Fate: Typemoon - My Dragon Knight

After settling Bedivere down, Aslan turned his attention back to the pile of Purge Knights and rejoined the battle. These Purge Knights had been enhanced for a long time now, and this was not the first or second time they had fought these guys. So, with practiced ease, they took care of these knights who could only be described as annoying.

Just as he was preparing to lead these residents and Bedivere back to the Little Holy City, a crow flew down from the sky. It was one of Morgan's familiars. Generally speaking, if there wasn't something special happening, these crows would not deliver messages.

So... has something else happened?

Aslan raised his hand, and a special magical fluctuation began to be released from it. It was actually a simple application of Faerie Letters, used to attract this familiar to land on his hand. The crow before him did not have a pair of red eyes; instead, they were a light blue, similar to Morgan's. As he met this pair of eyes, Aslan's consciousness was quickly pulled into the information. In a short while, the crow spread its wings again, flew into the sky, turned into a dark blue flame, and finally dissipated.

Melusine stuffed all the armor left behind by the Purge Knights into her Mystic Code, then looked at Aslan curiously. "Something happened, right? I hope it's not bad news."

Aslan opened his eyes, his expression gradually becoming serious. "Unfortunately, it is indeed bad news. Hassan of Serenity and Hassan of the Hundred Faces encountered Tristan during the process of rescuing and escorting another group of people. No one expected that this Knight of the Round Table would act on his own. Isn't that guy afraid that our team would act together and set a trap?"

In truth, for Tristan, this matter was just a coincidence. The gift on his body was the "Gift of Reversal." After using the Holy Grail to enhance these powers, Tristan's desire for wanton slaughter also grew stronger and stronger. And with the actions of the resistance forces, the Holy Selection was becoming more and more difficult to carry out. The inability to release his long-suppressed emotions had become a problem.

Gradually, Tristan became more and more crazed and gloomy. Although his face still maintained that same handsome appearance and his lips were always curled into a smile, no matter how you looked at it, that smile was filled with a sense of incongruity. You wouldn't even need this knight to say anything; just one look and you could see the deep malice hidden beneath his glamorous exterior. The stench of blood that permeated his entire body could no longer be concealed. Although the Lion King had no reaction to this, the other few Round Table Knights had already begun to avoid contact with Tristan as much as possible. Even though they understood that all of this was not "Tristan's" fault. In this increasingly oppressive situation, Tristan naturally began to find ways to vent his uncontrollable madness and gloom.

If a Purge Knight made the slightest mistake, that harp music, filled with sorrow yet tinged with a hint of joy, would descend upon that Purge Knight with a thick, murderous intent. The next moment, all that would be left was a pile of armor on the ground.

At first, this practice could barely bring Tristan joy. But as time went on, and the number of selections decreased, and since the Purge Knights were not real humans, this method could no longer alleviate his condition. Tristan felt that if he continued like this, he would go mad sooner or later. He had to feel the sensation of blood staining his hands and his harp strings. Thus, he secretly followed the Purge Knights who were preparing to capture personnel for the Holy Selection. After all, only when enough people were captured could a new round of Holy Selection be held. Only then could he have a good, satisfying slaughter. He just didn't expect to coincidentally run into the group being rescued by the two Hassans.

Compared to the two Hassans' vigilance, Tristan appeared even more excited. He had finally run into Servants. The feeling of seriously wounding a Servant was much more fulfilling than killing ordinary people!

Tristan, of course, knew that acting alone was highly likely to lead him into an enemy trap, but it was only a possibility, right? If he were to continue staying in the city, that would truly be the death of him. What's more, before the final reckoning, the Lion King wouldn't punish him too severely unless he made an unforgivable mistake. Since that was the case, he could give it a try, sneaking out secretly. See? Didn't he get a pretty good harvest now?

"Heaven truly favors me, to let me encounter the 'warriors' and 'heroes' of the resistance. How saddening. To think that you, as 'heroes,' would have the courage to resist that King. This belief in attempting to challenge the impossible is admirable. But it's a pity; you must die here today."

Tristan caressed his cheek with one hand, a strange smile on his face. "The thought that I must personally end you... this is truly too sad. Haha... HAHAHAHA!!"

With that, Tristan began to play his music. The cheerful melody transformed into one arrow after another, spreading towards the two Hassans. At the same time, a portion of them prepared to attack the ordinary civilians. After all, in Tristan's eyes, he was just eliminating the enemy leaders and had accidentally used a bit too much force, accidentally injuring a few people. That's right, just accidentally injured. He had no intention of killing these ordinary people. If he killed them and it led to an insufficient number for the Holy Selection, then he would truly be run through by the Lion King's spear. What's more, his current patience was all for the sake of the satisfying slaughter after enough people had been gathered. What was the point of secretly killing one or two now?

Licking an ice cube to feel the chill versus waiting to sit in an air-conditioned room—Tristan could still tell which of the two choices would provide more lasting coolness. Right now, he was just lightly tasting some blood to temporarily calm his long-standing restlessness. This would allow him to more calmly and decisively finish off the two Hassans.

Serenity and Hundred Faces exchanged a look. The two Hassans quickly determined their course of action. Their time working together had allowed them to easily judge each other's intentions. After all, they were both Hassans, weren't they? What's more, they had also collected information on the various weaknesses of the Round Table Knights. For example, the one before them should be vulnerable to poison.

In that case...

Serenity had already prepared to release her Noble Phantasm.

Although Aslan still remembered that Tristan's "Gift" was "Reversal," after a thousand years, the specifics were no longer so clear in his memory. So Aslan had forgotten that Tristan was no longer affected by poison. And the two Hassans, of course, had no way of knowing.