NOTICE: Merged previous side chapter with the 1st chapter, along with the status sheet.
EDIT: Fixed sentences, again.
Servant List to avoid confusion:
Saber: King Arthur (Artoria Pendragon)
Assassin: Accolon (EMIYA) & Morgan
Archer: Gilgamesh
Caster: Gilles de Rais
Lancer: Diarmuid Ua Duibhne
Rider: Alexander the Great
Berserker: Lancelot
Where is Mordred?
This is one of many Holy Grail Wars Accolon/EMIYA is participating. Thanks a lot, Morgan.
Fuyuki City
Fourth Holy Grail War (1)
Timeline Deviation, Master Kirei Kotomine
The clash of steel rang out as Artoria Pendragon, the Saber-class Servant, squared off against Lancer—a dual spear-wielding knight with a striking appearance. His long black hair, combed back with a rough elegance, had a single strand falling over his face, adding to his devilishly handsome aura. The air between them crackled and sparked with each strike, filling the night with the sound of their weapons clashing.
SHING!
The two warriors moved with blinding speed, their strikes a blur of power and deftness. Sparks erupted as Saber's invisible blade collided with Lancer's spears, the force of their strikes sending tremors through the ground. Lancer's spears, wrapped in cloth, concealed their true nature, much like Saber's own blade, which hid the legendary Excalibur from view.
Lancer suddenly disengaged, stepping back with a confident swagger.
"While there's no honor in a battle fought without an exchange of names, allow me to offer my regards. It is impressive for a woman to fight this much without even breaking a sweat."
"You need not be so humble, Lancer," she replied with a slight smirk. "Even without knowing your name, words from such a master of the spear do me honor. I accept them gratefully."
"That's enough fun, Lancer." Lancer's Master, hidden from view, had finally and Saber's eyes flickered to the source, trying to place the voice. "Do not allow this battle to drag out. Saber is a formidable opponent. Defeat her with all haste. You may use your Noble Phantasm."
The air thickened with tension. Saber and Irisviel felt the shift, their muscles tensing as they prepared for what was to come. Lancer's smirk widened, as if he had been waiting for this command. Saber's eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on her invisible sword. She recognized the shift in the air, the seriousness that now settled the battlefield. This was no longer a mere skirmish—Lancer was now fully committed to the battle.
"Understood, my lord," Lancer responded, letting one of his spears drop to the ground with a metallic clang. The weapon that remained in his hands was longer, and the cloth wrapping around it began to unravel, revealing a crimson spear that radiated an ominous, otherworldly light.
'So, the long spear is his Noble Phantasm,' Saber thought, her grip tightening on her invisible sword.
"I shall go for the kill now, Saber." Lancer flourished his crimson spear. "You're still using mana to conceal your blade with wind, aren't you? I see. So, you have a reason to hide your sword. My guess is that the sword reveals your true name."
Saber adjusted her stance. "How unfortunate, Lancer. You will never know the name of my blade."
"We'll see about that." Lancer stepped forward, the crimson spear gleaming dangerously. "I shall expose your invisible sword, Saber."
In a blur of movement, Lancer charged. Saber swung her sword in response, her blade meeting his spear in a clash of power. As the crimson spear made contact with Excalibur, a burst of bright yellow sparks illuminated the dock. The force of the impact partially dispelled Invisible Air, revealing a glint of Excalibur's true form.
Saber's eyes widened in shock, but she quickly twisted her blade, disengaging from Lancer's assault. The revelation of her weapon's identity, though incomplete, was a dangerous setback.
"Your cherished sword has been exposed," Lancer declared, his eyes gleaming with triumph. Yet, despite his words, the full truth of Saber's identity remained just out of reach.
"Invisible Air was dispelled?!" Saber thought out loud, her mind racing to adapt to the sudden turn of events.
Lancer grinned, sensing the advantage. He lunged again, his crimson spear cutting through the air with deadly precision. Saber reacted instantly, her instincts guiding her as she brought Excalibur to bear against the oncoming dock echoed with the sound of their weapons clashing. Saber parried Lancer's strikes, forced back by its long reach. Lancer's attacks were lethal, his spear moving with blinding speed and force. Each strike aimed was aimed at her vitals, leaving her no choice but to be quick on her feet.
Saber gritted her teeth, pushing back against Lancer's onslaught. She knew that if she faltered for even a moment, the battle could be lost. Her movements were precise, countering Lancer's aggression with skill honed from countless battles.
SHING!
With each clash, he pushed her further, his crimson spear a blur of motion. He was testing her, probing for weaknesses, seeking to exploit any hesitation, and to unmask her completely.
