Chapter 454: [454] Father and Son Reunion, A Long Road Ahead

"Anyway, that’s how things stand. The Red Faction has finally completed their final preparations and are now maneuvering the Hanging Gardens toward you."

As Sakatsuki spoke these words, he couldn’t help but take a deep breath—not because of Amakusa’s schemes or Semiramis’ Noble Phantasm, but due to his own excitement and unease about the future.

Amakusa had staked everything on the coming conflict, and Sakatsuki, too, saw it as a pivotal moment for the Blue Faction’s expansion.

Yet, the unexpected incident in Sighișoara had taught him a lesson: you never knew whether tomorrow or disaster would come first. Given that, all the Blue Faction could do was prepare thoroughly.

"Release your True Name, my king."

After analyzing the battlefield for the third time, Sakatsuki finally made his decision.

"Regardless, the Red Faction’s combat strength far surpasses the Black Faction’s. Not to mention, Sieg is about to reach the Black Faction, and who knows what chaos he might cause... When the Black Faction is at a disadvantage, the appearance of an undefeated king will undoubtedly have an extraordinary impact."

"Understood." Artoria, fully aware of the stakes in this all-out battle, responded solemnly.

"Then, let’s review the objectives of this war one more time—"

In the magical projection, the young man stood up, his golden eyes gleaming.

"First, destroy the Hanging Gardens—or force Karna to sacrifice his armor and unleash his strongest attack."

Artoria stated gravely:

"Second, the Black Faction’s two leaders, Vlad III and Darnic, must die in this war."

Reika smiled gently:

"Third: the Blue Faction must switch allegiances between the Red and Black Factions, absorbing as many resources as possible to strengthen ourselves."

This was the intricate web Sakatsuki had painstakingly woven. He wouldn’t allow anyone to slip through.

With the serious discussion concluded, the Blue Faction relaxed. Sakatsuki, as if suddenly remembering something, casually asked, "Where’s little Jack?"

"Oh, her? Lately, she seems to be getting along quite well with Berserker." Artoria recalled the harmonious scene of Jack chatting away while Frankenstein listened quietly, and couldn’t help but smile. "She even chased after Fiore, calling her ’Mama,’ which scared her so much she jumped out the window using her Mystic Code."

"After Fiore ran away, Jack was really upset for a while," Reika added. "And for some reason, she never calls Astolfo ’Mama,’ insisting that ’she already has a mother.’ It’s strange, considering she has so many mothers already."

"Is that so." Watching the two women eagerly sharing anecdotes about their "daughter," Sakatsuki pondered for a moment before suddenly saying, "Everything else is fine, but I’d prefer if Jack had less contact with Frankenstein."

A brief silence fell. Reika and Artoria immediately understood the implication behind his words.

"Understood."

"I see."

But speaking of daughters, Sakatsuki was reminded of another matter: "Saber is also an issue."

"Me?" Artoria reacted instinctively but quickly realized. "You mean... Mordred?"

"Yes, she and Jeanne are actually the most unpredictable variables in our plan. Although they belong to the Red Faction, it wouldn’t be wrong to consider them a fourth faction." At this point, Sakatsuki gave Artoria’s ahoge a meaningful look. "Before the great battle, luring them to Sighișoara was the best we could do. It’s a pity someone wasn’t up to the task and failed to expose their identity."

The result was that the act became reality—Mordred appeared, Mordred fought, and Mordred went back cursing.

Question: Where is the Blue Faction?

"So, while we still have some time tonight, I think it’s necessary to give our King some special training," Sakatsuki concluded.

"Special training?" Artoria’s ahoge trembled as her instincts warned her of impending doom.

Soon, she heard Sakatsuki say, "Let’s start with the most basic form of address—for example, ’son.’"

Looking at Artoria with perfect calm, Sakatsuki continued, "Go on, try saying it."

"W-what?!" Her ahoge stood on end, and she instinctively tried to flee, only for Reika to grab her.

"It’s true we’ve never heard you say that before, Artoria. Come on, give it a try. If it’s too hard, ’daughter’ is fine too—just think of it as something you’d say to Jack."

But this is so sudden... I’m completely unprepared... Lord Sakatsuki, aren’t you embarrassed at all?

Artoria stared at the expressionless young man and suddenly realized.

Oh, right. An Assassin wouldn’t react to something like this.

Sakatsuki was indifferent, Reika was naturally unfazed—meaning the only one who would feel embarrassed was Artoria herself.

"I... um..."

Her cheeks burned, and her heart pounded so fiercely she could hardly believe it. Was it because of that forbidden form of address, or because the person before her wasn’t Mordred, but Lord Sakatsuki...?

"I’m going on patrol!"

Startled by her own thoughts, Artoria abruptly broke free from Reika’s grip and fled, covering her face, leaving Sakatsuki and Reika to exchange glances.

"It seems reuniting this father and child will be a long and arduous task."

"Mhm, indeed it will."

————

The Empress’s Hanging Gardens loomed over the Red Faction’s fortress like an apocalyptic disaster. By the following evening, all members of the Red Faction had gathered once more.

This time, Amakusa, who had always worn priestly robes, appeared in different attire—and in his hand, he held a sharp blade.

"To make up for our lack of combatants, I will serve as Caster’s proxy. Don’t worry, I have considerable combat experience as well."

When the Red Faction Servants heard Amakusa say this, they reacted with disbelief.

"No, no, no, no, no. Don’t even say another word—you should stay here like a proper Master, okay?"

"Rider is right. Though you may have accumulated combat experience, you are ultimately still human. If you encounter an enemy Servant, it’s over."

Achilles and Atalanta naturally rushed to stop him. Under normal circumstances, a Master should never go to the front lines. Servants don’t necessarily limit their targets to each other—if they see a Master boldly charging into battle, they would undoubtedly prioritize eliminating them first.

Once the Master dies, the countdown to the Servant’s demise begins—at the very least, they can no longer fight at full strength.

As for why the Servants ultimately allowed the priest to wield that blade, the credit goes to Caster Shakespeare’s inherent skill, ’Enchant.’

"Gentlemen, I once wrote these words: ’The truest courage is to know right from wrong.’ In my view, few possess greater discernment than this priest. More importantly—I’ve applied a touch of magic to this blade. To put it plainly, it now rivals a Noble Phantasm of C-rank!"

Shakespeare’s earth-shattering declaration caused quite the uproar among the gathered Servants.

The Noble Phantasms each Servant possesses—legendary armaments etched into myth—are vessels of sublime fantasy, not mere stones by the roadside or trees in the forest, things one might stumble upon anywhere.

Yet Shakespeare’s skill could elevate a mere famed blade of mortal make to the level of a Noble Phantasm—a true miracle by any measure.

Strictly speaking, Shakespeare’s skill couldn’t even be called magecraft. No ordinary reinforcement spell could elevate an object to Noble Phantasm tier. He hadn’t actually enchanted the blade; rather, while observing the sword Amakusa had given him, he simply "wrote" of its unparalleled sharpness and bloodthirsty nature.

But when the hand wielding the pen belongs to a literary genius of world renown, that changes everything.

Conceptual Weapons—armaments that derive power not from physical force, but from the very concept they embody. Through the soul-infused prose Shakespeare penned, even a pebble by the roadside could be imbued with the concept of a lethal weapon.

"...May I ask a question?" Karna, who had remained silent until now, spoke up. His inquiry was perfectly reasonable—if Shakespeare could turn an ordinary blade into a Noble Phantasm, why not wield it in battle himself?

Shakespeare’s reply, however, laid bare the essence of his being.