Howling wind was one's only companion on the high peaks.

Above the endless clouds, there was only an unnatural darkness. It surrounded Chaldea's mountain and the nearby range, creating a sphere protected only by the dimensional field generated by Chaldeas. It was almost like a reality marble, and though the employees never saw it, some of the servants had to make the report. They really were alone in this dimension, just like he was on an adjacent peak.

"Seventy-one… Seventy-two…"

The mountain where Chaldea was built, with the building sitting at nearly four thousand meters above sea level, was the largest and most prominent in sight. Several mountains acted as makeshift supports for the colossal mound of earth, with one of them flanking the structure. This smaller cousin formed its peak only a scant few hundred meters above the facility, forming no threat of avalanches. A saddle formed between it and the massive mountain, connecting the organization to another large, flat outcrop that used to act as a helipad.

"Ninety-Eight… Ninety-nine… One hundred."

With a sigh and a smirk, the well-toned, muscular berserker placed the large boulder he had been using for squats onto the rough peak. Celtic tattoos ran down the biceps of the man in question, ending near the elbow and letting the black hand wraps cover his wrists and forearms. The blonde-haired individual had his scarred chest in full view, and wore nothing more than a pair of gym shorts for leggings.

Beowulf patted the two-ton boulder, which was originally the peak of the very mountain before he accidentally broke it during his training sessions. The workout machines in the gym could only do so much, even while purposefully lowering their energy outputs. He preferred to use his servant strength and personal training regime, not that it would actually accomplish anything. Servants couldn't gain more power without the ascensions or assisting craft coins, so he did it out of habit.

The training grounds below, this mountain, and any nearby spires, formed his own little sanctuary. Here he could think about random things, or spar to his heart's content with anyone willing. It was usually with one of the three larger berserkers, but trading blows with others was always a nice treat. Cu and Diarmuid were some of the more interesting spars since they were considerably faster, though Leonidas' love for training and tenacity made him a great fighting partner as well. Perhaps another good sparring partner would arrive soon.

It might be interesting to spar with Attila the Hun, or maybe even Iskandar again, should either be summoned.

With a frown and a sigh, he scratched the back of his head. He was the one leading today's special training session due to the master's disappearance. As concerned as he was for his mysterious disappearance, they had to keep training while those who could search for him with Chaldeas' aid did so. If anything, it gave him a rare opportunity to give form to his particular opinion about the class in training. He had not been happy about how much effort they pushed into their defensive training.

"I'm not looking forward to it either… but they need to learn a lesson," Beowulf grumbled and shook his head.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

Fragment 6: Talk with your Fists

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

To reach the Training Grounds, individuals needed to walk half a kilometer west of Chaldea over the small saddle between the main mountain and the smaller, adjacent one. The small trek was eased by a metal grated, raised walkway that was easy to clear of ice. Occasionally an avalanche or two would bury the path, but robots would handle the cleanup work with occasional servant assistance. Thankfully the avalanches couldn't threaten Chaldea itself due to its reinforced nature.

The former landing field served well as a training area. Several smaller peaks rose around the almost circular plateau, partially hampering the view of the range beyond. Structures on sight were limited to separate bathrooms and a small observation deck with a slanted roof, but no walls to protect from the cold. This lack of environmental protection was amplified by the wind that was always blowing at least ten kilometers an hour, increasing to fifty at random intervals.

It was rare to ever see an employee out here unless it was to repair something intricate a robot couldn't. High altitudes made the work extra strenuous, on top of the harsh conditions. The relatively shielded, by mountain and structure, shooting range was one of the only safe places outside for employees. Even the servants were reluctant to come here unless they were keen on sparring. The ones that absolutely loved coming here enjoyed the challenge of sparring under adverse conditions to keep themselves primed.

Beowulf looked over the group of mages and nodded in approval. They looked ready.

There was a small gathering of servants who normally wouldn't consider being anywhere near these grounds, most of which stood on the walkway observing a spar in progress. Casters made up the vast majority of the group, though a few others showed up as support. It was for both distracting herself from anxiety and observing for Gudao that Mashu likely found herself standing in the observation deck, bundled with a large, white jacket with the Chaldea logo on the back.

To her right were the only two other occupants of the room, the closest of which was Medea wearing her full battle regalia with the hood over her eyes. The one furthest pulled a cigarette out of his mouth and exhaled. He had positioned himself downwind out of courtesy for his deck mates. It honestly surprised Beowulf to see the caster here, but figured Hans absence meant they were handling the situation with Da Vinci instead.

Lord El-Melloi II had what appeared to be a permanent scowl for a face as he stared at Beowulf. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his red trench coat with golden accents. The golden scarf he wore waved in the wind with his long, black hair. Still, his eyes didn't leave the berserker as Beowulf turned his attention elsewhere. He was content enough to know Gudao's analytical advisor would likely lend a hand in the critique of his fellow classmates' defenses.

