Night passed and daybreak followed. Demigod and soldier alike stood upon the rooftops of a building, likely an apartment block, as they overlooked the scenery that surrounded them. The once-hellish landscape disappeared and the city returned to its original self, yet the bodies of the victims still remained.
Bodies by the hundreds littered themselves throughout Fuyuki, all of which died in cruel and unusual fashions, each one worse and different than the last. Paste formed from the crushed and rotting organs of innocents coated the streets like a macabre pastel painting.
All of it was the work of Caster. Both Servants had suddenly felt the urge to thank him for showing them such a wonderful night.
And what better way to show their gratitude than with a nocked arrow to the skull or a dagger to the spine?
"Our Masters are dead," the demigod finally spoke, having found the Servant of the late Kirei Kotomine unconscious in a nearby ditch. Having regained his senses, Assassin had awakened to hear these words from the Archer, "As is the Mediator."
"Yeah," was all the armored Servant had told him, "It seems they are."
A rather expected nonreaction that Archer had seen time and time again from Assassin. But there was a certain air about him the way he said it now. His interactions with the self-proclaimed Spartan had him come off as contemplative, like he was perpetually in a state of existential dread, but now he seemed… resolute.
Assassin found a new purpose to cling to. However, those eyes were empty and focused, cold and rough as iron. Whatever he learned had hardened him back into a state of withdrawal that he had once been accustomed to in that old past of his.
This concerned Archer.
The Spartan's armor and undersuit had been dispelled, leaving him in the same clothes he wore when they last met. His wounds had miraculously healed despite his mana reserves practically being dried out,
"What will you do now?" the demigod queried, stony visage unchanged as he stared down at his temporary ally without judgment, "Despite my Master being dead as well, I can still remain on the material plane for at most another week if I conserve my mana."
Independent Action, a key trait of the Archer class. And in some cases, depending on the nature of that Servant, this can even extend to other classes.
He then raised a hand towards his ally, "You, however, can't fight anyone in the condition you're in. But from what I've seen so far, you're the most knowledgeable on Caster."
Assassin looked back down, staring at the surface of the rooftops as his hands clenched into fists, "Even with Kirei dead, I can still stay manifested until the end of tomorrow night, maybe even until midnight at the very least. I'll look for a new Master before the deadline."
He turned away, just about to take to spirit form and go off searching, "Something troubles you, Assassin?"
Noble Six paused mid-step, his body going still for only a second. Archer didn't hear him sigh, but his shoulders slowly rising and falling was enough for him to gauge the man's mood, "What do you mean?"
"Answer my question first," Archer crossed his arms, giving the Servant a disappointed look, "Don't simply answer a question with another question."
"It's none of your concern, Archer."
"You're right, it's not. Perhaps I'm simply curious."
"Curiosity killed the cat," Assassin jabbed at the Servant.
Archer shrugged, "Satisfaction brought it back."
Assassin sighed, looking back at the opposing giant standing before him, "You're incorrigible."
"Of course I'm incorrigible, I'm a Servant," Archer shook his head, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh of his own before finally looking down at his ally again, "There was a woman I befriended on my journey, a fierce woman who would've definitely taken my place as Archer had she been summoned instead. She held a deep regard for children, so much so that she would kill anyone who dared to hurt even a single hair on their head."
"Is this some kind of elaborate way of telling me your identity?" the Spartan queried boredly, his voice still cold and emotionless, "Because the answer was pretty obvious ever since you stuck an arrow in my eye."
"I'm simply passing on some advice from one legend to another, however distant yours may be doesn't matter," he replied, blatantly ignoring the snark, "You've found a purpose, much like she did… but I ask of you not to let it consume you, lest you'll end up like Berserker."
'Lancelot…' the name echoed in both of their minds without either one's knowledge.
Archer brushed past him without resistance, intent on letting the Spartan think on his advice. Assassin's eyes flickered down as he began to contemplate the words of the demigod.
"What happened to your friend?" he asked.
"..." Archer went silent, until, "...Her purpose consumed her, and she passed away from this world without a shred of happiness."
Assassin listened to the man chuckle bitterly to himself, "That seems to be a common trend for you… true heroes, I mean."
"Perhaps, what is the story of a hero if not a tragedy?" Archer hummed, not expecting an answer from Assassin, so he simply moved on, "Regardless, I still intend on settling that deal with Rider. I trust that you and Saber can keep Caster company while I attend to business."
