The battle dragged on, relentless and unyielding. My apologies, came the thought, fleeting amidst the chaos.
Berserk…
Madness surged, transforming the Servants into avatars of ferocity, their eyes blazing as they charged.
"Marie, uncover their True Names," the command came, sharp and steady. "I'll buy us time."
"Understood! I wish you luck! I'll give it everything I've got!" Marie's voice crackled through the comms, fervent with resolve.
Spears, swords, waves of power—and miracles.
Techniques honed to the pinnacle of mastery, now turned against a single foe.
A halberd parried a blade with a deft twist.
"The True Name of that Servant… I still need more data!" Marie reported, her voice tinged with frustration.
"Got it. We'll handle things here. Narrow your search—focus on a knight as pure as a white lily."
He stepped back, breaking the distance, his sword flashing free.
Spears rained down endlessly, a body shifting and twisting, countless stakes hungering for their prey.
"I thirst for blood—!!" roared a voice, raw with primal need.
"Blood's a messy business," came the cool retort.
A sweep of the halberd disarmed the onslaught, rendering it powerless with casual ease.
"Vlad III—local lord of Wallachia. Known for ruthless purges of nobles and impaling his enemies, the inspiration for the 'vampire,' the 'demon' himself," Marie relayed, her voice steady now.
"A monster, then. Hardly worth my time. I've got more than enough tools to deal with his kind."
Sparks flew as lance clashed with halberd, a storm of metal and will.
"Oh? You dare name my deeds, call me a monster?" the enemy snarled.
"Facts are facts, vampire's muse."
"You—!"
From beyond sight, cruel projectiles streaked forth. The halberd spun, a whirlwind of motion, batting them all away.
"Creatures like you aren't welcome here," came a sharp, feminine voice. "You're interrupting my refreshment."
"Vampire Carmilla. True Name: Elisabeth Báthory. The Hungarian countess who tortured and slew countless girls, craving their blood," Marie's voice cut through.
"A murderer drunk on the blood of maidens," he scoffed. "To think even dregs like you are called Heroic Spirits. The Grail's standards have truly plummeted."
The halberd slashed forward, blocked by a coffin she wielded. Her strength, though, seemed lacking.
"How barbaric—!" she spat.
"Nature decrees women fall before men. Clinging to foolish pride makes you a pathetic one."
"What did you say—?!"
Light projectiles soared from behind, deflected by a wall of bulletproof scripture.
A cross-shaped staff glimmered. "A saint, perhaps? One tied to Christianity. Only one such figure could wield a staff bestowed by their revered."
"Saint Martha—" Marie began.
"Laughable," he cut in. "A saint, ordered about by a witch. Your god must be ashamed—or no, your kind's god excels at oppression, doesn't it?"
"Tch—what did you say?!"
A single sweep of the halberd sent them all reeling, blasted back in one breath.
"They can't overwhelm me," he declared, voice dripping with disdain. "The King of Heroes' name is no mere boast."
"Infuriating," the witch hissed, her eyes burning with venom. "Those eyes of yours—they make me sick. Like a serpent's. Utterly repulsive…!"
Silence answered her, heavy with tension.
"Tch…"
"That's all the intel you've got?" he asked, glancing toward the comms. "Well done, Marie."
"No, I couldn't uncover all their identities on my own…" she replied, apologetic.
"No, it's enough. Thank you, Marie."
The enemy's True Names—save for the Saber—were now in hand.
Enough watching.
The time for observation was over.
No need to finish them yet. The decisive strike would come when all forces were rallied.
This fight is to protect the city.
Let's begin.
"Do you know my style?" he asked, voice low.
"Huh?" Marie faltered.
"I didn't mention it, did I? Combat must be efficient. No lingering messes."
Ripples unfurled in the air.
"Now—it's our turn!"
"Raaarghhh!!"
A storm of hatred and rage hammered the shield, each blow a thunderclap.
"Nngh!!"
"Mash!" the Master cried.
Each strike was brutal, heavy. Mash staggered, step by step, the shield trembling under the onslaught. Beyond it, a furnace of wrath blazed.
A single misstep, and the Master behind her would be incinerated—!
"Die, die, die, die, DIE!!" the black-clad Jeanne screamed, her flag crashing down with frenzied wrath.
"I'll kill you! That gilded fraud—I'll slaughter him!! Starting with you, Master, I'll burn you to ash—!!"
"Mash!"
"I'm… fine—! I'll protect you, Master—!"
"Haaah!!"
A holy flag burst from Mash's shield, radiant and unyielding.
The banner of unyielding resolve—Jeanne the White stands against hatred.
"Nnghh!!"
"Aaaah!!"
Flags clashed, white against black, saint against witch—
"Stay out of my way!! You're nothing to me—!!"
"I won't let you touch my Master—!!"
