingly resonant voice drew the displeasure of the garden’s mistress, Semiramis.

“Caster, don’t focus solely on your creations. The task of dealing with the Black Saber rests on your illusion; I do not wish for any mistakes.”

Shakespeare turned and made an exaggerated bow: “Rest assured, Empress of Assyria. My work is absolutely reliable and dependable—provided you have indeed sent the Black Saber to the designated location.”

“Hmph, he has been sent.”

Semiramis snapped her fingers, and one of the magical projections shifted, firmly locking onto a tall man sliding along the ground—it was none other than Black Saber Siegfried.

At the moment the magic cannon fired, Siegfried raised his greatsword and adopted a defensive stance—he knew he couldn’t dodge the strike, so he chose to block it with his greatsword and his “Armor of Fafnir.”

This was Siegfried’s most adept form of defense. His weapon, the Balmung: (Phantasmal Greatsword), crafted by the Nibelung, was a sword of twilight that combined the properties of a holy sword and a demonic sword. Besides its A+ level anti-army attack, it also had formidable defensive power. Using Balmung as the first layer of defense, combined with the immortality of the “Armor of Fafnir,” Siegfried’s defense was further enhanced.

Siegfried, giving his all in defensive combat, was a veritable mobile fortress—this was his greatest reliance as a top-tier Servant.

With such protection, Semiramis’s magic cannon naturally had little effect—at most, it pushed Siegfried back with the torrent of magical energy and the accompanying storm, which was precisely Semiramis’s intent.

As Siegfried steadied his footing after being pushed out of the battlefield, a group of puppets, each wielding weapons and exuding an ominous Servant aura, surrounded him.