The stronghold of the Yggdmillennia clan, the Fortress of Millennia.
In one of its rooms, a Homunculus stared uneasily out the window at the night scenery.
Beyond his view stretched a deep forest, and somewhere within it was the "Black" Rider who had once saved him.
"I've been summoned on short notice, so I have to go out for a while! I heard the 'Red' Berserker is attacking this place!
Don't worry! I may be weak, but I won't be killed that easily! Besides, this is a good opportunity. When the time is right, I'll take you away from here! Be good and wait for me!"
The "Black" Rider had saved him, a mass-produced Homunculus created as a source of Mana for Servants and treated as worthless as weeds.
She had asked for nothing in return.
Even when she went to face the enemy, she had shown him a bright smile to ease his worries.
The first person ever to save his life was now fighting in the forest at the edge of his vision, obeying her Master's orders.
For a frail Homunculus who was not even suited for combat, there was nothing he could do.
Even so, he gazed anxiously through the window at the forest that had become a battlefield, wishing only for his savior's safety.
At that moment, in the heart of this Homunculus with such faint self-awareness, the feeling known as "prayer" bloomed for the first time.
...
"Hey, you... you're a guy, aren't you?"
Shirou asked as he stared at the cute pink-haired girl (?) standing on the tree with a bright smile.
She looked puzzled at first, but soon seemed to give up resisting and shyly scratched her cheek.
"Huh? How did you figure it out so fast~~~? This is so embarrassing, hehehe~~~"
Shirou said flatly, "I wasn't complimenting you. Still, your interference Magecraft is pretty impressive. Even I almost fell for it. You nearly slipped right past me."
For an instant, the thought that this person might actually be a woman had crossed Shirou's mind, but in the end, he trusted his instincts and concluded that he was a man.
"Interference Magecraft? I haven't used anything like that."
The pink-haired girl (?) tapped a finger against her chin in thought, then struck her palm with her fist as if she had just realized something.
"Ah! I think it must be that. The book I carry! As long as I have it with me, I get the equivalent of A-rank Magic Resistance, and it can also cancel out spell formulas like Mystic Eyes."
Luna Break Manual: Magical All-purpose Tome of Tactics.
A Spellbook bestowed upon Astolfo by the witch Logistilla, containing methods to break all Magecraft.
It was a constantly active Noble Phantasm. Simply carrying it granted Astolfo A-rank Magic Resistance.
If he released its True Name and read the book, it might even be capable of breaking a Reality Marble or Grand Magecraft of nearly the same scale.
However, Astolfo had completely forgotten its True Name. Luna Break Manual was also just a random name he had made up, and it was said that he could only remember its True Name on the night of a new moon.
Shirou nodded. "I see. But is it really okay to tell me something that important?"
"Ah! Crap!"
The pink-haired girl (?) covered her mouth, though of course, it was already far too late.
"Waaah, if Master finds out, I'm going to get scolded again... Well! Whatever! More importantly, we're Servants!
Now that our eyes have met, you know what comes next, right?"
"We fight?" Shirou's lips curved upward.
"Of course!"
The pink-haired girl (?) hopped down from the tree with a light "heave-ho," and a giant lance far taller than herself appeared in her raised right hand.
She spun the shaft lightly, and with a sharp swish, the spearhead pointed straight at Shirou.
"Hear me, those who stand afar! Watch closely, those who stand before me!
I am the 'Red' Rider, Astolfo, one of the Twelve Paladins serving the Holy Knight Charlemagne!
Come! Let us settle this fair and square!!"
Not only did Rider freely shout the opening line he had often used in life, he even readily revealed the True Name that should have been kept hidden.
Fortunately, Astolfo was not a great hero known throughout the world, and Shirou's world history grades had been terrible. He only knew that Europe had once had a king named Charlemagne.
Still, whether he knew or not made no real difference to him.
"Vanish."
Shirou raised his hand with a lazy expression, and the space behind him began to ripple violently.
A distortion in space-time appeared out of thin air, and from within it emerged a strangely shaped longsword, which shot at the pink-haired Rider without a moment's pause.
"Yaaah!?"
Astolfo tilted his head aside and dodged the flying blade by a hair's breadth.
"That was dangerous! You really aren't Saber, are you? A Saber couldn't do something like that! Good thing I reacted fast, or I would've been out of the game just now!"
"Don't worry. You'll be out soon enough."
Rider had indeed dodged it, but unfortunately, there existed attacks in this world that were meaningless to avoid.
Shirou snapped his fingers, detonating the blade Rider had just evaded.
"BOOM—!!"
"Broken Phantasm" exploded against the ground, engulfing Rider nearby. The blast wave alone sent him flying several meters.
"Ow, ow, ow, ow... That was way too much."
Astolfo stood up with a sullen face, rubbing the waist he had struck in the crash.
After all, Rider was still a Heroic Spirit. He would not be taken down that easily.
And Astolfo, one of Charlemagne's Twelve Paladins, was said to be a reckless warrior whose "reason had evaporated," as well as an adventurer who traveled the world and created many legends.
