So I decided not to replicate the battle as it happens normally, since that's not really fun and presumably we've all seen it. But I tried to keep the best bits and not deviate too much from developments and characterisation. If some parts are missing from characters, assume Artoria just isn't paying attention.
Here is Chapter 7: Hurdles
The Servant, who introduced himself as Iskander, King of Conquerers, postulated in front of the Berserker who just glared at everyone around her. It didn't matter how many came, how many stood in her way, she would destroy them all. The rage drowned out his voice, Excalibur pulsating in time with her heartbeat.
Perhaps she would have listened to some vague reasoning if he suggested teaming up against Saber, but the scent of blood reached her nose. Like a shark, Berserker zeroed it on the source, seeing the red liquid pouring from Saber's wound. Her eyes narrowed as she saw it healed over in a matter of minutes, quiet chanting reaching her ears.
Lancelot's white haired whore was behind that. No doubt he had fucked her too. She decided then, that if her body was destroyed, she would have her revenge on the one who caused her this anger, who caused her fate as become a Berserker.
Together they'd fought the ravenous and frothing maniacs charging at them from the invader's ranks. She knew those raving beasts were warriors who had given their souls entirely to the Gods they worshipped. To them, death was a release from life and a return to the garden of Paradise.
How she envied them now, how she respected those brave souls. Artoria Pendragon could never be the same, and that incensed her further. The barbarians had been right in their madness, and her civilised ways had doomed the Kingdom she loved.
Willing the fire to run up her body, she heard the brute make some outlandish claim about joining forces. "You would dare suggest such a thing in my presence? I, who led a country, who brought ruin to savages like you, serve under your banner? FUCK YOU!" Invisible Air was gone in her rage, turning into a black smoke fuelled by her rage. Not even her Master could recognise Berserker.
"Move. Or die" she whispered, Excalibur trembling in his hands, the blade of hardened darkness releasing waves of malevolent force. Iskander raised an eyebrow, stroking his chin.
"Berserker speaks? Outstanding. Perhaps more negotiation is possible! But if you seek battle, so be it. Might I ask it be a battle of honour and courage instead of this rampaging fury?"
"Move. Or. Die."
Out of the corner of her eye, Berserker saw Lancelot step back. "STAY THERE, TRAITOROUS DOG, OR I WILL DESTROY THIS CITY!"
"You shall do no such thing!" yelled Lancer, twirling his twin spears in readiness. "You would massacre thousands just to settle a grudge?"
"GRUDGE?" yelled Berserker, moving into action with sudden speed. Lancer widened his eyes at the ravening demon that came howling out of the black smoke, spear guiding the hidden sword away. Her gauntlet came up, sliding past the Servant's defence to slam into his jaw. Dazed, the Lancer just vaguely saw an arc of black light slam into him bodily.
He coughed up blood as it pushed him back, a long red gash almost splitting his body in two. Watching her opponent stagger, Berserker gathered another burst around her sword. "Die." This one came down, or would have if Saber hadn't jumped in and held it back with his own Noble phantasm.
Saber
"Oath to my King! Reaching the very end, beyond the boundaries." Berserkers rage grew tenfold at his words, but he'd think on that later. The Servant had to save Lancer so he could die an honourable death. For a knight of King Arthur who had lacked honour in his life, it was one way to redeem himself.
"King on the other side, look at this light! Arondight: Overload!" He aimed for the Berserker's chest, but the Servant's skill was too much for him to do that, instead letting it cut her wrist. She screamed in his voice, gauntlet grabbing his head and slamming him to the ground. A few teeth cracked, the grip brutal and hard.
Still, if this was how he died, defending an enemy's life, then so be it.
Except it didn't come. The heavens opened in a cacophony of lightning, the behemoth King of Conquerers rearing his chariot and bringing it down on Berserker. He felt the grip slacken, and rolled away as the demigod's full might fell on his opponent.
Rider
Brave actions, boy. You acted with true honour, as did your former opponent. I long to face you both on the field of battle, and to that end I must halt this beast's rampage. Her strength, her potential, her fury, it could end the war this very night.
History books were laugh at such an end. No, better to let the fighting continue. Saber was hesitant and eternally sad, while Lancer seemed to be in between happiness and anguish. Berserker's rage was not merely indignation or domination, but something purer.