Beowulf's quick glance ended with a small nod. "Showing up is only the first step, but it's good to see many of you have come. I will presume Irisviel is also assisting Da Vinci… while Shakespeare is just simply not showing up. Again."

"Shakespeare? In a battle? We'd have to bring it to the library," Tamamo joked dryly in her battle attire, making some servants chuckle.

"As interesting as that might be, I don't think Hans would appreciate that," Beowulf snickered and shook his head. "How about Paracelsus? I know he's not one to take to the field as often either, but he could still use the training."

"He is also assisting Da Vinci," Mashu answered, making the berserker nod in response. "Though… to be fair, he and Tesla are likely just keeping Gabby calm. She's still having an anxiety attack over this whole ordeal."

"They're best friends. I'd be more worried if she wasn't," El-Melloi chimed in simply.

"It can't be helped then… but the rest of you casters didn't come to talk, right? That's great, I mean it. We've got to make Gudao happy and make sure you can defend yourselves well."

Stretching both arms to his side, he shifted into his battle attire. His gym shorts would be protected since they were now replaced with his regular pants, but it was the two swords that really mattered. Two tanned hands grasped the handles as they appeared. The largest of the pair, Naegling, was lifted onto the shoulder of the berserker as the chain connecting his wrists rattled. He shifted his legs, squaring his bare feet with his shoulders, before flashing one hell of a smirk as he swung the lengthier blade, Hrunting, like a windmill at his side.

"We'll keep this simple. I'm only going to hold back so much, and my opponent simply needs to last as long as possible. Stalling might not be fancy or heroic, but we usually have the numbers advantage in the singularities."

This was the simple truth. Chaldea almost always had the numerical superiority in conflicts, especially when stray servants lent their hand. There had been several instances where backline servants had been focused by rather problematic assaulters though. Weaker foes, while easy enough to handle, sometimes bogged down reinforcements from assisting fast enough. This concern never left Gudao, and was only amplified when Tamamo and Mozart had almost been overwhelmed while advancing on Washington.

As far as Beowulf could remember, the pair still owed Elizabeth and Fionn for coming to their aid. That had been Gudao's final straw for his nerves, and he had pleaded with them to undergo some sort of training. Combined with his habit of overworking, and constantly burying himself in formations to better assist, the casters had agreed. Still, the trainings he had seen felt lax by his and Leonidas' standards, so they needed a wakeup call. Gudao was being far too lenient as far as he was concerned; They were heroes, and they needed to act like it.

"You can call it quits if you wish, but I recommend taking this seriously. I'm not aiming to kill or anything."

"So we just need to hold out until we decide to tap out," El-Melloi II murmured. "Straightforward and easy enough."

For heroic spirits, most things were indeed easy, but there was a difference between confidence and cockiness. Hrothgar's sermon still rang within his head after presenting him with the head of Grendel. To have fought the best and won with bare hands, then defeat it certainly with its mother soon after was truly a feat of praise. Still, the king had given him words of wisdom, and to be wary of pride and arrogance. As a heroic spirit, he could safely say he had him to thank for reeling it in, but it appears the casters needed a lesson.

If it was indeed their pride that resulted in partial effort, then he'd show them what only a fraction of his effort was.

Determination flashed across Beowulf face as his amused smile grew. "It's going to be anything but easy."


¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ III ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨


"Should I?" The demi-servant asked. Lord El-Melloi II sighed.

"Yes. Please be ready, Mashu," The man specified flatly.

"I'm set!" Mashu replied before Lord Chaldeas materialized into one of her hands. "Scutum fidei defendet te!"

There was a pained yell as the spell activated in the nick of time. "You said you were holding back, you brute!"

The ability's ignition, and the panicked yell, were followed by the ground shaking as the defeated servant flew past the observation deck and collided with the side of the smaller mountain. An obvious, human shaped indent in the snow was the only indicator where she landed. Mashu looked back with concern while both Medea and the male caster sighed.

"Tch, I am holding back!" Beowulf grunted from his position in the center of the Training Grounds, completely unscathed.

Beowulf relaxed his position, making it clear he was no longer on the offensive. This prompted a few servants to run quickly towards their fallen ally to check if she was alright. The berserker had to admit, Tamamo was quite strong in holding her own. He couldn't feel any real flaw in her defensive maneuvering. Between signature spells, and some minor close combat capabilities, he would say she was likely one of the more prepared casters. She had lasted nearly fifteen minutes, which was a considerable amount of time against his onslaught.

Tamamo didn't even need the help of a craft coin either. He simply watched as they fished her out of the hole in the snow to check for injuries. Judging by her slightly frazzled hair, and an angrily waving tail, she was clearly alright. As stated, he wasn't aiming to kill or severely injure, but he was going to make a point. These things needed to be taken seriously.

"Alright... Well done, Tamamo. Who's next? You want a go, El-Melloi?"

"Do not forget the two in my title… I shall pass for now."

"Right. My mistake… How about you, Mozart?"


¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ IV ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨


"Scutum fidei defendet te!"

Mozart quickly flew into the side of the mountain's base, though much harder than Tamamo did. Even Beowulf winced slightly. 'Sheesh… I didn't think he was that fragile.'

It has been weeks since Gudao gave the general order for casters to go through some close combat training. Their class wasn't the only one more specialized to ranged and support roles, but the archers were diverse enough that close combat wasn't much of an issue for them. Even though they operated independently, most coordinated interlacing lanes of fire that covered each other from extreme distances. The casters did this less.

If on the frontlines, the casters had to remain relatively close to the other servants to properly support, and were often seen as juicier targets for enemies that chose to bypass the front line. Serious training was only sidelined in favor of making the frontline more cohesive. Coordination between the melee fighters and ranged support also was a higher priority. Increasing strength and coordination by enemies only proved this could no longer be delayed.

Since then, Gudao had been focusing most training on their protection.

This was only part of the reason why most of the casters had started coming to the Training Grounds. Still, they had appeared for the scheduled session today without their master's presence. Helpless as Roman and Da Vinci scrambled to find out his position, venting only seemed proper. Upon first contact a few minutes ago, relief broke through Chaldea upon discovering there were friendly servants protecting him. It seemed this was the only piece of good news for the casters.

Beowulf had only sparred with two so far, but it was clear they were getting unnerved by his ferocity.

"First me, now Mozart! How the hell is that holding back, Beowulf!?" Tamamo cried from the sidelines. The muscular male shifted his attention to the fox caster, an eyebrow raised out of some amusement. Still, he was exasperated she was asking.

"The telegraph for him was more obvious. It was clear as day I was about to unleash my noble phantasm. I even held back further for Mozart," Beowulf explained while shrugging his shoulders

Tamamo was clearly dumbfounded that he'd consider his most powerful attack as sparring appropriate, but he did it all the time with Heracles and Spartacus. "I have to give credit to Mozart, though. Not many would try and take that kind of a strike head on, even if it was only at a small fraction of its strength. He also got better at evading as the fight went on."

"A noble phantasm is a noble phantasm," Marie complained as she tried to reassure Nightingale he was alright. The nurse was starting to get that little glint in her eye that unnerved almost everyone.

The queen knelt in the snow next to him, concern written on what could be seen of her face. Anyone could take numerous guesses on how many layers she wore under her over-sized red parka and cloth covered face... Weren't servants supposed to be unaffected by temperature?

Nightingale was quickly running a medical check over the very dazed Mozart. The front of his green overcoat was open to allow the nurse to inspect for any damage, but true to his word, there was only bruising at the impact sight. Beowulf knew with Nightingale's presence, he had extra incentive to hold back otherwise his friend would go crazy on him and the wounded. The man was a master in managing the strength of his fists, so even the weaker Mozart should still be fine after his strike.

Behind the bundled rider was an equally covered Nursery Rhyme, wrapped warmly in a matching set of black mittens, wool hat, and a parka. It truly was both amusing and adorable how much Atalanta babied her children. She rubbed her covered hands together as the unnerving stare left Nightingale's expression upon Mozart's annoyed mumbling. "Miss Nightingale, will Mister Mozart be ok?"

Nightingale placed a hand in front of the dazed caster's face and snapped her fingers repeatedly, not getting his attention. The glint in her eye returned as she shook her head. Beowulf watched as his friend stood up and let out an exasperated sigh. She took off her medical backpack and opened the main compartment, struggling a bit to see past the sleeves of her long coat. She smiled almost demonically as she pulled out the tool in question, bringing it into full view: A bone saw.

"I must examine Mozart's chest for internal damage."

"I'm fine! I'm fine! I insist!" Mozart yelped as he crawled backwards in a frenzy, falling back into the hole the pair had dragged him out of much to Marie's dismay. She found herself significantly more watchful over her lounge musician than the adorable young caster she was originally supposed to accompany for Atalanta.

"Mhmm, no serious complications it seems," Nightingale chuckled, repacking her equipment. "Well done, Mashu."

"Thank you," Mashu replied quickly from the nearby observation deck. A small buzzing was heard over the wind, causing the demi-servant to reach into her pocket and pull out a small device. It was a monitor with attached keyboard, used to relay text messages among similar devices without direct connection. It was the only communication device that worked outside thanks to the snow's interference. She frowned at the message.

"Bad news?" Medea asked next to her, gazing towards the device.

"Doctor Roman wants me back inside. He said he wanted to try something to retrieve Senpai," Mashu stated clearly before quickly beginning her jog down the grated path. Servants stepped out of her way as she passed the surrounding group. They watched her swiftly disappear over the saddle. Beowulf shifted in the center of the plateau and exhaled.

"So..." The masculine voice of the volunteer echoed across the field. "Who's next? I'll go easier on the next one. I promise."


¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ V ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨


To Medea's credit, she had lasted against Beowulf for over twenty minutes straight, even if she was airborne.

"Tie yongqi... Baohu wo di shibing!" El-Melloi's voice boomed the small activation, covering the female caster in a small sheen of light as a powered fist slammed into the servant. Medea's eyes widened at the force of the impact; Even though it was dampened significantly by the spell defending her, the sheer power behind the fist meant that she wasn't going to be flying much longer. The magic circles floating in the air around her shattered, and her breath left her lungs.

Then down she went.

She screamed in pain as she impacted the snow-covered rock of the plateau, having been struck from midair by the cunning berserker. As if Beowulf's strength wasn't enough of a hurdle, his significantly weakened mad enhancement meant he had almost full clarity with his thoughts and reasoning. The muscular servant landed near his discarded weapons, cracking his knuckles while mentally patting himself on the back for that spontaneous play. He met the caster's glare who was now flanked by Nightingale and Marie.

Beowulf clapped with a grin. "Well done! I think you're more than prepa-"

"Are you trying to kill me, you brute-" A coughing fit interrupted Medea as the rider held a towel in front of her mouth; Part of the cloth turned red.

Nightingale's eyes flashed dangerously as she instantly coaxed Medea back onto the ground to do a proper evaluation. Beowulf watched nearby as she checked on the caster, asking Marie to act as a small curtain as she parted bits of the blue-haired servant's robe. Even as she worked, she occasionally tossed a venomous glare towards her friend, making the grin quickly leave his face. He frowned as she continued to shoot glares his direction.

"I thought you treated your people and women kinder than this," she practically growled. She soon began mumbling about her typical medical know how, running a verbal checklist as she assisted the wounded caster. Truthfully, Medea could heal herself, but there was no arguing with the berserker nurse regardless of who you were; They simply let her be. "This isn't like you, Beowulf."

He frowned further. Nightingale knew more than most considering how close they were as companions. Besides eating together, and occasionally with the larger berserkers to keep them company, they would occasionally talk aimlessly in their free time. If anyone knew him, it was her, and vice versa. The memorial essences from their counterparts in America had only improved that.

So it was only expected she would be angry with him like the others. The Angel of Crimea, who wanted nothing more than to rid the world of its need for hospitals, by bringing an end to disease and war. Here he was, her friend and confidant, supposedly training casters by inflicting serious injury onto them. He truly did intend it as a wakeup call, but he had gotten too excited when sparring with Medea. She truly was a fearsome opponent with her incredible magecraft, which made him put that much more effort into ensuring he didn't get fried instead.

Medea was slowly being walked to the sidelines by Marie. Nightingale glared towards her fellow berserker as she stood up and approached him. She got right up to her friend and gazed with frustration into his eyes, but spoke loudly. "This sparring is only acceptable up until you decide to end it the hard way, Beowulf. You're going to completely incapacitate another servant at this rate, and I will not allow that. Can you please spar lighter for them?"

The muscled man merely grunted and crossed his arms.

"Tch... Look, Gale. I'm putting serious effort into these spars so they become better at reacting, evading, and defending. This is a serious matter. It's their safety at stake, but I am holding back considerably... You know I ain't lying."

Nightingale's glare did not falter, and even Medea sent one as she reached the catwalk. Several casters on the sideline were also frowning towards the berserker, who didn't seem openly apologetic. Beowulf was not completely controlled by his mad enhancement, but he can see how they might think his idea of sparring and training was possibly being influenced by it.

Though most did not want to admit it to him at the moment, he could tell by their silence they acknowledged it. He did have a fair point about being prepared for conflict by training as if it were real. Practice was best when it was as close to the real thing as possible. With a shake of her head, Nightingale began walking away with a sigh, and he knew he would likely hear more complaints about his training later.

He looked to the sidelined and observed as Lord El-Melloi II strolled up to Medea. Marie slowly brought the female caster to a sitting position as she began healing herself. With some quick coaxing, he convinced her to stop healing herself so he could perform the act for her. She let out a sigh of relief as he began a quick healing spell.

"I apologize for not having the same quality as Mashu's defense," The man grumbled, more than just upset with the situation.

"It's fine... preferable to being unconscious," Medea responded, obviously still upset at the berserker she was gazing towards. "The most handsome men are always the worst."

"He's just the destructive guy he is. We've known this, but he is holding back."

"Still doesn't excuse his behavior to me," Medea griped with a huff.

The sidelines fell quiet as Beowulf scanned them. Several of the servants have already fought him and lost, some putting up quite the defense before he broke through. Of the servants present, the only caster he had yet to fight would be Nursery Rhyme, who was currently cowering behind Tamamo. He doubted many would appreciate making a little girl cry, not that he would even try to.

Tamamo's valiant defense and surprising agility still let her claim the second longest time against him. Lord El-Melloi II was a shocking surprise, having gone a full fifteen minutes without taking a single hit, thanks partially to that silver mystic code of his. He had fought for twenty-two before stating he had enough upon an increasing number of blows the silver mystic code had intercepted. Beowulf was impressed, though mainly for the signature mystic code that had intercepted him well.

