Crimson lightning ravaged the mountain valley, annihilating everything in its path—whether it was the raging sea of fire, the hordes of chimera stitch-beasts, or the ancient, unyielding cliffs and valleys. Under this crimson torrent, all things were rendered equal.
The heat surpassed even the inferno's flames, melting the earth and evaporating the atmosphere. The millennia-old valley was reshaped entirely by this flood.
"As expected of an A+-class anti-army Noble Phantasm. When wielded by Mordred, its might is truly terrifying—"
Alaric couldn't help but marvel as he watched the crimson lightning pierce through the firestorm in an instant. When would he be able to wield a Noble Phantasm of this caliber with such ease?
After the crimson torrent subsided, much of the inferno was extinguished, and over half of the stitch-beast chimeras were vaporized, leaving behind only wisps of smoke. As the atmosphere flowed back into place, the destroyed mountain valley regained a hint of its former coolness.
"Tch, so why don't you use your own Noble Phantasm?"
Mordred asked, glancing at Alaric, who seemed completely unfazed. Her expression was one of annoyance.
Alaric, seemingly oblivious to her irritation, walked over to her and observed the scorched earth. The melted rocks still flowed like molten lava, filling the cracks and grooves. The firestorm didn't reignite; it seemed that the destruction had reached its conclusion. The remaining chimeras, crippled and struggling to move, no longer posed a threat.
"Ah, my Noble Phantasm doesn't have the same overwhelming power as yours, Mordred. Trying to match it would be far too taxing on me. That's why I have to rely on you," Alaric explained with a smile.
Having witnessed Mordred's Noble Phantasm in action, Alaric became even more aware of his limitations in terms of raw destructive power. Even if he maximized his magical reserves, the effect he could achieve would only barely approach an A-rank anti-army level—far inferior to the likes of Mordred or Gawain, with their top-tier Noble Phantasms.
"For real? Are you really that weak?"
Mordred asked, skeptical.
She vividly remembered Alaric wiping out an entire wave of green drakes in one fell swoop—a display of magical energy that rivaled a Noble Phantasm's activation. Not to mention, he wielded the Sword of End, a gift from the Lion King. How could firepower possibly be his weakness?
"Come on, I'm super weak," Alaric shrugged.
"The Sword of End bestowed upon me the Lion King is roughly equivalent to a B-rank Noble Phantasm. It's nowhere near comparable to your royal sword, Mordred."
"Hah!"
Mordred's earlier displeasure turned into laughter.
Her grin widened, and her sharp canines became visible as she patted Alaric on the shoulder.
"If you're one of my father's knights, you better step up and show some real power!"
Alaric didn't argue. His strength—or lack thereof—was indeed a significant weakness, especially in the life-and-death struggles of this singularity. Without the Holy Grail's assistance, he doubted he would have survived his encounter with Vlad III.
Not dwelling further on the topic, Alaric quickly changed the subject.
"It seems that Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristan aren't here."
"What? Isn't this supposed to be their—what's it called—magical workshop?"
Mordred asked, scanning the surroundings in confusion.
She remembered Agravain specifically mentioning a workshop where chimeras were being made. The abundance of stitch-beast chimeras in this valley certainly matched that description.
"Possibly, but not necessarily," Alaric replied as he began walking forward.
Given the commotion caused by Mordred's Noble Phantasm and their battle with the chimeras, if Lancelot and the others were in the area, they should have noticed. Yet, there was no sign of anyone else. This valley seemed to contain only him and Mordred.
"Don't keep me guessing! Just spit it out!"
Mordred demanded, following behind him.
"Long story short, I have no clue."
Alaric's straightforward answer left Mordred dumbfounded.
"How would I know if this is their workshop? Alaika isn't with me—she probably ran off with Lancelot and eloped."
"..."
Mordred, momentarily stunned by Alaric's absurd statement, instinctively took a couple of steps back.
"So, where do we go now?" she asked, returning to the matter at hand.
"Either forward or back—those are our options."
They continued along the scorched terrain for a while, but no new landmarks appeared. The once-pristine valley had been entirely transformed by the firestorm and the chimeras' devastation, leaving only a barren wasteland in its wake.
The landscape was so drastically altered that Alaric and Mordred couldn't discern any differences between the path ahead and the way they had come. It was as if the entire valley had perished, leaving them stranded in a desolate limbo.
Suddenly, a low, rasping sound broke the silence.
Emerging from the wasteland were massive shadows—chimeras that had narrowly survived Mordred's Noble Phantasm. With half their bodies melted away, they could no longer move but remained alive through sheer vitality, clinging to existence in agonizing limbo.
"Ugh, these things are disgusting," Mordred muttered, her disdain evident.
"It seems we've reached the end of your Noble Phantasm's range, but the firestorm extended beyond here," Alaric observed.
The traces of burnt ground stretched further ahead, though Mordred's attack had not. It was clear that the chimeras had only survived because they were just outside the full blast radius of her Noble Phantasm. Despite this, they were gravely wounded, with no hope of recovery.
With a swift strike, Alaric ended the suffering of one of the crippled chimeras.
"Well, the firestorm is gone now, but this is the only place left."
As they waited, confirming that no other chimeras posed a threat, a familiar rumbling echoed through the valley.
From the pitch-black depths ahead, a spark of flame reignited.
Alaric and Mordred exchanged glances, then charged toward the source of the explosion.
...
Moments later, they arrived at the scene, greeted by a renewed inferno far larger than before.
Amid the blue-and-white sea of flames, a massive dragon slowly rose.
Its body shimmered with a faint, violet flame—a sinister hue that exuded a terrifying curse capable of warping the minds of all who gazed upon it.