"Yes, Master!"
In an instant, Okita Sōji materialized before Roy, her presence sharp and chilling, her expression cold as an executioner's.
Without a sound, her slender frame drifted forward like a phantom, every step ghostly, as though she belonged more to the realm of spirits than to the world of men.
"A Servant?!"
Bazett froze for just a moment, stunned.
The Holy Grail War had not even begun, and yet this man had already managed to summon a Servant?
Her mind lagged a beat in shock, but her body wasted no time reacting.
In a flash, the young swordswoman in her pale-green haori had closed the distance, appearing right before her.
But Bazett did not flinch. Even before a Heroic Spirit, one whose name echoed through history, she showed not a shred of fear. Her left fist rose in guard near her face, while her right fist shot out like a cannonball, driving straight toward the girl swordsman.
Okita's eyes gleamed, unwavering, merciless. Her blade flashed—not dodging, not yielding—cutting down directly onto Bazett's fist.
Clang!
Steel and hardened flesh collided, ringing out in a metallic resonance that reverberated through the cavern.
Okita's eyes flickered in surprise.
That was solid… has she reinforced her fists with magecraft?
Not only that—her strength was remarkable. The impact carried the force of artillery fire.
Bazett's expression remained steady as her right arm recoiled into guard. At the same time, her left fist swung out, hammering toward Okita's sword wrist with crushing momentum. The blow ripped the air itself, producing a faint, sorrowful shriek as it split through.
Okita's footing shifted—light as a dancer—slipping past the strike as her blade swept toward Bazett's chest.
But Bazett was quick, her right arm snapping into place to block the cut. In the same motion, her left arm rotated downward like a warhammer, crashing toward Okita's face. Forced into defense, Okita lifted her hilt high, intercepting the strike with an upper guard.
The two clashed in a storm of ferocious exchanges.
In only a matter of seconds, they had already traded more than a dozen blows.
Okita's swordplay was vicious and relentless, every strike carrying a cutting intent that promised no mercy. The instant she detected even the faintest weakness, she drove in mercilessly, prepared to trade her own blood if it meant tearing a piece from her opponent.
Yet Bazett's composure held firm. She knew the monstrous power of Servants and dared not grow reckless. Even while attacking, she never abandoned her guard. Every small opening was swiftly corrected, her defense forming a near-perfect wall.
Okita's eyes shone with a spark of respect.
To think someone of this age could fight like this…
This so-called magician, this cross-dressing warrior—her fundamentals were solid, her composure steady, and her fighting technique was nothing short of elite.
Okita silently acknowledged her as a true warrior.
But then, her gaze hardened. Mana surged around her body, pouring in like a tide from Roy, her Master. Strengthened by that torrent of magical energy, her slender form exploded with cannon-like force as she lunged forward.
"She's changing pace?!"
Bazett's eyes narrowed, retreating several steps to evade the thrust. The sudden ferocity was several times what it had been moments before.
She hesitated.
Martial arts demanded balance between speed and strength. A strike that sacrificed control for raw power inevitably carried greater openings. If this was truly reckless aggression, then seizing the moment might decide everything.
Her mind raced.
But before her hesitation broke, Okita was already there, her blade dragging in an upward reverse slash aimed at Bazett's flank.
Bazett's eyes sharpened.
The angle's wrong.
The blade wasn't parallel to her line of sight—instead, it revealed its flat edge.
The correct technique was to align the blade with the opponent's vision, hiding its length and distance, forcing the enemy to retreat blindly. But showing the flat meant the enemy could read its range and step in decisively.
Too focused on offense? Did she miscalculate?
Was it truly a flaw—or a trap?
If genuine, it was the chance to end everything in a single strike.
"No… not against a Heroic Spirit."
Bazett suppressed her instinct to lunge. She pulled back, retreating again.
Okita unleashed a flurry, over ten consecutive strikes, each one sharp, and every few cuts revealing a deliberate opening.
Any normal fighter would have been lured into striking back.
But Bazett never once took the bait.
Okita frowned, recognizing it immediately.
Her feints were not working. Even when temptation flickered in Bazett's eyes, she crushed it each time, holding her ground with unshakable discipline. No reckless lunges, no carelessness.
Such a warrior, Okita thought, would have thrived even in her own age.
"But you stand as my Master's enemy," Okita whispered coldly. "For that, I will cut you down."
Her killing intent sharpened.
In a blur, her body crossed more than ten meters of space in a single instant.
It was not teleportation, but it might as well have been. One step—and the entire gap vanished, as though the space itself had been erased.
"What?!"
Bazett's eyes widened in shock.
—Gatotsu.
Okita thrust in perfect chūdan-no-kamae, her blade leveled straight at Bazett's left eye.
The killing edge was so sharp, Bazett felt the cold terror of a bullet aimed point-blank at her skull. Her mind froze, but her body moved faster than thought. Her feet slammed back in retreat, her left arm snapping upward to guard her face.
Clang!
The impact rang like a tolling bell as Bazett was blasted backward, her body skidding more than ten meters before she crashed to the ground.
She rolled, forcing herself upright again, fists raised, sweat dripping cold down her brow.
Her left arm burned with searing pain. She didn't dare look at the wound, instead keeping her eyes locked on the small, golden-haired swordswoman who stood ready only a few steps away.
"If I hadn't kept my guard raised from the start…"
Her heart pounded wildly, chest rising and falling.
"…That thrust would have pierced my brain."
She had brushed against death itself. One wrong choice, one ounce of greed, and she would already be lying lifeless at Okita's feet.
That footwork… it wasn't true teleportation. If it had been, I'd never have reacted. It was a technique—an ultimate step. Swordsmanship, breathing, blind spots, movement, even the limits of human perception—woven together into perfection.
Bazett reset her stance, both arms raised tightly to guard her chin, her eyes unblinking as they locked onto Okita.
"But now that I've seen it once…"
Her breath steadied, her mind racing.
"…If I commit everything to defense, I can endure it."
Her heart resolved, she braced herself for Okita's next deadly strike.