FATE/LÚNASA FÓMHAR

"August Harvest"

Chapter 2: True Berserker

A thick snowstorm rolled through an unknown city during the late hours of the night. Everywhere one looked, large clumps of fluffy white powder sprinkled around them like someone was getting careless with a shaker full of icing sugar. At least four inches of snow had piled up while everyone slept, which would cause a great deal of inconvenience for those who needed to shovel it out of the way. At the moment though, the vast majority of this city's residents were fast asleep, so virtually no one was around to observe the snowstorm blanketing their home in layers of white…

Nor did anyone get to see the volley of fireballs hurtling straight for a sword-wielding warrior.

The young man valiantly swung his longsword in an arc, disintegrating the blazing projectiles with nothing but his raw strength. He grimaced and darted his eyes around in search of his opponent.

Where are you hiding this time?

He raised his sword in a defensive stance and looked around. From what he could tell, he was standing in some school courtyard, although the lawns and racing track were lost beneath the layers of snow. His metal boots crunched the snow beneath his feet, and his messy hair billowed in the steady wind. He wore black and white clothing beneath silver armor, along with a white cape that had a cerulean underside that popped into a distinct collar around his neck. He looked incredibly similar to the male version of Fujimaru Ritsuka, except that the black hair sported random streaks of white around his forehead and nape of his neck.

The swordsman narrowed his crystal blue eyes and concentrated on seeking his foe out. He had retreated from a different battlefield and lured his enemy over to the school, where he felt there was a lower likelihood of innocent civilians getting involved in this skirmish.

"… THERE!"

He let out that cry the moment he whirled around and swung his blade, intercepting a spear that was swinging downward over his head. The newcomer tossed about to the side in midair and landed several feet away from the young man. He had been experiencing difficulty with finding his enemy because she was wearing a full set of wolf-themed armor and clothing that was completely colored white, which helped her blend in with the copious amount of snow surrounding them. Not only that, she was the fastest Servant out of the seven summoned in this unknown Holy Grail War. Since the swordsman already knew she wasn't Assassin, it meant she had to be…

"That's enough, Lancer," he declared firmly. "You're hurt much too badly to continue this fight."

He said this because even though the small-statured Lancer was completely decked in pure white clothes, several open gashes on her skin dyed them with deep red splotches. Even so, Lancer got into her combat stance and said in a horribly warped voice, "I tHinK nOt. My OrdErS aRe tO eLimInATe yOu fRoM thE wAr, SaBeR… Or sHouLd I sAy, tHe KinG oF FraNKs, CharLEmaGnE?"

"I already told you that you can call me Charlie. We're the same, aren't we?"

"DoN't bE aBSuRd. We ArE fAmIliArS suMMoNeD fOr tHe sOLe puRPosE oF cOMbaT. UnLeSs oUr MaStErs wIlL iT, wE caNNoT reGArD eAcH oTheR aS aNYthInG otHeR tHaN fiErCe riVAls."

"Well I'm not going to kill you. Not until I find out your True Name, anyway," Charlemagne declared.

"YoU'rE waStIng yOUr tiME."

"We'll see about that. I've made strong connections with the other Servants, regardless if we're enemies. You're the only one I know nothing about, and that bothers me a lot. Are you distorting your voice because your Master told you to do so?"

"WhAt iF I Am?"

"Then I'll just have to break through and find out for myself! You can't hide your identity from me forever! No matter what it takes, I will find out who you are! Now, en garde, Lancer!"

Charlemagne raised his sword Joyeuse and rushed to meet Lancer in battle. He dashed in low and swung his blade, but she hopped over him like a rabbit and flipped upside-down before conjuring a Ken Rune and hurtling backwards with a powerful gust of wind. As he tried to skid to a stop, she went on the offensive this time and thrust her spear multiple times at his head. It took every ounce of focus he had just to parry each strike, which he noted were very well-aimed and deadly despite his opponent being so petite. He actually seemed to compare Lancer's fighting style to some form of dancing, further piquing his curiosity.

Charlemagne soon found an opening and bounded in until his face was inches away from Lancer's full face-covering helmet, so he couldn't see her astonished expression as he swung upward and sent her sailing back in a wide arc. A large tornado surrounded him for a few seconds, pushing aside all of the snow around him so that he stood on solid pavement once more. To his shock though, Lancer created a small platform Rune while she was spiraling in midair, and she bounced off it to get back in his range.

