Chapter 11: Irisviel is Lost ②

Cutting through the night air, Lancer dashed forward.

The battle had commenced earlier than expected, and the opponent was not the one they had anticipated. As a result, it had become a situation of outmaneuvering and being outmaneuvered simultaneously. Although it was perhaps improper, Lancer felt a surge of joy. To face Saber as an opponent was far more exhilarating than dealing with some unknown magus.

Moreover, from what he had heard, Archer was at a disadvantage. A long-range specialist forced into close combat would naturally struggle.

In other words, Lancer also had the role of defeating Saber as quickly as possible to assist Archer. The current situation presented an extremely high level of difficulty. However, that was exactly why Lancer was fired up.

According to the information provided, the location of the enemy Masters was straight ahead from the direction of the assault. There was no need for a second look; the ground bore marks too conspicuous to be mere footprints.

At the end of the trail stood a single car. Naturally, there was no sign of a person or a presence nearby.

There were likely two reasons for this. One: to control Berserker, it was better to be as close as possible. Two: they were likely hiding from a counterattack following their failed ambush.

There weren't many places to hide. At most, there was a sparse, gently sloping hill overgrown with trees beyond the guardrail. Focusing his gaze there, he spotted two women and one man. The women were attempting to descend while using obstacles as cover.

At least one of them was a Master.

If he ran at full speed, he could have cut one of them down. However... with a defiant smirk, he looked at the base of the hill. Dust was swirling along the unnaturally formed path, as if flowing backward.

"As expected, she’s coming."

If he concentrated on cutting down the one who seemed to be the Master, he would have been bisected from behind. Since Archer hadn't managed to hold the two of them back, that outcome was inevitable.

If it were possible, strategically it would be correct to focus the attack on the Masters. But, it was a strategy Lancer was unenthusiastic about from the start. Coupled with the fact that it was now impossible, he had no objections. Rather, it was a development he desired.

Saber reached the Masters at the same moment Lancer leaped high into the air, unleashing a strike from his Red Rose of Exorcism, Gáe Dearg, upon her.

Spear met blade. A fierce wind raged around them for an instant, seemingly caused by contact with the wind Noble Phantasm. It quickly subsided, and Lancer, skillfully adjusting his posture mid-air, landed without making a sound.

There was no dullness in Saber’s super-reaction or her swordsmanship. She easily countered the half-surprise attack and even pushed him back. Lancer couldn’t help but be thrilled by this.

While focusing almost all of her awareness on Lancer, Saber called out to those behind her.

"Irisviel, are you safe?"

"Eh... Yes, we’re fine. Saber, you and Lancer arrived at the same time."

"That’s good. Kariya, how about you?"

"Ugh... Damn it! For an Archer, he’s stronger in close combat than I imagined. We still have the upper hand, but if we can't finish this quickly, he'll definitely turn the tables eventually."

"That’s enough."

Having said just that, Saber resumed her battle stance.

"Get down quickly..."

"The opposite. We must return to the top." Kariya said. 

"We've already been found. In that case, we should get into the car and leave as soon as possible, rather than hiding and descending. Madam, let's go."

Led by the woman as they had been during the descent, they swiftly returned to the car. With tail lights trailing behind, the car sped away.

And what remained on the spot was the silence of the wind, the faint light of a distant streetlamp, and a dangerous atmosphere.

"Did you wait for me?"

"I wasn’t in such a hurry that I’d resent the wait. So, do you have no more hesitation?"

"None. I’m ready."

Finally, the surrounding air warped to the point of feeling like an Outer Realm.

Saber and Lancer. Among the classes of the Holy Grail War, these two were the specialists in close-quarters combat. No other combination could produce a space filled with such lethal fighting spirit just by standing there. Their combat styles were perfectly matched—perhaps too perfectly.

"Lancer, I... apologize..."

"Don't be."

Saber began to speak with an apologetic tone while maintaining her fighting intent. Lancer immediately cut her off.

"I myself had a slight misunderstanding because you were the first opponent I crossed swords with. I thought that while this is an honorable battle, it is also one where human lives can easily vanish. It seems I have dragged you into it."

