"Black" Berserker broke away from the battle line and raced through the forest.
She was searching for a Servant from the hostile "Red" faction, but according to telepathy from her Master, "Black" Saber was already engaged with "Red" Lancer, "Black" Lancer with "Red" Archer, "Black" Rider with "Red" Assassin, "Black" Archer with "Red" Rider, and "Red" Berserker with "Red" Saber. She was completely late to the fight. Since "Black" Caster was overseeing the entire battlefield and controlling his golems, Berserker's role naturally fell to defeating the "Red" Caster.
Berserker looked up at the floating castle.
According to the telepathy, that was Assassin's Noble Phantasm. She had thought it was Caster's, but apparently not. If that was the case, then perhaps the "Red" Caster was deep within that castle. The 'Caster' class possessed the 'Territory Creation' skill, allowing them to create an environment advantageous to themselves. It was a magus's workshop, a castle. Basically, Casters rarely took the initiative, often adopting a 'waiting' posture.
Now, if a workshop had been established inside Assassin's great Noble Phantasm of a castle, the "Red" Caster's defenses would far surpass the walls of the Fortress of Millennia. Probably, it could not be breached by her firepower.
In that case, she had to infiltrate that Hanging Gardens, but the fierce clash between "Black" Rider and "Red" Assassin was scattering brilliant magical light across the sky.
Getting close to that Hanging Gardens, which was unleashing such high-level magecraft that even Rider with his A-Rank 'Magic Resistance' had to maintain a certain distance, would mean death for Berserker.
"U... Vuu..."
Though a berserker, she maintained a high level of intellect and understood what death was. Precisely because she understood that dying would render everything meaningless, she hesitated. But she did not ponder for long. Fundamentally, she could not endure such contemplation. Can it be done or not? Will she do it or not? That was all. And if it was clear that it must be done, there was no room for thought from the beginning.
The problem was how to infiltrate that Hanging Gardens.
The only possibility would be transfer via Command Spell, but there was no guarantee that the "Red" Caster was there. If they weren't, it would be a waste of a Command Spell.
At that moment, she spotted a figure in the shadows of the trees and drew her mace.
"My, oh my. It seems my opponent is you. "Black" Berserker—Frankenstein."
The one who appeared was a young man with black clothes and white hair.
He seemed trained, but not beyond human limits. Since he was on this battlefield, he must be an enemy Master, but it was concerning that he showed himself so openly. The Masters of the "Black" faction had concluded this was a battle between Servants and were holed up in the fortress. Could it be that this Master, anticipating that line of thinking, planned to assault the fortress?
That would be nothing but underestimating the "Black" faction.
However, what Berserker found suspicious was not this young man's actions. That could simply be dismissed as the behavior of a thoughtless Master. The problem was that he casually spoke her True Name.
"Vv... V..."
Fundamentally lacking linguistic ability, she could only convey her intentions with Yes and No. Information like her name should not leak unless a Master or Servant on her side revealed it.
"Hmm, indeed, you seem to maintain a relatively high-level thought process despite being a berserker. A rather modern hero."
With a carefree smile, the young man extended his hand.
"I know you well. I understand you deeply. How about it? If you are willing, why not come to our side instead of Spartacus? We can discuss the terms; I promise I won't treat you poorly."
In response to that hand, Berserker swung her mace.
Receiving this clear rejection, the young man smiled wryly and stepped back half a step.
"Oh, what a pity."
"That's to be expected, Master."
Recognizing the Servant materializing behind the young man, Berserker's wariness finally reached its peak.
As expected, an enemy Master. The Servant he commanded was the only class not yet confirmed. In other words, it must be the "Red" Caster.
"Oops, my apologies. It is not I who will fight you. Your dance partner is solely my Master here. I will merely watch and offer support."
And then, that Servant proceeded to retreat, hiding behind his Master's back as if it were the most natural thing.
"Yes, that's right. Your opponent is me. Shirou Kotomine will take you on."
Saying this, the young man—Shirou—swung his arm.
"Tch!"
Berserker instantly spun her mace.
Three metallic sounds rang out in quick succession, and silver swords fell to the ground.
