A wrinkly, contorted shell of a man descends the stairs to his basement—Zouken Matou. In his right hand he holds a helmet with large, red (albeit faded) plumage, and in his left hand his cane, which rhythmically hits the stone floor as he descends. While Sakura lies unconscious to his right, he pays her no heed; it's only expected that the worms are at work. His feet touch the basement floor, and he slowly hobbles over to a circle drawn in a crimson fluid.

I should never have left the Grail to that Shinji failure. If you want anything done right, you have to do it yourself, he thinks to himself. He places the helmet in the center of the circle and takes his place outside it. His hand outstretched, he mutters the incantation to himself, and within seconds a burst of powerful light explodes from the circle and a deafening thud echoes through the house. Zouken collapses due to the fatigue and the newfound strain on his circuits, and lifts his head to behold a giant, clad in brilliant Greek armor and a spear in hand, its body obscured by a thick black mist. A red emblem brands itself on his hand, and his new giant roars, a bellow only possible for a demigod. Berserker is summoned.

A black flash appears across the night sky—no, not a flash, for a flash implies brilliance—a deft spark of movement hardly evident to passersby. The figure clad in black need not be even introduced—Assassin, servant of the dagger. His garb clouds his face rather than a skull mask, and, though only his eyes are visible, it is clear that he isn't Hassan-i-Sabah but someone else entirely.

This servant didn't move without purpose; his master had ordered him to perform some reconnaissance on Caster's master and, if possible, eliminate him. He had his own ideas as to why he had selected Caster's master as the first to be investigated, but he dared not question his master's orders.

After jumping from building to building, he has at last found his target. There is, of course, a boundary field, but no field means anything to Assassin. Bypassing it with ease, he descends upon what must have been a dojo and sneaks through an open window. His hand reaching for the blade at his waist, he enters a giant room most likely used for training, carefully placing his foot one after the other upon the ground so as to not create a sound. His head pans across the room but finds not a trace of life. He returns the blade to its sheath when…

Ding!

Assassin parries an unseen blow from overhead. He assumes a stance and finds a man with thin, black hair and a red kendo robe holding a katana in front of his body. He must have jumped from the ceiling. The man doesn't introduce himself—a horizontal slash, a vertical chop, a jab aimed at Assassin's feet all explode out of the man's sword with fatal speed and dexterity. After narrowly avoiding a series of perfectly executed strokes, Assassin jumps away from his assailant.

"You must be Caster's master," Assassin exclaims. "I suppose this is good; my work is cut out for me." The boast is met with a grin, and the two resume exchanging blows.

The master proves more than a match for Assassin, whose confidence quickly dissipates. Each of Assassin's movements is predicted perfectly; his tricks and aces in the hole are parried with ease by the man—he who is not even the servant! Assassin bites his lip. This isn't good; it's like he's always a step ahead of me. More importantly, how did he know I was coming in the first place?

"Man, you really are as good as the legends say," the man exclaims. "I should expect no less from Hattori Hanzo."

Assassin's eyes widen. He's now not only predicting his arrival and every move, but also knows his identity? He has no alternative; he must retreat.

His eyes dart for a window, a door—anything that can aid him in his escape. He settles upon a screen door, which he slices and jumps through in a fluid motion. Now outside, Assassin sprints like he's never done before.

But what's this? There's a barrier in his way—an invisible field that precludes his escape. This should be solvable for Assassin, but the barrier is absolutely airtight. A sinking emotion consumes his heart.

"Territory Creation," explains the master as he coolly walks through the door newly splintered. "The ability to build special terrain in the user's favor—it's Caster's class ability. This barrier is a unique one; it lets you in but doesn't let you out."

Assassin turns around to face his opponent.

"So, what you're saying is that we're locked in a battle to the death."

The man reassumes his stance and grins widely.

"Precisely."

Assassin's master leans back in her recliner. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, from which she retrieves a cigarette that she places daintily in her lipsticked mouth. Rather than using a lighter, she snaps her fingers and lights the cigarette with her thumb, now immersed in a blue flame. Taking a drag, she props her head with her left hand, making the command spell on her right hand completely visible. Her long black hair pulled back in a ponytail, she wears a black duster stained in fresh blood and a pair of expensive-looking high heels. A top Enforcer of the Mage's Association, Akiko Sakamoto was not to be trifled with.

The recliner is not hers. Noting that staying in a hotel was both costly and territorially disadvantageous, she had Assassin scout for real estate and ultimately selected this house, swiftly disposing of its occupants and making it her new base of operations. The only things that belong to her in this house was the cigarette in her mouth and the servant standing watch.

A man materializes in the room. Tanned with ethnicity, he wears light chain mail and keeps a curved shortsword—his scimitar—at his side. His handsome face bears a thick, black beard and he stands, proud and regal, although his current countenance is one of concern. Akiko gives him a sidelong glance.

"What is it, Rider? Why aren't you keeping watch?"

"Master, I believe Assassin requires backup. I don't believe Caster's master is someone we should underestimate."

"Why put you at risk to rescue someone like Assassin? He's just useful for espionage."

"But…"

"Rider, you've only been under my command for a short period of time, so you may not be accustomed to my style, but let me make a few things clear. First, my orders are law. They are not to be questioned under any circumstance, and you are to obey them promptly and zealously. Second, Assassin is just a pawn. He's not even worth the backup you'd provide. He's useful for getting rid of pesky masters, and if he fails at that then he's a failure, plain and simple.

"Besides, I have another job for you. The seventh master just arrived at the Fuyuki airport, Lancer's no doubt. Investigate him and his master if possible."

"…Yes, ma'am."

Rider takes a quick bow before vanishing. Why was my master eliminated by such a person, he can't help but wonder to himself. He decides that, for now, he'll do as she says.