"What are you saying? I, too, found the duel with you to be pleasant. If you say that, then I am also at fault. But—"

Saber grinned. Pure fighting spirit surged. His whole body felt the omen of the battle's start.

"Is this alright? In the end, it has taken the form of a duel."

"Then, there can be only one answer."

The pressure was immensely greater and stronger than when they first clashed swords. But Lancer knew he couldn't possibly lose because of it. Responding in kind, he raised his fighting spirit, channeling his focus to the very tip of his spear.

"A one-on-one confrontation is where I am strongest. Saber, now that you’ve come to this field, savor the best spear-wielding of the Knights of Fianna!"

"That’s if you can withstand the strike from the one who sustains a kingdom, Lancer!"

Simultaneous with the shout, the ground exploded. A speed in the realm of myth, which no human could hope to catch. A battle between "Perfect Forms" that could never be seen no matter how many books one opened. It began, unknown to anyone, yet more fierce than anything else.

The first clash took place at the exact midpoint between them. A high-pitched ring pierced the surroundings, and for a fraction of a second, the area lit up. Two spears and one sword. Three weapons intertwined, but the deadlock lasted only an instant. When Saber forced her body forward, the blue shadow of Lancer was lightly blown away.

The one most surprised by this result was, naturally, Lancer. As Diarmuid Ua Duibhne of the Lancer class—famed for its speed—he had his own pride. He believed he could match her in momentum, but that notion was shattered as Saber pursued him with equal velocity. At least in terms of a straight-line dash, Saber was in a realm that could rival the fastest.

(Interesting! It has to be this way!)

He couldn't win using the part he trusted the most. But this was exactly the battlefield that Diarmuid had sought, and the enemy he had desired.

Lancer was momentarily suspended in the air, unable to move. To follow up, Saber closed the distance in a single step, but this time, it wasn't a move focused on speed. It was a hammer-like blow that pursued absolute power.

If he took it head-on, his spear would break. The experience Diarmuid had cultivated through thousands of battlefields and hundreds of death-defying situations told him so. He couldn't dodge. Blocking was impossible. There was no move left against this merciless strike. At least, that would be the case for anyone other than Diarmuid.

He lightly entwined his fingers around the crimson spear, Gae Dearg. He didn't use too much strength; what he needed was flexibility.

He ran his spear parallel to the incoming sword’s trajectory. The spear merged softly with the sword, skillfully adjusting its momentum. At the same time, he used the repulsive force to shift his body. Half the change came from the sword's altered trajectory, and half from his own body's flow. Combined, it was a shift of one full body's width. The strike that should have cleaved Lancer in two ended up cutting only the air beside him.

His extended left foot touched the ground. Once in contact with the earth, he could transmit force through his center.

The human body was both convenient and inconvenient. Joints limited movement, muscles restricted output. However, this also meant that any action was possible, as long as the joints and muscles allowed it.

His toes dug into the ground. Even with his leg extended, he could apply a twist. By sliding his heel outward, his knee turned inward. This torsion created a slight opening in his side. That opening gave his latissimus dorsi the chance to generate heat, and if perfectly linked with his arm, it would provide enough power to skewer a human through the gaps in their armor, even if it wasn't a full-power blow.

The yellow tip of Gáe Buidhe (Yellow Rose of Mortality) bared its fangs to pierce her upper waist—an area with thin muscle and no bone. Targeted at the exact moment her heavy strike ended, and with her sword pinned by his red spear, Saber had limited means to respond.

It was an attack with timing even he could praise. However, in Saber's face as she faced the strike, there wasn't a trace of panic.

She didn't try to force the spear away; instead, she relaxed her body, letting it go with the flow. By twisting her waist in synchronization, the spearhead simply slid over her waist plate.

One by one, she handled the threats with certainty. First, she dealt with the counterattack, then she untangle the spear. She swung her freed sword in a horizontal flash. Against an ordinary opponent, that would have been the end.

The blow that blew Lancer away, followed by a merciless, high-grade sword strike. No one would doubt the title of "the most excellent" for Saber, who showed such a flowing combination. However—the Lancer facing her was also a true Hero. Returning his outward heel to the front, he applied force to his fingertips once more. He controlled the power born within his muscles through the direction of his joints, turning it into the motive force to move backward this time.

