This world has become a realm of humanity; gods have either fallen or retreated to the inner side of the world, saying farewell to mankind. Even Atalanta, a devout believer and lifelong devotee of the Moon Goddess, can only draw upon a faint portion of divine power, which cannot last long.
The moment the green rain of light arrows thinned, it signified the departure of the Moon Goddess's divine power.
At that exact instant, the storm whipped up by the Hippogriff erupted, reaching its peak. Simultaneously, Astolfo let out a roar completely contrary to his usual image: "Crush it, Hippogriff!"
The storm raged, and the final wave of arrow rain vanished completely. Aside from the initial wave that covered Vlad III and Siegfried, the rest were nullified by Astolfo's strongest Noble Phantasm.
"Well done."
Vlad III looked with satisfaction at the gradually subsiding storm in the sky. Though he did not particularly care about the loss of homunculi and puppet soldiers, preserving more troops increased their chances of victory. Moreover, Astolfo's counterattack significantly dampened the invaders' morale.
The commander of the Black faction, the lord of this land, suddenly pointed his spear forward, his majestic voice echoing across the field: "Charge!"
The puppet warhorses faithfully executed their master's command, dashing forward.
Meanwhile, the Black Rider Astolfo wobbled as he landed on the ground. Countering the rain of arrows from Atalantas's Noble Phantasm was no small feat, and the divine power embedded in the arrows had exacted a toll on both him and his Hippogriff.
The Hippogriff, far from its initial might, bore bloodstains on its griffin claws and wings, inherited from a mighty steed, and its swift legs were now shaky. This was the price of resisting divine power—it was, after all, a mythical beast, not a divine beast.
Astolfo was similarly affected; though he had fended off many arrows with his "Trap of Argalia," the sheer number of arrows was overwhelming. Unlike Siegfried, he did not have an invulnerable body and inevitably took some hits.
Fortunately, the arrow rain's attack power was limited, so both he and the Hippogriff were not severely injured, retaining their combat capability.
The knight riding the mythical beast glared defiantly at the floating garden in the sky. If not for protecting the homunculi from the arrow rain, this rain of arrows would have been a trivial threat!
Damn you!
In the courtyard, the Red Archer Atalanta caught this glare, her already cold expression turning even colder.
"Was it you who disrupted my attack? Then repay with your life—Rider!"
"Hey sis, did you call me?"
The Red Rider Achilles behind her clenched his fist and responded.
"Not you, but the Black Rider. He and his mount are worthy prey."
She aimed, not with her hands, but with her instinct. No matter how agile the prey was, her arrow would pierce its heart.
The arrows she shot were painted black, eliminating any chance of being noticed in nighttime combat.
However, Astolfo's fully awakened combat instincts sensed the danger in advance. He swiftly blocked the arrow aimed at his heart with his golden lance.
One arrow missed, but Atalanta did not falter. For the legendary huntress who once felled the Calydonian Boar, her arrows would not cease as long as the prey stood. Her arrows, when hunting a single target, were even stronger than her Noble Phantasm.
This was Atalanta, a master whose archery—no, hunting skills—had reached divine levels.
Before long, Astolfo, whose martial skills were only average, was hit by several more arrows and was forced to retreat.
"No choice, I have to use that, don't I?"
Just as Astolfo was about to take action, Atalanta drew her bow fully and released a killing arrow aimed at her prey's throat.
This arrow flew faster than sound, and in the blink of an eye, the only expected outcome should have been the arrow piercing the heart—
—Or so it was supposed to be.
—However, this killing arrow was intercepted and struck down by a shadow from antiquity. With Atalanta's keen eyes, she could see that it was another arrow.
"What?"
For the first time, the Red Archer understood and realized that in the Holy Grail War, each class had two representatives. This meant that the enemy could very well have another Archer with powers equal to her own.
It was common for prey to suddenly lie down to avoid arrows or occasionally counterattack. A hunted prey fighting back against the hunter is naturally to be expected in the realm of hunting.
But the fact that her arrow was intercepted was neither a coincidence nor the work of the targeted prey. It was the act of a third party, unrelated to the hunting act. In other words, the arrow was intercepted by the Black Archer, who should have been far behind the Black Rider.
"To think they aimed and intercepted my arrow!"
Such a disgrace likely never existed even during her lifetime.
How could an arrow she had locked onto a target be intercepted by another arrow!?
Confronted with this unbelievable reality, Atalanta momentarily forgot herself.
Seizing this opportunity, the Black Archer Chiron, who had saved his ally with unparalleled archery skills, conveyed his voice to Astolfo.
"I'll handle the arrows and the Red Archer. You come back; Assassin has left a healing Noble Phantasm for you."
"Oh, thanks, Chiron!"
"I've told you countless times not to call me by my true name!"
Amid Chiron's slightly exasperated voice, Astolfo turned his Hippogriff around and fled—being the child of a griffin and a noble steed, both the sky and the earth were within its domain.
Seeing this, Atalanta immediately put the disgrace behind her.
Now, what needed to be done was to kill the prey. Faced with the artistic interception just now, she chose to attack with a barrage.
In her single hand, three arrows appeared simultaneously. She aimed those three arrows at the fleeing Astolfo.
Arrows, unless they became Noble Phantasms themselves, would not have homing capabilities. In other words, it was a matter of quantity over quality to determine the victor.
Needless to say, as long as any arrow hit the enemy directly, the opponent would be defeated. The three arrows, tightly drawn, aimed precisely at the vital spots: the back of the heart, the back of the head, and the Hippogriff's legs.
Even if they didn't die, it didn't matter. As long as their movements slowed down, she could finish the job with the next shot.
Eliminating all possibilities of defeat, the Archer shot her arrows with absolute precision.
Yet, even this perfect shot was intercepted, as the opponent had more arrows—Atalanta shot three arrows, but the opponent shot five.
Atalanta was once again utterly defeated!
By this time, Astolfo had already run quite a distance. It became harder for her to shoot, while it became easier for the opponent.
Even Achilles noticed something was wrong: "There's an archer better than you, sis."
Atalanta's green pupils emitted an unprecedented light, her beast ears and tail standing upright, a sign of the beast's fury.
"Black Archer!!!"
"Looks like sis has found her opponent. Now, I'll go find mine!"
Achilles slapped his knee with excitement and, with a joyful expression, began to sprint forward, leaping down from the sky garden.
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I added New Story: Typemoon: Starting Out as the Lion King