After spending a few moments gathering my thoughts, I finally decided it was time to move forward. Standing still in the desert would get me nowhere—and the longer I lingered, the more I risked being caught in something I couldn't prepare for.
I took a slow breath, steadying myself, then extended my right hand in front of me, palm open.
A soft pulse of mana rippled outward as glowing geometric lines began to form in the air.
My skill activated without hesitation, manifesting a large, detailed map before me—hovering in midair, bathed in a soft bluish hue. Unlike an ordinary map, this one was alive with energy.
It updated itself in real-time, revealing not just the terrain but the presence of cities, mountains, roaming enemies, Servants, and even wandering civilians.
Everything was marked with precise symbols, flickering slightly as the mana threads sustained the illusion.
The golden mark at the far edge of the map pulsed faintly—a symbol for the Holy City of Camelot.
I narrowed my eyes. It was far... but not impossibly so. With this guide, I could calculate the safest path.
I traced a path with my finger through a range of dunes and broken ruins that led around enemy hotspots. Direct routes were risky—too many unknown threats clustered near them.
After carefully memorizing the route, I closed my hand around the edge of the map. The glowing surface cracked slightly, and then, with a shimmer, it burst into fine particles of light. Mana returning to the world.
I stood in silence for a moment, watching the last glimmers of the map fade into the dry air. Then I adjusted the hood of my cloak once more and turned my eyes toward the west—toward the direction of the Holy City.
And then I walked.
Step by step, boots pressing into the sand, I began my journey. The wind blew gently against my cloak, carrying with it the scent of ancient soil and the weight of forgotten battles. The sun hung high in the sky, its rays relentless, but I didn't falter.
I had a direction now. A destination.
And deep within my chest, a quiet determination stirred.
Camelot awaited.
Whether it would greet me with open gates or a drawn blade… that, I had yet to see.
But I would be ready.
.
.
.
I had been walking for what felt like an hour, maybe more. Time in the desert was hard to track—every step felt the same, every dune like the last. But the map's guidance had been clear. I was on the right path.
Or so I thought.
Without warning, the air around me shifted.
A sudden gust of wind swept through the dunes, carrying with it a dense veil of sand and dust.
The once clear path ahead was swallowed in an instant, and the blue sky above faded into a dull, amber haze. I instinctively raised an arm to shield my face, narrowing my eyes as grains of sand pelted against my skin and cloak.
"Tch… a sandstorm?"
The visibility dropped drastically. I could barely see more than a few meters ahead. The outlines of distant rocks and dunes blurred together, distorted by the swirling chaos. Every sound was muffled, buried beneath the hiss of wind and the constant rustle of sand dancing across the ground.
The world around me had become an ocean of gold and brown, shifting and alive.
I stopped walking for a moment, planting my feet firmly into the shifting sand. The storm wasn't severe enough to knock me off balance, but it was strong enough to obscure anything—or anyone—lurking in its veil. It was the perfect cover for an ambush.
Sensing the unease creeping in with the shifting sands, I decided it was better to be prepared than caught off guard. I reached beneath my cloak and summoned the sacred sword—the legendary blade once wielded by the King of Knights.
"Come forth… Excalibur."
In a faint shimmer of golden light, the invisible sword materialized into my grasp. Immediately, I cloaked it in Invisible Air, the barrier of wind that rendered the holy blade unseen to the naked eye.
With a soundless whoosh, the air around the weapon twisted, forming a turbulent veil that distorted light and blurred outlines. To an outsider, it would appear as though I held nothing at all—but I could feel it. Every inch of that hallowed steel pulsed with the weight of legacy and power.
"Invisible Air… I might need to be ready," I murmured, lowering my stance just slightly, the blade now resting at my side, hidden but primed.
The grip felt familiar—comforting even. Despite the transformation, despite the shifting form given by my Noble Phantasm, the sensation of holding Excalibur was unmistakable. Heavy not just in mass, but in history. A symbol of hope, of sovereignty... and of destruction.
I slowly stepped forward, boots crunching against the unstable sand, each movement cautious yet controlled.
