I might have said "real world", but those were just the ideals we were fighting for.

The fight itself, a match between two Servants, was a truly mind-boggling thing to behold. The speed with which they moved their blades was exquisite and amazing, such combat artistry that I barely tear my eyes away.

It was unlike anything I had ever seen. It was a sublime action, where every strike was placed with almost perfect precision, every move made with near-clarivoyant knowledge of both themselves and their opponent.

The red spear, moving within inches of the red knight's body, yet repulsed by a blur of white and black. The blurs of white and black, returning to strike before being repulsed by a dismissive wave of the red spear. The elegance of it all, with neither Servant gaining ground or giving it, a stalling action that both did with such perfection that there was no way either could ride an ebb or flow and turn the tide of battle.

I had seen and understood the concept of many things in my life. But this was one thing I was sure that, no matter how much I understood it, I could never repeat the true essence of such a flawless, graceful action. No matter how many other things I could comprehend and immediately perfect, this was something I knew I never could.

But now was not the time for admiration. Lancer jumped back, disengaging from the fight.

His red spear pointed down to the ground, the menacing aura beginning to manifest again.

"Master, permission to use that?" He asked, his voice barely containing a bloodlust that he probably never even tried to hide, only showing the barest of restraints as he knew of our history.

"Yes, Lancer. End him." I felt the malicious, killing intent, the curse on the spear beginning to take effect. Archer, recognizing what was about to happen, immediately sprang forward to attempt to stop the attack, but I could see from the sidelines that it was too late.

The red spear, like a rocket, was loaded.

She reached the battlefield, a meteor of blue in the night. She summoned the golden bar of power that was the proof of her kingship. Barely a week ago she would have refused to draw this sword for the sake of her Master.

Now she drew it proudly, brandishing the golden blade with a clarity of purpose that she had not known for a long time.

Her Master had changed all of that. In that short of a time, she had proven herself entirely worthy of being served by the blade from the Lady of the Lake.

The way she planned, in order for her students to achieve their goals. How she used their conflicting personalities against each other, even as she regretted that this was the only way. This War that they had been assigned to, the balanced thinking and conflict it required each team to have.

Against her will, she had had to force her students to go against one another, forcing them into conflict. She had to have them counterbalance one another's personalities, which would necessitate conflict between the two. Much as she wanted them to be happy together, the nature of this War made it so that that was not possible.

It was one day, about a week before the beginning of the War, in the penthouse they had rented. Sylvia was drawing up plans while Saber was watching, on the alert for any danger.

"Saber." She had said. "You must hate me for what I'm doing, messing with the feelings of my students like this."

Coming from the mouth of someone who was known to be as reckless and gregarious as Sylvia Trenton, hearing such things was unimaginable. As a person who was always sure of herself, always making the correct move, she could not be conceived as having any regrets, charging forward no matter what the situation.

This… this was completely unprecedented. Even in the short time she had known her Master, she had sensed quickly enough that she was a person who was completely sure of herself, the kind of person with no regrets. Even down to the summoning ritual, she had not been fazed at all when she had presented herself in front of her.

She had merely directly asked for her class.

"Not at all, Master." Saber replied, even if she did have some misgivings about it.

"I just want you to know, Saber, that I am only doing this for their own good." Sylvia had said, not looking at Saber but instead continuing to look at the runes that she was sketching. "I don't want them to fight, but if they're going to come up with a half-decent strategy, they'll have to do it together, using Brian's carefulness and a bit of Clare's impetuousness. My runes, my help, I can only do so much." She said. She finally looked up at Saber, staring at her as if begging for understanding. Her eyes were wide open, pleading after the truth.

There was no fear in those eyes, there was only the silent prayer for salvation.

As someone who has no choice but the worst choice always has.

Saber understood this, and she nodded, silent yet saying much. And then, out of curiosity, she queried her Master.

"Master, if I may ask, what is that?" Saber asked, referring to the plans she had been drawing up for the last hour or so.

"Those are the beginning sketches for my bounded field. It will be my way of protecting my students from their trial." She said.

For the Master who had protected her students with that much valor, it was an honor to swing her blade.

"EX!"

Before her was a black behemoth, a twelve-foot-tall monster she may have known only from legends, or one which she may have met in the past Wars in which she was part.

It didn't matter. For her code, and for the Master she believed worthy of adhereing to that code, she would crush that monster.

"CALIBUUR!"

She rushed forward, aiming her blade directly at the great, black monster that she was fighting. Even though the big behemoth was already just shrugging off Caster's attacks, they both knew that a single, high-power hit from Excalibur would put Berserker at least onto the brink of death if nothing was done.

Impossibly, the gigantic axe-sword moved from twenty feet in the air, raised to strike, and almost instantaneously repositioned to hold the gigantic beam of destructive light at bay.

The golden light crashed down on the black axe, its destructive power mitigated somewhat by the physical barrier of the gigantic rock weapon. The explosion rocked the city, as well as pushing out a wave of sound, wind, and heat. The power was comparable to a large explosive charge, capable of wiping out a city block, at least.

The golden light faded, Berserker and his axe-sword looking quite worse for the wear. Saber, was standing and still fresh, while Brian and Caster were still hurling blasts of magic with which to distract Berserker, who already had a resistance.

Could any of them be blamed for missing the whooshing of weapons like missiles until it was too late?

Thankfully, it was before the curse was complete that Lancer pulled up his red spear, and Archer stopped his rush. That was because Kouhei and I had seen a force far more worthy of fighting than one another. Or, as the European nations of history gone by were wont to do, to ally against anything considered a greater power.

We watched as the falling missiles from the sky crashed down, tearing holes in the ground and turning that area of the park into a dead zone, like a blasted no-man's land from the First World War.

Or it would, were it not for the golden light that shielded the ground, leaving all the weapons to blast harmlessly on the shining surface of the golden barrier, effortlessly absorbing all of the force.

And then we knew that whoever came out of this conflict had to die if one of us was to win.

"My king." Professor Hayden said, slightly bitterly, both at the results of the attack and at the attacker. "We have a problem."

"I will see to it myself." The golden king said, and looked down at the park. He had seen the great column of golden light that had speared the night, and was now looking down at the results of his fire.

The golden dome of protection shone in the night, resplendent like a gem in the velvet of night.

"My king, what do we do?" Hayden asked.

"We go towards them." The golden king said. "It would be impolite not to greet a fellow ruler who enters my garden."

The great ship began to fall, slowly, to the ground, in a graceful and controlled descent.

"Oh crap." I said, looking up at the ship that was slowly entering the battlefield. I turned towards Kouhei.

"We can settle this later. We have to survive now." I said.

"Agreed." He said, running into the building next to us to conceal himself. I followed suit, our Servants trailing us.

But strangely, Archer had said not a word. Normally, he'd have a smart retort at the ready for any situation, a kind word, a rebuke, anything.

One look at his face, though, and I knew that he was seriously going to keep silent. He knew something. It was in the way his lips were twitched in displeasure, the way he gritted his teeth as though he knew something bad was going to happen.

My studies on the Fuyuki Grail War were clearly insufficient.