The strike should have carved halfway through Lancer’s abdomen. Instead, the tip of the blade only grazed his clothes and passed harmlessly by.

But Saber must have anticipated that as well. She closed the distance even further. By the time her sword passed, she had finished twisting her body. The moment her leading foot touched the ground, an invisible blade swung upward. Her target: his legs.

Her stepping speed and sword speed rivaled Lancer's hyper-speed. However, not every speed she possessed was equal to Lancer’s.

His body, which had been launched into the air, had sufficiently descended. This meant he no longer needed to use irregular acrobatics to attack and evade. Thighs, knees, calves, heels, toes—if all of them linked correctly, he didn't need to use great force.

For Lancer, it was merely a light step to the side. A high-speed movement technique that barely moved his upper body. But to Saber, it might as well have looked like he vanished. Moreover, having that happen in the middle of an attack motion had a devastating effect. The confusion of losing sight of the enemy and the cooldown after the move. If this wasn't a gap, then what was?

As a parting gift for his evasion, he rushed the Yellow Spear forward. It was a vicious strike aimed at the cervical vertebrae from behind.

Saber likely saw nothing. Only the trajectory of her own sword, ordinary weeds, and the soaking dark night. At most, that was all she could see; certainly, nothing related to an attack was in her field of vision.

Was it intuition, or did she anticipate it? Lancer had no way of knowing. But one thing was certain. Saber let go of the sword with her right hand and slightly tilted her head. And she blocked the spearhead, which sought to end her life, with her gauntlet.

(To perfectly counter an attack from a blind spot by an enemy who had vanished from sight—how was such a thing possible?!)

It wasn't that he had underestimated her. There was no negligence or pride. So far, his body was moving perfectly. Yet, he couldn't even make Saber change her expression.

Is this what King Arthur at the peak of her resolve is like?

A further follow-up would be impossible. In fact, a half-baked attack would only benefit Saber. Lancer widened the distance and reset his stance.

After exchanging blows several times, he realized something. If he challenged the current Saber head-on, he would be crushed. Her superior Strength Parameter weighed heavily on him. On top of that, Saber hadn't even used her Mana Burst skill at full power yet. To be precise, her Mana Burst through her sword had variations in power. Even if the sword swings were the same, the power differed due to the Mana Burst. If he blocked every hit the same way, he would be overwhelmed in a single blow.

From the start, Lancer had to use his two spears to distract and win through sheer number of moves. As someone holding different weapons in each hand, he was no match for an opponent who held one weapon with both hands and possessed a higher rank of Strength. And for a head-on collision, the most necessary thing was, unfortunately, the power to suppress the opponent.

The situation was in no way advantageous for Lancer. However, a head-on clash is not the only way to fight.

"Saber, I will show you why my class is called the fastest and most agile."

He looked around. The surrounding darkness meant that visibility would quickly be lost if they moved a certain distance.

In other words, the only obstacles were the sparsely growing trees.

"Also, I’ll use this battlefield to favors me. I shall make full use of it."

“Go ahead and try. I’ll intercept every last one of your moves."

Lancer smiled at the utterly fearless reply, and his body quietly sprang. However, it wasn't forward. It was sideways.

Saber was indeed fast. But that was the result of using Mana Burst to force a boost in one direction. To use it continuously in different directions carried a high risk of losing balance. Even if it were possible, she couldn't keep up with Lancer’s flexible and boundless movements.

Lancer’s foot lifted from the ground. With just that, his body became faster than a bullet and more supple than a beast, turning him into a hunter targeting his prey.

From Saber’s left-rear. A Divine Speed triple-thrust: two with Gae Dearg and one with Gae Buidhe. She twisted her body and parried two with her sword, but the last one could not be perfectly evaded. The sharp, lunging blade grazed Saber’s upper arm. She fired a counterattack, but it was a desperate move. Evasion required no effort for Lancer; he dodged easily and melted back into the realm of divine speed.

Lancer couldn't boast much success in this exchange. However, its meaning was huge. It proved that even Saber couldn't respond if he maintained top speed.

Yet, she would soon adapt to even this speed. Speed, after all, was merely one element, just like strength.

(Don’t be arrogant.)