They were Black Keys, conceptual weapons used by the Executors of the Church. Though they were standard equipment, they were difficult to master, and only true enthusiasts or those with genuine skill preferred to use them. Judging by this surprise attack, this man was quite skilled. It seemed he had what it took to stand before a Servant.
"Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaooooooooouuuugh!"
But that was all it was.
Merely a human technique.
No matter what schemes he employed, there was no reason for a human to match a Servant.
While paying attention to the materialized enemy Caster, Berserker recognized the immediate obstacle as this Master who called himself Shirou.
Scattering magical energy, Berserker charged. Shirou threw four Black Keys. Quite skilled for a human. However, Black Keys thrown plainly and without artistry from the front didn't even need to be dodged.
Berserker swung her mace to clear the obstacles and pressed forward. The distance between them was a mere two meters. One more step, and that white-haired head would be mincemeat.
"A pity, a pity."
Despite this, Shirou wore a faint smile. It was unsettling.
"Recite, Set."
Berserker sensed magical energy from Shirou's body.
Immediately after, sensing danger, Berserker slowed her speed and twisted her body, swinging her mace—'Bridal Chest of Chastity'. Unbelievably, the Black Keys she thought she had knocked down were spinning, aiming for her neck.
At that moment, Shirou launched a further pursuit.
He held three Black Keys between the fingers of his right hand and threw them. Berserker, who had just dealt with the attack from behind, had to intercept these from an unbalanced posture.
Mace and Black Keys collided. Berserker, who had carelessly assumed she could repel them as easily as before, felt her rational-less mind stained with astonishment.
Unbelievably, an impact too great for even Berserker's strength to completely stop assailed her. Combined with her unbalanced posture, Berserker was sent flying.
Had some magecraft been used? Sending a Servant like her flying was impossible with normal human strength.
"V... Uuugh..."
She took the fall and stood up.
Her irritation grew.
He was an enemy not to be underestimated, but he was human. She didn't like being toyed with by a human.
"Vvv, Naaaaaaaaaaaaaough!"
She screamed, using her magical energy like a jet propulsion to charge.
"Here she comes. Caster, my sword."
"Yes, yes, very well. Please, use it to your heart's content! A fierce battle like blazing flames spins a tale that shall never fade for all eternity! Now, my Master. Please, show me your story of glory!"
As Shirou raised his hand to the void, a Japanese sword appeared along with a flash of light resembling a thunderclap.
Berserker discerned at a glance that it was a Noble Phantasm.
This human uses a Noble Phantasm?!
But even so, her physical abilities were superior. She surpassed him in both strength and speed, and above all, Berserker knew no fatigue. That was the simple, clear, and fatal difference between this enemy Master and her.
Berserker unleashed a continuous, unending series of attacks.
A single hit would mean instant death for Shirou. Shirou weaved through the storm of Berserker's attacks by swinging his sword. A normal weapon would have bent and become useless, but this sword, having become a Noble Phantasm, functioned fully as a shield against Berserker's assaults.
Shirou's swordsmanship was almost average.
Far from a master, it was incomparable to the dazzling embodiments of martial prowess. His swordplay, merely faithful to the basics, was steady but lacked decisiveness and was extremely unrefined. There was no reason for Berserker to fall behind such swordplay. Berserker was not a famed warrior either. But even before being a Servant, as a mechanical construct, she possessed physical abilities far surpassing a human's. Additionally, Berserker was an existence that pseudo-replicated a perpetual motion machine of the second kind. By absorbing the magical energy in the atmosphere and reusing it for her own activities, she had no concerns about fatigue or lack of magical energy. A human, a biological being with limits to stamina and mental strength, fundamentally stood no chance against Berserker, who could theoretically continue activity indefinitely.
Time only favored Berserker.
Drowning her frustration at being unable to break through with a roar, Berserker continued to swing her mace.
"Black" Caster overlooked the battlefield. His golems were capable as vanguards, but they were not suited for delivering the finishing blow to Servants. Even the stronger ones could not last ten exchanges.
However, this did not mean his golems were weak.
Golems made by ordinary magi could not last a single exchange against a Servant. The fact that his could fight Servants, even if only briefly, was because Caster's golems were that powerful.
Caster's golems were scattered across the grassland that served as the battlefield. Roughly every event occurring on this battlefield came to Caster as information.
