The aura surged, and dozens more abominations burst from the ground, writhing like jellyfish twisted into grotesque shapes. The air grew heavier, saturated with the stench of corruption.
Saber's breathing was ragged, her cursed wounds burning with each movement, but her eyes blazed with unyielding determination. "Lancer, I'll clear the path. You strike the book."
He gave a crooked grin despite the exhaustion in his voice. "Hah… giving orders like a king again, Saber? Fine. I'll pierce it through."
With that, the two knights surged forward in tandem. Saber carved a golden trail through the monsters with her sword, her strikes precise and merciless. At her side, Lancer's spear thrust with deadly speed, breaking the lines open just enough to advance step by step toward Caster.
But Caster's voice suddenly rose into a shriek, and the book in his hands opened wide on its own—its pages glowing with unholy light. From within, tendrils of shadow lashed out like whips, blocking their advance.
Saber's eyes narrowed. "He's protecting the grimoire itself…"
Lancer twirled his spear, sparks dancing at the tip as he readied his Noble Phantasm. "Then I'll just have to smash through it."
Behind them, Rider and Berserker's clash shook the earth—steel against steel, brute strength against unyielding will. Yet neither knight at the front had the luxury to look back. Their only chance lay ahead: cut through the endless tide and shatter the cursed book before the nightmare could devour them whole.
Lancer raised his spear high, his sharp gaze piercing through the darkness of the night.
"—Gáe Dearg, (Red Rose of Exorcism!)" he shouted loudly.
In an instant, the red spear's aura pulsed, radiating a light that tore through the air. A wave of holy power struck directly at the black book held by Caster. With a single slash, the magical effect that sustained the summoning spell unraveled. The grotesque monsters that had surrounded them vanished, their bodies dissipating like smoke swept away by the wind.
Caster screeched in frustration. But instead of staying to fight, he chose to retreat, his body melting into the night's shadows along with the remnants of darkness left behind.
It looks like Zouken Matou has gotten into another trouble and he is not interested in prolonging the battle any longer.
Not long after, Berserker's massive body also faded, his roar dying out in the air. The supply of prana from Kariya Matou had been cut off, forcing him to withdraw from the battlefield.
Now, only three Servants remained: Lancer, Saber, and Rider. They stood facing one another, eyes gleaming with vigilance, as if the next battle was about to begin.
However, Rider only gave a brief glance. After that, he turned his back and left, abandoning Saber and Lancer in tense silence.
Lancer drew a long breath, his gaze shifting toward Saber.
"It seems only the two of us remain, Saber. Let us finish this duel once and for all."
He lifted his spear once more, his stance radiating the dignity of a knight.
Saber nodded, her emerald eyes shining with determination.
"Indeed. I, too, wish to end this battle… as soon as possible."
Her sword was raised, Excalibur gleaming in preparation for the promised duel.
Yet, just as the tension reached its peak, Lancer suddenly halted his steps. His eyes turned far away, piercing toward Einzbern Castle.
"…Saber, forgive me. My Master is in danger. I must go to his aid first."
Saber fell silent for a moment. Her lips whispered softly, "Kiritsugu…" then she let out a deep sigh, gazing at Lancer with eyes full of understanding.
"Go. I will not stop you."
Lancer bowed his head respectfully. "You have my gratitude."
And with that, he dashed away from the battlefield, the light of his spear disappearing along with his silhouette into the darkness.
Saber remained standing in place, gripping Excalibur tightly. Her heart was filled with unease.
"Kiritsugu… no matter what happens, you've already planned it."
A faint expression of disgust crossed her face. Saber loathed her Master's underhanded tactics, reducing the Holy Grail War to nothing more than a game of dirty strategies. To her, the honor of this war was tainted by such trickery.
If only Saber knew that the Grail they fought for was nothing but a false one, she surely would have raged.
Fifteen minutes earlier, I was watching the battle unfold and noticed that Maiya seemed to be in trouble. "Should I help her?" I thought, since this time she wasn't only facing Kirei Kotomine, but also Zouken Matou, who seemed to be after the Lesser Grail.
I then mounted Bellerophon and flew toward Maiya, who was currently fighting against both Kirei and Zouken. It had turned into a three-way battle, yet that foolish woman didn't realize that Zouken was extremely difficult to kill. In the end, she was stung by one of his insects.
"I'm only after the Lesser Grail here, so could you let me go?" Zouken said to Kirei. But Kirei stayed silent, saying nothing. For him, Zouken was also a target that the Church needed to exterminate, so he attacked Zouken with his Black Keys, hurling them straight at him.
"Tsk… do you think a dog of the Church like you can kill me so easily?" Zouken sneered as his body, pierced by several blades, crumbled apart and reformed again from the countless insects composing him. It was a revolting sight, unbearable for any normal person to watch.
At that moment, I arrived, charging with Bellerophon and slamming into Zouken's body, blasting him into countless pieces, then burning the remaining insects with fire.
"Phew… I've been wanting to do this to this maggot for a long time," I said casually, before turning my gaze toward Kirei Kotomine.
Kirei stared at me, hesitant to make a move, especially since he knew nothing about my true fighting ability. What he did know was that I could use fire magecraft capable of neutralizing even Noble Phantasm-class attacks—and if I unleashed it here, Kirei would surely be at a disadvantage against me.
"My goal isn't you, so I hope we don't need to fight," Kirei said, echoing the same words Zouken had used earlier. I couldn't help but laugh at that.
"Of course, I'd also be glad if we don't fight. My goal is only that woman. I want her body—whether she's dead or alive, I want it intact." I spoke while looking at Maiya, who was already poisoned and struggling to move.