He chided himself. Speed was merely talent—a natural gift that grew on its own, despite his efforts. What he truly had to rely on was combat technique itself, colored by blood and glory. That was what even Rider and Archer considered a threat. No matter how blessed one's parameters were, they could not reach the level of pure technique.

And, excluding Berserker, Saber was the only Servant capable of countering Lancer's technique.

He had matched her overwhelming physical strength. Then, it was impossible that a King of Knights could not do the same. He felt this truth through their repeated clashes.

Lancer’s lunge was terrifyingly silent and sharp. It was a combat trajectory that had reached the level of art, impossible for others. Gae Dearg, trailing a red wake, ran along the ground, aiming for her right foot.

Saber reacted instantly, sensing his battle spirit. However, although her movement was only a split second, it was definitely late. Her stance—whether it was common in her homeland he didn't know—involved putting her right foot forward and holding the sword with both hands. It reminded him more of Eastern Japanese "Kendo" than Western swordsmanship. Every stance has a weakness, and for this stance, it was a sudden assault from the right side.

The swung spear passed right under her foot; she had avoided it by lifting her leg. The second strike followed with the yellow spear, aiming for the part of her arm unprotected by armor. But this, too, was naturally blocked by her gauntlet. However, since she had used the freedom of her arm for defense, a counterattack with her sword was impossible. With this, he had sealed her attack, defense, and evasion.

The Red Spear (Gae Dearg) aimed to penetrate her defense, and the Yellow Spear (Gae Buidhe) aimed to obstruct her recovery. The combination, which could have been fatal, boasted a hyper-speed that Lancer himself could praise. Following the left arm, it aimed for the right flank. If she took the hit, all her combat actions would be hindered.

(Is this all you have, Saber?!)

His offensive was going too well. Lancer raised his face to glare at Saber, raising a voice close to anger... and the light in her strong eyes set off an alarm in his experience.

Saber’s body flew at him without warning. He felt no sign of her moving her feet—but she had Mana Burst. Whether it was physical strength or magical energy, as long as it functioned as thrust, they were the same. No, what was more amazing was her stability. In terms of balance, Lancer held the upper hand. Yet, despite being in an unstable state, she could fly straight even after a sudden maneuver.

Her body approached rapidly. His spear, only halfway thrust, could not reach its target. It was parried outward by the hilt, her armor remaining untouched. Gae Buidhe didn't have the power to break through that.

His arms, having failed the attack, could not respond to another action in time. No, more than that, it was pointless. Saber had breached Lancer's range. At this timing, all he could do was brace for the attack.

He gritted his teeth. Their faces approached so closely they were about to touch, but before that, his chest and elbow made a fierce contact.

As he was blown away, he became aware of his ribs protesting with a crackling sound. They weren't broken. But they weren't in good shape either.

He had no time to contort his face in pain. Saber's pursuit was fierce and merciless. A slash, impossible to parry, closed in on Lancer’s body.

Their Strength values were fundamentally different. On top of that, Lancer was wielding two weapons. If an opponent with a two-handed weapon delivered a full-power strike, receiving it would only lead to death.

However—the battlefield was still in Lancer’s favor.

Where he was blown, a single tree stood—a flimsy thing, not even three meters tall. But for Lancer, with his supple legs, it was more than enough strength to use as a foothold.

He landed and twisted his body. He used Gae Buidhe as a shield against the sword, sending violent sparks flying... but it did not break. The power of the sword accelerated his twist, and finally, the blade passed without touching his body.

Astonishment appeared on Saber's face. Her lethal strike had cut the air due to a shift in momentum.

"That's for the elbow," Lancer thought as he thrust Gae Dearg. It wasn't perfectly aimed, but it managed to gouge the area near her collarbone.

He jumped off the tree, wanting to reset. By the time he landed, Saber had also stepped back to create distance.

"You understand, don't you, Saber?"

Blood splattered from the crimson spear he swung.

With their Masters absent, there was no means of healing.

Both had taken damage. But the meaning was vastly different. While Lancer had landed two spear strikes, however small, Saber’s sword had yet to reach him.

"The previous battlefield favored you. But this time, I am the one making use of the terrain."