His role was that of a command tower, conveying information from each battlefield.
"If possible, I would have liked to use my Noble Phantasm on this battlefield."
An A+-Rank Anti-Army Noble Phantasm. He was confident that its simple mystery was the highest even within the "Black" faction. Above all, Caster participated in this Holy Grail War... to complete this Noble Phantasm.
To create the ultimate golem in history, which he could not complete in his lifetime. He had no wish to entrust to the Holy Grail; activating his Noble Phantasm and seeing the world it weaved was his only dream.
The supreme golem that, once activated, would overwrite the world. The origin and original text of golems. The one who guides the people, filled with hardship, to glory. That was his Noble Phantasm, 'Keter Malkuth: Crown of the Wise Golem'.
The problem was, since he couldn't complete it in his lifetime, even in this era, he must gather specific materials and create it from scratch.
Thanks to Darnic allocating thirty percent of his assets to gather the necessary materials, that problem was also being cleared. All that remained was the final step. Once he obtained the 'Reactor Core', he could activate it immediately.
"Teacher!"
A telepathic message reached Caster, who was lost in thought.
It was from Roche, his Master. The youngest member of the "Black" faction, yet a rare golem user with magical talent. In other words, he was also from a lineage that inherited Caster's magecraft.
To have a successor to his magecraft at the end of time. For Caster, who considered himself a misanthrope, this was an extremely unexpected and mysterious fact.
"What is it, Roche?"
"Um, Teacher. When you come back, could you take a look at my golem? I think I did well this time."
Ho, Caster was impressed.
Roche's passion for golems was considerable. His skill was also outstanding; if it were during his lifetime, Caster would have considered taking him as a disciple.
"Then, if I have time, I shall take a look."
"Thank you!"
This was hardly a conversation to be having on the battlefield.
But it couldn't be helped. He didn't even consider the possibility of Caster's defeat. Roche completely believed Caster would return, and Caster himself had no desire to perish in this battle. His wish was not something to be entrusted to the Holy Grail, but even so, he must not fall with his dream only half-realized.
"It's dangerous, return to the workshop."
Told this by Caster, Roche promptly returned to Caster's workshop. Within the Fortress of Millennia, there was probably no place safer than Caster's workshop. Though it was not a magical fortress but a golem production factory, due to its role, the golems that had not sortied to the battlefield still slumbered there. Even if an intrusion were permitted, those golems could immediately intercept the intruder.
Therefore, Caster must have Roche stay in the workshop. If Roche were to be defeated, Caster would disappear even if he himself were unharmed.
"As expected, I'm not good with children."
During his lifetime, partly due to illness, he lived a life keeping people at a distance. This accelerated his misanthropy, but by some coincidence, he ended up conversing with Roche in this second life.
Well, it wasn't bad.
He personally held a favorable impression of Roche. It was just that he wasn't used to children; there was no reason for him to dislike Roche.
At that moment, interesting information came through a golem.
It seemed that in the forest, just slightly off the main grassland battlefield, "Black" Berserker had begun fighting "Red" Caster and his Master.
"Hmm..."
Caster put his hand to his chin and pondered slightly.
Then, he manipulated his golems, sending a group towards Berserker's location.
For some reason, it seemed the "Red" Caster was not fighting, leaving it to his Master. A magus capable of matching a Servant shouldn't be common. Even assuming one existed, it would be impossible to deal with a group of golems while fighting Berserker.
If it's the "Red" Master, he shouldn't mind if he becomes the reactor core. Fortunately, the enemy Caster seemed to have no combat ability, and he wanted to retrieve it before "Black" Berserker killed the core.
"Red" Saber had not the slightest awareness that the giant man she opposed was originally from the "Red" faction. Her perception was severe from the start: he was merely a piece to run amok and be used up. Precisely because of that, when he ran wild and charged into the "Black" faction's territory, she had quickly written him off.
But, if they were to become enemies anyway, she thought it would have been better to cut him down then.
"Red" Berserker, Spartacus.
The boundary between myth and historical fact. The gladiator who led the rebellion that shook the Roman Empire in BC.
Extremely high parameters: 'Strength' A, 'Endurance' EX. On the other hand, 'Agility' was D-Rank, making him sluggish compared to Saber.