"Merde!" the French hero cursed as he blocked Lancer's spear again, but he didn't appear frustrated at her more than he was with his own incompetence. He actually smiled as he exclaimed, "To think you have made the air itself your ally! I'm really impressed!"

She didn't respond whatsoever as she flipped over him and landed back on her feet. Then she stood tall and pointed her polearm at the four cardinal points on the ground, which generated shining red Runes that engulfed her. Charlemagne sensed that Lancer's stats were dramatically improving the moment the crests activated, and he also recognized the pattern from his own studies into other folklores.

"Ath nGabla, the Rune of Vows!" he yelped. "So you really are a Celt!"

Lancer remained silent and got into an elegant fighting stance. The whole world around them grew deathly quiet, and every hair on Charlemagne's skin stood on end. The snow flowing around them changed direction so that they swirled into a noticeable tornado around her. Her spear shone, and the Saber noticed that small bits of light were congregating into the weapon.

"Concealed identities… Blinking vignettes… Unsolved mysteries…" Lancer murmured. She had dropped the distorted voice and spoke in a breathy whisper so that she sounded older than she actually was.

In a panic, Charlemagne stepped back and got into position himself as he realized, A Noble Phantasm!

He had no choice but to activate his own strongest attack, and he produced a series of weapons that glowed like blue wings around his back as he floated above her. He held Joyeuse high and shouted, "The holy light that shall never fade, the glowing colors of infinite changing form!"

Orbs of different colored lights twirled around him like a rainbow and congregated upon his sword as he continued, "Carve your legends into this blade to prove my Kingly heroics!"

"Return from the void and be the wind that guides my nameless spear," Lancer muttered her own chant as the countless souls of forgotten heroes and ordinary people who lost their lives in this Holy Grail War responded to her summons and blessed her with their combined power. "March with me, for we are Heroes Without Legend!"

Charlemagne's 'wings' morphed into larger versions of his sword and pointed at her on his mental command. Lancer crouched like a sprinter waiting for the signal gun and glared into his eyes.

"Joyeuse-"

"Laoch Gan-"

Lancer suddenly stopped as she was calling out the name of her Noble Phantasm, letting out a small gasp of dismay. Her spear immediately lost all the energy it had built up and fell out of her hand. Charlemagne realized her drastic change in attitude, but was unable to cancel his Noble Phantasm.

"ORDRE!"

Before she knew it, the larger blades shot for her like colorful bullets and ruthlessly gouged through her small body. They exploded together in a chromatic spectacle, violently throwing her way across the courtyard until she slammed her back against the wall of the gymnasium. Massive amounts of blood spattered around her in a perfect circle before she slumped onto her buttocks and sat there in a miserable heap of carved flesh and viscera.

"LANCER!" she heard Charlemagne scream in desperation from a distance away. He landed back on the ground and ran straight for his fallen opponent. Once he found her, he discovered that most of her armor was destroyed, including her helmet so that he could get a good look at her face for the first time since this war started. His shock from using his Noble Phantasm against an unguarded foe was exacerbated when he saw that Lancer was actually a seven-year old girl with short purple hair and soft brown eyes. Indeed, she was none other than the Child of Cuchulainn, Connla, although there was no way for Charlemagne to know this since she didn't possess anything notable that would give her identity away to him.

"A child Servant, in a Holy Grail War…?" he uttered pitifully.

Connla tilted her head just enough to glance up at Charlemagne. Her injuries were so horrific that words couldn't begin to describe them. She knew she wouldn't last much longer, but she wanted to at least tell him what was going on.

"You… Why did you stop!?" Charlemagne shouted feverishly, not out of anger, but of deep concern for his fellow Servant. Even though they were supposed to be enemies in this war, that didn't stop him from viewing even his opponents as incredible heroes. The fact that a child Servant had pushed him so far that he needed to use his Noble Phantasm on her certainly won her a lot of respect from him, so he was utterly devastated to see that she had refused to counter his strongest attack with her own.

"It was… my Master's… order…" was the gurgled, barely audible reply.

"What!?"

"Y-Your Master… has taken… my Master's… family member… hostage…"

Charlemagne clenched his teeth in despair and cried out, "No… No, this can't be right! My Master would never do anything like that!"

"An order… is an… order. Your Master… will let… their hostage… free… so long as… my Master… commands me… to die…"

"That's insane! You took my Noble Phantasm to save someone else's life!?"