"I make no promises."
"Hah!" Archer barked a Rider-esque laugh, "Someday you will, Assassin."
The Spartan watched as the former Servant of Tohsaka disappeared in a haze of mana, his final words echoing through the wind.
"Someday you will…'
Assassin peered off into the distance, watching the sun continue its rise over the city before he too disappeared. It was quite a comforting sight even for the Spartan amidst the death and decay that perverted the night, but he didn't have long to live in this state to enjoy the sights.
He needed a Master, anyone that could allow him to fight once more.
Fortunately for him, there was someone that he had unintentionally spared in a previous fight.
Unfortunately, however, he wasn't sure if he was still alive from the condition he was in.
'Just great…'
-oOo-
Kariya Matou's luck was never known for being the best, especially within the last few days.
Pain rippled through the makeshift magus' body as he continued shambling through the dark alleyways of the city, the sky dulling to a dim orange as the sun began to set. The man tended to avoid the sunlight as much as possible, the worms underneath his skin weren't exactly particular to exposure.
In the span of a single night, his Servant was dead, his body had nearly been eaten away by the parasites running through his body, and was saved by the same man he tried to kill, only to be brought back to the hellish pit that his "grandfather's" training grounds and thrown out to rot a day later.
He didn't think it could get any worse, but the command seals on his hand refused to fade away. The Grail still wanted him to fight, and with the overflowing mana of… one worm in particular, he had been thrown out of the mansion once more and forced to fight yet again.
Shing!
A dagger stuck out from the wall, narrowly missing him as he came to a sudden stop. Looking down the alleyway that split off to another route midway, Kariya saw a dark figure lowering his arm back to his side.
"You… missed," Kariya wheezed through pained breaths, barely even able to speak as the man approached. He was dressed in dark baggy clothes, both of which being a ratty pair of dark blue jeans and a black jacket, both of which were damp and stained with mud.
It was as though Death itself came to greet him. The Matou didn't care, he was a dead man walking anyway.
"If I aimed eight more centimeters to the right, I would've skewered and pinned your skull to the wall," the man merely said, still approaching without hesitation, even as those maddened insects began to break forth from Kariya's skin, buzzing about with ravenous hunger, "I could've killed you in many unique and painful ways from this distance alone, but… the truth is that I need your help."
Kariya's only functioning eye glared at this claim, not recognizing the taller man standing just two meters away, "I don't have anything you need."
"Maybe, maybe not," the man shrugged, those cold and dark eyes locking with his, "You might not recognize me, but I believe these might seem familiar."
A flash of his hand and three T-shaped objects appeared between his fingers. Black Keys, weapons of the Church, belonging to only one man in particular.
"You-" Kariya was just about to give the order to attack before suddenly stopping, "You're not that priest."
"My Master is dead," the man sheathed the weapons as quickly as he pulled them out, hiding them in some undisclosed location among his attire, "As is Archer's."
"Archer's… you mean Tokiomi?" Kariya's breath caught in his throat, "You're telling me he's fucking dead!?"
The man nodded, begrudgingly waiting patiently as he listened to Kariya's hacking wet coughs, barely able to remain standing and having to use the wall as support before realizing the Matou was laughing.
Seconds later, the hacking had ceased, if ever so slowly.
"Are you done?" the man boredly asked, "My offer to help you still stands, even now."
"I don't care how he went out, him gone is all that matters, what could you possibly offer me now with that piece of shit dead?" Kariya spat, the buzzing of insects grew louder as the sun continued setting, "I know now that you're a Servant, but you have nothing for me."
"The Grail," was all the Servant said, watching the man fell silent, looking down at the blood-red marks on his hand, "You still have a wish, lying to me won't work."
Kariya Matou was a pitiful sight to see, his lifespan shortened to enough days to count on a single hand. But even then, amidst his completed revenge at the hands of another, there was still a glint of fire in that eye of his.
The buzzing of insects died down as the taller man continued, "You still have your Command Seals, despite no longer having a Servant. The Grail still calls for you, and I still live."
Defiance will get this sad wretch of a man nowhere, even with part of his body and brain already eaten away by those Crest worms. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the opportunity had finally presented itself.