No matter how much destructive power one had, it was meaningless if it didn't hit.
Saber toyed with Berserker with explosive acceleration that ignored heavy armor, slashing at him relentlessly with her beloved sword.
"Ooh!"
Crimson lightning scattered; sword flashes drew red lines in the night's darkness.
With each swing of Saber's sword, Berserker's pale skin was torn open, exposing flesh and blood.
"Hahahahaha. A formidable sword. Come now, try to hurt me more."
Berserker smiled, revealing his true nature. Even though his forehead was split and bleeding, a smile had been plastered on his face since the battle began.
"This guy's creepy..."
A cold sweat broke out on Saber's back.
She had fought various enemies until now. Among them were pride, honor, joy, hatred, and anger. There should have been pleasure as well. But taking pleasure in being cut by a sword... she could only think that was insane.
"No, perhaps that's precisely why he's a Berserker."
He could speak, but meaningful communication was impossible. She wondered why, since his 'Mad Enhancement' rank was EX, absurdly high, yet he could speak human language, but this Servant's thoughts were fixed. They were probably limited to the act of charging forward on the path named 'Hardship' that he walked in life.
"Hah... If you want it that much, I'll give it to you! I'll stick it right through your skull, so go ahead and die!"
Saber boosted with 'Mana Burst' and flew into Berserker's embrace. Using his pale knee as a foothold, she thrust her sword into Berserker's jaw with her whole body's weight.
Saber's sword pierced through Berserker's lower jaw and out the top of his head. The forced-out brain matter spilled from his ears.
Even Berserker stopped moving. Blood gushed from his mouth with a gurgle. His shattered jaw hung loosely, exposing a miserable state.
And then, his black eyes rolled, fixing on Saber.
"You bastard!?
Berserker spread both arms wide and embraced Saber's small body.
It was impossible to remain active after having one's brain destroyed. A Servant's spiritual core lay in the brain and heart; it was common sense that destroying either one should cause disappearance.
But, his endurance, defying common sense, continued to protect him from Saber's attacks, and his Noble Phantasm, 'Crying Warmonger: Howl of the Wounded Beast', converted the damage received from Saber into magical energy, accumulating it within his body. This accumulated magical energy then acted as a booster, enhancing Berserker's physical abilities.
His already powerful strength was further augmented.
"Behold, I shall embrace you tightly."
An eerie voice echoed from within his shattered jaw. Then, an abnormal metallic sound rang out.
"Ah, gugaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!"
Log-like arms tightened around Saber. Even Saber, with her B-Rank 'Endurance' and clad in heavy armor, would clearly be crushed if this continued.
"Don't... fuck with meeeeeeeeeee!!"
Crimson lightning flew in all directions. An application of 'Mana Burst' for attack. A bolt from point-blank range had enough power to gouge out not only Berserker but also the ground beneath his feet. For Berserker, holding Saber, it was literally like hugging a hand grenade.
With an explosive sound, Saber was thrown clear.
She was slammed hard into the ground and rolled, but got up immediately. She readied her sword and looked at Berserker.
Berserker's knees gave way. His upper body was twisted severely from the abdomen up, his right side deeply gouged. Both arms were blown off from the elbows down. Only his lower body remained intact.
"What a hassle you are, you rabid beast."
She swung her sword largely, as if shaking the blood from the blade, and rested it on her shoulder.
Even with an EX-Rank 'Endurance', he shouldn't be able to avoid being on the verge of death after that. Berserkers were a class that inherently consumed twice the magical energy of normal Servants. Trying to heal wounds like that would drain his Master dry.
The outcome was decided here—or so it seemed.
"What?"
Saber's eyes widened.
Berserker's corpse began to writhe and move. Bloody foam overflowed from his wounds, and flesh swelled. His blown-off arms, for some reason, split into two from the wounds, doubling the number of arms. His gouged upper body swelled on the back as if carrying a turtle's shell, and his head sank halfway into the wall of flesh.
"Hey, Master."
"What is it, Saber?"
Unable to bear it, Saber spoke to her master via telepathy.
"How did Rome manage to contain that monster?"
"They couldn't contain him, that's why he rebelled."
"Ah, well, that's true, but..."
Saber glared at Berserker. He had already forgotten human form. To transform into a monstrosity without divine protection or a demonic contract was far too abnormal.
