Now they've begun to explain what they need me for. "Simply put, we need you to fight the heroic spirit. The one under the effects of Angra Mainyu." They're cuckoo. Crazy. Insane possibly. Mental. They need help. Yeah, I've fought magic gods, and evil doppelgangers and people that can make you explode by altering the directions of blood flow and all that wacky crap, but like c'mon. Especially since according to them, the best Imagine Breaker could do in general is probably stop a Noble Phantasm, or whatever they called it. It's not like a servant would go poof after getting touched by my hand, they'd still be material on the current plane of existence. I mean I don't even think that anyone in their right mind would do something like this. But then the angel Kamijou within makes me remember that I'd feel pretty bad if I didn't help, and I really don't like bein in debt to people. "Alright then, I'll help." Reluctant as I may be, this has gotta turn out better for myself, i just know it. "It might be best to start packing then Kamijou," Tohsaka says, "after all we'll be heading to the good old UK. Ah. The UK. Truly, I am the misfortunate son. And so, Tohsaka and Emiya depart, not without an awkward silence as I have an internal breakdown, and I begin to pack, at 3 am in the morning. Tsuchimikado even waltzes in to come assist, if harassment counts as assistance. I finish packing, go to sleep and wait for the morning. Little did I know I'd get quite the rude awakening. I wake up in front of the airport in which ghr highspeed jets reside, I don't know whether to curse Tsuchimikado or Emiya and Tohsakaz who are just as nonchalant aboht my kidnapping, if this still counts under kidnapping. I hear Othinus mumble something about a shaky ride in my pocket before we board the, supersonic and apparently private, jet. Tohsaka and Emiya fill me in on the absolute monster of a Brit I'd be facing eventually. According to them I'd be facing off against King Arthur, Artoria Pendragon, but this time the grail has fueled her unholy rage with magical steroids and cocaine. I feel I'm simply signing up for a curbstomp, is it too late for this Kamijou to back out? We finally land in the UK, we enter and very soon, exit the airport. Then we do a tiny lunch, mainly for Index and her insatiable diet and head towards, a mansion? "Well then Kamijou, we'll assist you to the best of our ability, but this all lies on you, can you defeat Artoria?" They say it so casually it's like they don't really care what happens next! We walk in to a large room, with a singular chair in the middle. In that chair is a blonde woman, clad in a black dress with pale yellow eyes, and probably the most devilish smirk I've seen since Accelerator. "Ah, the remnant of the Kamijou family appears," the woman says. I assume this one is Artoria, of the Saber class. I have no idea what she means by remnant, but it doesn't quite matter. I'm here to save lives and kick ass, and I'm all out of ass.
My final words are presumed to be: "Rotten luck."
Pain. Fucking pain. Every joint, every bone, every organ, just pain. It took but a solit second for Saber to armor up and take a sword to clobber me. Thank god she hit me with the flat part and not the actual sharp part, because at least I'll be beaten instead of halved. Emiya and Tohsaka just barely slow her from actually clowning on me. I now know what it's like to experience a dismount game. I've been flung through three different rooms throughout this very intricate mansion, each time with the blunt part of the sword. The one time I actually get in a good punch, she's staggered a bit, a possible temporary weakness from touching my right hand, not enough to stop her from launching me once again though. I finally begin to fade out, but something calls to me, a voice. She sounds so interesting, it's a shame I can barely keep conscious.
(POV switch incoming)
Ah. So I've been summoned. I swear to God that if it's Gilles again I'm going to rip off his testicles. Huh? Why does this flow feel so familiar? I wonder who this is...
I open my eyes, I ready my battle standard and block the attack of a very angry British Knight, oh, it's her, I assume my master is the unconscious bum behind me, so if that's the case, I ought to handle this nutjob of an Englishwoman. "The name is Jeanne D'arc, Class: Avenger, and as unfortunate as it may be Pendragon, I can't quite let you kill this boy, after all, he's my master."