"My wish?" he sighed, the faux smugness in his voice faded away, a low quiet whisper that the Servant was able to make out nevertheless, "There's... a mansion, somewhere in Fuyuki. Inside, is a little girl. The master of the household, my… grandfather, keeps here there, letting these things-"
He motioned to the aberration surrounding him, "-these things violate her body, just to turn her into his fucking pawn for another Grail War. But… so long as I can bring the Grail to him, he'll promise to let her go once it's in his hands."
Kariya watched as the Servant pondered his words, taking only a few steps closer and reaching forth. His heart skipped a beat, terror took him for only a second before the man pulled the blade out from the wall, wiping the stagnant mix of water and filth off the blade with his own sleeve before sheathing it away.
"Consider it done," was all he said, holding out his hand, "When the War is over, I will ensure that she is delivered safely."
The Matou expected something more grandiose, a set of rules or conditions that something more articulate than his last Servant could never conduct. Those words told him that this Servant was not simply a hero, and yet he spoke as one all the same.
That was fine by him.
Kariya blinked, thinking to himself before holding up his only functioning hand, his final command seal glowing dimly. He spoke through clenched teeth, "My will creates your body… and your sword... creates my destiny…"
There will be pain. Suffering. Those worms would eat him alive yet again.
"If you heed the Grail's call… and obey my will and reason… argh!" Kariya cried out, the worms began their devourment anew, chewing apart his body and feeding off of his pain for sustenance. He still held firm, taking fate into his own hands, "-T-then answer me… Do so and I w-will entrust my destiny to your sword."
"I, Servant Assassin, summoned forth from the call of Grail, accept your oath-," words were unnatural to him and just as unnecessary, but they flowed forth like water down a riverbed, "-and your dominion as my Master… Kariya Matou."
The bond was made and the link was forged, the remaining Command seal in Kariya's hand replenished, all three now appeared once more in his hand. The Servant watched as the man slumped over, wheezing to himself in pain as the worms continued their act of defilement. Kariya hissed at the sensation, but it was a mere nuisance compared to the output of Berserker.
"Assassin… huh?" Kariya managed to sputter out, "Figures that fate… wouldn't make it easy."
"Tsk," the Servant clicked his tongue, ignoring the… humbling critique of his class, "Your first order, Master?"
Kariya strained to lift his head, looking up at his new Servant, seeing his form look much more revitalized by the mana flowing into his body, "Win the War, bring me the Grail… by whatever means necessary."
The sun had finally set. The Servant looked up to see glowing orbs shooting up in the distance. It was a call for battle, Archer beckoning for Rider to come his way.
No more playing scout or gathering information for the sake of another's obsession. He'll eliminate every other Servant that stands in his way, even…
The Servant shook his head, reiterating his objective, 'Win the war and get the Grail… yeah, I can work with that.'
Assassin disappeared, taking to spirit form to gather his tools for the next attack. Night would come, that would be the best time to strike. No one, be they Servant or Master, would stand in his way.
He'll start with Caster.
-oOo-
The sound of buzzing was familiar to Caster's ears. With a grin crossing his face, the British Servant gently placed the book in his hands down onto the altar, turning around to be greeted by a friendly face, "I see you got my invitation, Zouken."
"I wouldn't normally leave the comfort of my own home," the voice was crackled and disjointed similarly to television static, "But I will make an exception for you, old friend."
The magus was still in the process of taking form. The conglomeration of insects scuttling about into a mass barely the height of an average man before shifting and mimicking flesh and sensory organs.
He stepped forth from the pile, staring past the Servant and to the body lying still on the makeshift ritual table behind him. Those wicked dark eyes gazed back up at the young criminal, "The vessel for the Grail… so I see you decided to take my advice."
"Indeed," Caster turned back around, placing a hand almost lovingly against her cheek, "Is she as beautiful as the day you saw her, dear Zouken?"
"Hmph," Zouken snorted, shaking his head as he looked down at the corpse, "There's nothing beautiful about playing with dolls, Caster."
"That would surely explain Sakura."
"...Kariya, I presume?" Zouken squinted his eyes in concern.
"Indeed, he was under the impression that I would end up killing you if I helped save her," Caster explained, "Tsk tsk, very poor sense of judgment even if he didn't know I was well-acquainted with his lineage."
"A fool," the old man nodded, "But one that doesn't fail to entertain me."
The Servant paused at his words, "Doesn't, you say? Do humor me, my friend, you actually didn't kill him, did you?"