He revived even after having his head pierced or his upper body blown away. Was there any way to defeat him other than vaporizing him on a cellular level?
"Ah, whatever. I'll just keep at it until he dies."
Slaying giants was a feat King Arthur also accomplished. There was no reason for his successor, Mordred, to falter.
Saber revealed her fighting spirit and charged at Berserker to slash him down.
"Red" Rider ran through the forest as if flying.
Despite the dense trees blocking his path, his speed did not decrease. He boasted the highest 'Agility' among both factions, surpassing even the 'Lancer' known as the fastest heroic spirit. After all, his True Name was Achilles. The god-speed hero said to be the fastest among all heroes.
"Where are you, "Black" Archer! Stop hiding and come out!"
Spotting a glint at the edge of his vision, Rider swung his spear, deflecting a sword. As if waiting for that moment, five swords attacked from four directions and above.
All were likely Anti-Divine Noble Phantasms. That was the only thing that could wound Rider's body.
"Petty tricks!"
Clicking his tongue in irritation, Rider kicked off a branch. Reaching top speed in a single step, Rider easily broke through the sword's encirclement. A Noble Phantasm seemed to have exploded behind him, but by then Rider had already escaped the blast's effective range.
Not even the blast wave reached Rider's back.
Truly a swift wind.
Like a gust blowing through, Rider raced through the forest, slipping through the traps Archer had set. The traps' reaction speed could not keep up with Rider's movement speed.
A rain of falling swords.
Rider did not stop.
"Can't even see them stopping, that stuff!"
Once again, he cleared a trap in a single bound.
"Is this all, "Black" Archer! Nothing but clever traps, refusing to face me properly. Are you even a hero like this! What happened to a hero's pride!"
Landing on a large tree branch, Rider shouted.
He struck the branch with the butt of his spear, revealing his irritation.
There was no response from Archer. Instead, a twisted sword was shot out.
"Tch..."
Rider bent his body to avoid it.
The sword, having lost its target, shaved through trees and disappeared into the darkness.
"Ah, I get it now. You're the type I hate."
Don! Rider kicked the branch. Instantly reaching top speed, Rider moved at a speed invisible to the eye.
Had the traps run out? In any case, no trap he sets will mean anything to Rider. Only Anti-Divine Noble Phantasms can wound Rider. And because they are Noble Phantasms, they emit vast amounts of magical energy. They are inherently too conspicuous to be used as traps. And Archer cannot hide himself either. The location of Archer, who is using Noble Phantasms, can be perceived as clearly as if a fire were lit in the forest.
Hearing a roaring sound of cutting wind, Rider twisted his body.
A crimson sword shallowly cut Rider's shoulder and disappeared behind him. In that moment, Rider pushed off the branch before him with one hand, gaining momentum as if propelling himself forward.
Cutting through the wind, he ran faster than an arrow.
He was the fastest Servant in all Holy Grail Wars, including the subcategory Grail Wars. He charged straight towards the archer standing ahead of the assaulting light.
Zan! A footstep.
Rider planted his feet firmly on the ground, and dried leaves fluttered up belatedly.
"Finally we meet, "Black" Archer."
A man with dark skin and white hair. In his hand, he held a reddish-black bow. His sharp gaze, reminiscent of a hawk's eyes, certainly fit that of an archer.
"Are you prepared, Archer?"
In response to Rider's question, Archer let out a scornful laugh.
"That's my line to you, "Red" Rider. Don't tell me you already think you've won?"
It was a strange thing to say.
Rider had indeed cornered Archer.
He was an 'Archer', specialized in long-range physical attacks. The arrows of "Black" Archer were all unbelievable Noble Phantasms, making them top-tier as physical attack methods. But even so, Archer had been unable to finish off Rider and had allowed him to get this close.
A point-blank distance of less than ten meters. At this range, Rider could pierce his heart with his spear before the opponent could even nock an arrow.
During their standoff, Archer slowly moved his hand.
"Like I'd let you!!"
Kill him before he shoots. Rider aimed a god-speed thrust at Archer's heart. However, immediately after, several large swords, big enough to hide a person, appeared before his eyes, creating a wall and causing him to miss his chance.