The containers lined up on the sides—a battlefield that severely restricted movement other than in a straight line. That was the perfect field for Saber, who could utilize her power and armor. If he hadn't landed Gae Buidhe through a tactical ruse, he surely wouldn't have been able to wound her.

But this place was different. Nothing hindered his swiftness. The scattered obstacles even helped Lancer utilize his sense of balance.

This time, it would be Saber's turn to be unable to finish the attack.

However,

"Did you think—with just that—"

Beside her right cheek, she leveled her sword in a thrusting stance. Her fastest still wouldn't reach. In that case, she would go faster. A response so simple it was sublime.

"—you could handle me?"

"Kuh—kuku. No, not at all. That is exactly why you are the warrior I acknowledged."

The battlefield was to his liking, he had seized the initiative—and yet he had receive an elbow strike even in a position of complete advantage. Moreover, Gae Buidhe, the Yellow Spear that could make damage permanent, had yet to land a single hit.

The pounding in his chest centered on his ribs turned directly into battle spirit without him even realizing it. He concentrated on the blade pointed at him, and the strike that was aimed straight for his head wavered for an instant.

She moved. The ground shattered beneath Saber’s feet.

At the same time, Lancer thrust his spear. His greatest trust was in his skill. Knowing this, he had no intention of losing in a comparison of hyper-speed worlds. A world where a second was shorter than an instant. Since speed was his creed, there was no way he could lose a contest there.

High-speed combat was Lancer’s forte. Her sword might gouge his shoulder, but in exchange, he would surely pierce her heart. That was his absolute conviction.

That was precisely why Lancer instinctively raised his spear. A desperate strike with a high chance of failure. Saber wouldn't possibly start a contest with such a move. An experienced intuition, similar to a hunch, moved his body on its own.

Compressed air exploded before his eyes. If it were just air, it wouldn't be a problem. But if that sharp air was a Noble Phantasm, it could easily kill even a Servant.

A chill ran down his spine. To make it look like she was coming head-on, only to calmly place a dagger at his throat—what a tactical maneuver. Had he been a split second late in noticing, he would have surely died.

He couldn't afford to be terrified yet. The spear that should have gouged her heart was forced into defense, leaving nothing to stop Saber. The spear that had moved forward halfway was lightly parried. Everything on the line connecting the blade and Lancer vanished.

This was bad. Faster than he could feel or think, he twisted his neck violently. He had no certainty that was where she would aim. Experience made him do it.

His vision swapped dizzily, but he kept Saber in the center at all times. If he lost sight of her, that would be the end.

A searing heat ran through the base of his neck. Without even checking, he knew the sword had bitten in. But the fact that he could feel the heat meant it wasn't a fatal wound. Believing that, he knocked the sword up with Gae Buidhe.

He didn't know the extent of his injury. But his left arm moved. Therefore, on the battlefield, that injury was the same as if it didn't exist. As the sword left his body, he crouched down instantly.

This was Saber’s answer to his speed: strike first and force him into a close-quarters brawl on the spot.

(Should I retreat? No, that’s no good. Our speed in closing and opening distance is equal. I can’t shake her off.)

Then, he had no choice but to attack.

He made it seem like he was leaping into her air-control zone—and instead thrust the spear from below. But this was a feint. The main target was the Yellow Spear aimed at her thigh. The Red Spear was slapped away by the hilt, and the Yellow Spear was deflected by the sword—both easily countered. In that moment, he took a step back.

But Saber anticipated even that. She closed the distance instantly and slashed upward with the sword that had been lowered for the parry.

"Naive!"

"That’s my line!"

Just as Saber predicted his retreat, Lancer also anticipated the follow-up. No, he could even say he induced it. Especially if the Yellow Spear was a bluff, and its purpose was to limit the sword’s trajectory.

He didn't intend to completely avoid that sword. The blade caught his left flank, sliced diagonally, severed two ribs, and sent up a spray of blood. However, the price for that was...

Lancer saw it clearly. The spear he had thrust was firmly lodged in her right thigh.

Blood flowed heavily. Strength rapidly drained from his body, and his vision blurred. He jammed the butt of his spear into the ground, barely managing to keep from falling. The wave of exhaustion hitting him wasn't just from blood loss. The movements that exceeded his limits without him realizing it, and the accompanying damage, all burst out at once.

