And so, amid the great melee in the forest of Trifas, the Holy Grail War saw its first elimination.
The first to notice the disappearance of the "Black" Saber were not only the Magi of the Yggdmillennia clan, but also the Queen of Assyria, who was closely monitoring the battlefield through her familiar, a dove.
Aside from her, there was also another Saber dozens of kilometers away.
"What is it, Saber?"
Kairi Sisigou looked at Mordred in confusion.
As if she had sensed something, the Rebel Knight suddenly turned her head toward the distance.
Then she saw it, a golden pillar of light piercing through the night.
"That light is..."
Mordred's eyes widened.
That radiance, hotter than the sun and brighter than the stars, was something she would never mistake even after another thousand years.
"Ha! Is that you? Are you there!?"
The girl's lips curled upward, revealing sharp canine teeth.
"Hm? Is the Servant fighting over there someone you know?"
"Yeah."
Mordred nodded firmly.
In this world, there were only two people who could release that light, those known as "Holy Sword Bearers."
Since "That King" was a being unable to manifest in a Holy Grail War, there could only be one person over there!
"My foolish Artoria (little sister)! This time, I'll break that conviction of yours and trample you under my feet!"
Mordred wore a frivolous smile, hatred flickering in her eyes.
At that moment, the Rebel Knight was still immersed in the joy of reuniting with her beloved little sister.
She had no idea what she would be facing over the next few days.
...
Although the process had taken a few twists and turns, Shirou had claimed the First Blood of the Holy Grail War.
With this, Manaka's mood should improve quite a bit.
Just as Shirou was happily preparing to leave the scene, he noticed the "Black" Rider, the pink-haired beauty (?), staring at him with an expression of deep emotion.
Then, with explosive speed that even caught Shirou off guard, he leaped up and threw himself at Shirou with all his strength, hugging him tightly.
"!?"
The one even more agitated than Shirou was Jeanne, who was hiding in the shadows.
"Uwaaaaaah! Thank you, thank you so much for saving that child...!
I never thought you were such a kind person! And I...! I'm sorry! I even tried to hurt you, I'm really sorry!"
"Huh? Let go of me already! I told you, I just helped because it was convenient! I didn't intend to save that brat! Don't get the wrong idea!"
"Wuuuh! Thank you, thank you!"
Shirou tried to pry Astolfo off him, but he clung on so tightly that Shirou could not pull him away at all.
Come to think of it, this guy was clearly a man, so why did he smell so nice? And why were his arms and thighs so soft?
"Let go of me!"
Shirou struggled even harder. If someone saw this...
It would be awful if Manaka misunderstood and thought I was colluding with the enemy!
"Rustle."
Just then, the bushes nearby suddenly shook. Shirou reflexively turned to look, and his breath caught.
More precisely, it was because he saw a figure emerging from the darkness.
Standing there was a half-naked gray giant bound all over with restraint belts.
The giant man's entire body was covered in armor-like muscles, and countless scars were carved into his corpse-gray skin, telling of the tragic past and brutal training he had endured.
A dozen or so stakes pierced his arms, which were as thick as an alligator's body, and his thighs, which were as sturdy as an elephant's hind legs, yet they did not hinder his movement in the slightest.
Though the giant was only a little over two meters tall, for an instant, Shirou felt as if he had reunited with the Fuyuki Sea Monster in a foreign land. That was how overwhelming the man's presence was.
A baffling, radiant smile hung on the giant's face, making him seem even more eerie in the darkness.
"Are you the Berserker rampaging around nearby?"
Shirou's words caught the giant's attention.
When he turned and looked down at the red-haired youth, the smile on his face somehow grew even brighter.
"I finally found you, Oppressor♡"
With that, Berserker charged toward Shirou and Astolfo like a runaway train.
The earth shook. It was no illusion.
The giant was merely running, yet the forest itself seemed to scream.
"Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Hahahahaha!"
As Berserker laughed, he raised his right hand high.
From the corner of his eye, Shirou caught sight of the short sword in his hand.
Not only was that sword not a Noble Phantasm, its edge was chipped and bent, but Shirou did not doubt for a second that this man could blow away a city gate through sheer monstrous strength alone.
"Accept my love! Oppressor! Meet your joyous end in my embrace!!!"
"Wh-what the hell?"
Astolfo cried out while clinging to Shirou's arm.
"...Get out of the way!"
The instant Berserker's blade came crashing down, Shirou threw the "Black" Rider aside and drew the Holy Sword from the raging wind.
Shirou did not block with brute force. Instead, he used a clever angle to divert most of the slash's force while leaping backward.
With his current Spirit Origin, if he used "Mana Burst" at full power, he could even contend with Berserker in strength and use his speed advantage to counterattack.
But Shirou did not do that.
An indescribable intuition told him that he must not attack Berserker carelessly.
The stakes piercing Berserker's body and limbs right now were probably not "decorations" he had come with as a Heroic Spirit.
