Shinji Matou At Your Service - Chapter 490: Red and Black Showdown · Astolfo's Charge

Seeing such a scene, Shakespeare laughed loudly, Shirou was dumbfounded, Karna remained expressionless, and Semiramis snorted angrily:

“Using such petty tricks!”

With her left hand, she quickly drew in the air, releasing a beam of purple magical energy.

Semiramis chose her point of attack very cleverly. The beam did not directly strike Spartacus’s body but instead swept along the edge of his body, hitting the stakes below.

Though thin, the beam was highly concentrated and pure magical energy, containing heat comparable to Karna’s solar flames. The conical structure of the iron pillar made it more fragile the higher it went.

In an instant, the upper part of the iron pillar was cut diagonally.

Spartacus’s body lost its support and began to fall along the diagonal cut of the iron pillar.

“Damn it!”

Seeing this, Vlad III couldn’t help but be enraged. He poured his magical energy into his Noble Phantasm without regard for cost, causing new stakes to rapidly grow from the originally smooth surface of the iron pillar.

However, it was already too late. The one-kilometer distance ensured that the stakes’ growth speed couldn’t match Spartacus’s rate of destruction. Being restrained and away from his oppressors, his desire for destruction had long been uncontrollable, and the scattered stakes couldn’t stop Spartacus’s monstrous strength.

“Assassin!”

Vlad III, helpless, turned his gaze to Shinji.

“I knew it wouldn’t be this easy, but—”

Shinji snorted coldly and once again connected telepathically with Astolfo.

“It’s your turn now. Release Hippogriff and knock him into the sky, as high as possible!”

To make the most of this bomb, Shinji had made several preparations. Vlad III’s iron pillar reaching the sky was just the opening move; Astolfo was the main force of this operation—not only because of the tremendous impact brought by Hippogriff’s charge but also because of the unique nature of Hippogriff, which ensured that Astolfo could withstand Spartacus’s self-detonation unharmed.

“Finally, it’s my turn! Hippogriff, charge!”

With Astolfo’s energetic shout, the mythical beast, with the upper body of an eagle and the lower body of a horse, let out a resounding cry that echoed through the sky. Its wings flapped with all their might, continuously increasing its speed and generating visible blue wind pressure, making it look like a blue meteor from afar.

“It’s not that easy, cute little Valkyrie!”

Semiramis sneered. She had guessed Astolfo’s plan the moment he activated Hippogriff. However, Hippogriff’s speed was so fast that even Semiramis couldn’t weave a spell to stop it in time.

Of course, she wasn’t entirely unprepared. She had hidden a squad of Dragon Wing Soldiers at the garden’s edge. Though few and merely cannon fodder, they could play a crucial role at critical moments—like now!

Hundreds of Dragon Wing Soldiers flew out from the ever-rising garden, rushing toward Spartacus—and the rapidly ascending Hippogriff below.

Their purpose wasn’t to knock down Hippogriff—that was impossible. Even the weakest magical beasts couldn’t compete with Hippogriff, no matter how many squads of Dragon Wing Soldiers were sent. Their role was simply to die—as obstacles to slow down Hippogriff.

Most of Rider’s mounted Noble Phantasms can destroy any obstacle at high speeds. Be it Astolfo’s Hippogriff or Achilles’s Chariot, they all work this way. If their speed is restricted, the Noble Phantasm’s destructive power is significantly reduced.

And with Hippogriff’s small frame, without speed, it certainly couldn’t rely solely on strength to push the mutated Spartacus—even if it could, Spartacus could simply punch it away.

Just before the Dragon Wing Soldiers launched their suicide attack, Astolfo first let out a surprised “Whoa,” and then, as if remembering something, clapped his hands together.

“This is the perfect time to use this!”

When he spread his hands apart, one of them held a palm-sized horn, seemingly made from the horn of some animal.

“Alright, let’s line up nicely. Here we go—’La Black Luna: Magic Flute That Calls Panic’!”

As he spoke, the horn hanging at his waist suddenly enlarged.

“Disperse!”

He took a deep breath and then blew into the horn with all his might. The high-pitched sound of the horn echoed across the battlefield. In an instant, both the homunculi and the Dragon Wing Soldiers looked up at the sky.

The roar of a dragon, the cry of a giant bird, the neigh of a divine horse—this magical sound, comparable to these noises, instantly obliterated over a hundred Dragon Wing Soldiers. And it was literal obliteration. It wasn’t as simple as the mythical description of the demonic birds fled in fear upon hearing the sound; it was a wide-range destructive weapon.

“Alright, straight ahead, straight ahead. I’m going in~!”

The horn disintegrated into spirit particles, and Astolfo once again gripped the reins with both hands.

At this moment, Hippogriff had just reached the base of the towering iron pillar. It then rapidly ascended, soaring upwards, and slammed hard into the underside of Spartacus—a structure made of multiple feet. It had no offensive capability and was very soft and elastic, making it the safest place to hit.

“Uooooooohhhhhhh—”

The blue wind pressure surrounding Hippogriff poured mercilessly onto Spartacus’s underside, tearing out countless chunks of flesh.

With Hippogriff’s impact at over 400 miles per hour, Spartacus’s massive body, which had been sliding down the iron pillar, was lifted again, quickly surpassing the top of the pillar and continuing to rise.

“Oppressors! Damn oppressors! Damn oppressors!”

The frenzied gladiator frantically swung his eight arms, but the thick and massive underside, which materialized to support his ever-growing body, severely hindered his movements. He could only roar continuously and lash his underside with his whip-like arms, turning it into a bloody mess.

In the Hanging Gardens, Shakespeare shifted his attention from the notebook in his hand to the screen, whistling softly:

“So there’s this trick too, huh? Oh dear, oh dear, this could be troublesome. Just to be sure, can the Hanging Gardens withstand the gladiator’s final rebellion?”

“I think it will be difficult,” Father Shirou sighed.

“Although I prepared as many materials as possible and made numerous adjustments, handling Spartacus’s self-destruction might be a bit too much. The core area should be fine, but the periphery is uncertain.”

“Master, was this situation within your calculations as well?”

As the human bomb drew closer, threatening to enter the range of the Hanging Gardens at any moment, Semiramis returned to her usual lazy and disheveled demeanor, looking at her Master with a half-smile.

“Don’t mock me. There’s no way I could have foreseen things going this far,” Shirou said with a wry smile.

“Use whatever means you have. We can’t let the garden we worked so hard to create be destroyed just like that.”

“Ah, ah, I understand. Well then, let me drive away both the mad dog and the Valkyrie.”

Semiramis extended her right hand and gently snapped her fingers, producing a crisp sound.