Unlike the other Servants, Iskander did not consider the term 'beast' a derogative one. Beasts large and small had challenged him just as much, if not more so, than the humans who worked against him. All their tales were rife with dangerous, huge, deadly and impossible beasts that seemed almost unbeatable.
But despite his admiration, she shamed them as Servants.
Kariya
The Magus missed most of the last few minutes, coughing up everything short of his lungs. Each burst of rage took a toll on his already weakened body, and he was tempted to force her retreat. Yet, no matter the pain he never passed out, nor did he feel like his life was in danger. On the cusp of death, or even chained to the gates of life, is how he imagined this must be like.
Artoria would never forgive him for forcing a retreat, but the Magus couldn't keep going like this. Kariya Matou knew this torture would drive him insane if it continued.
Berserker
Ridiculous Irishmen. What did they know about honour and fortitude? What did they know about her pain? English, Irish, Scottish or Welsh, they all fell to her to forces without a problem. One less in the living world was a blessing in Artoria's mind.
Now she could focus on her main target, the scourge of her legend.
Oh, he wanted to play? Good, finally he was becoming worthy of her blade. But Arondight would not be enough-SHIT THAT FUCKING HURT. Oh, oh you've done it now you bastard. First you take my wife, now you take my hand? He was an egg in her hands, the Berserker crushing it to the floor.
"Saber!" cried a female voice, drawing their attention. Something huge collided with Berserker, and the next thing the knight knew was being tossed over the ground, tumbling beneath the oxen's giant hooves. She couldn't think in the chaos, only cursing this fool for interrupting her crusade.
The charge ended, Artoria rolling to an undignified stop. "Kill. Everyone." Berserker rasped her words, panting heavily. Blue light shone from the cut on her wrist, the tendons and nerves cut apart.
"Kill" seethed Berserker, standing up and facing the three Servants head on. Or rather, two, because Lancer was nowhere to be seen. She swept her blade back, gathering magic into the blade again.
"Who is next?"
"How good you looked on the ground, pitiful mongrel!" echoed a clear voice that dripped with arrogance. She saw Iskander smile widely, turning his head to look at the newcomer. Saber kept on staring at the bestial Servant, staring at Berserker's sword.
Behind them, standing on a street lamp, stood a gold armoured being with his arms crossed. Red eyes surveyed the area with a limitless mirth, power emanating from his aura. "Archer! Welcome to the festivities!" cried Iskander, and Artoria felt a surge of adrenaline from her Master's killing intent. It felt good, allowing her to ignore the pain in her arm.
"Spare me your drivel, mongrel. I come to gaze upon my garden and what do I find?" His question went unanswered, Artoria's anger reaching boiling point.
"Archer! Kill Archer, not Saber!" yelled Kariya into her mind, feeling the pain in his chest build again. The Command Seals glowed as if inviting him to order her, but he only had two left. "Please. Please, kill him" begged the Magus, going down on his knees.
"Fuck! Heal me then you piece of shit" came Artoria's reply, and the magical energy on her wrist disappeared. Power beyond anything before surged through Berserker, and she turned to look at Archer.
"Not going to leave any Servants for us, eh, Berserker?" quipped Rider, unheeded by the King. Excalibur thrummed with even more power than before, outlining a vague sketch of black shadow.
"That look. A mongrel thinks it can challenge me? Realise your folly, mad dog!" Two portals of yellow opened behind Archer, swords quivering in anticipation. "Taste my steel." They flew at Artoria, her keen eyes latching onto the weapons. Once again, Servant and Master were in tune, allowing Artoria to intercept the first blade with her sword and let it spin wildly around the blade, controlling the sword with deft movements
Timing it exactly, the blade spun at such an angle it hit the spear, both weapons colliding with an explosion. Artoria heard the surprise from the other servants, but focused entirely on one. "How dare you destroy my treasures!"
Blades filled the sky for his next attack, and Artoria tensed her sword.
I mean, historically England has fought it's neighbouring countries over and over, and really, they've all had a go with each other. So I thought it made sense for Artoria to really get annoyed or angry at an Irish Servant.
