IBHJ 1227

The ground shook violently from the terrifying carpet bombing, and thick smoke quickly covered the entire area.

Through the chaos, they caught glimpses of a faint white light flickering in the bombarded zone. A small figure flickered in the smoke.

Then, emerging from the clouds of dust and debris, a golden-haired girl in silver-blue dragon armor walked forward. She was surrounded by a soft glow and carried a sword, her blue eyes looking coldly at the mechanical army surrounding her.

"Wait a second—Shirou, isn't that your daughter?" the witch asked, pointing at the golden-haired girl and turning to him with wide eyes.

Shirou stared in disbelief. The girl looked exactly like his daughter and was carrying the Royal sword. If this wasn't Mordred, who else could it possibly be?

He remembered how Mordred had activated the third eye of the Grail when the Emperor's giant arm was about to crush everyone. She had fully embraced the Grail's power to ensure the Pan-Human History forces could escape without being completely wiped out.

Gaia had told him that Mordred wasn't dead, but he never expected to find her wandering in this strange place, just like they were.

"We need to help her!" he said decisively.

"Right behind you."

Now that he'd recognized Mordred, there was no way Shirou could just watch from the sidelines. He jumped to his feet and projected Rhongomyniad, unleashing a thunderstorm across the battlefield.

"Star's Anchor..." Mordred murmured under her breath. She glanced up and her eyes widened in surprise as she spotted Shirou charging out from behind the pile of steel.

The moment Shirou revealed himself, the steel army immediately detected his presence and clearly marked him as Mordred's ally.

Several steel mechs swiveled around to face him, their black cannon barrels locking onto his position. Light began to flicker at the tips as they charged their weapons. With a deafening boom, countless energy beams fired directly at him!

Shirou's expression didn't change. Just as he was about to project dozens of shields to protect himself, a magical formation resembling a sea of flowers suddenly materialized beneath his feet. He felt an impenetrable defensive spell forming around him.

Feeling the protective spell around him, Shirou changed tactics. Instead of defensive shields, he projected six more Holy Lances and sent them blasting toward the mechs that were still charging their weapons.

BOOM!

His attacks tore through more than a dozen mechs, carving a scorching path straight through the pile of steel. The energy beams that managed to fire at him harmlessly bounced off the defensive spell with a soft popping sound.

He glanced back at the witch, who was still quietly chanting the protective spell. He gave her an appreciative nod before turning to Mordred, who stood there looking stunned.

"Hey, snap out of it!" he called to her. "We can catch up later—let's deal with these things first!"

"Right," Mordred replied, quickly regaining her focus. She swung her sword in a powerful arc, and the mechs in her path crumpled like paper beneath the blade, while the cannons and shells from the mechanical army just passed right through her body without harming her at all.

There were tons of these steel mechs, but once Shirou and the witch joined the fight, they made quick work of most of them. The few that survived seemed to realize they were outmatched and scattered in all directions.

Within minutes, what had been a dense army of steel machines was reduced to nothing but smoking ruins.

After clearing out the last of them, the witch turned to say something to Shirou, but he was already walking straight toward Mordred.

"You—" Mordred began, but before she could get another word out, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Thank goodness you're safe," he said, his voice filled with relief.

This had to be his Mordred—there was no parallel version of her in the Empire. Everything about her confirmed it: the royal sword she carried, her ability to become intangible, the Grail she had displayed earlier. But most importantly, he would recognize his daughter's presence anywhere. There was no mistaking it.

In this world, you could mistake a lot of things, but a person's magical signature wasn't one of them. That's why the witch had recognized Mordred immediately—after all, Mordred had once ambushed and tricked her, something she wasn't likely to forget.

The witch watched their reunion quietly, giving them their moment before gently suggesting, "We should probably get out of here. This isn't the safest place to catch up. Let's head back to our shelter first."

"Good idea," Shirou agreed, and the three of them made their way back to where they'd been staying.

He felt immense relief. Gaia hadn't lied to him after all—Mordred was safe and alive. And most importantly, she hadn't transformed into some inhuman monster. He could tell from their hug that she was not an illusion.

Once they were safely back at the shelter, Mordred looked at him with confusion. "How did you end up here? I thought you'd be in Tír na nÓg by now."

"It's complicated—something happened. But what about you? How did you find yourself in this place?"

"Well..." she hesitated for a moment, looking down. "I was struck by the Emperor and thrown into the Fomorian Abyss, but Vivian teleported me here."

"Vivian?" he frowned. "You mean that butterfly magical figure inside Guinevere?"

Mordred nodded.

...

Meanwhile, at the Imperial Palace...

"W-who... who are you?" stammered the court attendant, staring at the woman in front of him with absolute terror.

The imperial capital floated thousands of meters above the ground, with a dimensional phase difference separating it from the world below. Other than the Apostles, it was practically impossible for anyone to reach it. Yet somehow, this woman had simply leaped up from the ground, crossing through the dimensional barrier to arrive at the palace.

"This humble monk is Xuanzang, from the Great Tang in the East. I journey to the Western Heaven to worship Buddha and seek the sacred scriptures. As I was passing through, I would be grateful if you could inform His Majesty that this humble monk requests an audience." Xuanzang pressed her palms together in prayer position and smiled kindly at the court attendant.

After saying goodbye to Ritsuka and Ayaka, Xuanzang had come straight to the imperial capital without wasting any time.

The court attendant puffed up his chest, trying to hide his fear behind a show of authority. "You really think His Majesty would grant you an audience just because you asked?"

But before the words were even fully out of his mouth, there was a soft "click" as the tightly sealed doors of the imperial palace swung open on their own.

The court attendant's jaw dropped. "How is that possible...?"

"It seems His Majesty wishes to see this humble monk after all," Xuanzang said with a gentle smile. She walked past the stunned attendant and deeper into the palace.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she focused on her purpose. If she could somehow prevent bloodshed by convincing the Emperor to give up the invasion of Pan-Human History, that would fulfill the reason she had been summoned to this world.