"It doesn't… matter… anymore," Connla sighed. "I was… the weakest Servant… in this war… anyway…"

"Don't be ridiculous," the young king implored and kneeled next to her. "You were amazing. You're too awesome for me to put into words. I'm honored to have met such a great opponent in battle. I just wish we could have been allies, or even friends instead. I'll do what I can to help you, so don't give up!"

Right as he said this though, his eyes suddenly widened in horror as he felt his body move against his will. He raised Joyeuse before him and pointed the blade at Connla's throat.

"Master… No, please don't… Don't make me do this!" he begged to someone who wasn't present. He was so desperate to stop himself that tears streamed out of his eyes. "WHY!? Why are you going so far to get rid of Lancer!?"

Connla stared at Charlemagne, understanding that his Master had used a Command Spell to force him to kill her. A bitter smile crept over her bleeding lips, and she raised her good arm so that the palm of her hand faced the side of her head. An Ansuz Rune materialized over it, and a small burst of flames emanated from it.

"Lancer?" Charlemagne yelped pitifully. "W-What are you…?"

"… Saber…"

That was the last thing she said before casting a deadly fireball directly at her skull, blasting it apart with an explosion of searing flames. This hadn't been an order from her Master – she committed suicide on her own terms so that she could spare Charlemagne the guilt of getting her blood on his hands. The death certainly looked gruesome, but it was actually quick and painless for her. The remainder of her body slumped onto its side, then shone before gradually vanishing in a beautiful spectacle of glittering white and green sparkles.

With his Master's Command Spell rendered invalid, Charlemagne regained control of his body and stared at the disappearing corpse in total anguish. Lancer was one of the first Servants to die in this unknown Holy Grail War, and he knew fully well that murdering other Servants was a necessary evil in order for his Master to obtain the Holy Grail. Even so, he couldn't bring himself to hate any of the other Servants unless they proved that they were irrevocably evil. No matter what, Charlemagne saw his peers as inspirations for him to keep working harder at being a Servant, and he prayed that there was some way he could get them all to work together on a different solution rather than slaughter each other like this.

Connla had kept her identity hidden behind her full white armor up until this particular fight, so Charlemagne really had no idea who he had fought in previous skirmishes with her. While he already figured out the other five Servants' identities, Lancer's True Name remained elusive to him. Due to her stubbornness to remain silent about herself, he so badly wanted to know what her history was to make her such an awesome opponent at her young age.

But… he would never get to find out.

The Grail War's true nature finally became apparent to Charlemagne. The mystery Lancer had been ruthlessly butchered, solely because she was an enemy Servant, not because of any wrongdoing that she had committed. In his opinion, such a brutal death should be reserved for the worst of villains, not for a victim of chance like Connla. If that was how the rest of the war was going to play out – if that was how his Master was going to do to win the Grail - then Charlemagne didn't know what to do. All he could do was grab his messy black hair, arch his back so that he stared at the snowing heavens, and unleash a terrible scream.

"Aah… AAGH… HWAAAaaAaaAaaaAAaaaaaAAAaaaAAAHHH!"

"… Mn…"

The bleeping of summer crickets roused Chaldea's Connla awake from her slumber. Her back felt painfully stiff, so she craned her neck and shoulders a few times to get them limber again before opening her eyes. It was still the middle of the night, although the first morning light was quickly approaching, and the fire she made earlier had long since died out. She remembered that she had sat back against a large tree and fell asleep while Cuchulainn was out on patrol. However, she couldn't recall placing something heavy on her lap, plus it was making some kind of strange grinding noise at rhythmic intervals, so she looked down to see what it was.

"Hnnn… Hnnn… Hnnn…"

Unbeknownst to Connla, Cuchulainn returned from his investigation and decided to get some sleep after determining that they were safe. He had laid on his side in front of her and placed his head on her lap to use it as a makeshift pillow. The strange sound she heard was actually his light snoring.

Oh my, she thought in mild surprise. The sight startled her awake, and she wanted to get up without disturbing him. Slowly but surely, she shuffled aside and gently placed his head on the grass before crawling away and staggering to her feet. Her muscles felt so stiff that she needed to perform some exercises. The cool, fresh air helped improve her mood, although she couldn't fully shake the anxiety that welled within her after experiencing such a terrifying dream of yet another one of her selves.

