What Holy Grail War? Let's Play Cards! (Fate/Yugioh)

"Lancelot, why have you returned alone?" Agravain demanded, watching the purple-armored knight reenter the throne room. The absence of his companion deepened Agravain's already furrowed brow, his hawk-like gaze radiating lethal intent. "Where's Tristan? Did you strike down another comrade again?"

"Watch your tone!" Lancelot retorted.

Lancelot had never gotten along with Agravain, strongly disliking this gloomy individual.

"The moment I raised my sword against a comrade with differing opinions before My King, I vowed to devote myself solely to her! I will never repeat the mistakes of the past!"

"You'd better not."

Agravain's venomous gaze swept over Lancelot. If Lancelot held grievances against him, Agravain reciprocated the sentiment. Among all the Knights of the Round Table, he remained most wary of this man. Not a single word from him could be trusted. "Why hasn't Tristan appeared?"

"Tristan's Spirit Origin has already vanished under My King's Judgment."

Lancelot had withdrawn after defeating the enemy's top combatant, Arash, as agreed with Tristan—they would each eliminate one target. Yet Tristan never emerged even as the Lion King unleashed her Noble Phantasm. Against such apocalyptic force, even Tristan blessed with Divine Protection could not have survived.

Chaldea's forces haven't escaped either, Lancelot thought. I'll need to inform that beauty at the camp of their demise beneath the King's lance. What a hassle. I likely have no opportunity left.

"To be held back by such a rabble, even with the King's Blessing?" Agravain thought, unaware that additional servants had joined the battlefield. Since Tristan was outmatched, his death is no loss. The Knights of the Round Table have no room for failures. Without the Blessing, I can't even imagine what Tristan's performance would have been. Truly, he disgraced the King. Dying by her hand is a merciful fate.

"I have bad news," a white-clad knight announced as he entered the throne room. Now, only Mordred remained absent from the Lion King's Knights of the Round Table.

"Gawain? Why aren't you guarding the city gates? What brings you here?" Agravain's tension bordered on hostility. Camelot was already stretched thin; losing Tristan only exacerbated their manpower shortage. You can't expect Mordred, that prenatal dropout, to handle any duties beyond combat. The King hasn't completed her selection process yet. Return to your post immediately!

"Agravain, you're too hasty. The number of refugees arriving at Camelot is dwindling, and the chances of finding pure-hearted individuals among them are plummeting."

Gawain's dislike for Agravain wasn't as strong as that of the other Knights of the Round Table. He was, after all, a cheerful, outgoing young man.

"This is no excuse for abandoning your post!" Agravain snapped.

It was no wonder Agravain had such a terrible reputation among the Knights. No one liked a perpetually scowling sourpuss.

"Enough, enough," Gawain said calmly. "I have urgent news to report. The messenger couldn't reach you, so I came myself." He explained his presence. "Border patrol soldiers reported that members of Chaldea are heading toward the desert where the Egyptian Pharaoh resides. Their purpose remains unclear, but it means they survived last night's attack."

"Lancelot, didn't you claim to have purged all the rebels?" Agravain scrutinized Lancelot, searching for any hint of deceit in his expression. "How do you explain this?"

"Watch your tone," Lancelot retorted, his patience wearing thin under Agravain's relentless questioning. He was far from a mild-tempered man, and Agravain's persistent doubts had finally ignited his anger.

"This was the King's own punishment!" Agravain snapped. "Are you suggesting His Majesty would condone such treachery? Even Tristan, who bore the King's Blessing, has fallen. The King would show no mercy. Those bastards must have found a way to evade his divine wrath."

"Regardless, they're still alive! How dare you abandon the field without confirming their demise, and then shamelessly return here!"

Agravain's fury was understandable. Lancelot had been operating alongside Tristan, yet he'd fled without ensuring his comrade's safety. Such an act bordered on betrayal. "In this, you're no better than that useless Tristan!"

Lancelot couldn't possibly claim he'd trusted in the King's power; such a blatant excuse would be laughable.

"This is my fault," Lancelot said. "I'll lead the next campaign myself. I swear, I won't set foot in Camelot again until I've brought back their heads!"

"Hmph!" With manpower stretched thin, Agravain had no choice but to accept. Despite his loathing for Lancelot, he couldn't deny the knight's prowess.

"You'd better make good on that promise," Agravain warned. "And since they survived, other traitors likely did too. Gawain, when you return, inform Mordred to dispatch a cleanup crew and mop up any remaining resistance!"

Gawain saw no need for such measures. After the Lion King's devastating assault, there shouldn't be anything left worth scavenging. Yet, true to his nature, he would dutifully relay the message to Mordred verbatim. What she chose to do afterward was beyond his concern.

"I will," Gawain replied.

-

"The wind and sand are everywhere, making it impossible to see the path. Couldn't Mr. Hassan have been a little clearer?" Gudako grumbled under her breath as she struggled through the desert. She was the only ordinary person among them—the others were still unaware of Bedivere's situation—and the harsh conditions were taking their toll.

"This must be the so-called trial," Mash said, grasping Gudako's arm to help her forward. She really wanted to call Jiang You a "riddler," but his words had hit the nail on the head. Those who knew the information refused to reveal it plainly, as if they wanted everyone to solve a puzzle. How infuriating!

"You're as tenacious as rats!" Lancelot charged ahead, closing the distance between himself and the group. This time, he wouldn't hold back against the Chaldeans. They had truly obstructed the King's plans, and he had sworn not to return without eliminating them. He wouldn't break his vow this time!

"Knight who betrayed the Round Table, stay here!" Lancelot recognized Bedivere and marked him as his primary target.

Arondight, the unfading light of the lake, sliced through the wind and sand with a piercing shriek, aimed at Bedivere, who had fallen behind.

The round shield deflected Arondight, the holy sword leaving not even a faint mark upon it. "Looks like you're the traitor, Lancelot!"

For some inexplicable reason, Lancelot felt a primal fear of Mash, who held the young girl. This sensation had first surfaced during their initial encounter.