(Don’t let your knees buckle from this! Saber will be here immediately!)

He took one deep breath. But that alone wouldn't return strength to his body. He took another breath, so deep it reached his core, and finally his vision returned.

Trails of blood dotted the ground. Beyond them, Saber was on one knee. The thick fabric on her right side was stained deep red. She tried to stand using her sword as a cane, but she couldn't stand properly. After checking her leg several times, she finally stood firmly. She wasn't unable to fight, but she had sustained damage to a vital muscle.

With that leg, she couldn't launch the kind of charges she had before.

A golden opportunity. The best he’d get.

His own damage was indeed great. But if he missed this, he would have no chance of winning.

He tried to take a step forward, but then it happened. The Yellow Spear in his left hand slipped out of his grasp on its own.

It didn't slip due to blood, nor because he failed to grip it. The strength in his fingertips, along with the sensation, had simply vanished. He understood without needing to test it. He could no longer hold a spear with those fingers. Saber's strike had successfully robbed Lancer of his combat capability.

Losing the two-spear technique, which prevented the enemy from focusing on a single point, was painful. But it was the same for Saber. If she couldn't possibly catch up to Lancer's movements, her options were limited.

Simultaneously, they both re-gripped their weapons. And Lancer thought—Saber must have thought the same—that they could not lose after coming this far.

"What’s wrong, Lancer? It seems I won’t be seeing your boasted spear technique anymore."

"It’s true I lost one spear, but it’s premature to think that has cast a shadow on my spear technique. I’ll show you that I remain the best of the Knights of Fianna even with one spear."

They both knew they were putting on a brave face to the utmost.

Although the damage itself was far from fatal, the decay of their combat ability was significant. If they couldn't fight as they usually did, mistakes would accumulate. A blunder would bring them closer to death.

In other words, the battle wouldn't last much longer.

Just as he realized the end was near and prepared to charge—

Saber suddenly swung her sword at the ground. The light-trail of the blade became a band for an instant. In other words, she wasn't cloaking her sword in her Noble Phantasm.

A compressed air projectile slammed into the ground. It thinly gouged the earth, scattering a smoke screen of grass and soil into the surroundings. The spreading smoke easily swallowed Lancer, cutting off his vision even a few meters ahead.

"A surprise attack, is it?"

He spoke out loud and swung his spear once. The smoke parted only where he cut, but it was virtually meaningless.

(Fine then.)

He concentrated all his nerves into his senses.

This wasn't even a clever trick; it was a poor tactic. There was no way a mere smoke screen could catch a Heroic Spirit off guard—especially one as skilled in melee combat as Lancer.

(Let me show you how it’s done.)

He sharpened his body like a blade. No matter what direction or what kind of attack she launched, he would surely land a counter.

One second, two seconds, three seconds... he continued to concentrate his nerves. Five seconds, six seconds... he began to wonder what she was up to. Then, ten seconds passed, and the dust began to settle. It was then that he realized Saber had retreated.

He stood alone in a place where no one else remained. He dematerialized his spear, along with the one he had dropped.

"Why did she run?"

Ultimately, Lancer's concern came down to that single question.

When they were facing each other, Saber had surely intended to defeat him. At least at that point, she shouldn't have been thinking about retreating.

If Lancer had charged at that moment, she would surely have been stabbed in the back. Was there something that forced her to take such a risk?

“...Well, never mind.”

It was unsatisfying, but the battle was over. There was no point in thinking about it further.

He checked to see if he should support Archer. Looking at the distant battlefield, Berserker was no longer there. That fight was also over. At the same time, he confirmed that his Master, Kayneth, and the others were safe.

Once again, he had failed to take Saber’s head. It couldn't be called the best result. However, the victory conditions had been met. For now, he could be satisfied with that.

This time, instead of running through the city, he returned to the base in Spirit Form. However, he suddenly looked back.

What was this lingering feeling in his chest? It felt like there was something more than just failing to reach a conclusion.

---

"Ugh..."

It hurt. Not just one place, but every part of her body. In fact, she realized that before the fact that she had woken up.

"What is..."