BOOM!
The ground beneath them erupted from the sheer force of their weapons meeting. Sparks flew as they exchanged another series of rapid cuts and thrusts. But with every strike, Saber noticed something alarming.
'The red spear is chipping away at Invisible Air!' Saber thought, gritting her teeth.
Lancer's smirk grew as he noticed the subtle shift in her expression. "I now know the exact length of your sword. I won't misjudge my distance again!"
Lancer lunged forward again, his crimson spear darting toward Saber. Their forms blurred as they clashed once more, each movement nearly impossible to discern for the average human.
From a distance, Irisviel watched with growing dread. Despite Artoria's formidable strength, revealing her true name could put them at a severe disadvantage, especially when they were still uncertain of the full capabilities of their enemies.
Saber shuffled back after a fierce exchange, preparing herself as Lancer charged again. This time, his spear aimed directly at her chest armor. She intended to use his aggressive assault to her advantage, planning to deliver a decisive strike while her armor absorbed the brunt of the attack. With her sword raised high, she charged head-on.
SLIIICK!
A sharp gasp escaped Saber as Lancer's crimson spear sliced cleanly through her armor like paper.
She spun to the side, quickly recovering to block his follow-up attacks. Despite her swift response, she stepped back, a muted expression on her face as blood trickled from the wound. Lancer paused, his smirk widening as he tapped his spear against the ground, reveling in his apparent victory.
"Saber!" Irisviel's voice cut through the tension as she channeled mana into Artoria's wound, healing the damage inflicted by Lancer's spear.
"Thank you, Irisviel. The healing was effective." She resumed her stance, determined to continue the fight.
"So, you won't surrender easily," Lancer observed, looking casual and confident in his victory.
Saber's mind raced as she examined the injury. Her armor, magically woven and designed to deflect attacks, had been penetrated.
'How did his blade bypass my armor?' she wondered, her eyes narrowing in realization. 'The armor itself wasn't pierced... The only explanation is that Lancer's spear cancels mana.'
Lancer remained silent, allowing Saber to piece together the truth.
"I see the secret of your spear now, Lancer," Saber declared, her voice cutting through the air.
"Oh?"
"That red spear cancels mana."
"And your armor was created with mana." Lancer pointed out. "You should surrender if you're relying on it, Saber. You're as good as naked before my spear."
"Don't think you've won just by depriving me of my armor," Saber countered, dispelling her damaged armor and readying her invisible sword once more. "If I can't defend against your blade, I only need to cut you down first. Prepare yourself, Lancer!"
The two Servants squared off once more. Saber's sword suddenly burst into a radiant golden beam of light as she charged forward at blinding speed. Lancer's eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly shifted to the side, gritting his teeth as he prepared for her attack. Irisviel gasped at the sheer speed of Saber's assault, while Lancer's smirk grew as he retrieved his yellow spear, which had been buried under the rubble from their earlier skirmish.
VING!
Saber's eyes widened as she realized her tactical error. Her momentum carried her forward, directly into Lancer's yellow bladed spear. She tried to adjust her trajectory, but it was too late. Lancer's yellow spear was already in motion, ready to slice into her.
BANG!
Just as Saber was about to make contact with Lancer's yellow spear, a sudden, powerful impact struck her on the side.
Her vision was filled with a blur of black and blue as an armored figure in light, sleek armor—a striking contrast of colors with strips of white cloth draped around his neck like a scarf—delivered a forceful kick to her side. The impact sent Saber crashing through several containers, causing a section of the dock to collapse in a shower of debris.
CRASH!
As Saber tumbled through the wreckage, the newcomer Servant—whose presence had shifted the balance of the battle—moved swiftly. He slashed at Lancer with his sword, the weapon flashing in the dim light of the dock. Lancer, caught off guard, was forced into a defensive stance, deflecting the rapid strikes with his spears.
SHING! CLANG!
Lancer grunted as he leaped back, his face a mask of irritation and surprise. He quickly reassessed the situation, his grip tightening on both of his spears as he prepared to face this new threat. The newcomer turned to face Lancer, his eyes—hidden behind the visor of his helmet—flashing with a deadly gleam.
"Apologies," the newcomer apologized, his voice dripping with an insincere tone. "My lady has instructed me to use this blade in the next fight against a swordswoman." He brandished his sword, Excalibur, and Lancer's eyes widened with recognition. "As for you, Lancer, leave now and I'll spare you until our next encounter."