The desert was no longer simply an expanse of barren land. It had become a living, breathing thing—deceptive and hostile.
With the sandstorm thickening, the dunes seemed to shift with every blink, making it near impossible to maintain orientation. The wind howled like distant voices, whispering secrets or threats I couldn't quite discern.
The storm felt... wrong. Not natural. As if summoned or controlled by an unseen force. My instincts screamed that something was near—perhaps watching, perhaps waiting.
Tightening my grip on the invisible blade, I exhaled through my nose, calming my breath. I couldn't afford panic. I was Artoria now—or at least, a mirror of her. I needed to carry her calm, her discipline.
"A king does not falter in the face of the unknown," I whispered to myself. "So neither shall I."
And with that, I pressed forward into the storm, Excalibur concealed but ready, my senses sharp, every step a question, every gust of wind a possible warning. Whatever lay ahead—Servant, beast, or illusion—I was no longer wandering blindly.
I was prepared to fight.
Though the weapon was unseen, I could still feel its weight, its presence. My body remained tense, alert. The desert had become a different battlefield now—one of hidden threats and distorted perception.
"…This feels unnatural," I muttered under my breath. "Is this storm just a coincidence… or is something—or someone—watching me?"
My golden eyes flicked from side to side, scanning the shifting mirage-like surroundings. There was no clear sign of life. Just the endless swirl of sand and dust.
Still, my instincts whispered caution.
Gripping the edges of my cloak tighter, I pressed onward, carefully choosing my steps. I couldn't afford to lose my direction in this storm, nor could I let my guard down.
Somewhere beyond this curtain of dust, the Holy City still waited.
But for now… I would have to pass through the desert's trial.
I moved forward, each step deliberate, my fingers tightening around the hilt of the invisible blade.
The turbulent winds howled louder now, flinging coarse sand into the air like a curtain of daggers. Visibility dropped to mere meters. The cloak I wore billowed behind me, flapping violently, yet I pressed on, eyes narrowed beneath the hood.
My hand never left the hilt of Excalibur.
Though unseen, its weight reminded me that I was not unarmed. Its comforting presence anchored me amidst the chaos of the desert. The wind screamed around me, carrying a strange scent—something wild, something alive.
I stopped.
The atmosphere shifted. A low growl rumbled through the air, vibrating in my bones more than my ears. The scent grew stronger, tinged with the iron of blood and the musk of a beast.
I took a defensive stance.
Then, through the dense veil of sand and storm, a monstrous silhouette emerged. Massive paws padded silently over the dunes, their size enough to shake the sand beneath them. Glowing, predatory eyes pierced through the storm like twin lanterns. And when it stepped fully into view—my breath caught in my throat.
It was a Chimera.
The creature's lion-like body rippled with muscle, its mane wild and bristling with heat. From its back sprouted a pair of leathery wings, beating slow and steady, keeping it balanced in the shifting sands.
A serpent coiled in place of its tail, hissing menacingly, its tongue tasting the charged air. On its back, a goat's head snarled, adding to the grotesque fusion of monsters into one nightmarish whole.
It wasn't just a beast. It was a Servant-slaying creature born of curses and twisted magecraft.
The Chimera locked eyes with me. It lowered its body, ready to pounce.
I didn't move.
The wind screamed between us. My cloak fluttered behind me. And then—
I lunged.
My feet kicked off the sand as I dashed forward, Excalibur still cloaked in Invisible Air, making my blade impossible to predict. The Chimera roared, lunging toward me in return, claws outstretched, teeth bared.
Our battle had begun.
The distance between us vanished in a heartbeat.
With a snarl that split the air, the Chimera's lion jaws opened wide, its fangs gleaming with saliva and malice. It swiped with a massive paw, the force alone enough to crush bone. But I was faster.
My body twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the brutal strike. Sand erupted beneath my feet as I spun around its flank, the wind-charged cloak trailing behind me like a shadow. I gripped Excalibur tighter.