"Yaaah!!"
Seizing the moment, Mash charged, shoving Black Jeanne back.
"Get out of my WAY!!"
Crimson flames erupted, a soul-forged inferno engulfing Mash and Jeanne, threatening to consume all—!
"Burn, blaze—turn to dust!!"
"Master!!"
"By my Command Seal—protect Mash and Jeanne!!"
The Master's right hand flared red, blazing with power.
"DIE—!!"
"Jeanne-san!!"
"Yes! No matter what!!"
Shield and flag, bolstered by the Command Seal, stood firm before the Master, warding off the dark explosion.
"Haaah!!"
"Yaaah!!"
"Pointless—useless struggling!!"
The flames surged, a cataclysmic blaze poised to bring ruin—!
"—!!"
We're done for—!!
"Come—'Jeanne d'Arc'!!"
Space shimmered blue, magic circuits linking to Chaldea.
A figure emerged.
"I answer your summons! Jeanne d'Arc, of Chaldea!"
"Save them—!!"
"Yes—! My flag, protect my kin—!"
She plunged into the flames, raising her banner high.
"'My God is here—'!!"
The flag glowed radiant.
A miracle unfolds.
The banner shields its kin from all harm.
"Impossible—?!"
A miracle born of legend—once rallying soldiers, uplifting spirits, blessing arms.
A sanctuary forged in light—!
"Mash! Jeanne—!!"
"HAAAAH—!!"
Two flags and one shield guarded not just the Master—
but the city itself.
What if the enemy outnumbers you?
"Ngh—!!"
Prepare treasures to surpass them.
What if they're stronger?
"Kuh…!!"
Wield treasures they cannot counter.
What if your skill falls short?
"Tch!"
"This—!"
Overwhelm them with strategy and sheer force.
The moment Gilgamesh took the offensive, the four Servants were reduced to desperate defense.
From the ripples tracking their every move, a barrage of lethal weapons rained down—each strike capable of shattering their Spirit Origins.
A sanctified sword.
A scythe to fell knights.
A holy lance to judge evil.
A cursed bow to blaspheme gods.
Each struck true.
A single hit would be fatal, shattering their cores, banishing them from this world.
A relentless storm of death assailed the Berserk Servants.
"What's wrong? I've barely unleashed a fraction of my treasury. Can't you dodge better?"
He didn't relent. Every opening was seized.
"Did you think I'd just stand here—?!"
The halberd danced, carving through Lancer and Assassin with ruthless precision.
Against Saber and Rider, he aimed cannons, keeping them at bay, unable to close the distance.
A shattered enemy was no threat. Mere rabble.
Time to end this.
Lancer's right arm was blown away.
"Guh—!!"
Assassin's mask shattered.
"Tch—!!"
Saber and Rider scrambled to evade, overwhelmed.
"—!!"
One against many? No handicap at all.
"Hahaha—!! This is what it means to dominate!!"
No mercy. They will retreat—or fall.
The battlefield was Gilgamesh's domain.
"Hah… hah…!"
"…!"
Mash and Jeanne panted, shoulders heaving.
"Are you okay?!" the Master called.
They were unharmed. The Command Seal's power, pushed to its limit, had held.
"Well done, everyone!" Jeanne of Chaldea said, glancing at Gilgamesh with a smile. "He seems fine, too."
With that, she vanished.
"Another summon…?" Black Jeanne spat, slamming her flag into the ground. "Utterly infuriating."
Her fervor waned. "This city… it's not worth it."
She summoned a wyvern, leaping astride it.
"Your pathetic struggle earns my mockery. Well fought. But only that gilded fool poses a threat."
The wyvern soared skyward.
"Farewell… I'll repay this humiliation—!!"
She was gone in moments.
"It's over," Gilgamesh noted, sensing Black Jeanne's retreat as he ravaged the enemies' Spirit Origins.
"Run, tails tucked. Or die here, pointlessly."
"You dare show mercy, cur…?!" Lancer growled.
"Flee in disgrace. And tell your little girl," Gilgamesh sneered, "to seek comfort from her 'guardian.'"
"This humiliation… I won't forget…!"
"I'll make your Master my feast—!"
One by one, the Servants faded into spirit form.
The battle was won.
"I can't believe it! You stood against four and didn't falter!" Marie's voice rang out, awestruck.
"Well done, King of Heroes… truly."
"A warm-up," Gilgamesh dismissed. "But more importantly—"
"Oi, Gil!"
"King of Heroes!"
"Praise them, if you must," he said, gesturing to the others.
The first battle was over.
Relief—and a spark of exhilaration—stirred within.
"Wonderful, wonderful! It's like a fairy tale hero!"
"There's one crazy guy out there… you really want to meet him?"
"Of course! I want to talk, to be friends!"
"Because… he protected my treasure!"
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