*A few hours earlier*
On one of the abandoned islands within the vast expanse that is Atlantis, a new hero was summoned by the World.
This hero was none other than Theseus, who appeared there with a mission: to rendezvous with the Grand Servant and assist her in her objective.
Initially, the first summoned Servants arrived with the goal of defeating the enemy, reaching Olympus, and destroying the Fantasy Tree; however, due to the appearance and actions of the Grand Servant, the World—which was monitoring everything—decided to alter the objective for the summoned heroes.
Now, the Servants summoned by the World had a specific task to carry out, and Theseus was no exception.
"I see," the Greek hero said, surveying the area. He sensed no one nearby; he was completely alone.
Fortunately, the summoning process had provided him with some geographical information about the location, giving him an idea of where the Grand Servant and her stronghold were situated.
As he walked through the forest, he felt a strange sensation. He scanned his surroundings but saw nothing, sensed nothing, and found no one nearby.
Confused, he shook his head, attributing the feeling to paranoia brought on by the tense situation within the Lostbelt.
But the moment he took a step forward, he heard the shot.
*Bang*
He could not react in time; the hero Theseus's head was obliterated in less than a second, killing him instantly—a quick and painless end.
Silence—there was nothing but silence as the hero's body dissolved into golden particles, leaving the island completely deserted... or so it seemed on the surface.
...
*Present Day*
On one of the many islands of Atlantis, six Servants were gathered around a campfire.
"Is it safe to have a fire going?" asked a young girl dressed in an outfit that blended noble and Gothic styles, yet still looked adorable.
"Don't worry, nothing should happen; enemy forces are entirely focused on the fortress," explained a tall man in armor. "We'll need to be careful once we approach that place, but for now, we can relax."
The knight's words put the group somewhat at ease.
"You certainly seem well-informed, don't you?" remarked a woman with noble, aristocratic features, exuding the air of a queen or empress.
"I've spent weeks in these lands searching for others so we could regroup at the fortress," the knight explained.
"I expected nothing less of you, Sir Lancelot," said another Servant in the group—also clad in knight's armor, though his appearance was less imposing than the first.
At the compliment, he simply smiled at his fellow Knight of the Round Table.
"It is the only thing I can do now," lamented the man—now identified as Sir Lancelot, the strongest and most powerful of the Knights of the Round Table.
Right now, he could only dwell on the sins and mistakes committed during his lifetime, seeking a measure of redemption by finding other Servants in this Lostbelt and helping them reach the fortress.
The very next moment, a woman with dark skin, blue hair, and a skull mask appeared.
"I see you've returned. Did you discover anything?" he asked the newcomer, who—for obvious reasons—had to be a Hassan.
"Nothing. The island is deserted, save for small animals; the largest one I found was a squirrel," the female Servant explained, walking closer to the campfire. "There are traces of a fight, though they are old; the local flora and vegetation recovered quickly, but the wildlife didn't—which is why most of the islands are virtually uninhabited."
That gave some food for thought, while others had their minds on other matters.
"So, what are we going to do?" asked the woman with the aristocratic air.
"Isn't it obvious? We need to get out of here as soon as possible," said another woman dressed in a red uniform.
The first woman glared at the second in displeasure, while the other stared right back, making it clear she wouldn't back down.
"Do you have any idea who I am? To speak to me like that?" the aristocrat demanded, her voice laced with pride and a hint of anger.
"Fat lot of good that does me," the other replied, her expression remaining indifferent to the supposed authority figure standing before her.
"Just so you know, I—"
*Bang*
The sound of a gunshot rang out; the very next second, the aristocrat's brains were blown out, and she died instantly.
"What the—?" Lancelot was the first to react, springing to his feet and drawing his sword. He turned toward the source of the shot, raising his blade into a defensive stance.
*Bang*
Another shot echoed through the area, but this time, no one died.
Sir Lancelot quickly deflected the shot with his sword, preventing another death right there.
Tension mounted significantly as the five of them stood motionless, waiting for the enemy to make a move, yet nothing happened.
"I thought you said there was no one here but us?" the knight asked Hassan.
"I searched the entire island; had a Servant been present, I would have detected it somehow. The only explanation for this is..."
"Is what?" the little girl asked.
"An Assassin," the knight concluded, sword in hand, remaining hyper-vigilant.
Everyone was on edge, but the one having the hardest time was none other than Sir Lancelot—the very man who had declared the area safe.