"I see no point in doing so, he's my grandchild after all," Zouken boredly answered, before shooting the man a look, "I'm not getting sentimental, Caster. He made that rash decision of taking part in the Grail War of his own accord, and that choice will eventually end up killing him."
The Servant hummed to himself, 'And that reason being the girl… I see…'
"As you say, Matou," Caster responded curtly without a second to spare, turning back to the Grail's vessel with a grimace, "Damn this, what's the point of this Noble Phantasm if I'm unable to access half of my own collection?!"
"What appears to be the issue?" Zouken queried, his interest piqued by the sudden mention.
Caster looked back down at the book seated beside the dead Einzbern, the title labeled Maxwell at the bottom, "It's nothing, merely a nuisance coming from my vault of knowledge," he tapped the leather cover with an index finger, "The Holy Grail's conception requires the death of six Servants to activate, I'm merely looking for a way to bypass and kickstart the process early."
Zouken's eyes widened slightly at the answer, doing his best not to let his jaw simply flap open, "Is such a thing even possible?"
"I had assumed so, there exists a work within my memory that can supply the Grail with nearly an infinite amount of energy. A perpetual motion machine running purely on mana that could possibly even punch a hole straight to the Akashic Records… or the Root, I believe you magi call it."
Caster traced a finger along the book, smirking to himself.
"And why hasn't this been done?" Zouken's voice almost sounded jubilant from the revelation of such an ability.
The Root of all things, the endless search for knowledge that ever magus was familiar with. Even someone so far gone as Zouken Matou had sought it out once upon a time. He was disappointed that the rest of the Grail's founding families hadn't lived to see this opportunity arise.
Well, almost disappointed.
He watched as the Servant waved a hand across the book, seeing it disappear like wiping away a chalkboard, "As I said, the process is only theoretical… and I don't possess the mana to do it myself. Hah, even in a new life, the final step always seems to slip out of my grasp, especially with the rest of the Servants hot on my trail."
The old magus frowned, "Does your Master not provide you the mana to use your abilities? Or what about simply taking the energy from the rest of the populace?"
"It's not simply a matter of quantity, but also quality. I would need power that existed within the Age of Gods or at least something that could break the conditions of an unsolved theory, what I currently possess is a mere iota of what needs to be set in motion," he laughed, "It's ironic, a theoretical machine steeped purely in the realm of science that still needs to be resolved with the use of magic."
"Hmph, so I assume this puts us back at square one?"
The man shook his head, chuckling to himself in what appeared to be… delight?
"Indeed, dear Zouken, if this were the last Grail War," Zouken took a step back as Caster spun around, facing him with a mad grin upon his face, "But, ever since the discovery of our dear fellow Servants' identities, I've been laying the groundwork for such a way to win the Grail for the both of us… but I will need your help, old friend."
Zouken gave the man a look, "And the wish of your own Master?"
Caster closed his eyes and shrugged, "He's merely here for the journey, not the end goal. Ryuunosuke isn't the sort of lad to have a wish that the Grail can grant."
"You would ask me to help you after you've roused a paltry amount of demons to terrorize the city all on your own whims, putting the Holy Grail War and even the Moonlit World at risk?" Zouken's curiosity immediately shifted into grim concern.
"In all fairness, the media had painted it as a terrorist attack using chemical weapons," the mastermind pointed out.
"All because of the Association and the Church have the resources to spin the truth in our favor," Zouken retorted, "Such a breach would not go unpunished… and the current Second Owner is already dead by your hand. You may be an old friend, Caster, but it would be a matter of time before they go after you… and eventually after me were this alliance to be created."
"I'm already on borrowed time, Zouken," Caster looked down at the corpse, then down at the old man, "It would only be a matter of time before the remaining Servants catch up. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain at this point," he held out a hand, "I only ask that you be patient, old friend."
The magus looked at his hand, then at the body on the altar, his face contorting into a myriad of expressions, "And the Grail will be ours?"
"Of course," the Servant nodded, "A centuries-long quest for immortality would not go unrewarded, so long as you work with me."
Part of Zouken's face perked up where an eyebrow should've been.
"And of course, I will make sure that there's no correlation between the both of us," Caster placed a hand to his hip with a sigh and cheeky grin, "Always so careful, you old worm."