"Striking girls and using excessive force against fellow allies. I guess I'm not being to genuinely heroic am I...?" He mused out loud, but no servant dared reply in case they sparked an aggravated reply. "It's for your own sakes that you need to learn to defend yourselves better against a break in the line. It's already happened several times, and it won't stop there."

It even happened to the frontliners, but they were at the highest risk of course. Still, if he could help it, he didn't want to see a repeat of his personal experiences. True, the loss of Aeschere at the hands of the vengeful Grendel's mother was of slightly different circumstances, it still held an underlying concern of his. Though he enjoyed his time in this peaceful place as much as most, complacency may wind up getting another trusted ally killed. Beowulf really did trust them with his back, but he wished they trusted his method more.

He sighed. "We're all heroic spirits. We've each gone through many trials, and this is just another one. Please take this seriously for your own sakes."

"You could be nicer," Nursery Rhyme said quietly, yelping in surprise and retreating behind Tamamo further upon attracting his gaze. It had been a simple, calm expression though.

Beowulf let out another groan in frustration and looked down at his feet; He wasn't doing a good job keeping positive relations with the other servants today. The berserker couldn't imagine the others in his class being any more managing, except Asterios and Kiyohime. Definitely not Lancelot in his current state, though Scathach had a close eye on him usually; Something clearly needed to be done about that chaotic berserker. Shaking the thoughts, he looked up with frustrated eyes and-

There was a disturbance that all servants on the plateau felt at the same time. Surprise was the first reaction. It was replaced by a wave of relief washing over all of the servants present. The muscular servant grunted in satisfaction, his current mood with the frustrated casters having disappeared.

Their master had just returned to Chaldea. The diluted signature of the prana flare centered in the Deployment Room was clear evidence.

Lord El-Melloi II exhaled the smoke from his lungs before musing out loud, "Shakespeare would probably say something poetic about now... if he was actually here training."

Medea rolled her eyes. "That playwright... As least show up once..."

A buzzing noise resonated from Nightingale's pack, which she quickly took off and opened. Grabbing the offending device and staring at its monitor, she read aloud, "Flawless news... Gudao is safe and in perfect health. He and Mashu will be coming to supervise training as soon as they summon a servant. Our master apparently has a specific catalyst he wishes to use immediately."

No one spoke, but Beowulf assumed the thoughts were all the same. There was some discontent and uncertainty about the decision, though it was mixed with curiosity over the hasty summoning. It was likely going to be a servant from the incident that just happened, specifically one of the ones who aided him. Beowulf had to make a note to thank that servant when they arrived for keeping their master safe.

Still, he could see the disinterest growing on dealing with him longer, and he couldn't blame them honestly.

At worst for them, training with him would probably continue unless Gudao requested someone else as a replacement. At best, that meant training with each other while master coordinated, which he would enjoy. It wouldn't be the first time the latter happened, but sparring sessions have been the norm recently in regards to the casters' self-defense. Regardless which one it would be, all their hands were reluctantly tied, at least until master arrived to make the final decision.

"I'm going to ask master if we can have a break," Medea said quietly as she stood up from her spot. "Gods willing, maybe I can convince him to switch it to formation drills."

The princess, accompanied by Marie, made her way past the crowd and towards the saddle, her eyes covered the whole time. The queen was staying near the mage as silent support if she needed it. The quick breaths she took made it apparent Medea wasn't completely recovered. Nightingale and Lord El-Melloi II stood underneath the observation deck, scowls on both their faces. On the sidelines atop the walkway, the rest of the casters looked reluctantly towards Beowulf, who was currently doing hand stand push-ups to keep himself preoccupied.

"When one of you feels like sparring with me, feel free to step up and we can try again," Beowulf sighed in slight resignation.

'I could use a real challenge after this. I wonder if Herc or Asterios is up for a spar later.'


¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VI ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨


"I shall be your opponent!"

There was no room for discussion as the newly summoned servant leapt in front of Beowulf barely ten minutes after Medea. The master, Mashu, Marie, and the magus were jogging down the walkway the challenger had charged through, a grin on her face the entire time. The servants along the sidelines stared in confusion at the entrance of the newest ally, who now stood before a confused Beowulf as he gauged his new opponent.

The woman was in a fighting stance and holding what appeared to be a bo staff. Her white overcoat was so low cut it revealed a bikini top between its golden accents, but also her bottoms through a small gap in the front. White leggings with golden accents covered her lower legs, completing the perplexing ensemble. Long, dark brown hair waved in the wind, while a purple, spiked cap with beige shroud looked secure and non-threatened by the gusts. Her magenta eyes and wide grin showed that the fair skinned woman was more than just eager for a fight.

She now had Beowulf's full, content attention and curiosity. "Heh. The new servant, eh?"