"I understand. In that case, I'll leave," Kirei replied and started walking toward the castle. But before he could go further, his leg was grabbed by Maiya, her hand clutching tightly around his ankle.
'Truly a stubborn woman…' I thought as I watched her, unwilling to give up.
Kirei, annoyed, raised his other leg and stomped down hard on Maiya's back, the ground around them cracking from the impact. Maiya, crushed beneath his foot, did not die, but was severely injured and eventually lost consciousness.
As Kirei was about to continue on his way, he stopped when he saw me still watching him.
"Master Caster has already fled along with Berserker, and it seems several other Servants are heading this way. It will be dangerous if you proceed," Assassin suddenly appeared and reported.
"I understand," Kirei replied, finally turning away and fleeing without another word.
As for me—I didn't stop him. I simply stood there and watched him go.
Meanwhile, I checked Maiya's body.
"She seems fine…" I muttered, then placed my hand over her wounds, weaving healing magecraft to mend the damage she had taken.
"Master…"
Medusa approached me shortly afterward. Her presence was calm, though her figure bore traces of battle—dust and blood staining her frame from her clash with Berserker. 'looks like it's not her blood'.
"Oh? Finished enjoying yourself already?" I teased lightly as I glanced at her.
"Are you unharmed?" I asked, scanning Rider's condition more carefully.
"I am fine, Master," Medusa replied, her voice composed.
"Good. In that case, let's return. I'm getting tired of this place."
Rider's eyes shifted briefly to Maiya's unconscious form. "What of this woman? Do you intend to take her with us?"
"For now, there's no need. Better we leave her. Saber is already heading in our direction."
With that, we departed the forest, leaving Maiya behind amidst the quiet, her body lying alone beneath the moonlight.
....
Bang!
The sharp crack of gunfire split the air—the Origin Bullet leaving Kiritsugu's barrel like the hand of inevitability itself.
Kayneth, who only a moment ago stood so certain behind his invincible shield, felt it—something piercing deep into his chest. Not a wound of flesh, but something far worse. His pride, his magecraft, the very circuits that defined him as a magus screamed in agony.
"What… what is this…?!" His voice broke, disbelief lacing every syllable as his knees buckled beneath him.
The silver wall of Volumen Hydrargyrum faltered, the once-fluid mercury writhing as if in pain before collapsing into shapeless puddles at his feet. Kayneth's face twisted, pale with horror and humiliation, as though the world itself had betrayed him.
Kiritsugu lowered his smoking pistol, his gaze as cold and unyielding as fate itself. His voice carried no triumph—only finality.
"The Origin Bullet. Against this, your magecraft is nothing. Every circuit in your body has been destroyed."
Kayneth staggered, blood at the corner of his lips, his hands trembling as they clawed at the emptiness where his power once surged. For the first time, the Lord of El-Melloi stood helpless—not before another magus, but before the quiet cruelty of inevitability.
The ruined chamber was silent, save for the faint dripping of molten stone and the ragged breaths of Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi. His body trembled, veins glowing faintly as his circuits spasmed from the damage. He could no longer control the mercury—Volumen Hydrargyrum slumped uselessly at his feet, as if mocking his helplessness.
Kiritsugu stood unwavering, his Contender still aimed directly at Kayneth's forehead. His finger curled ever so slightly on the trigger. One more pull, and the proud Lord of the Clock Tower would cease to exist.
But before the shot could be fired—
A golden spear struck the ground between them with a sharp clang, scattering sparks across the ruined floor. The force of its impact cracked the stone, halting Kiritsugu's advance.
From the shadows of the collapsing hall, a tall warrior emerged. Gleaming armor reflected the pale moonlight streaming through the broken walls, and his eyes were sharp with fury.
"Master!" Lancer's voice thundered, filled with both desperation and loyalty. In an instant, he was at Kayneth's side, his spear raised defensively toward Kiritsugu.
Kiritsugu's expression didn't change. He shifted his aim toward Lancer without hesitation, his gaze cold and predatory.
But Lancer's killing intent was palpable. The knight's stance promised that if Kiritsugu so much as pulled the trigger, his spear would pierce his heart in the next breath.
"Stand down, assassin," Lancer growled, his emerald eyes blazing. "You've done enough damage to him. I won't allow you to touch him again."
Kayneth groaned, clutching his chest, his voice a hoarse whisper. "L-Lancer… take me away… now…"
Without breaking his guard, Lancer bent slightly, his hand supporting his fallen Master. The mercury construct dissolved completely, nothing left of Kayneth's proud magecraft but a pool of liquid metal soaking into the stone.
Kiritsugu said nothing. He simply watched, calculating. His instincts screamed to finish the job now, to pull the trigger and erase both Master and Servant. But his mind, cold and precise, recognized the risk: even with Time Alter, fighting a heroic spirit in close quarters was suicide.
The standoff lingered for a moment, the ruined hall tense with silence.
Finally, Lancer spoke, his voice laced with contempt. "You fight like a coward, hiding behind tricks and weapons. But remember this—I will never forgive what you've done to my Master."
With a blur of motion, Lancer leapt back, Kayneth in his arms. Stone shattered under the force of his leap, and in the next instant, both had vanished into the night.
Dust settled in the chamber once more, leaving only Kiritsugu standing alone amidst the ruins. He lowered his gun, his expression unreadable, though his finger lingered on the trigger a moment longer—as if regretting the missed chance.
Then, without a word, he holstered the Contender and disappeared into the shadows, his mind already moving to the next step of the war.
*****
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