Without a doubt, they were what had been left behind from his earlier battle with the "Black" faction.
While nimbly harrying Berserker with hit-and-run tactics, Shirou calmed his mind and thought.
He had taken fatal wounds and still had not died... so this guy was a Hero famed for endurance?
His judgment was by no means wrong.
The "Red" Berserker's True Name was Spartacus.
A Thracian gladiator, and a symbol of rebellion.
Spartacus had originally been a gladiator slave of Rome, but one day, he suddenly escaped with seventy-eight companions and repelled a pursuing force of roughly three thousand men, becoming a hero who inspired armed resistance among slaves throughout the land.
In the end, he was betrayed by the pirates he had entrusted himself to and cut down by Rome's great army, but until then, he had won every battle. To the weak and the enslaved, Spartacus was a star of hope.
He hated all rulers and burned with fighting spirit against every strong person, all for the sake of protecting, caring for, and healing the weak.
Spartacus firmly believed that "at the end of endurance lies the strength of humanity."
The two Personal Skills he possessed were "Unyielding Will" and "Honor of Suffering."
One was an unyielding will that would never submit, no matter what pain or despair he faced, granting him both physical and mental resistance.
The other meant that the more severe the attacks he suffered, the higher his fighting spirit would rise, until all the power hidden within him was drawn out.
In other words, he could not get serious unless he was beaten, and the more he was beaten, the stronger he became.
But if you thought Spartacus was merely a Heroic Spirit who could take a beating, you would be terribly wrong.
For this gladiator who fought to resist tyranny...
Every bit of suffering he accumulated was for the sake of that one decisive strike that would overturn everything.
"Oooh! Why!? Why do you flee from my embrace, Oppressor!?"
Berserker roared in grief and indignation.
"Sorry, but I'm into girls."
Shirou ducked under the slash, and the great tree behind him was cut clean through the middle and sent flying.
"Whether it's a two-meter-tall muscle daruma or an unbelievably cute little boy, neither is within my strike zone."
"...Phew."
Jeanne, hiding in the bushes, let out a sigh of relief.
"Hahahahaha! Excellent! That arrogance of yours is truly wonderful! How splendid! How splendid indeed!"
Berserker's fighting spirit rose even higher, and he charged wildly out of control like a boar with the body of a small mountain.
"Oppressor, the dam of arrogance has burst! The time has come for the pride of the strong to be shattered! Uuuuuooooohhhhhhh!"
"..."
Shirou showed no fear, standing in place as he prepared to meet the impact.
"I'll help too!"
The cloaked pink-haired knight girl (?) raised his lance, took his stance, and charged between Shirou and Berserker.
"Wait! Don't be reckless...!"
Shirou had already experienced firsthand just how weak Astolfo was.
He would probably be run over by Berserker like a speed bump.
But that was not what happened.
"Trap of Argalia!"
Spartacus's knees suddenly vanished, and he crashed heavily forward onto the ground.
Astolfo's lance was not designed to kill enemies.
Just as the literal meaning of the casual name he had given it suggested, anything touched by its tip would immediately and forcibly fall.
On a battlefield, if a heavily armed cavalryman fell from his horse, it was as good as death. Even outside battle, it was easy to imagine how much honor one could win simply by bringing this lance to a joust.
When used as a Noble Phantasm against a Servant, its effect was achieved by forcibly turning everything below the knees into Spirit Form.
No matter which part of the body it touched, even if it only made contact through armor woven from Mana, the lance would forcibly cut off the Mana supply below the knees, temporarily preventing the Servant from forming a physical body there.
"Yes! It worked!"
Astolfo happily raised his lance, then turned toward the red-haired youth, wanting to take credit.
"...Huh?"
There was no one behind the "Black" Rider.
Shirou, who had clearly been standing there just a moment ago, had already fled somewhere without anyone noticing.
"Why did you run away!?"
"Ooooohhhhh! Losing my legs alone cannot stop me!"
Berserker's roar drowned out Rider's cry.
Spartacus was an indomitable fighter.
As long as everything above his knees remained intact, he would probably try to defeat his opponent even if he had to crawl.
"Th-this is bad!"
Astolfo shouted in panic.
Berserker crawled over and grabbed his slender calf, robbing him of even his one advantage in mobility.
But just as Astolfo was about to meet his end...
"Well done, Rider."
A voice filled with authority rang out nearby. At the same time, countless stakes pierced Spartacus's enormous body, pinning him firmly to the ground.
The king of the "Black" faction, Lancer, Vlad III, appeared riding a bronze golem horse.
Appearing with him were his Master, Darnic, as well as Archer, Berserker, and Caster with his army of golems.
"You did well to hold Berserker back."
"..."
Astolfo was astonished. Had that boy noticed long ago that the "Black" faction was on its way, which was why he had quietly retreated?
His admiration for Shirou deepened even further.
Originally, Spartacus had lost his way while fighting the Servants of the "Black" faction and had only stumbled upon Shirou and Astolfo by chance.
