Shinji Matou at Your Service-Chapter 929 - : A Battle With Oneself

The failure of a retainer is the fault of the king.

This was the creed of Iskandar, the King of Conquerors, both in life and in death.

For the King lived more vividly than anyone and inspired more admiration than anyone!

To gather the wishes of all his brave warriors and to serve as their exemplars—that is the duty of a king.

His path as a king was not one of isolation. His wish was the wish of all his subjects!

Since that was the case, as their king, he had to take responsibility—whether it was resentment, blame, or anything else, he would bear it all.

Faker understood this well. She had followed the King the longest and knew better than anyone what kind of man he was. But, because of her immense sorrow and resentment, she had forgotten this truth. She refused to accept this reality, even though it was the King she had once been loyal to, and even though those people were once her comrades-in-arms.

The King cared most for his retainers and his people.

But what Faker cared about most was the King.

Different perspectives, and different positions, shaped their thoughts. Even though they understood what the other would do, they deliberately chose to ignore it.

"So, you want to take responsibility for them?"

A dark cloud of dissatisfaction hung over Faker's face. Her voice, like a storm about to break, reflected her worsening mood, which had briefly improved due to the King's earlier words.

"It's always been my responsibility!"

Iskandar stood his ground, unmoving, and faced Faker who was on the verge of exploding.

"It's your fault!"

"Yes!"

"Iskandar!!! You colossal fool, idiot, moron, imbecile—"

The black resentment Gray had seen in her vision finally overflowed into reality, corrupting the present moment.

First came the harsh verbal abuse, merciless and relentless. Then, as if the insults weren't enough, Faker started throwing punches.

Fists, kicks—completely uncoordinated and chaotic. At that moment, Faker didn't resemble the warrior who had crossed countless battlefields at all; she was just an irrational woman. To put it bluntly, she was acting like a madwoman.

Still, Iskandar didn't move, standing like a mountain, bearing Faker's resentment, frustration, fury, and physical attacks all at once.

Gray couldn't bear to watch any longer and wanted to intervene, but Waver quietly stopped her.

This was a matter of Macedon, an issue between Iskandar and his shadow. No one could interfere, nor should they.

Perhaps realizing that hitting him wasn't enough, or maybe dissatisfied with Iskandar's silent and unmoving attitude, Faker stepped back two paces and grabbed the sword at her waist.

Iskandar, seeing this, suddenly panicked.

"Hey, hey, that's enough! Don't draw your sword, someone's going to get killed."

But his words only fueled Faker's enthusiasm.

"Now you're scared? Too late! Didn't you say it was all your fault? Didn't you say you'd take responsibility?"

"Taking responsibility doesn't mean—hey!"

Before he could finish, Faker had already swung her sword. Iskandar quickly dodged.

"I'm ordering you to stop! Do you hear me? This is a command from your King!"

"I hear you, but I won't obey."

Far from stopping, Faker's movements grew faster, as did her speech.

"Because you said—taking a dream from you is the greatest loyalty we could show you. Even if there were mistakes, they were your mistakes, your responsibility!"

Most people, after hearing the King of Conquerors' bold words and witnessing his majestic presence, would either kneel in awe or feel a sense of reverence. But who was Faker? She had grown up as Iskandar's shadow, watching him transform from an extraordinarily youth into a hulking muscle-bound man, witnessing him mature from an inexperienced boy into a towering conqueror.

She knew him better than anyone. His nonsensical philosophy might fool the world, but it couldn't fool her! In life, she had often used her intelligence to clean up the messes his twisted logic created and to calm the hearts of those deceived by it. And in death, she could just as easily use his own words against him. After all these years, her role as his alter-ego hadn't been for nothing. To borrow Waver's words—she was another King of Conquerors!

Iskandar was at a loss for words. He was certainly eloquent and skilled at speechmaking. He had once shaken Artoria's resolve with the grandeur of his Ionioi Hetairoi. But that tactic had worked because Artoria didn't understand him or her essence. When it came to his closest retainer, his second self, that approach wasn't going to work.

With Faker gaining the upper hand, her momentum surged, pressing Iskandar back step by step, his aura of dominance completely gone.

Finally, Iskandar couldn't take it anymore and shouted:

"Don't push it too far!"

"The one going too far is you, you idiot, moron, blockhead—"

The cycle continued.

"Hey! If you keep this up, I'll fight back!"

The Conqueror King gripped his short sword—the Sword of Cyprus, a tribute from the King of Cyprus.

"Then fight back! If you've got the guts, go ahead and fight!" Faker kept pressing.

"I'm going to do it!"

Iskandar unsheathed the Sword of Cyprus, and it clashed with Faker's long sword, producing a sharp, crisp sound.

"Let's see how much you've changed since becoming a Heroic Spirit."

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Faker responded with a rapid series of incantations, unleashing a barrage of magecraft that left the King of Conquerors covered in dust and dirt.

As one of the twin children personally chosen by Iskandar's mother, Olympias, Faker had exceptional talent. Combined with years of personal tutelage from Olympias, her combat prowess surpassed Iskandar's when not using Noble Phantasms. If that weren't the case, she wouldn't have been worthy of being his shadow and his final shield.

Moreover, Gray's abilities as a Master far outstripped Waver's. And so, while Iskandar relied purely on physical strength and a single short sword, the balance of power shifted further against him, making the situation increasingly difficult.

"Didn't you say you'd fight back? Then fight back! Aren't you always so eloquent? Keep talking!"

"You're the one who forced me into this—!"

Iskandar raised his sword toward the sky.

At that moment, Waver's expression changed, and he shouted, "You idiot, stop!"

But it was too late. The sword slashed downward, and thunder and lightning roared in the sky. A chariot pulled by divine bulls broke through the clouds, descending to the earth amidst the crackling of lightning.

"Flat, Svin, get back! Gray, separate them!"

Seeing that words weren't working, Waver opted for direct action.

Gray reacted faster than her mind could process. While calling forth Add's Grim Reaper's Scythe, she inserted herself between the two combatants, using the blade of the scythe to block the Sword of Cyprus while its handle deflected Faker's strike.

"Master—"

Faker began to protest, only to see her young Master staring blankly toward Waver, who stood not far away.

Waver sighed.

"I don't mind if you want to fight, but could you both be mindful of the situation and the consequences? If we cause this much commotion, what will happen if other Servants are nearby?"

"Uh, Professor, it's not 'if'—"

"They're already here, in that direction."

Flat, who excelled at detection, and Svin, with his superhuman sense of smell, spoke one after the other.

"..."

Waver covered his face, unwilling to say another word.