Though hidden by Invisible Air, I knew every inch of the sacred blade. I could feel its pulse in my hand, the thrum of ancient power waiting to be unleashed.
"Hyah!"
I slashed.
A burst of air exploded from my blade as it collided with the beast's side. Though the weapon was unseen, the impact was real—a clean strike across the Chimera's ribs. It roared in pain, stumbling slightly, but it wasn't finished. Far from it.
The serpent tail hissed violently and whipped toward me like a living whip. I barely raised my blade in time.
The tail crashed into the air surrounding Excalibur, sparks and magical wind flaring as metal met scale. The force rattled through my arms, but I held firm.
Suddenly, the goat head on the Chimera's back channeled a bolt of searing fire.
"...!"
I dove forward, rolling beneath the beast just as the fireball scorched the air above me. The heat kissed the edge of my cloak, and smoke followed me as I came up on one knee behind the monster.
Now was the time.
I shifted my stance. My left foot slid behind, my weight lowered—centered.
Then, I surged upward.
One clean, rising slash from hip to shoulder—Excalibur cut through air and flesh alike, wind screaming in its wake.
The Chimera roared in agony as blood sprayed across the sand, dark and steaming.
But it still wouldn't fall.
Snarling, it spun around with wild rage, attempting to catch me with its claws again. I leapt backward, boots skidding on the dune.
The Chimera gave chase, roaring madly, its wounded side gushing blood, but its strength was far from spent.
It lunged—again.
I sidestepped, planted my foot, and countered with a horizontal slash aimed at the creature's neck. Another burst of air from Invisible Air slammed into it. This time, the blow staggered the beast.
I didn't stop.
Using the momentum, I spun into a flurry of blows.
Three, four, five rapid slashes in succession—each one guided by muscle memory and instinct, each strike empowered by The Act of Imitating that copied Artoria's flawless swordsmanship.
Even if the blade was invisible, my movements were sharp and precise—sword arcs cutting through the storm, slicing into flesh.
The Chimera roared one final time.
With a final cry, I dashed forward and delivered a decisive thrust into its heart, pushing Excalibur deep until I felt its resistance vanish.
The beast trembled.
Then collapsed.
Its massive body fell to the side, crashing into the sand, kicking up a wave of dust and blood. The wind carried the last of its breath into silence.
I stood over its corpse, panting softly, Excalibur still held in my hand—still invisible, but ever so real.
"…Tough one."
I glanced down at the creature, then at the sand already beginning to reclaim its body.
The desert, once again, fell silent.
But peace never lasted long in a land like this.
As the dust began to settle around the corpse of the fallen Chimera, my ears twitched—caught a faint rumble beneath the wind. A rhythmic, thunderous sound. Heavy. Intentional.
Thump.
Thump.
Then it came—two more figures emerged from the haze. Towering shadows at first, but as they approached, their monstrous forms came into full view. Two more Chimeras.
They moved with slow, deliberate steps, eyes glowing with primal rage. The one on the left had massive, curved horns like a demon goat, while the other's lion mouth hung half open, steam rising from its throat like it was preparing another gout of fire.
"Tch… of course there'd be more."
My grip on Excalibur tightened, still invisible, still humming with wind pressure. But something told me now wasn't the time to hold back. These two… felt different. Stronger. More coordinated. More… aware.
I exhaled sharply.
No more games.
With a flick of my wrist, I canceled Invisible Air.
A rush of wind burst outward, the shroud of swirling mana unraveling like a storm unwinding itself. The air distorted for a split second—and then, in a brilliant flash of steel and gold, the sacred sword revealed itself.
Excalibur.
Its radiant blade gleamed beneath the desert sun, pulsing with refined magical energy, perfectly balanced and carved with elegance only a true king's weapon could possess.
Even in this hellish wasteland, it looked divine.
I held it in front of me in a knight's stance, the hilt close to my heart, blade angled outward.
"Come then," I murmured. "Let's finish this."
The two Chimeras roared as if in answer—and charged.
I dashed to meet them, wind swirling behind my cloak, golden blade reflecting fire and fury alike.
The true battle had only just begun.