After defeating Vlad III, the only remaining obstacle for Alaric was exactly as expected. This time, he wasn't about to let the Crusader remnant mage escape. In a flash of crimson lightning, Alaric's figure vanished from where he stood.
Meanwhile, Sanzang was locked in a fierce battle with the magus. Swarms of familiars, accompanied by magical bombardments from above, relentlessly attacked her, making it difficult for Sanzang—who excelled in close-quarters combat—to hold her ground.
"How much longer can you hold out?" the magus taunted Sanzang, though her gaze frequently darted into the distance. The clash between Alaric and Vlad III's Noble Phantasms was so intense that neither Sanzang nor the magus could ignore it, and both had felt its aftershocks. The magus had begun to consider retreat, but Sanzang's persistent pursuit frustrated her. She had no choice but to keep sending familiars to fend off Sanzang while seeking opportunities to strike with magecraft. If not for the massive blast of magic she had already unleashed on Alaric, she was confident she could have escaped by now.
As the battle wore on, the magus's eyes widened in shock. Sanzang had thrown her golden staff skyward with all her might. The slender staff pierced through the air, flying past the mage's side.
"Give up already—" the magus saw it as a foolish attack, but a flash of crimson lightning abruptly erased her grin. Startled, she turned to find Alaric, cloaked in crimson lightning, standing nearby—holding the golden staff.
"You...!"
The magus frantically raised her hand, and polygonal magical patterns began to form around her. But Alaric wasn't going to give her a chance.
Whoosh!
The golden staff, wrapped in crimson lightning, extended rapidly, shattering her defenses layer by layer before striking her directly in the abdomen.
"Gah!"
Blood spurted from the magus's mouth as her eyes widened in pain. She couldn't withstand the force of Alaric's blow, and the impact sent her plummeting from her aerial to the ground below.
Boom!
A loud crash sent sand flying as the magus struck the ground with a force that shook the surroundings.
"That was easier than expected," Alaric remarked, landing beside her. He twirled the staff as Sanzang often did, then handed it back to her as she approached.
"Miss Sanzang, you fought well. She was no easy opponent, was she?"
Alaric glanced around at the scattered remains of familiars, easily imagining the intensity of Sanzang's battle.
"Are you underestimating a high monk aiming for Buddhahood?"
Sanzang replied confidently, taking her staff.
After exchanging a few casual words, Alaric approached the fallen magus, looking down at her. The black robe that had concealed her form was now torn, revealing the magus's true face.
It was the same face as Alaika's.
"A homunculus?"
Alaric raised an eyebrow, piecing together the new information. If the news of Maggie Friedman's death was true, then this magus shouldn't be under control. But that raised another question: how many magus with the same model as Alaika were there?
The first Alaika specialized in creating Chimera stitch beasts, while this magus commanded familiars and wielded a variety of spells. Even if they were modeled after the same person, there were clear differences.
"Miss Sanzang, don't you have a spell to make people tell the truth?"
Alaric gestured as if asking for assistance. Sanzang, seeming to understand, tapped her fist into her palm in realization.
"Nope! Usually, my silly disciples like Wukong would just make the demons talk."
"Oh, brute force truth extraction."
Alaric sighed, regretting not having Nitocris with him. As a real magus, she might have had a solution.
"To be honest, threats probably won't work on you, so I won't waste time. If you refuse to share the Crusaders' information, I'll just take you to the Holy City and let King Ozymandias deal with you. Keeping secrets will only bring more trouble."
Just as he reached for the magus, she began to murmur, "The King, who leads us—"
Alaric's interest was piqued, and he listened carefully. Even Sanzang, who was about to speak, fell silent at his raised hand.
But then, silence followed. The magus didn't continue speaking, and Alaric frowned slightly.
What she said next nearly made him laugh.
"Why don't you keep asking me?" she asked innocently, her gaze still vacant as she stared at the sky.
Clearing his throat, Alaric played along.
"Ahem, who is this king you're talking about?"
"The King, of course, is the great Richard I, the Lionheart. Only he can lead us to fulfill the ultimate purpose."
Her slow response contained information that Alaric couldn't ignore. Upon hearing of a Crusader king, he had already suspected Richard I. He hadn't expected to confirm it.
But was it Richard the Lionheart? Alaric had his doubts. However, with the Holy Grail in Jerusalem and the power to summon numerous Heroic Spirits, it was clear the Crusaders still held significant power.
But where had this Lionheart come from? For him to appear outside Jerusalem, evading the Holy Lance's destructive blow—or perhaps never being in Jerusalem at the time—was remarkable. To gather so many Crusaders after Camelot's rise indicated extraordinary efficiency.
The Crusader remnants possessed far more resources than Alaric had anticipated, including the power to create Chimeras, life and curse magecraft, and summon Heroic Spirits. And with a homunculus identical to Alaikka, this wasn't a hastily assembled force.
"What do you think of Richard I, the Lionheart?"
Alaric continued, seizing the opportunity to extract information.
"The King is great, wise, and intelligent. To us, he is both our king and our father—"