He had caused them all to lower their guard; as a result, one of them had died in a split second, and now they faced an invisible enemy.
"We need to get out of here," Lancelot declared, looking at his fellow Knight of the Round Table, who was deep in thought.
"The assassin struck at the sorceress, then at Lancelot, but stopped attacking after that—likely realizing he couldn't kill him that way," the knight mused analytically, deciphering the enemy's fighting style. "If he wanted to take down the strongest opponent here, he would have targeted Lancelot or me, but he didn't. That means he isn't attacking to kill the strongest ones, but rather..."
As the thought concluded, his eyes widened in realization.
"Move," the knight said to the woman standing beside him—the one in the red uniform.
The moment he reached out and shoved her aside, the shot rang out.
*Bang*
Blood splattered onto the woman as she watched the knight save her from death—at the cost of his own right arm. "Sir Gaheris!" Lancelot exclaimed, watching his comrade being maimed while saving the woman beside him.
Gaheris fell to the ground, clutching his arm, as the woman in red stepped forward to examine the wound.
"I'm fine," he told Lancelot, releasing his arm to point in a direction—one different from where the shot had originated. "Quickly, before he hides."
Sir Lancelot glanced at him for a moment, masking his emotions, and nodded.
Sword in hand, he sprinted toward the source of the shot, while the others prepared to move.
Within seconds, the Round Table's mightiest knight reached the area where the shots had come from; in a split second, a glint of moonlight revealed the enemy's location.
Without hesitation, he lunged with his sword.
*Bang*
The figure vanished again, but this time the bullet struck the tip of the sword, shattering the projectile into six fragments that scattered to the sides.
One of them struck Lancelot's armor but merely shattered it, sparing him from any actual injury.
The knight's assault did not end there; leaping forward again, he kept his sword aimed, hoping to slay the assassin with a single blow.
But his attack was halted by the enemy sniper.
"I expected nothing less from you, Sir Lancelot," said the red-eyed, blond man wearing a gas mask, staring straight into his eyes.
Lancelot recognized the phrase—the very same one Gaheris had used—though the tone was different now; it was no longer friendly but laced with mockery and sarcasm. Worse still, the words implied that the man had likely been listening to them from the very beginning.
Gritting his teeth in frustration, the knight put far more force into his next strike, shattering the assassin's weapon and forcing him to leap backward to create distance before drawing a military-style knife.
The two stood motionless, locking eyes.
Lancelot used the moment to calm himself and clear his mind, studying the enemy's stance. Weapon concealed behind his back, one foot forward, ready for a counterattack—this was clearly no ordinary assassin.
"You aren't going to attack; you're stalling so the others can escape. How noble—but that won't stop me," the assassin said, leaping to dodge Lancelot and sprinting toward where the others were likely making their getaway.
The Knight of the Lake reacted instantly, moving to intercept the assassin's landing with a slash, but the man managed to deflect the blow with his military knife and land safely on the ground.
Sir Lancelot unleashed a flurry of strikes, but to his dismay, the enemy dodged every single one—as if he could see the attacks coming from miles away, or as if he knew exactly what Lancelot was going to do before he even did it. Spinning rapidly, he unleashed a slash that destroyed a large portion of the forest before him; however, to his misfortune, the Assassin simply shifted his body—leaning aside—to dodge Lancelot's most powerful strike.
"My turn," the blond man declared, pulling a canister from his clothing and tossing it at the knight.
Acting on pure instinct, the knight slashed at the device, only for it to explode and envelop his position in a thick cloud of smoke.
Lancelot could not avoid inhaling the fumes and felt a wave of weakness wash over him instantly; yet, his instincts kicked in just in time, forcing him to raise his sword and parry the Assassin's incoming attack.
"The Saber class really is a nuisance," the Assassin remarked, spinning around to deliver a kick that sent the knight flying out of the smoke cloud.
Bracing himself with his sword to come to a halt, the Knight of the Lake felt his head spinning and a wave of dizziness wash over him. He was forced to drop to his knees and retch, spitting up nothing but the bile his body could produce.
"Incredible—that formula was capable of incapacitating thousands of elephants, or at least that was the potency I gave it, yet you inhale it just once and only feel dizzy," the assassin said, stepping out of the gas cloud without issue. "Luckily, you lot only have resistance to magic, not immunity; *that* would be a problem."
Agnatas shook off the dizziness and nausea; he stood up as if nothing were wrong, ignoring the sensation of the world spinning and swaying around him.
