In an instant, Lancelot rushed in front of Saber.
Saber only felt a terrifying force pressing down on him. Caught so suddenly, his strength failed to respond in time, and he staggered back.
But Lancelot did not hesitate in the slightest. The sword in his hand swept down toward Saber's neck with ruthless precision.
The air itself was split apart, and the crescent-shaped slash roared as if tangible. Even before it made contact, a bloody mark was carved onto Saber's neck by the sheer pressure, proof enough that this strike was no mere threat.
Saber's azure eyes widened in momentary confusion, unable to comprehend why the situation had suddenly worsened. But he had no time to dwell on it. Shifting his legs, he bent his body backward, narrowly slipping through the howling arc of sword light.
His silver-white armor clattered under the strain, and the clear edge of the blade passed within a hair's breadth of his nose.
Barely evading the strike, Saber twisted the holy sword in his grasp, turning with the motion of his body and counter-slashing at Lancelot.
"Boom—!"
A crushing force slammed into Lancelot's chest as though struck by a warhammer. The magic contained within the sword burst outward in a storm, detonating upon contact and hurling him back.
"Why, Sir Lancelot! Can't you understand my wish? That pain of striving so hard to preserve something precious, only to be helpless as fate's judgment falls anyway? If it were you, surely you would understand it!"
The knight who moments ago had fought with such nobility now radiated only murderous intent. Hearing how Saber intended to realize that wish was a denial that cut like betrayal, leaving Saber bewildered and shaken.
"All this tragedy began because of me! Only by forcing King Arthur to let another draw the sword can Britain be saved. That is the ideal I pursue!"
"Really?" Saber's desperate face was reflected in Lancelot's violet eyes, his voice turning frigid.
"—Then drown yourself in your ideals."
Without hesitation, Lancelot lifted his greatsword and brought it down toward Saber.
Saber met the blow with her holy sword, forcing it aside before shoving him back with sudden strength.
The unyielding Sword of the Lake's Light clashed against the Sword of Salvation, forged within the star's inner sea, shrieking as sparks cascaded between them.
"Why won't you understand!" Saber shouted in fury amid the relentless storm of blows. Though the knight before him was not the Lancelot he knew, his heart spilled out all the same.
"I am not fit to be king. I raised my sword to defend Britain, yet in the end I accomplished nothing! All I have left is strength, and strength alone is not enough! I must deliver justice! To save Britain, even if I must stand against it, I cannot turn away!"
His teeth clenched, Saber's sword grew swifter, each strike leaving deep trails carved into the air.
The bitter cold filled Lancelot's lungs, but it could not quench the fire raging in his eyes.
"Who could ever understand that?"
Stubborn. Naïve. He had done nothing wrong, sacrificed countless desires, shouldered the weight of the kingdom, yet even in death he denied himself and kept fighting. Such madness was intolerable.
Seeing only the shadow of a little girl in the figure before him, the burning frenzy threatened to devour Lancelot whole.
This king must be corrected.
When their swords clashed once more, Lancelot forced his way into the gale wreathing Saber's blade, aiming a ruthless cut at his wrist.
As expected, Saber twisted his grip at the last instant, redirecting the holy sword's thrust toward his own chest.
But Lancelot no longer cared. He had endured enough. Saber's opening was laid bare, and this was the chance he had long awaited.
The mirror-like sword in his hands surged with power, magic erupting in a blinding flood. Blue light like the surface of a lake engulfed the blade.
Saber's pupils contracted. He recognized it instantly, Lancelot had unleashed the True Name of his Noble Phantasm. Yet retreat was impossible. He too poured every ounce of magic left in his body into his sword, lunging to pierce Lancelot's spirit core.
"Such ideals are meaningless! If you can't understand this, then my king, we'll meet in the next life!"
But Lancelot did not fear. The moment he beheld King Arthur again, his wish had already been fulfilled. Death now was but the start of his next atonement.
Saber could not possibly escape.
And yet, true to his nature, his king still clung to hope, even now.
"I cannot fall here! If I don't see this through, I will never repay you!"
The azure sword light roared down toward Saber. As time seemed to solidify, Lancelot heard all sound vanish into stillness.
Repay me?
Was that why he raised his sword? In this life-and-death clash, Saber's determination shone with piercing clarity.
What he sought to protect was not his reign, but the people who had sustained that realm.
He believed he had failed them, failed his duty. This naïve king did not raise his sword to deny himself, but to save everything.
Lancelot's mind spun. He no longer knew what he should do, yet his body moved on its own, shifting the trajectory of his strike.
The blade came down, but it did not cleave Saber. The holy sword, however, did not stop.
The silence broke. A sharp sound rang out, Saber's blade pierced straight through him. Blood spattered as the holy sword tore out his back and struck his spirit core.
In his final moment, Lancelot looked upon Saber's deathly pale face, and smiled.
"What a headache… You are the king of another world, and yet you always lose yourself. Next time you swing that sword, remember, remember why you fight."
His form dissolved into scattering motes of light. Yet for the first time, his smile was free of torment.
"If you still choose that path, then summon me again. Should that be your true resolve, I will lend you my sword, no matter the foe."
"Sir Lancelot…?"
Saber's vacant gaze lingered on the spot where he vanished, soul shaken to its core. when suddenly, his instincts screamed with overwhelming alarm.
And the presence did not hide itself.
Golden light gathered in the branches above. The Hero King looked down upon the fading Berserker and the stunned Saber with amused admiration.
"I came here seeking the aura of a dear friend, and instead stumbled upon this delightful farce. That mad dog was expected, but to think the Holy Sword's master would degrade himself to a clown as well…"
Gilgamesh sneered. "Why such a dull expression? Even farce should be carried out with a smile if it pleases me. Otherwise, what I grant you will not be a gift, but merciless oppression."
Saber only cast him a cold glance, remaining silent.
His silence made Archer's own amusement deepen. Narrowing his eyes, he allowed golden ripples to ripple into being, treasures rising one after another.
Still, Saber merely gripped his sword and stared not at him, but past him, toward the forest's edge.
"You dare ignore me, Holy Sword's master? So eager to embrace death?"
The reason became clear a moment later.
"The contract has changed."
Roland emerged from the tree's shadow, Command Spells glowing from hand to arm.
"With Berserker gone, I'll take compensation. From now on, I am Saber's Master."
He met Gilgamesh's eyes with a cold smile. "Perfect timing. Since you've come all this way… kindly die for me."
This was no arrogance of the so-called Holy Lord, but something else entirely.
Behind him, the pink Killer Queen manifested at last. It's body, both strong and delicate, was covered in cracks burning with searing marks, as though it might shatter at any moment. Ribbon-like sigils streamed from its sides, its armor constantly breaking and reforming in flames. The skull-shaped feline face bore a strange solemnity, almost divine.
After the long slumber, Killer Queen had shed its past self and been wholly marked by Roland.
Its appearance was not summoned by will of a spirit, but heralded a new power's birth, as natural as a hand with a hammer seeing every nail before it.
In short, Roland's Stand, Killer Queen was ready to
-run wild.