She tried to say she was awake, but a headache cut her off. She tried to push herself up with her hand—but even that she had to abandon in the face of pain. Everything in the world surrounding her seemed to be moving to torment her.

She wasn't used to pain. But she knew only what to do. Curl up her body and mind, and just shut down like a child. If she did that, even if she couldn't forget the pain, the pain would eventually forget her and leave.

Suddenly, she wondered where the pain that vanished went. Perhaps it was being pushed onto someone else as it disappeared. A ridiculous thought. It had no place being discussed, whether scientifically or mystically. It was even fairy-tale-like. But at that moment, she strangely affirmed it.

The pain and inequality overflowing the world. People forcing it upon each other. That was the kind of world Kiritsugu Emiya wanted to change. And Irisviel von Einzbern loved that man. And the wish of the man she loved was far more worth risking her life for than something as big and formless as "the world." That’s why...

(That's right. We are in the middle of the Holy Grail War...)

The gradual return of her ability to think was proof that the headache was receding. Unfortunately, the pain in her entire body remained, and she couldn't bring herself to move.

(We escaped in the car. Saber stopped them for us. Then, because the decoy wasn't working well after all, we tried to meet up with Kiritsugu. While we were doing that, Berserker lost. We hurried to meet him, and before that... I remember now, we were attacked.)

By Assassin.

She opened her eyes wide and tried to sit up. She couldn't complain about the pain anymore. Anyway—she didn’t know what to do at all—but she had to do something.

She failed to lift her body. The intense pain wasn't something Irisviel could overcome with willpower alone. However, she succeeded in opening her eyes and securing her vision.

The scene reflected in her eyes was, in a word, bleak. It didn't have the filthiness of a ruin. Yet, it lacked the lived-in feeling of a place people frequently used. It was just a room that looked unused. Irisviel was located on a platform in the corner of a vast, concrete-encased room.

At that time, there was no combat power that could handle being attacked by a Servant. Though, the question was where such power would even exist. At any rate, she had been attacked, was still alive, and was in an unknown place. In that case, she could only think she had been kidnapped.

(But what is the reason for keeping me alive?)

She couldn't think of one. Whether they knew she was a Master or not.

Of course, if they knew her true role—that she was the Lesser Holy Grail itself—it would be a different story. But then, who would know that?

She managed to roll over by hitting her elbow against the floor (though in reality, she probably just pushed weakly). Her field of vision suddenly broadened. At least, it was more meaningful than the unchanging ceiling. Because she found a single priest.

A cassock with nothing particularly special about it. A tall stature, different from Kiritsugu’s. If Kiritsugu was like steel, this man was like a tree. A face where sternness preceded beauty or ugliness. And above all, dark eyes where no emotion could be seen. Without a doubt, it was Kirei Kotomine. There was nothing about him that was different from the last time he appeared. If she had to point something out, it would be the Golden Cup he held in his hand.

(...A cup?)

She couldn't explain why. She had a feeling it belonged to her. She could declare that it was in the wrong place. Even though she had no basis for it.

"O... Ohhh...! This is the Holy Grail!"

Suddenly, a voice spoke. It wasn't Kirei, and of course, it wasn't herself. There were no other people around, yet the voice appeared unnaturally.

"Give it to me! It is mine..."

"Touch it if you wish. That will be your final moment."

"Guh... you brat, still speaking so insolently...!"

No, it wasn't that no one was there. Besides the words, there was a sound like something small wriggling. It was so small she hadn't noticed. On the floor, countless insects were swarming.

She knew they were related to Magecraft. But even for that, the insects were too hideous. They transcended the level of mere bad taste. They belonged to a deeper sediment, a realm humans should never touch. Something like the secret of vampirization (Bloodsuckers), the kind of things that abandon humanity. That was the atmosphere those insects exuded.

"What are you going to do with me, you two?"

"Are you awake?"

Kirei’s emotionless eyes looked at Irisviel.

Caught in the man's gaze, her body shuddered. Why was it? Those eyeballs, which looked like poorly made glass spheres with paint on them. The time they met before seemed much better.

The pain in her body had significantly decreased. Enough for her to move her body and sit up on the platform. However, one part, her heart, was accelerating her distress.

