In the same instance that Marteo finished speaking, his hand fell down, signalling the Archers to fire.
Dillan felt it before anyone else, the speeding individual that crossed a path of thousands of meters in an instant to intercept the wave of arrows.
"Not alone."
A voice echoed out from the cloud of dust produced, causing Arturia's shoulders to tremble. The voice was all too familiar. Its warmth and care something that she would never be able to forget.
As the dust cleared, a figure appeared from within.
Shirou stood amidst a graveyard of splintered arrows the intensity of his gaze sending shivers down Dillan's back.
If what Dillan had sensed from Arturia before was enough to make him weary, then what he sensed from Shirou terrified him. It was as if hundred if not thousands of blades were cutting into him to the point that his eyes frantically had to check his own body to verify that he was still alive.
In YGGDRASIL, although Shirou hadn't really taken the quest and event mechanics of the game too seriously, he too like other advanced players was maxed leveled. He was, in the New World's terms, known as a Player; an existence far beyond anything the common inhabitants of the New World could ever hope to reach.
And he was infuriated.
Although he knew that mere arrows wouldn't even be able to scratch Arturia's defences, seeing her attacked was one of his largest taboos. It was to the point that he was labeled as the hidden boss of Camelot in the early release when he was still fuming from players actively seeking to kill her before he buffed her. He was known as a fabled Knight that was never seen nor heard, but was able to strike and eliminate players seeking to battle with the King of Camelot in an instant. In the forums, it was decided by a general consensus in the early game that unless this fabled Knight was defeated, none should try to even attempt Camelot's Raid Boss.
In the end, he had grown out of it, but only after he had strengthened Arturia with all of his means. However, habits die hard.
With Shirou's abrupt addition, Vincent didn't know what to feel, but seeing as Arturia knew Shirou, he decided to just assure himself.
Meanwhile, as Shirou was staring across at the sheer number of opponents in front of him, he grew weary. Unlike Arturia who had already had a relative gauge of the strength of the New World's inhabitants, Shirou had no such experience. In this regard, he viewed them in the only way he knew how, as Players mounting another Raid in YGGDRASIL.
His expression darkened. Such Player were generally of the highest level, and he couldn't be certain that those in front of him may possess similar power. Therefore, he quickly made his preparations.
A Magic of the Eight Tier.
"Greater Teleportation."
An invisible gale burst out, a miniature shockwave produced that rustled the trees and forced Marteo and the others to take a step back; their arms shielding their eyes from the subsequent blow of the flying debris.
By the time the surroundings settled down, Marteo was shocked to discover the sudden presence of others.
From the smoke, an armour of pale white appeared: Refined riveted steel bonds and golden lining fitted over a robust physique and exuding a seamless aura unmatched. An unfading light that would never die.
Lancelot Knight of the Lake.
Next to him, a man with sharp and cold features, the black plated armour in which he wore attributed to the nature of his very dealings.
Agravain, the Loyal.
To his right, the Knight of the Sun whose radiance shines from even the darkest of times; he known as the man undefeatable under its light.
Gawain, Protector of the Gates.
Next to his left were Bedivere and Galahad, the trusted aid of the King, and the Shield Bearer carrying with him the insignia of the Castle never once breached by enemies.
In a flash, two other individuals manifested.
Flowing red hair falling in a wave at his back, and a disposition that one could only call elegant. The Knight who fights not with sword or shield, but something that could hardly be considered a bow.
Tristain, Child of Sadness.
And behind him, the Knight of Treachery wearing an imposing armour and horned helmet.
Mordred Pendragon.
As if their minds were in sync, all began to line up with Arturia and Shirou at the center. Only one spot was missing to the far left.
Finally, a man dressed in sagely white robes and blooming roses adorning his every step arose from the air and arrived to fill in the last position. An unearthly aura emanated from the man, one of nature similar to the woodland Elves, yet far more imposing. If not for the fact that half of the man's face was currently bruised black from a slap mark, then his overall impression may have been a lot more intimidating. Unfortunately, the man had sought after too rare of a red-thorned purple rose.
He was Merlin, the Wizard of Flowers.
Standing united, they were the Knights of the Round Table.
The Sub-Bosses of Asgard's Holy Kingdom of Camelot in YGGDRASIL, and Arturia's greatest assurance alongside Shirou.
In the silence, a sword was raised, lustrous and tinged with a golden radiance as wisp-like essences of sand seemed to form a tower of light that stretched on towards the clouds.
It was a pillar, firm yet translucent, the banner of the King of Knights that represented a dream that could only be known as Beautiful.
Yet the sword itself wasn't what drew together the Knights of Arthurian Legend, but the girl who stood at the front delving into an issue that wasn't her own.
Kindness unknown to her time.
And,
Virtue incomparable.
She embodied both concepts wholly. A woman who would take upon herself all the sins attributed to the falling of her Kingdom, and even the mistakes of others that led to its eventual fall.
She was the King of Britain.
A figure that had never once known defeat in battle.
Arturia Pendragon.
The Raid Boss of the Holy Kingdom of Camelot.