A figure in a brown cloak slowly emerged from the far end of the road. The oversized hood concealed the face, revealing only white hair and dark brown skin through the gaps—just enough to keep Shiomi from identifying the stranger.
But one thing was clear.
That was a Servant.
Even without the Holy Grail's sanction, even if he wasn't part of the current war, Shiomi could still tell. The aura was unmistakable.
"Identify yourself!" Lancer pivoted his spear to point directly at the figure. "If you're a Servant, then name your class!"
Their battle had reached its peak, only to be cut off by this sudden interruption—and Lancer wasn't pleased in the slightest.
At his challenge, the cloaked figure halted.
"Servant... Caster." Bazett clutched at her chest. Something felt deeply wrong.
There was no killing intent, no hostility. Yet she felt as if a hand had clamped around her throat—like she could die at any moment.
Even after facing countless life-or-death battles as a Sealing Designation Executor, no one had ever made her feel like this.
"Caster?" Lancer echoed in surprise, catching her muttered words.
He stayed fully alert, no longer concerned about a sneak attack from his junior behind him.
Because Shiomi, like him, had his full attention locked on Caster.
The figure raised his head ever so slightly, still cloaked. And yet, even without seeing his face, Shiomi could feel it—he was being watched.
Is he looking at me? Shiomi thought, startled.
But that detail didn't matter now. With Caster appearing, Shiomi wasn't about to rush in like Lancer might. He had no intention of making a move yet.
At the very least... he needed to be far more prepared.
This was Caster. If it was that man—
Could he even make it out of here alive?
He glanced back to confirm Morgan's position. Even with a re-contracted Command Spell or any other emergency measure, the hundred meters between them felt like an uncrossable abyss.
"Lancer, let's end it here for today," Shiomi said slowly, his eyes still on Caster. "We'll finish this another time."
"Oh? I'm good to stop too," Lancer replied. "Rather than sparring with you, we ought to be focusing on that Magus Servant instead."
"That's not what I meant!" Shiomi snapped.
"Huh?" Lancer's brows furrowed. He could sense something was off.
"For Master's sake, I'll cover you this time. Take your Master and retreat—now," Shiomi said, shifting back to his usual calm tone.
He raised three fingers on the hand holding his spear—not to signal, but to cast.
Lightning. Wind. Fire.
Three Grand Magecraft spells launched in rapid succession, each one surging toward Caster.
Lancer thought to himself, Good move, kid, and bent low, ready to charge in.
But then he saw something he couldn't believe.
Those spells—formidable enough to trouble even someone with A-rank Magic Resistance—disappeared. Not deflected. Not absorbed.
They were simply... erased. As if cast into a void.
"What the hell?" Lancer's eyes widened. He understood now why Shiomi had reacted so strongly earlier.
This wasn't just another Servant. They didn't know his True Name. They didn't know his parameters.
And his power... was on an entirely different level.
Shiomi clicked his tongue, shoved Lancer aside, and rushed forward.
But this time, he didn't use magic. Instead, he hurled one of his spears into the air—and it burst apart, fragmenting into dozens of identical spears that rained down like a storm.
Not one of them made it through. Every spear was deflected before it could land a hit, scattering across the park.
Before he could summon them back, an arcane sigil bloomed before Caster.
Shiomi didn't hesitate—he spun his remaining spear and shifted it into a shield.
A cannon of pure mana fired.
Without that instant defense, Shiomi would've been swallowed whole by the blast—shredded by pure, unfiltered magical energy.
"This power..." Shiomi gritted his teeth.
The Tenth Primordial Rune—Rune of Exorcism!
Whether it was a Noble Phantasm or just a pure magic cannon, Shiomi didn't have the luxury of figuring it out. He threw everything he had into defense, and the unleashed mana exploded outward, obliterating what was left of the seaside park.
Thankfully, a ward had already been cast to drive civilians away. If there had been any ordinary people caught in that blast, they would have died without question.
With a raw, guttural roar, louder than anything he'd ever unleashed, Shiomi drew on every ounce of his mana and braced through the attack.
Even so, his shirt sleeves were torn to ribbons, revealing nothing but battered arms and bleeding cuts.
As the barrage ended, he retracted his magic spear and began preparing a retreat spell.
But...
Someone had misread the situation.
Bazett.
Her body enhanced with layers of Rune Magecraft, she seized the opportunity and charged forward. Behind her floated a solid, metallic sphere—her Mystic Code.
"Stop! Bazett!" Lancer shouted. He knew what she was trying to do—create an opening so they could all escape together.
And while Bazett at full strength could match most Servants, this one... this one was a different story.
Her rune-enchanted fist came within inches of Caster—then slammed into an invisible wall.
Before she could swing again, space itself twisted around her. She—and the air surrounding her—froze in place.
Then compressed.
A low, guttural scream escaped Bazett's throat. She couldn't move at all.
No hesitation.
Shiomi and Lancer moved at once, like longtime war comrades, their magic spears slicing through the air in perfect synchronicity. Their strike finally forced Caster back several steps.
Shiomi had no intention of dragging this out. Grabbing both Lancer and Bazett, he launched the retreat. The three vanished into a watery-blue mirror that shimmered into existence—and then they were gone, leaving nothing behind.
The park, now battered beyond recognition, held no trace of Magus or Servant.
Caster stood in silence, lips slightly parted in surprise, then closed them with no visible emotion.
"Well? Your first real combat since entering the Holy Grail War. Was it disappointing?"
Behind him, a white-haired man in white robes stepped into view—older than he looked, calm and composed.
Caster opened his mouth, hesitated, then merely shook his head.
"No. I didn't feel anything," he answered.
His Master—Marisbury Animusphere, Lord of Astromancy at the Clock Tower—nodded.
"I see." Marisbury's voice was warm, his expression unbothered by the response. "Still, you did agree to my plan... and then suddenly changed your mind and came here. Did that man's words really bother you so much?"
"...A little," Caster admitted.
Marisbury gave a small nod. "Since they've retreated, we should go as well."
With that, he turned. Caster followed silently.
And soon, nothing remained of the ruined park.
...
(100 Chapters Ahead)
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