[3rd POV]
Martha raised her staff. A blinding light burst from its tip, shooting like a lightning bolt toward the group of Servants in front of her.
Mash reacted instantly, slamming her shield firmly into the ground.
The light crashed against the shield's surface, exploding into a cascade of sparks that dissipated in brilliant waves.
As the glow faded, Okita appeared like a shadow behind Mash. In less than a second, she closed the distance between them, her katana slicing through the air toward the saint's pale neck.
Martha swung her staff in a fluid arc, parrying the blade with a metallic clang that echoed through the forest.
"Little lady, you're lacking a bit of power." Calmly, Martha twisted the staff. In a sudden move, she wielded it like a spear, thrusting precisely toward Okita's chest.
The swordswoman leaned her body with agility, dodging the strike while drawing a lateral arc with her sword, stepping back a few paces but never taking her eyes off the saint.
At that moment, beside Martha, Jeanne d'Arc appeared, her holy flag descending in a vertical strike. Unperturbed, Martha tilted her torso to the side and, with an open palm, intercepted the flagpole. "As a fellow saint, I can't go easy on you," she said, smiling faintly.
With a swift twist of her wrist, she wrenched the flag, unbalancing Jeanne and hurling her into the air with a simple motion.
Jeanne landed in a spinning motion, crashing beside Marie, who lifted a delicate hand, the ring on her finger shining with a rosy glow.
Chanting a gentle melody, she pointed her fingers, firing pink blasts of energy toward Martha. The dragon saint merely raised her staff, a barrier of white light exploding before her, neutralizing the energy bullets in a shower of sparks.
"Miss Queen, subtle attacks really aren't your forte," Martha teased with an ironic smile.
At that very instant, Mash's shield flew toward her, slicing through the air like a giant blade. Martha dodged with a side leap, and the shield slammed into the ground with a thunderous crash. Mash immediately dashed toward her shield. Without missing a beat, Martha spun her staff, unleashing a blast of pure energy. Mash raised her shield in panic, the impact reverberating through her arms as she was shoved backward.
Before Martha could even plant her feet firmly on the ground, Okita reappeared in front of her, her katana thrusting in a straight line. Martha leaned her body at the last second, the blade grazing her cheek and opening a deep cut, blood dripping in crimson drops to the ground. Ignoring the pain, she swung her staff forcefully, striking Okita's abdomen with a sharp blow. The swordswoman was thrown backward, her boots skidding across the earth, carving grooves in the ground as she tried to regain her balance.
"That was a good strike," Martha said, wiping the blood from her face with the back of her hand. "By the way, where are the other Servants? That girl who calls herself the Demon King needs a lesson." She clenched her fist.
"For now, they're resting, Miss Saint," came a deep, melodious voice.
Martha looked up and saw a man balanced on a tree branch, his golden hair billowing in the wind.
"You took your time, Amadeus," Marie said, glancing upward with a smile.
"Hahaha! I'm a low-level Caster, so at least my entrance has to be dramatic!" Amadeus exclaimed, raising his arms theatrically. "Time for a performance."
Martha frowned, sensing the air vibrate with Amadeus's growing magical power.
"«Listen to this enchanting sound!»" he proclaimed.
Golden musical notes began materializing in the air, drifting toward Martha.
Since they weren't physical attacks, dodging was impossible. The notes surrounded her, and ethereal little angels appeared above her, playing harps, trumpets, and violins in a hypnotic symphony.
"«Requiem for Death,»" intoned Amadeus, his voice resonating through the forest.
The angels shifted their tune, launching into a dark funeral march. Martha clutched her ears, trying to block out the sound, but it was futile.
Blood began trickling from her ears, dripping onto the ground in dark puddles as her stats plummeted by two levels, her body trembling under the continuous damage.
Biting her lip hard, she blinked, only to glimpse Okita's katana descending in a strike aimed at her neck. With a cry of effort, Martha spun her staff, unleashing a blast of white energy that sent Okita flying backward.