An intense sense of loss that felt like it might even stop her heartbeat. The pain made her feel like she was about to lose consciousness immediately, and conversely, that she couldn't let go of her awareness. The one thing she gained was realizing that her physical discomfort was centered on her heart.

(Wait, what? My body is moving normally?)

It was strange. Currently, she could move her body like a normal human. That shouldn't be possible. Because the existence known as Irisviel von Einzbern had already begun to lose her function as a human being. Moreover, after collecting the second Servant, she should have been so exhausted she couldn't move.

Yet, in reality, her body was moving normally. No, more than that. The only part of her body complaining of discomfort right now was her heart.

(...Wait. The heart... could it be!)

She placed her hand on her chest. She tried to check the response of the Grail, but there was no response. It wasn't a malfunction or a breakdown. A complete pass-through. In other words, loss.

"No way... Is that the Holy Grail!?"

"You finally noticed. You're slow. Or are you sharp?"

Kirei placed a hand on his chin, as if troubled by something trivial. Even that gesture seemed trivial.

The Holy Grail must not fall into anyone's hands. That was an absolute unwritten rule. A vessel of God that brought all miracles into reality—that was why it was delicate. If something other than the pure touched it, it would become impure at once. A shadow would fall over the miracle that should occur.

"Stop it! That is not your—"

"That is no longer something for you to worry about, young lady."

The insects made a small "kiki" chirping sound. They spread out as they approached Irisviel.

"It seems this boy intended to let you go... but for me, it would be a bit inconvenient if we were found out yet. So, young lady of the Einzberns, I'm sorry, but..."

—Become my meal.

The insects chirped again. This time, it wasn't just one or two. All the insects chirped simultaneously, seemingly with joy.

"Hiii...!"

A scream escaped her involuntarily. Those hideous things approached with a rustling sound. She tried to put strength into her body to run, but she couldn't move well. Her body was frozen by the aftereffects of her heart and fear.

They finally reached her feet, but they didn't climb up immediately. As if savoring Irisviel’s fear, they began to torment her.

"Now, there is no need to worry. I shall take care of the rest, including the Holy Grail. Just for a little while... about two hours, I suppose. You shall continue to regret being born and being a woman; that is all. Oh, your skin will be an excellent material for an ambush against that Kiritsugu Emiya. Yes, I shall make good use of that as well."

The old man’s voice and laughter wouldn't stop.

The reason she didn't beg for her life wasn't because she made a calm judgment that the speaker wouldn't listen. It was simply that the tension stuck in her throat prevented her from uttering any words. If she could have, she would surely have let out a great scream and sobbed.

(Someone—)

Perhaps it was her first time praying. To God or something, perhaps something even higher-dimensional. Or maybe to the grass and trees nearby, or the meaningless concrete.

She didn't think it would have meaning. Before that, she didn't have the luxury to debate the merit of meaning. She just offered a prayer. The object of the prayer didn't matter. What mattered was how pure it was. That was all that a prayer needed.

However, no matter what kind of prayer it was, there could be no one to hear it but herself. If someone did hear it, it would be only an omniscient and omnipotent God. So, that prayer reached no one.

(Someone, help me!)

Unreached, unheard. A ritual of merely chanting. Performing a meaningless act.

But how lucky she was that help truly arrived.

"Wha, what’s going on?!"

"Kyaa...!"

The wall exploded. The building shook. A roar echoed. Lightning crashed. A disaster that seemed to concentrate all the world's natural calamities in one place filled the single room.

Irisviel could only curl up and cower. Even the swarm of insects retreated to the corner of the room all at once. Only Kirei remained unchanged, completely unperturbed.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

A loud, booming laugh that seemed to reach the heavens.

The feet of a beast that looked like an ox slammed into the floor. Cracks ran across the entire floor, causing the room to tilt slightly.

"I, Iskandar, the King of Conquerors, have arrived!"

Standing tall on the chariot hitched behind the ox was a large man. Servant Rider, one of the Heroic Spirits who could claim to be the equal of the King Arthur whom Irisviel believed in.

That man had appeared here.

"That Archer... he's given me the best role by letting me be the first to reach the mastermind! Now, you lot, don't think you can carry out your schemes in the shadows now that I have appeared!"