Saber…

Connla couldn't imagine what Charlemagne was going through. She wasn't sure if this alternate world was occurring right now or if it was an event that already transpired, but the only thing she cared about was that it happened. There was no doubt about it; her other self had been forced to die in front of someone who wanted to be her friend, regardless if they were rival Servants. In particular, Connla couldn't let go of the piercing scream that echoed throughout the skies, which was the last thing she heard before being disconnected from that world and waking up.

The young Lancer found a small stream nearby and splashed some cold water on her face, then smacked her cheeks and thought, No, I shouldn't let it get to me. Whatever happened to her, there's nothing I can do about it. I just need to focus on my job here and get back to Chaldea as soon as possible. I can worry about writing an entry for that dream later.

She stared up at the gradually brightening sky with resolve in her eyes.

I'm sure that's what Saber and my other self would want me to do…

Two hours later, Cuchulainn woke up and reunited with Connla. Having no further business in this forest, they continued eastward for the remainder of the morning. It was approaching noon when they reached the edge of the woods and observed the vast barren plains stretching for miles around them. Making the sight more dismal was that thousands upon thousands of different monsters carpeted the empty fields like ants flocking to a piece of dropped candy. The two Servants hadn't been spotted yet, but if they made any careless moves right now, they would be swarmed to death in a heartbeat. They laid low in the tall grass and blended in with the environment before attempting to get a closer look.

After they got back in contact with Roman, he greeted them with a listless, "Hey there."

He tried to sound chipper, but was clearly distraught over something. Connla tilted her head and asked, "Is something the matter, Doctor?"

"… Ugh. No way to sugarcoat this, so I'll give it to you straight – I've got bad news."

Cuchulainn rolled his eyes and grumbled, "I doubt you could tell us much that would make matters worse."

"Now that you two are closer to the Leyline, I was able to perform a more accurate analysis of how many monsters are congregating there. Believe me when I say this, but the numbers are showing approximately 20,000, and they're scattered all over the place. If you two try to barge in head-on, you will be overwhelmed by reinforcements faster than you'll realize. I strongly recommend going around them, although that will add another 200 hours to your journey."

"But there aren't any other viable Leylines near us, right? Even if we did go find another, that one will be in a similar state too."

"Oh dear," Connla fretted. "If I knew this was going to happen, I would have asked for more Servants to come with us…"

"Too late for regrets, kid. We're gonna hammer out a plan, whether you like it or not."

"Y-Yeah…"

Roman added, "The good news is that your chances of a successful forced Rayshift have dramatically improved since yesterday. Now that you're closer to a vital mana source, we should be able to get you two back home… probably."

"'Probably', my ass," Cuchulainn snapped. "If they're enemies, then I'll kill them."

"Were you not listening to me? There's too many of them, plus their behavior indicates that they're communicating with each other. Let me stress this right now; you can't win this fight."

The Berserker scoffed, "Worst pep talk I've ever heard, but that's about what I expected from a weakling."

"Now look here-!"

Connla scratched her chin in contemplation, then pondered, "Maybe we could try luring a small crowd of them over here and pick them off one at a time?"

"These kind of small fries aren't worth the consideration," Cuchulainn muttered. "I'll just dive in and swing Gae Bolg around until I clear enough of the field for you. Once you feel you're ready, you come out of hiding and set up the summoning circle. Then we get the hell out of here. Easy as that."

"You want to challenge that horde by yourself while I watch!? You should at least let me provide support fire!"

"You need to conserve your strength. You're more suited to quickly mowing through short battles, whereas I'm built for raw strength and survival. Besides, if you wind up dying, then I'd might as well die with you since I'd have no way back home. If you don't want that to happen, then stay here and patiently wait for your chance."

"Uh…"

"Is that an objection I hear? Remember, I'm the boss of this little outfit. Whatever I say goes, got it?"

Connla shuddered, then relented, "I-I'll do what you say…"

"Good. If I wind up dying, then the wimp can do a forced Rayshift on you or whatever. Of course, I'm not going to let it get to that point so easily."

Without warning, Cuchulainn got on his feet and stood tall before dashing out of the edge of the forest to confront the horde of monsters. It didn't take much for a pack of wolfmen to notice the black-hooded Berserker charging for them like a dark thunderstorm, and one of the beasts blew a signal horn to alert their comrades that they were under attack. Cuchulainn's ferocious stride never wavered as he slashed Gae Bolg across in one clean motion and effortlessly cleaved through several creatures. His pace was so quick that he dug his spiked heels against the ground to stop himself, then hopped over some goblins and kicked them aside. A wyvern attempted to bite his head off from behind, but he simply pierced the red spear through its throat and left it to fall to its death as he hunted down his next prey.