Through those adventures, he had obtained many Mystic Codes, such as a horn, a hippogriff, a Spellbook, and a lance shining brilliant gold.
"All right~ I'm really mad now~ I'm going to get serious from here on out~!"
When Astolfo raised his head, the excitement on his face froze completely.
"Huh?"
Rider stared dumbfounded at the swarm of Noble Phantasms hanging in the night sky, so numerous they seemed to blot out the heavens.
Every sword contained Mana that would not lose to his beloved lance, and now every point was aimed straight at him.
In the next instant, those deadly blades fell like a torrential rain.
Shirou had not used this move in his battle against Lancer because he did not think it would work against a Hero of that caliber.
But against an ordinary Servant, a single volley like this would be enough to blow their Spirit Origin apart.
"...Eek!"
Astolfo screamed and threw himself forward, dodging with remarkable agility.
"How is that possible!? You have this many Noble Phantasms!? I thought having four was already the most anyone could have! You're such a cheater~~~~!"
As Astolfo shouted, he shifted fully into survival mode.
Faced with an opponent who could throw out dozens of Noble Phantasms at once, someone he could neither overpower nor outwit, there was still not a trace of fear in his eyes.
His movements were incredibly light. He bounded through the forest like a hare, nimbly dodging the swords Shirou fired at him.
Shirou tried using "Broken Phantasm" as well, but it had little effect.
As long as Astolfo escaped the blast radius before the Mana infused into the blades took effect, he would not be caught in the explosion. That was Astolfo's countermeasure.
No, perhaps he had not thought that far at all.
"Stop running."
"No way!"
Rider made a face at Shirou as he fled, and in response, Shirou summoned even more swords.
Astolfo had still seemed rather lively at first, but soon...
"Waaahhh!! This is absolutely impossible! Impossible! If it were Berserker, that'd be one thing, but there's no way I can win by myself! I'm the small fry at the very bottom of the Twelve Paladins, you know!?
How am I supposed to beat a cheat Noble Phantasm even worse than Joyeuse Ordre!? Anyone, please save meeeee!!"
"That's enough."
Several swords descended from the sky, about to pierce Rider's body.
Astolfo seemed ready to summon some kind of Noble Phantasm, but before he could, a black shadow charged in front of him with astonishing force.
"Step back, Rider. Leave this to me."
It was a burly man clad in silver armor, the chest plate cut wide open, with gleaming green markings carved into the skin of his chest.
The knightly man drew the life-sized silver greatsword from his back and stepped forward as though shielding the "girl", swinging the massive blade that surged with intense True Ether.
With an exquisite sword technique unleashed at the last possible moment, he cut down every blade flying in from all directions.
"Whoa! I almost thought I was going back to the Throne of Heroes! Thanks!"
Astolfo thanked Saber with tears in his eyes.
In response, the man merely glanced at him, then continued staring silently at Shirou, his eyes filled with fighting spirit toward the red-haired youth.
"Go support Lancer and the others. I'll handle him."
"Are you sure? He's really strong, you know? He might be even stronger than Berserker, right?"
Astolfo asked worriedly.
Deeper in the forest, the Servants of the "Black" faction had already engaged the "Red" Berserker, along with Rider and Archer, who had followed after him.
However, the "Black" Saber, Siegfried, had not joined that battle. Instead, he had come straight here.
He had not come under orders to support Rider, but for his own purpose.
Last night, he had sworn before everyone that he would deal with the threat of the red-haired boy himself, and now was the time to fulfill that promise.
"Oh, then I'll leave this to you, okay?"
Astolfo was a Heroic Spirit better suited to support than one-on-one combat. His true value could only be brought out when he had more teammates around him.
"See you later, Cheat Boy!"
Rider waved at Shirou, then turned away.
"Who are you calling Cheat Boy?"
Shirou smiled wryly as he watched Astolfo disappear into the stillness of the midnight forest.
Wait. That direction did not seem to be the battlefield where Berserker was rampaging. Where was he going?
The "Black" Saber gripped his sword in both hands, his expression grave, and silently took his stance.
"By the way, aren't you going to introduce yourself?" Shirou asked.
It was a bit of a shame to let an easy kill slip away, but the man before him was not someone he could simply ignore.
"There is no need."
Saber spoke in a low voice, his slightly pained expression seeming to say that a sword was all he needed for conversation.
"Fine, then..."
Shirou drew the Holy Sword from empty air.
It seemed his act of impersonating Saber had greatly displeased the real one.
Siegfried raised his greatsword overhead, split the air, and took a firm step forward.
After tonight, only one "Black" Heroic Spirit would remain who could claim the name of Saber.
...
"This really is quite a rare sight."
A girl in hunter's garb knelt on one knee atop a tree branch, looking down at the two "Black" Servants locked in combat.
This beautiful girl, who for some reason had beast ears and a tail, was the Archer of the "Red" faction.