The Matou ignored the remark, turning away with a quiet sigh, "I will need... time to consider this."
He disappeared into a mass of insects, leaving the Servant alone with his work.
Nothing more needed to be said, the opportunity was too tempting even for a man as patient as Zouken to pass up. Caster merely smiled, returning to his work.
Another book manifested beside him, an old script bound with aged leather and loose threads barely able to keep it together. The words inside were too old for even him to read, but the name came to his mind as simply as every other action he's taken in this war.
For some reason, this tome resonated with the corpse of the Einzbern, housing the Grail within. This surprised Caster for a variety of different reasons, but the only one that mattered explained one important aspect of the Grail.
Or rather, it reinforced a theory he had on it.
His own Summoning, an anti-hero like him that shouldn't have existed here. If the Grail was programmed in such a way to only summon legitimate heroes that left a significant footnote for an outright beneficial part of history, then he was a contradiction that shouldn't have existed.
It was a pity that he left Assassin to die, there would've been so much more to learn from him too. From his appearance, he bore a much more futuristic appearance that spoke of neither villainy nor heroism. So what exactly was he?
"Hey, Caster!" a familiar voice shouted.
The thundering boom of double doors slamming against their adjacent walls interrupted his thoughts. The Servant turned around to be greeted by a friendly sight, though his pleasant reunion soured to concern, "Ryuunosuke, good of you to join me, but I believe I told you to stay hidden until the War passes over."
"I was," the redhead protested, raising his hands in protest as a dull thump followed suit, "Aw jeez, I was doing as you asked until someone decided to intrude on that Boundary thing you helped me set up."
A strange dark lump fell at the feet of the young serial killer right as he raised his arms, Caster didn't realize it was a body until he noticed the subtle sounds of breathing coming from it.
"One, it's called a boundary field, my dear Ryuunosuke. I'm glad you were able to finalize the construction even with my assistance," he patted the boy on the shoulder, "And two… what is this exactly?"
"I was just about to get to that part," the young man crouched down, picking up the body by the top of his head, "This guy managed to track me down and I think he's a magic-user too, but he used a gun and killed several of those spare Dolls you sent to protect me before I managed to knock him out."
A gun? Wait a moment...
Caster leaned in and got a better look.
"How did you…?" even the Servant was completely baffled by this development, "Ryuunosuke, how the hell did you actually manage to kidnap Kiritsugu Emiya?!"
Not even he expected this… and he was a damn criminal mastermind.
"I mean," Ryuunsouke bashfully scratched at the back of his head, "He was already pretty banged up when I got to him."
Caster shook his head, his smile wide and full of simultaneous wicked and friendly regard for his Master, "Even then, you actually managed to do it. It speaks volumes of your potential, and I feel I must congratulate you, my dear protege."
This was definitely an interesting development, and not an unwelcome one either. Caster had been considering using his Master as a… crash dummy of sorts to see what would truly happen when the Grail manifests itself under the circumstances given.
Of course, he would've marginally hoped for Ryuunosuke to return alive. The Servant wasn't going to let all that potential go to waste, now would he? And with another Master in their grasp, there was no need for such risk.
"In the meantime," Caster pointed to the unconscious body, "Bind him, keep him close to that woman's body in the meantime. Can't have him using those Command seals without risking damaging the Grail in the process."
The Servant let out a sigh as a wave of relief overwhelmed him. Just when things were getting complicated, the solutions would always end up in his lap.
From what he was able to gleam, Saber preferred not to take to Spirit form… or perhaps she couldn't. Either way, her knight's honor would be her downfall, the time it would take for her to get here would be too long. By the time she would already arrive, Archer or Rider would be dead, either was preferable, and the Grail would be in his hands.
A couple minutes had passed and Ryuunosuke had successfully bound the man to a chair, the largely bruised welt just below his temple looked as though it was just about ready to pop. With another word, Ryuunosuke left at his order without complaint, promised to see a spectacle the likes of which he'd never seen.
The body of the Grail's vessel glowed, disappearing before a smaller and more worthy prize was held suspended in the center of the room. Caster smiled as an inky muck began to spill forth, melting the ground beneath it and dripping down like a pouring faucet into the chasm below.
So the victor between Archer and Rider has been decided.
Now all he needed to do was sit and wait. The rest of the Servants would kill each other off in the process and the Grail will finally manifest after another death or two. First he needed to make a phone call and… hold on.