"Yup! That's me! I heard there was some training with Beowulf and I got all excited!" She grinned and rivalled the sun.

"Well I don't know who you are, but I like the enthusias-"

She swung her staff swiftly, and to the surprise of those observing, it extended and was quickly blocked by both of Beowulf's weapons in a cross guard.

Beowulf smirked. "My, my. We got a feisty one. I like that even more. I'll thank you for protecting master later… Let's fight!"

The staff retracted instantly, and the woman charged quickly along her opponent's right flank. Beowulf watched her as he gripped both weapons and lowered them to his sides. Judging by her approach, she was sizing him up, looking for an opportuni- She vanished.

In an instant, she was in his face and bringing the tail end of her bo staff up for an uppercut. The muscled man flipped backwards, his eyes widening slightly as he performed the maneuver. With a grunt, he landed and swiftly jumped back. Curious at the new predicament, he stared at the tip of the extended staff.

'A rake?' He thought flabbergasted. 'What kind of a lancer is she?'

The woman only smirked and giggled at hi- She disappeared again!

This Houdini was slowly beginning to infuriate Beowulf who was still trying to size up his targe- He blocked and his eyes widened. The attack had come from his left side, but the weapon had changed yet again to resemble a monk's spade. He didn't have time to contemplate before the woman used the momentum of the block to swing the blade over her head and attack him from the opposite direction. He grunted in frustration.

'Enough of these defense moves, berserkers belong on the offensive!'

Beowulf back flipped over the offending blade while simultaneously twirling his blades. Using Naegling to redirect the spade while swinging Hrunting towards the woman's chest. The female servant shifted her weapon into the bo staff in an instant, jumping off the ground while retracting the ends of the staff to free it from Naegling's grasp. Hrunting missed its target. Beowulf completed his spin to land on both of his feet and swiftly squatted, spotting the servant in midair.

"Gotcha," He said as he leapt towards his target, swinging both of his weapons from over his head for a powerful buster hi-

He sliced through thin air. He growled in both frustration and exhilaration.

On the sidelines, the group watched the fight with interest. Beowulf was quite the fighter when he was putting actual effort, but for this newcomer to take him on at his own close combat game was surprising. The crowd observed as she reappeared in a streak of light on Beowulf's flank as he landed, spinning her staff rapidly to land a few grazing hits before being blocked.

Quiet conversations broke out within the crowd, barely audible over Nursery Rhyme's cheers for the newcomer. Standing on the walkway several meters back, Gudao, Medea, and Mashu watched. Marie had returned to the crowd to get a closer view. With simple glances to them, even while mid-fight, Beowulf could tell they were impressed. Frankly, so was he.

"So she's the one who protected you?" Medea asked, mouth slightly open in surprise.

"Unique fighting style, huh?" Gudao grinned at her.

"She's a very interesting Lancer," Mashu added, making Gudao chuckle. She looked curiously at her senpai while Medea kept her eyes on the fight, clearly astonished. Gudao could tell she knew, but Beowulf still didn't.

The woman disappeared again, but that was just the quickest way to explain it. She never disappeared at all, but rather moved at such a speed that the only telegraph of her direction was a streak of golden light that followed her path. Only servants would have picked up on the flash in time to properly anticipate a strike. For Beowulf, she was simply too fast to strike for him when she moved in that fashion, but a plan swiftly formed in his head.

'She can only do it in bursts, and the direction is straight,' he thought as he gripped his weapons harder. 'Time to step it up then.'

The female servant vanished into that streak of gold, but Beowulf was prepared for this one. He swung Naegling in a wide arc in the general direction of her supposed appearance. The weapon sliced through the air and hit nothing, but created a shock wave that threw up snow in a wall as it tore across the plateau. His plan had worked.

Flying snow took on a human indent at one section, and he smirked, charging and swinging Hrunting at the offending area. To his surprise, the blade sliced through the snow silhouette within the shock wave. There was no block, nor successful hit on her. It simply impacted the ground and causing a small, localized tremor as it cratered the surface. He scanned for a presence as he brought himself back into a-

He gripped Naegling and brought it down behind him in time to catch the spade blade before it impacted his back. He grit his teeth and let out a grunt in frustration. The woman had used his snow screen against him by masking her light trail with the temporary wall created by the shock wave. He'd have to use it more effectively if he was going to land a proper hit.

He swung Hrunting at her as she back flipped out of reach, the grin still stretched across her face. The muscular servant simply grinned back and gripped his weapons fiercely.

"Alright. No more holding back."


¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VII ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨


The battle had dragged on for nearly thirty minutes now. Even though Beowulf was stronger, the ever-adapting technique of the newcomer proved problematic. It was both exhilarating, and absolutely frustrating, for him. It reminded him of his enemy counterpart fighting with Li Shuwen during the American campaign. He wished he were faster, but alas, only slow opponents had met him in his past days.