Normally, Cuchulainn was a Heroic Spirit who reveled in the thrill of battle. If it had been his Lancer self, he would have been overjoyed at the prospect of unleashing his full might without any worry about his Master restraining his power. As an Alter though, he didn't really share in the same experience. Sure, he was grinning like a madman as he mowed through these lesser creatures, but no sense of real excitement welled within him. He simply needed to do his job, like how someone sorted papers in an office for hours on end, in order to clean up the perimeter and give Connla the opportunity she needed.

Cuchulainn ripped off a Bicorn's head with raw strength alone, then tossed aside the neck and flailing spine attached to it as he turned his attention toward a giant floating eyeball known as a Gazer. The blood-soaked Servant licked his lips clean and dashed in while pointing Gae Bolg at the basketball-sized pupil. The monster's iris flared up, and dark fire suddenly flared around Cuchulainn's body, singeing the outer layers of his flesh. As he reeled back in pain, a Sea Fiend wrapped its tentacles around him in the hopes of restraining him so that the Gazer could burn him to death. He proved to be way too strong for the fiend to bind though, as he broke free and grabbed the writhing appendages before throwing it straight at the surprised Gazer. Then in one fluid strike, Cuchulainn stabbed his spear through both monsters simultaneously.

Without warning though, a pitch-black quadruped called a Soul Eater leapt at him from behind and dug its blunt teeth through his shoulder in an attempt to eat him alive. He clenched his sharp teeth in agony, then grabbed its snout and dug his talon-like fingers into the flesh. It tried to get away, but he simply tossed it over his head until it landed on its back, then pierced Gae Bolg through its abdomen to slay it. He stomped his foot on the corpse's head, puncturing the sharp heel through its skull as he turned and faced the incoming onslaught of monsters with a wild grin plastered all over his eyes.

All this time, Connla remained in her hiding spot and watched Cuchulainn slaughter any enemies that got too close to him. On the transceiver, Roman exclaimed, "Hooo~oooly! That guy's mowing through them like they're nothing!"

"I can't believe he's so strong," she murmured, utterly awestruck by her father's raw strength. "I bet he could take down half of them by himself."

"Maybe, but he can't last forever like this."

"Oh, if only I could go in and help him out," Connla whimpered and nervously chewed her thumbnail.

"Don't. He told you to stay put, and that's what you're going to do."

"I know, but… Hm?"

The young Lancer thought she heard something unusual and glanced back. Then she unexpectedly let out a shocked cry, and Roman shouted, "What's the matter!?"

Crouched about 25 feet away from Connla was another Soul Eater that had stalked the Servant pair through the forest without them noticing. This one was clearly smarter than its brethren, having waited until Cuchulainn had left to challenge the horde before making its move against Connla. She scrambled to her feet and brandished her weapon just in time to block the Soul Eater as it tried to pounce on her and eat her head off her shoulders. She pushed it away, but it refused to peel its eyes away from its young prey.

Connla heard more guttural growls coming from the forest and noticed multiple pairs of eyes glowing in the distance. More Soul Eaters arrived as backup, and they all had their sights set on her.

A pincer attack, she realized. We were so focused on the monsters out in the open that we didn't think about scouring the forest.

Although she was certainly the faster of the two Servants, she simply wasn't strong enough to handle a pack of Soul Eaters by herself. There was no two ways about it - she needed Cuchulainn's help to dispatch them. Since her hiding spot was already exposed, there was no point in her staying here any longer, so she turned and ran with all her might towards the chaotic battlefield. Although the ghastly black beasts took chase after her, she somehow found opportunities to swipe her spear through some werewolves and goblins that were making their way toward Cuchulainn.

"What the hell!?" the Berserker snapped when he saw his daughter coming. Without thinking, he vaulted high over her and gouged Gae Bolg through the leading Soul Eater's head. He killed the other monsters that were pursuing her while she was preoccupied with fending off a Gazer. Once he found a moment to breathe, Cuchulainn angrily roared at her, "What are you doing here!? I told you to wait!"

"That's not it!" Connla objected right after she sliced open the Gazer's eyes in a horizontal cutting motion. "I was ambushed from behind and forced out here!"