Atalanta, the huntress of Greek mythology renowned for her speed.
Her original mission, assigned by her Master, was to assist or stop the rampaging Berserker.
Besides her, there was also Rider, who had followed along on his own.
Speaking of Rider, that guy had kept saying he came because he was "worried about her safety," but the moment an enemy appeared, he abandoned her and charged in headfirst, completely carried away.
Atalanta felt there was no real problem with leaving him alone, so she tracked the "Black" Saber, who was acting independently.
She had originally thought she might find a chance to pick off a weakened target, but she had not expected this turn of events.
Atalanta frowned slightly as she continued observing the two members of the "Black" faction below.
We have a Berserker on our side who cannot listen to reason and does whatever he wants. What is going on over here?
Infighting?
"This is exactly why men are completely unreliable. Are their brains made of muscle too?"
Either way, it was good news for her.
Atalanta began working out a tactic in her mind to take both of them down at once.
That aside, these two really were astonishing.
Had they lived in her era, they would have been warriors strong enough to rival Heracles.
Especially the red-haired youth. His swordplay was so swift and refined that it was almost dazzling.
As for the black-clad greatsword wielder, his sword technique was slightly inferior, but only by the narrowest margin compared to the red-haired youth. It was still a martial skill unmatched in the world.
Not only that, he had adopted an even more aggressive fighting style during the battle, leaving himself open to attacks.
However, when the red-haired youth's slashes landed on him, they failed to deal any real damage, leaving behind only faint scratches.
With that reckless offensive, the "Black" Saber forced his opponent, whose sword technique was slightly superior to his own, to keep retreating.
"Armor of Fafnir"
This Noble Phantasm embodied the legend of the great German hero Siegfried bathing in dragon's blood after slaying the dragon.
It could nullify physical attacks and Magecraft equivalent to B-rank.
For attacks of A-rank or higher, damage was calculated after subtracting a defensive value equivalent to B-rank.
Against a Noble Phantasm wielded by a proper Hero, it could obtain a defensive value equivalent to B+.
However, just as in the legend, the back that had not been drenched in blood received no defensive bonus.
Not only could his back not be hidden or covered, it was treated as a vital point, causing him to suffer even more lethal damage when struck there.
That was also why Gordes was unwilling to reveal Saber's True Name to his own clan.
Siegfried was without question the strongest Saber, but because he was far too famous, having his True Name discovered would put him at a severe disadvantage.
"Looks like he has some kind of defensive Noble Phantasm... All right, I've decided."
Atalanta drew her beloved bow, Tauropolos, a Noble Phantasm once blessed by the goddess Artemis.
Archer's first arrow in this Holy Grail War was aimed at the red-haired youth.
On one hand, the "Black" Saber clearly possessed some kind of invulnerable body. On the other hand...
Atalanta's instincts as Greece's greatest huntress told her that this boy was the greater threat.
After a moment's thought, she aimed the arrow at the red-haired youth's forehead.
It was a forest late at night, and visibility was frighteningly poor.
But the huntress's eyesight could spot a coin on the ground from several kilometers away. She was confident she could kill him with one shot.
However, one thing was very strange.
In the instant before Atalanta released the bowstring, a bow appeared in the red-haired youth's hand as well.
Even though the "Black" Saber was forcing him back again and again, at that exact moment, he abandoned his two-handed grip on his sword and drew a bow instead.
"?"
For a split second, a bad feeling flickered through Atalanta's mind, but she still loosed the arrow without hesitation.
The huntress of Greek mythology had absolute faith in her skill.
No matter how powerful or cunning the prey was, she believed her arrow would pierce through its life.
"Let your blood mark the opening of the Holy Grail War."
With that whisper, her fingers released the bowstring.
The arrow Archer fired was painted entirely black.
It was designed that way to eliminate any chance of the arrow itself being detected in a night battle.
More than that, her arrow flew faster than sound. In the blink of an eye, an arrow should have been sprouting from his forehead, and everything would have been over.
But...
"What!?"
Just as the arrow was about to hit the red-haired youth, he suddenly tilted his head and avoided the attack that should have struck without fail.
If that had been all, it would have been fine.
But when he turned back, Archer was shocked to see her arrow clenched between his teeth.
He caught it?
The unbelievable sight left Atalanta dazed for an instant.
Of course, it was possible to dodge. During a hunt, prey suddenly dropping flat to the ground was nothing unusual.
But just now, he had not dodged. He had deliberately lured her into firing, then caught the arrow.
In the darkness, the red-haired youth flashed a provocative smile at the huntress hiding in the shadows of the trees.
What he would do next was obvious.
Shirou took the arrow he had recovered from the "Red" Archer, set it against the string of the bow he had drawn in advance, and aimed toward the place the arrow had come from.
"You bastard... how dare you!?"
The huntress's beautiful face twisted with overwhelming rage and humiliation.
It was a disgrace she had never experienced in life.
An arrow she had aimed and fired was now being used by her prey to strike back at her. How could such a thing be allowed?