While pursuing Berserker, the "Black" faction had run into the "Red" Lancer and Atalanta, who had come to harass them. Only after forcing them back did they finally arrive late.
Caster raised a single finger, and the waiting golems swarmed the struggling Spartacus all at once.
The "Black" faction's goal was not to kill Spartacus, but to capture him alive.
One giant golem after another was sent flying dozens of meters into the air, but gradually, Berserker began to run out of strength. In the end, he was unable to move, like a caterpillar buried under ants.
Vlad III nodded in satisfaction.
"Good. Proud rebel, I offer you my respect.
At the same time, I shall redirect your rebellion. From this day forward, your master shall be us."
With Caster's Magecraft, even turning a Servant of the "Red" faction into a slave of the "Black" faction was possible.
"...!"
Spartacus's smile vanished, and he glared furiously at the "Black" Lancer.
However, Vlad III had already lost interest in the Berserker now that he had been successfully restrained.
He looked toward the Homunculus lying nearby and frowned. "What is that?"
Caster said, "My king, this is an artificial lifeform that escaped from the fortress. I was just searching for him."
"Please wait!"
Astolfo rushed in front of the Homunculus and spread his arms wide.
"The reason I was able to hold Berserker back just now was entirely thanks to him! For that alone, please spare his life!"
Caster said coldly, "Impossible. This Homunculus is an important resource. In the first place, Homunculi exist to be consumed."
"No, that's not true!"
Rider shouted, "He has the will to live! I heard his cry for help!"
"How absurd. How could a Homunculus possess a will to survive?" Caster snorted in disdain.
Astolfo and Caster argued head-on, neither side willing to back down, until the king finally made the decision.
"Enough. In recognition of Rider's service tonight, spare his life.
From now on, this Homunculus shall handle logistics work within the castle."
"My king, is that truly wise?"
The objection did not come from Caster, but from the head of Yggdmillennia.
"Artificial lifeforms are extremely important magical resources.
We have just lost Saber. You should understand very well how important he was as part of our fighting strength.
For that reason, now more than ever, we should..."
Vlad III frowned in displeasure. "Darnic, do you intend to make me repeat myself?"
"Ugh... Yes, my deepest apologies."
Darnic bowed respectfully to his Servant and said in a low voice, "I shall obey your will."
...
On the way back to the Fortress of Millennia, the "Black" Archer walked over to Astolfo and struck up a conversation.
"That boy who defeated Saber. Is he strong?"
"Yeah, super strong. Ridiculously strong. He might even be stronger than Lancer~"
Astolfo muttered something so dangerous that if Vlad III heard it, his life might be forfeit.
Archer looked at his beaming expression and immediately understood, roughly guessing what had happened before they arrived.
However, he had no intention of telling anyone.
On the contrary, had he been there, he probably would have helped as well.
Perhaps it was an occupational habit.
In life, the "Black" Archer had been the teacher of many great heroes. Even after receiving this false second life, he still longed to leave something behind for this world.
"Tell me more about that boy."
"Sure."
Astolfo vividly began recounting how he had ridden the hippogriff and been caught in the aftermath of the Noble Phantasm clash.
Behind the two of them, a girl in a pure white wedding dress, Berserker, followed silently, listening to their conversation.
...
"Mm... mmm~"
Ruler slowly opened her heavy eyes.
"Where am I... mm... Huh? Huh? Huuuh?
A-Ar... Artorius? Why am I in your arms!?"
Jeanne's cheeks instantly flushed red, and her mouth fell half-open in disbelief.
She could not understand the situation. Why was she lying in Artorius's arms!?
Shirou rolled his eyes and said irritably:
"I should be asking you that. Why were you sleeping in the bushes? Weren't you supposed to be supervising the Holy Grail War, Ruler-sama?"
"Huh?"
Jeanne blinked in confusion.
Then she finally remembered.
At the time, she had been hiding in the grass and secretly watching Shirou, but just then, her strength had suddenly left her. She had wanted to sleep.
More precisely, it was not Jeanne d'Arc who had wanted to sleep. It was Leticia's body that required rest.
The body she had possessed had only just arrived in Romania and had not yet adjusted to the time difference or staying up late.
Even for Jeanne d'Arc, the world-famous Holy Maiden, that drowsiness was not something she could overcome by willpower alone.
Since it was her first time experiencing such a thing, Jeanne had been caught completely off guard and lost consciousness as if someone had cut the power.
As a result, when Shirou was retreating, he happened to find the Holy Maiden sleeping soundly.
After hesitating for a moment, he ultimately decided to take her along too.
"You should thank me. Otherwise, some weird old man might have picked you up."
"I-I see... I misunderstood you... Ugh!"
Falling asleep by the roadside in the middle of her duties as Ruler was more than just embarrassing.
And of all people, Artorius had seen it...
Jeanne bit her lip lightly, overcome with shame and frustration.
Come to think of it, how long was he planning to keep carrying her like a princess?