"There were more in the forest!?"

"I think they were stalking us and waiting until we separated!"

"Son of a bitch… Fine, change of plans! You mop up the weaklings, and I'll take out the big ones! Just enough to clear some space for you, got it!? Time's not on our side, so let's do this quickly!"

"Yes, sir!" the Lancer acknowledged and shot a volley of fireballs at some incoming goblins. As Cuchulainn continued his onslaught, Connla used some Runes to wrap herself in a small tornado before rocketing across the dusty plains like a fish rapidly swimming through water. Her feet skimmed across the surface as she swiped, thrust and stabbed her weapon at any smaller monsters that were within her reach. Dust swirled around her, further confusing the mob as they struggled to catch up with the fleet-footed girl. She broke through the group and flipped about like a gymnast to stop herself. As she crouched there and stared at the goblins and werewolves charging at her, that was when she felt the ground literally shiver several times. She looked back and saw that a massive Demon Boar was charging straight for her.

Not good! If that thing reaches Father, he'll be overwhelmed!

She decided that rather than retreating, she would face this gargantuan beast and kill it herself. She had an idea in mind, but she needed to coax the boar into doing what she wanted first. Luckily, she could tell that it was hungry, so all she needed to do was hop high enough to be in its line of sight and shoot some fireballs at its face to aggravate it. The boar let out a bellowing howl, then raised its snout in an upward motion so that it smashed against the child Servant and sent her toppling over it. Then it opened its large mouth and eagerly awaited for her to fall into its gullet.

Perfect!

She grew determined to see her plan through, and she streamlined her body so that she dove into the boar's maw without hesitation. Cuchulainn saw all of this transpire, and he shrieked with bloodshot wide eyes, "Connla!"

However, he grew increasingly perplexed when he noticed the Demon Boar's stomach explode in a volley of blood and guts. He then immediately understood what had happened; Connla used her Runes to blast her way through its belly after she had been swallowed whole. The demonic animal collapsed onto its side and died, allowing the small girl to burrow out of the gaping wound. Although she was covered in a tremendous amount of blood, she didn't seem to suffer from any noticeable wounds.

"My god, what recklessness!" Cuchulainn growled as he leaned over her to inspect her. "Have you gone completely insane, kid!?"

"It's not insane. Sometimes I had to resort to that tactic whenever I fought one in the Land of Shadows," Connla coolly explained as if it wasn't a big deal.

"Don't sound so blasé about it!"

"Why are you so surprised? You mean you didn't have to do that when you trained there?"

"Ah… I mean… O-Of course not! I'm strong enough to tear Demon Boars apart from the outside!"

"Well I'm not. Teacher said that I needed to find alternate ways of killing larger opponents to compensate for my lack of strength. I figured that directly targeting their vital organs was the best course of action for me."

"Scathach, you-!" Cuchulainn snarled, unable to comprehend that his mentor would go so far to train Connla like this.

"We should save that discussion for another time," she suddenly declared as she raised her weapon and glared into the distance.

He likewise glanced over and noticed the next wave of monsters fast approaching them. He panned his eyes around their perimeter, then growled, "Tch. This could get ugly."

"If only we could clear the area even for just five minutes, then…" Connla stammered, but a pack of werewolves blocked her path.

As the pair contemplated on how to escape this predicament, that was when the ground rumbled for a few seconds. The Servants thought that another large monster was making its entrance, and that the pack surrounded them specifically to trap them for their boss. However, that theory was disproven when they noticed the other creatures appearing as confused as they were. Connla looked around fervently and squeaked, "What's going on!?"

"I don't know, but stay close!" Cuchulainn barked.

Just then, one of the wyverns let out an unexpected death yell and plummeted to the ground after having its entire spine ripped out in one clean motion. Then another one, and another, and another. The airborne beasts dropped out of the sky one after the other, which startled everyone. They couldn't see what was happening to the dragons, but it was evident that some large humanoid was leaping from one monster to the next while ripping them apart like mere paper. The surviving wyverns decided that retreating was the best option, and they soared high into the skies to abandon their non-flying comrades.

"EEE~EEEYAAA~AAA~AAAH!"

An inhumanly shrill battle cry pierced the heavens and echoed several times. If it had been any more high pitched, anyone within immediate range would have gone deaf.

"Watch out!" Roman exclaimed. "The readings are showing an abnormal Spirit Origin in your range!"