Caster slowly walked over to the man bound, leaning in closely as a brush of movement caught his eye.
"I know you're awake, don't bother hiding it."
A moment later, the Magus Killer's eyes opened.
-oOo-
Night had reached its peak, Saber had already seen the arrows calling for battle.
"Archer…" she muttered to herself before shaking her head, focusing on the priority at hand. The low roar of the motorcycle continued its grumbling as she sped upon it.
Much to her dismay, her Master had the gall to be captured by the enemy during her search for Irisviel. She was able to get a feel for his location through the link they shared, their tether growing stronger the closer she got. For a moment, the King of Knights slowed down upon her mechanical steed, listening to the thundering groans of a chariot off in the distance before finally coming to a quiet.
Archer and Rider had finally engaged within that Reality Marble of his… and only one would come out alive.
She sped up, continuing on her hunt for Kiritsugu Emiya. Such a battle was not her place to intervene, it was between Servants with a shared history, not even she could interrupt for the sake of either despite their ill words on her behalf.
Why didn't he trust her? It couldn't be anything as simple as her merely being a Servant, such actions taken on a notion like that would be the height of pettiness. Whatever it was, it ran so much deeper for him to ignore her warnings on his own health.
The Magus Killer, Saber scoffed inwardly at the title, had already been in terrible shape after the battle between him and that priest. Internal bleeding, broken bones, and a frayed spirit from the disappearance of Irisviel.
Ah, so that was it.
He was willing to go to any length simply for Irisviel. Whether it was because he truly cared for her or because she was simply the vessel for the Grail was something to query at a later date, but for now, her Master needed her help once more.
Saber had nearly forgotten how vast the city was, weaving throughout the dense concrete forests of automobiles and infrastructure, the simultaneous combination of Riding and Instinct shone through as her ability to read the oncoming traffic was second to none.
The city was surprisingly active, perhaps even the citizens knew deep in their spirits of something that she never could've figured out until now.
The war was coming to a close.
Somehow, deep within herself, there was a nagging feeling. She knew it, perhaps the remaining Servants did as well. Within this single night, they knew that the long awaited time of Heroic Spirits finally doing battle would finally arrive.
Tonight, one Servant will come out of this war with the Grail in hand.
Rider and Archer already took the first step. That left only… Caster. The unseen Servant that dared to only show his face with cowardice and malignance. Butchering men, women, and children by the hundreds.
Saber came to a stop, the tether that tied the fate of both the King of Knights and the Magus Killer was strongest in this building. Not only that, there was another presence.
Caster.
Saber looked within herself, within the spiritual core that anchored her body to the world. The flow of mana from her Master didn't change, Caster was keeping him alive for some reason.
For what reason though?
Scouring the entrances of the building, the only way most direct was by a tunnel leading into a wider space. If she remembered correctly, it was something Irisviel had called a "parking garage".
Saber frowned, undoubtedly uneased by what lay within. Not because of the potential for traps of Caster that could be sensed by the residual mana, but rather what wasn't there.
She sensed nothing, only the dense source that lay within the heart of the building. The entirety of the building was built less like a fortress for the Caster and more like an egg. The entire structure could simply fall apart with the use of her Noble Phantasm, killing the opposing Servant in the process, her Master… and her wish upon the Grail.
It was a frustrating scenario, having to play by the rules of another Servant within their own territory… she's dealt with enough frustrating magi in life and yet they continue to haunt her well into the future.
Saber resisted the urge to grind her teeth completely out of frustrating, merely revving the motorcycle and proceeding inside. Her hands were tense, loosely gripping the handles and staying within reach of Excalibur.
It was dark as she proceeded inside, but not a darkness that inconvenienced her. Her eyes were attuned as a Servant, so a simple lack of light within an area did nothing to her… so it was immediate for her to pick out the pair of round objects coming her way.
They were dull grey color, round with a complex mechanism set on top as they bounced along the smooth pavement she rode upon. Had she not been Emiya's Servant, she wouldn't have noticed the nature of these objects upon sight.
She's seen her Master's arsenal before, so Saber knew a hand grenade when she saw one.
Instincts had told her to leap away, and so she did. The thundering roar of an explosive rang throughout the garage, the concussive force of such an object would've deafened a normal man had they been in this enclosed space.