He shattered five swords with one thrust. But it didn't reach Archer. And beyond the shattered swords, a spiraled Noble Phantasm bared its fangs.
"Guh... Tch!"
Rider utilized his innate reflexes and motor skills to instantly leap back, evading the fired arrow.
"Now then, "Red" Rider."
Archer stood before Rider, composed, holding his bow in one hand.
"Are you prepared?"
In return for the taunt, Rider revealed his joy and laughed.
"Hah—Very well, Archer!"
The battle between "Black" Saber and "Red" Lancer remained evenly matched.
They had fought for a full night just testing each other. Less than an hour had passed since the start; deciding the outcome was unlikely.
Unlike before, they crossed blades sworn to kill each other, but that very aspect contributed to the continued stalemate.
Saber put all her strength into slamming his holy sword against Lancer. However, that too was hindered by Lancer's golden armor and failed to be a decisive blow.
Lancer's armor was an A-Rank defensive Noble Phantasm. A crystal of light said to be difficult for even gods to destroy. Who could possibly harm Lancer, protected by armor that even Indra gave up on destroying and resorted to trickery to steal? Slashing at him was futile, a wasted effort.
And yet, Lancer could not help but feel admiration.
Saber's sword was certainly reaching Lancer's body. It significantly reduced the damage, but he was indeed being wounded. It was a level that could be repaired by his innate self-healing ability and did not affect the overall situation. But nevertheless, the fact that he could be wounded at all was already extraordinary. Lancer, grateful for the strange fate that allowed him to meet such a worthy rival, swung his spear.
"..."
Lancer, unable to completely withstand Saber's strikes, retreated.
Saber's sword felt heavier than when they had fought before. His parameters shouldn't change after being summoned, and there was no visible change.
This was probably due to a change in his state of mind.
One could tell by looking into his eyes.
There was not a shred of hesitation in wielding his sword; he stood there recognizing Lancer as an enemy who must be defeated.
"It seems something happened in a short period. It's become significantly heavier compared to before."
At Lancer's words, Saber's eyes widened slightly.
"I am grateful to be evaluated so by a hero of your stature. But that does not mean I will hold back. Today, I am here to offer victory to my Master."
Lancer, who hadn't expected an answer, also changed his expression slightly in surprise.
Then, Lancer nodded and readied his spear anew.
"I see. So you have found a reason to wield your sword. In that case, the current you will be even harder to deal with."
As he said this, Lancer's body was suddenly enveloped in a dazzling flame.
Vast magical energy manifested in the form of fire.
The skill 'Mana Burst'. It shared the same name as the skill possessed by "Red" Saber, but Lancer's was specialized in 'Flame'.
It was a literal explosion. A radiance like the sun melted the ground as Lancer shot his spear forward.
The blazing flames converged at the spear's tip, and the scorching divine spear gouged out Saber's shoulder.
"Tch...!"
This time it was Saber who staggered back, retreating.
He had suffered the deepest wound yet. The wound was cauterized, so there was no bleeding. He would repair it with healing magecraft from his Master.
The thrust of the flame-wreathed spear was threatening even to Saber's dragon armor.
Saber and Lancer's gazes crossed.
"Don't misunderstand. I wasn't exactly hiding it. As a Servant, I have terrible fuel efficiency, so I can't use this recklessly either."
Lancer's True Name was the great hero of ancient India, Karna. The son of the Sun God, he himself was a hero among heroes, continuously worshipped to this day. Golden armor, a god-killing spear, and this 'Mana Burst'. He was a Servant who consumed a massive amount of magical energy just by existing.
As his words implied, Lancer easily extinguished the flames. However, the tip of his spear still retained heat and shimmered with heat haze.
Facing the warrior who seemed like an incarnation of the sun, Saber slightly raised the corners of his mouth.
He made his joy clear, as if it was only natural.
"Come, "Red" Lancer."
"Here I come, "Black" Saber."
The red-hot spear and the twilight holy sword clashed violently.
Among the Great Holy Grail War where peerless great heroes competed, there were probably no Servants who enjoyed the fight more than they did.
They both fell silent, ruthlessly straining their minds and bodies solely to defeat their opponent. They recognized pain as one of the trials to overcome the enemy, and immersed themselves in the battle.