There was a small dash of light as the woman reappeared with her weapon. The newcomer landed a blow on Beowulf with the raked version of her weapon through an unguarded flank, sending him skidding across the ground. Yes, he definitely wished he had a bit more finesse and agility. Nightingale would likely tease him to no end if he lost this fight.

"This is fun!" the new servant cheered as she spun in the air, dodging two of his strikes while giggling happily.

"Glad you're enjoying it," He replied as he did a fake stab, only to thrust Naegling behind him in anticipation. Beowulf turned to notice she did not appear as predicted, and his eyebrow twitched as the bo staff slammed hard across his back.

The man grunted, though barely a bruise marked the impact area. This woman was making him actually try, and she was still simply evading his strikes. He had yet to land a successful, solid strike against this servant, yet she landed many, albeit weak ones. Ignoring the slight stinging sensation in his side, Beowulf observed her quick breathing with slight content. He could outlast her if needed. He was still far from fatigued, even after all the spars before this one, but dragging the battle out would only increase the potential mocking afterwards.

This could not be allowed.

Gudao tensed up at the feeling coming from Beowulf and turned to Mashu. "Please prepare to defend her, Mashu."

"Hai, Senpai."

"Is that brute really going to use his Noble Phantasm on a new arrival!?" Medea asked with disgust, growling. "That infuriating…!"

"No worries," Gudao said calmly, which caused Medea and Mashu to look at him as if he had nine heads that each spoke a different language. "He's about to get one hell of a surprise with Mashu's help. Let her shine."

Lord El-Melloi II looked back towards the fight after overhearing Gudao's confident statement. He had a slightly amused glint in his eyes that Nightingale observed curiously. The caster simply looked toward her then back at the fight.

Beowulf dropped both of his weapons and they dematerialized. It was the first clear sign he was about to use the full force of his noble phantasm, with the second being his feral grin as he stared at the target servant. What remained of her grin vanished instantly, as she seemed to sense the incoming strike. He chuckled, knowing the full power of his offensive prowess rested with the concept that no weapon in his grasps could do what his fists could.

"Faith is my shield, and projected onto you. Defend my charge!" A golden sheen covered the newcomer, and Beowulf chuckled to himself; She was going to need every bit of Shielder's ability to withstand what was coming next.

'The time for holding back is over! She can surely take it!' He squatted down and hurled himself towards the woman, watching as she mumbled something under her breath the-

Charged right at him!? 'Ho? Making this easy for me!'

The crowd on the sidelines stared in disbelief at the sheer confidence, or ignorance, of this new servant to take Beowulf's noble phantasm directly. Before anyone could cry out that she should dodge, Beowulf made contact with a ferocious first punch to the face. It was followed in a split second by a fierce kick to the torso which sent her flying backwards. He grinned at his first successful strikes.

Not letting her recover, he charged as the female landed on her feet. A fraction of a second later, he followed up with a stomp that knocked her off the ground. It was followed by an uppercut that changed her trajectory upwards. She looked at him surprised as he savored every moment of finally having the slippery servant in his grasp.

The berserker pumped more prana into his arms and let loose a volley of punches so quickly his arms blurred, and the surrounding snow was displaced by the shock waves. Gravity forced her body onto the bombardment of punches before he leaped back. It was time to prep his final swing. He had truly enjoyed the spar, but it was time to drop the curtain.

The golden sheen of invincibility shattered as the servant neared the ground. Beowulf grinned at the sight, as he forced a surge of prana into his cocked arm, making it shine brightly with overflowing power. He watched as the female servant landed on her feet and swiftly jumped backwards. With a grin, he shoved more prana into his legs to propel him forward and unleash the final hit of his- "Grendel Bus-"

Beowulf's eyes widened and the grin faded. 'What!? I can't move!?'

His prepped arm held stiff but continued to surge with power. The servant looked all across his body frantically for the cause and found dark lines snaking themselves around his body. Looking closely at one near his chest, he noticed in shock they were lines of Chinese script, woven intricately with prana. On the ground, glowing brightly on the snow, was a magic circle where the strands originated from, in the exact spot she stood before charging him head on mere moments ago. His eyes widened in realization.

Beowulf looked towards the offending servant in shock and realization. She was now releasing a golden aura of her own as she opened her eyes to meet his. The female simply grinned and winked at him. Her mouth suddenly moved quickly but rhythmically, as if she were chanting. It was in that final moment before her body glowed radiantly that he realized how much more absurd the entire session had unknowingly been.

"You're a Caster!?" He roared in surprise, causing gasps from the spectators, but an amused laugh from Gudao.

"Surprise! Now it's my turn, tough guy!" the Caster cheered happily as she flew at Beowulf in a flying kick, a bright streak of light following her swift charge. She was a golden comet this time, and no longer a quick streak. It was clear this would hurt.

And there was nothing he could do.