"So that really is a Servant," Connla said as her eyes followed the mystery figure. "Are they here to help us?"

"I'm not sure, but stay alert. That pattern can only belong to a Berserker-class Servant. Furthermore, its output is far, far greater than anything I've seen to date! There's a possibility that it won't know friend from foe in this situation!"

"Then we should escape while the horde is caught off guard. Do you agree, Father?"

She glanced up at her partner, but then grew perplexed when she saw his expression. Normally, Cuchulainn Alter appeared apathetic and uninterested towards the vast majority of people around him. His features tended to soften while he was near Connla, but he never let his guard down regardless. Right now though, his acerbic attitude was most definitely absent, replaced with an uncharacteristically terrified look in his widened, twitching eyes. He clenched his shark-like teeth so hard that they could have dislocated from the gums. His entire body shivered uncontrollably, and he actually took a step back in revulsion.

"Father…?" Connla grabbed his hand. "What's the matter?"

Cuchulainn refused to peel his eyes away from the new Servant that had killed the dragons. Soon, the figure dropped from the skies and landed on the opposite side of the pack. Clearly, he stood around five to eight feet above even the tallest creatures, and his muscles were so bulky that some of the muscle was torn open and exposed for everyone to see. His arms and legs were bent the wrong way, yet he could still function as a warrior in such a painful-looking state. His ultramarine hair flowed over his back, but was so rigid that if an apple tree dropped all of its fruit around him, every apple would have been pierced through the spiky needle-like hair. Extraneous red eyes blinked all over his body, including his shoulders, torso, cheeks, legs, feet, and more. His actual eyes barely resembled eyes anymore, with one almost completely rolled back into the head while the other slightly dangled out of the socket, supported by only some sinewy blood vessels.

Everything started to come together for Connla once she saw the long crimson spear that the Berserker wielded. It was massive – probably as tall as two or three Cuchulainns combined. Although it was difficult to tell due to the weapon's natural color, a large amount of blood and viscera nevertheless painted the polearm. She finally understood why Cuchulainn was so frightened upon seeing this Berserker, as she uttered the weapon's name:

"Gae… Bolg…"

"EEE~EEEYAAA~AAA~AAA~AAAHH!" the Berserker shrieked and stormed for the largest dragon in sight, then curled his hand until the thorny fingernails formed a claw, and he instantly crushed the beast's skull beneath his slamming palm. Blood sprayed everywhere, and some of it spattered on Connla's face. She barely noticed as she remained hopelessly transfixed on the monstrous Servant. The Berserker then turned his attention toward the monster mob as they immediately rushed at him, hoping to overwhelm him with sheer numbers alone. He didn't seem to care, and he raised the gigantic Gae Bolg with the intent of slashing it. His teeth weren't sharp like Cuchulainn's were, but he grinned so wide that even the blunt molars could be seen.

"SHIII~IIIT!" Cuchulainn snarled and grabbed Connla, forcing both of them to the ground seconds before a mighty rush of red wind ripped through the air. They looked up and noticed that the beasts within the Berserker's range were sent flying backwards, with their heads ruthlessly shorn off of their necks in one fell swoop. If the two Servants had not ducked in time, they would have been killed the same way.

"EHE… EHEE HEE HEE HEE!" the Berserker giggled. He was having a lot of fun ripping apart these pathetic cretins that dared to challenge him. He stomped, swiped, and thrashed about without a care in the world.

"F… Father…" Connla whimpered. She was simply too traumatized to continue fighting, and Cuchulainn knew it. With a snarl, he immediately summoned the black exoskeleton that comprised his Curruid Coinchenn armor, then hauled the frightened little girl over his shoulder and bolted out of the area as if their lives depended on it, because at this moment, they most definitely did.

The giant Berserker noticed the duo retreating and would have taken chase, but for some reason, he didn't move at all. He couldn't see very well due to his mutated state, but he could still make out Connla's fearful expression as she stared back at him. For those precious moments, his uncontrollable anger was pacified as he glared into her wide brown eyes. Memories of his fateful battle against her flashed in his mind.

Right… he had a reason to be here. He couldn't remember what the hell happened to him or how he wound up here, but it had something to do with her. He saw that she had been surrounded by monsters and was trying to escape, to little avail. Even in his grotesque state, he refused to let her die like this. He couldn't recall why, but he was certain that he wanted her to live on and fight a particular enemy.

"C… CO… N… LAAA~AAAHHH…!"