"Who are you?" Lancelot asked, trying to remain steady without staggering.
"Does it matter?" the assassin countered, lunging into the fight; yet, despite his vertigo, the Knight of the Lake managed to hold him off.
Dante couldn't help but admire Sir Lancelot's combat style—more refined than Artoria's—and the fact that he could still respond effectively despite suffering from dizziness.
Just as the swordsman lunged to attack, the blond man grabbed another gas device and smashed it open himself, flooding the area with gas and forcing his opponent to clamp his mouth shut and hold his breath.
Elsewhere, the woman in red could be seen carrying the wounded Gaheris, guided by the young girl toward the spot where the boat that brought them there was supposed to be. "How did you know he would attack me?" the pink-haired woman asked the knight.
"Simple logic: he should have targeted Lancelot or me first, but he went for the sorceress instead. That implies he recognized the threat she posed to him—and by extension, he must know who each of us is. He chose his targets based on how much trouble each of us could cause, and one of the most common tactics in warfare is taking out the healers," the Knight of the Round Table explained, offering what insight he could.
Just then, Hassan appeared beside the three of them.
"Lancelot is currently engaging the Assassin," the woman with the skull mask reported.
"Good," said the woman in red, pausing to sit Gaheris down and begin administering first aid to his arm. "There. That should allow you to move on your own, just in case we come under attack."
Gaheris stood up; his arm still hurt, but the pain had subsided enough for him to move. Fighting would still be difficult, however—especially with a missing arm.
The group started to move, but an explosion accompanied by a billowing cloud of smoke appeared nearby, drawing everyone's attention.
"They aren't far," Hassan declared. "We need to move quickly."
The four of them immediately set off toward the ship, driven largely by anxiety over whether the vessel was safe or if enemies were surrounding their only means of escape from the island.
Meanwhile, clouds of smoke kept appearing in rapid succession, filling the entire area.
Visibility inside the smoke was poor; one could barely make out Lancelot emerging from the haze, his hand pressed over his nose and his mouth tightly shut.
Once outside, he took a deep breath, only to turn around and catch a device right in the face.
This time, he failed to avoid inhaling the smoke, leaving him feeling weak as the world began to spin uncontrollably.
The Knight of the Lake quickly rolled across the ground to escape the cloud, ending up sprawled on the earth.
Just as he was about to rise, he saw his opponent looming over him, staring down with another device in hand.
He tried to move the moment he noticed it, but his dizziness prevented him from getting up immediately; this gave Dante time to destroy the device that had been filling the area with smoke.
Lancelot tried to cover his mouth and nose but sensed danger; sword in hand, he attempted an attack, yet the blond-haired man dodged easily and struck him in the chest. The blow knocked the wind out of him, forcing him to inhale the surrounding smoke.
"Incredible. You have no idea how much toxin I packed into those devices; they aren't designed to kill but to take down Servants—yet here you are, getting back up like it's nothing," Dante remarked as he moved behind the knight and knocked him down. Once the knight was on the ground, Dante stepped on his chest, forcing him to inhale even more smoke. "I actually regret not using Hydra venom now, but since you're all so famous, I figured several of you would know how to neutralize it—like that Assassin who was with your group."
"So, you knew exactly who each of us was," Lancelot managed to say from the ground as the toxins continued to course through his body. "That's why you killed her first." "Obviously, Semiramis's Noble Phantasm would have been a real nuisance; turning everything into poison—even I'm not sure I could withstand that. I'd rather not take the risk. Then there's you—the knight who slept with his king's queen, one of the witch Morgan's sons, one of the leaders of the Hassans, a sentient book, and a nurse from the Crimean War."
With that said, Dante drew a pistol and aimed it at Lancelot's head; however, drawing strength from a source even he couldn't identify, Lancelot grabbed his sword and slashed the weapon from the assassin's hand, causing the shot to go wide.
He immediately tried to rise, but a kick to the face sent him sprawling to the ground, rolling out from under the dome.
The Knight of the Lake attempted to stand, but the violent spin and the toxins in his system forced him to retch—or at least try to.
At that moment, he heard a voice, though he could not see his opponent.
"You surprised me; you caught me off guard," Dante declared from his hiding spot. "Since you're proving difficult to eliminate, I'd rather switch targets while you're incapacitated—before the other one gets away."
With that, the sound faded away.
"Damn you," Lancelot exclaimed, struggling to rise, though his body was barely responding to his commands.