He struggled to that last second against his restraints in complete vain as the female servant slammed her kick into him with the force of a landslide. This one had definitely hurt more than the other attacks, as his breath left his lungs on impact. He would have found total irony in the attack she launched if it wasn't for the sheer pain that surged through his body. The woman had discarded her weapon, and was bombarding the berserker with swift palm strikes.

The woman's arms were a maelstrom as they peppered the male servant consistently and without remorse. They never picked up speed, nor lost power, as they battered the man while her trappings held him still. Small shock waves lifting the nearby snow, dazzling some of the spectators who were already daunted by the new caster's preferred attack style. As swiftly as it begun, it halted, as the woman took a step back an-

He was freed! The trappings came loose and he began to swing the final strike of his noble phantasm in an attempt to meet the final attack equally. If the attacks were to impact at the same time, his was going to overpower based solely on the difference between physical strength. But if his mind were thinking more clearly, it would have advised him to dodge instead. It likely would have recalled Hrothgar's advice about pride in that moment, instead of attempting to counter her noble phantasm with his.

She had proven consistently she was slightly faster after all. "Grandel-"

"Wu Xing Shan, Shijia Rulai Zhang!" the woman cried out as the giant manifestation of Buddha appeared behind her for a split second. The golden mirage was gone with a blinding flash. A final palm strike impacted the berserker dead center, and sent him flying into one of the nearby peaks.

Beowulf's body collided with the pinnacle, shattering it into several large pieces upon impact. He came to a halt in the ruins of the shattered piece, groaning in pain as a light golden sheen shattered around him. A small avalanche erupted on the nearby mountain top as the shock wave of the attack blasted through the western mountain range. Still, Beowulf retained consciousness, but refused to get up in case the overexcited caster wanted to try something else.

The female servant let out a sigh and re-materialized her staff, which now had a rounded, golden top with chimes. She looked at the results of her attack and smiled. The crowd stared in complete disbelief as the servant skipped happily towards them and stopped when she was only a few meters in front of the group. She grinned once more and bowed.

Most of those present were too stunned to do anything, except for a happily cheering Nursery Rhyme. Tamamo's right ear continued to twitch, as the gentle clapping from Gudao grew louder with his approach. Marie was trying to retrieve her jaw from the floor, and Mozart was shivering a little in fear of the display. To the new caster's delight, Lord El-Melloi II and Medea looked at her with approving smirks.

"That was very rude of me, I apologize! I should have introduced myself properly first but I got way too excited at the thought of sparring with the great Beowulf! I am Xuanzang Sanzang, a humble monk of Buddhism, and I look forward to working with all of my fellow casters! Oh, but you can call me Sanzang! I like that!"

Beowulf watched them from his spot, still reeling after what just happened. On the catwalk behind the still stunned group, Medea collected her scattered thoughts on what she just witnessed as Gudao made his way to the crowd. The newcomer, Sanzang he thought he heard correctly, was still talking lively in a rather long winded introduction. That servant sure loved to talk as much as fight in close combat. He probably just found a new sparring partner, and a preferred supporting caster.

He noticed Nightingale quickly bow towards the newcomer with a smile before making her way towards him. The glint in her eye grew as she approached her friend, and Beowulf recognized it as he jumped down to the training grounds while bracing for the worst. He winced painfully upon landing, which caused the female berserker to dash towards him. With forceful coaxing, she had him on his back as she began her checkup. The countless bruises and large trickle of blood from his mouth only reinforced her concern.

Still, she had a small smirk on her face with the accompanying determined gaze she was feared for. "As much as I detest any injuries, I do believe you were asking for these. Karma has visited you, so sit still and let me treat you."

"Just don't joke around with the saw again… It was only funny the first time." She chuckled, while remaining forceful in her inspection of his condition.

As she performed her regular tasks, Beowulf eyed the now surrounding group that bombarded the new caster with endless questions. "So how's she know who I was?"

"I should be telling you to be quiet, but I know that you'd just do what you want anyway," she sighed and shook her head. "When Medea and Marie met them as stated. They informed Gudao about your excessive training, and the new servant had grown determined in showing the lessons of moderation to him while trading blows with a legend."

"I guess I'll be a lot nicer the next time," Beowulf groaned as he looked towards the crowd again. Sanzang kept shivering as she complained rather vocally about the cold. Truly she was one of the more interesting, and stranger, servants to arrive.

The Princess of Colchis had been staring at Mashu who had a small smile on her face. Even in the chaos of the newcomer unleashing her noble phantasm after Beowulf's attempt, the shielder had sent one final defensive boon to him and he felt it… but her second casting wasn't a perfect move by the usually stalwart and alert defender. Her first protected the new caster flawlessly. It had succeeded in protecting him from any serious damage from the final strike and forceful landing, but the beginning was a very different story. He sighed upon realization.

"Mashu," Medea began, gaining the smaller girl's attention. "You casted that second ability late."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Medea," Mashu replied smugly to the older woman.

Medea couldn't contain her laughter, or her blooming fondness over Mashu's hidden mean streak.