A flash of light and the Saber Servant was in her armor once more. Her sword wreathed once again in Invisible Air as the bent and smouldering parts of her mount lay scattered around the floor of her new battlefield.
Saber's eyes scanned throughout the area, looking for whomever had thrown those brutish explosives at her. Her senses told her that such an attack would've been a fatal blow for her had she not disengaged in time.
The revelation confused her, normally a modern age weapon wouldn't have even left a scratch on her no matter how much power was put into it. Her first thoughts immediately went to Berserker and their use of improvised weaponry. But the mad knight had long since passed from the war, and she would've sensed his presence had they been close by. That only left-
Saber's eyes refocused as she felt a presence finally unveil itself nearby, concealed amidst the pillars that surrounded her. The knightess dove out of the way as bullets shot forth from the mouth of whatever firearm was in her enemy's possession.
Presence Concealment, a skill permitted to only one Servant in particular.
Arturia dove behind the nearest pillar, listening as the hated sound of gunfire came to a halt, gritting her teeth as the enemy seemed to close the gap between them. Their footsteps were rapid, counting off the distance before she finally swung, mana surged through her body as she swung.
Sparks rang out as her blade caught and tore away the rifle in her enemy's hands. Finally able to get a good look at them as they fell back. Dressed in a skintight black garb that appeared thin and unruly in terms of comfort, her attacker's face was covered by a helmet but his build told her that the enemy was a man.
The man in black fell back several meters before rolling back to their feet, using the momentum of the blow for a quick recovery before Saber attacked once more. The powers of a Servant allowed her to cross the distance between them in the fraction of a second as Excalibur was swung once again.
CLANG!
Saber watched as the man deflected her blow, the dagger suddenly in his hands shattering to pieces as he landed on the other side of the makeshift arena, blocking her entrance to the interior of the building.
"Assassin," she spoke, uttering and acknowledging his title for the first time. She almost didn't notice his body tense up at his title, but she paid it no mind, "Stand aside, allow me to retrieve my Master."
He refused to budge, standing as still as a statue as he tossed aside his broken and empty weapons.
And for the first time since they've fought, he spoke, quiet, cold, and devoid of distinction, emotion, or tone.
"MJOLNIR…" a dull flash of light and he stood before her, dressed in bulkier garb. Proper armor… but this time the Servant radiated an even stronger presence. He was certainly stronger, faster, and much more durable in it from what she could sense.
Mjolnir. The word rang through Saber's mind. The divine hammer of Thunor, the pagan god of lightning worshiped by the Anglo-Saxons of old… but what appeared instead was simply a suit of armor, "Who… who are you?"
He didn't answer her, instead removing a weapon that had been clinging to his back.
A sword… one that she recognized even in its corrupted and blackened state. Her eyes widened at the fae runes that marked the blade, much like her own sword.
Arondight.
Her shock turned to anger, "You're not Lancelot."
Assassin shook his head, Saber's anger began to grow as he rose the blade against her, clutching it in both hands and tilted in towards her. He mirrored everything regarding the Knight of the Lake: the blade he carried, the stance he took, everything was a stolen mimicry.
He was mocking her.
Before she knew it, her body had carried itself forth, mind raging with turmoil and instincts honed to a razor point as she closed the gap between herself and the thief that dared mock her in a single bound.
The Sword of Promised Victory met the stolen Unfading Light of the Lake. Both blades screaming their wish to draw blood, sparks spraying across the battlefield with both combatants dead set on taking the other's life.
Saber's eyes turned a sickly yellow as her rage poured forth, fighting against the bastard that claimed the blade of one of her closest knights, not caring about how he claimed it in the first place.
She would kill Caster and end this nightmare.
She would claim the Grail, saving her homeland and the people who lived there.
Kiritsugu would finally get his wish, justifying all the actions he had taken for the sake of the world.
But right now? All she wanted was the man in front of her dead.
"Prepare to meet your end, ASSASSIN!" she roared, a slash reinforced by Mana Burst split the air in two and left her opponent open, proving him unworthy of wielding Lancelot's sword. Without an ounce of hesitation, she swung upwards, her blade tearing through the armor like putty and splitting the metal from diaphragm to face, a portion of his helmet split in two, slicing out an eye in the process as he crashed against the pillar behind him.
The dust settled, revealing the man laying still in the rubble. His body unmoving.
Victory was hers in an instant.