Without giving the saint a moment to recover, Jeanne and Mash launched an attack in perfect harmony, cornering Martha into a fully defensive stance. Jeanne swung her holy flag in a wide arc, driving precise thrusts toward Martha's flanks. Simultaneously, Mash advanced with her shield raised, using it like a battering ram to press forward and break through Martha's guard. Meanwhile, Okita moved between them, tightening the encirclement. Her katana danced, slashing toward Martha from unpredictable angles. A horizontal strike aimed at Martha's shoulder was followed by a low thrust targeting her legs. Each blow Martha blocked with her staff left her exposed for a split second, allowing Okita's blade to find flesh, tracing crimson lines across her body.
Realizing she was being driven back, Martha let slip a subtle smile. This was precisely what she wanted.
If they kept fighting like this, they might succeed in awakening the Black Saint. But if they thought she'd make things easy just because they pinned their hopes on her, they were sorely mistaken.
With a confident smile, she raised her staff and slammed it against the ground, unleashing an explosion of energy that repelled the four Servants surrounding her. As they struggled to recover from the blast, Martha planted her feet firmly, ignoring the wounds rending her body, and charged determinedly toward the small pink-haired woman.
As Mash regained her balance, she saw Martha appear before her. There was no time even to raise her shield—the saint's staff was already descending toward her waist. She had only enough time to throw up her arm in defense; the pain would be excruciating, but at least the damage would be less severe.
Yet before she could act, a gunshot rang in her ears—a sound she knew all too well. With lightning reflexes, Martha spun her staff, deflecting the first shot in mid-air. The second, however, pierced her shoulder, leaving a blazing trail of pain.
At the same moment, a sword wrapped in purple energy came slashing down beside Martha. Ignoring her wounds, she spun her body, raising her staff to defend. The impact reverberated through her arms, hurling her backward as the ground received her body with a heavy thud.
Beside Mash, a figure emerged from the swirling dust: a woman with pale-blonde hair, clad in gleaming black armor.
"Artoria!" exclaimed Mash, receiving only a cold snort in response.
"Mwhaaaa! For someone who was worried, you sure like to play hard to get." A voice rang out above her. Mash looked up and saw a stunning woman with long black hair cascading down her back, wearing the same manic grin as her Senpai.
"Lady Nobunaga…"
"Mash, you idiot!" A sharp voice interrupted her words.
Turning, Mash saw a red-haired mage running toward her, tiny beads of sweat sliding down her delicate face. "Senpai, you should be resting!" Mash said, worry coloring her voice as she addressed Ritsuka Fujimaru.
"I'm not some delicate flower," retorted Ritsuka, stopping in front of Mash and ignoring the sweat trickling down her forehead. "I bet telling me to rest was Altair-kun's idea."
Mash blinked, shaking her head. "Yes, Senpai said that, but he was just worried about you."
"Idiot," muttered Ritsuka, folding her arms across her chest and pouting slightly. Despite her irritation with Altair-kun, a subtle blush colored her cheeks.
Seeing the pink tint on the red-haired Master's face, Marie couldn't help but find Altair's love life amusing and intriguing.
But there was no time for daydreams. Across the clearing, Martha was already rising from the ground.
"You're able to land some good hits, I admit," said the saint, giving a small smile. "If you keep this up, you might even defeat the witch." She opened and closed her hand, testing her battered body. For them to push her to this state was no small feat. Except for the last strike against the pink-haired girl, which she had restrained, every attack since the battle began had been at full strength. "Now there's only him left…"
A rumbling thunderclap cut her words short, echoing through the entire forest.
Her eyes widened as she saw a figure hurled from the depths of the woods. Like a meteor, it crashed beside her, raising a cloud of dust. Martha lifted her hand to shield her eyes, and when the dust finally settled, her astonishment only grew.
In the center of the crater lay Tarasque, his body riddled with wounds, his skin scorched as if struck by lightning. It was an unbelievable sight—for the dragon's carapace was renowned for its near-impenetrable toughness.
"Tarasque…" Martha murmured, receiving a weak, pained growl in response. The dragon was still materialized but grievously weakened.
"Sorry, I'm not very good at taming animals," said a calm voice.
Everyone turned toward the forest, where a young man with long black hair emerged, rubbing his neck.
"But at least he doesn't bite anymore." A broad grin spread across Altair's face.
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