Saber, having recovered from the impact, rose from the debris. Her blue outfit was dusted with fragments of shattered containers, but she seemed otherwise unharmed save for a dull throb from where the newcomer had kicked her.
"Who—" Saber began, her voice catching in her throat as her eyes locked onto the blade.
Excalibur.
But it wasn't just Excalibur that the newcomer was holding that was shocking.
"T-that's...!" Irisviel's voice mirrored Saber's shock as her eyes fell upon the sheath strapped to the newcomer's waist: Avalon, the lost sheath of the legendary sword.
From their hidden vantage points, Kiritsugu Emiya and Maiya Hisau held looks of astonishment. The Servant who had interrupted their battle—could this really be King Arthur? After all, they had summoned Artoria Pendragon, the true King Arthur.
"Hoh? That holy sword, I would recognize it anywhere. Excalibur," said Lancer, albeit a bit confused. "You must be King Arthur, but you can't possibly be Saber unless she was misleading me, which I doubt. Assassin was eliminated by Archer, and you don't feel like a Caster... perhaps you're Rider?"
"No! That Servant cannot be King Arthur!" Saber shouted, her anger rising. She brandished her invisible sword once more, fighting to control her emotions. "I am—" She hesitated, almost revealing her true identity. "King Arthur looks nothing like that! Identify yourself!"
"Your immediate opponent." The newcomer readied his imitation Excalibur with a firm grip. He stood assertively between Saber and Lancer. His armor, though lighter and more streamlined, was indicative of a fighting style that balanced agility with protection. "Watch or leave, Lancer. My lady and I will not tolerate interference."
With a sudden burst of speed, the fight commenced.
The fake King Arthur lunged at Saber, his strikes mirroring her own style but with an unsettling twist—an almost bastardized version of her own swordsmanship. Each swing was precise but lacked the true finesse of the original, as though it were a warped reflection of her technique. Saber parried a series of swift strikes, her anger fueling her defense. The fake King Arthur moved with a cruel efficiency; every attack intended to exploit Saber's weaknesses. He dodged and parried with a mock elegance, his blade a shimmering shadow of the true Excalibur.
Saber could feel the anger rising within her as she faced this distorted reflection of her own prowess. It was as though he was mocking her with a perversion of her style.
"You dare to mock my swordsmanship with such a twisted imitation?"
CLANG! SHANG!
Saber's blade met the fake Excalibur, deflecting the blow with a powerful swing. The false King Arthur stumbled back, regaining his footing with a hidden smirk that belied the intensity of their battle.
"Imitation? Perhaps. But does it not serve as a reminder that even the greatest of legends can be distorted? Let us see how well you fare against your own reflection."
The fake Excalibur in his hand blazed with a bright, otherworldly light. The dock's dimly lit environment was illuminated by its glow, casting stark shadows that danced on the walls. The sword's radiance seemed to pulse with every movement, a stark contrast to Saber's more subdued aura. Saber's eyes narrowed, her grip on her invisible sword tightening as she prepared for the next exchange. The fierce intensity in her gaze revealed her determination to overcome this blasphemous mockery of her legendary sword.
'Interesting... It's like Saber is fighting her own shattered reflection.' Lancer, who had stepped back to observe, watched the fight with both fascination and annoyance. His eyes followed the movements of the combatants with interest, though his expression betrayed his frustration at being sidelined. 'What a pity.'
Despite his inner agitation, he respected the honor of waiting until the fight was truly over before intervening.
'I'll need to reevaluate our plans.' Kiritsugu, hidden in the shadows with Maiya, observed the battle with a calculating gaze. His strategic mind raced, analyzing every movement and considering the implications of this unexpected twist.
'Saber…' Standing on the dock, Irisviel's anxious expression reflected his own concern. The arrival of the fake Arthur and his wielding of Excalibur had shifted the dynamics of the Holy Grail War.
The two combatants danced a deadly waltz, their blades meeting in a series of explosive clashes. With every strike, the battle grew more intense, yet something in the fake Arthur's movements shifted. He began to turn more defensive, his every motion calculated to deflect Saber's increasingly aggressive attacks. Her frustration mounted as she pressed forward, her swings becoming almost reckless in her desperation to break through his defenses. But no matter how fiercely she attacked, he always seemed to anticipate her, weaving his blade to meet hers with unnerving precision.
She gritted her teeth, her frustration boiling over. The Servant before her was clearly holding back, playing with her for reasons she couldn't fathom.
"Are you toying with me!?"
"Yes." The fake Arthur's voice was calm, almost amused, which only made her eye twitch in irritation. "It's better than seeing that impassive expression of yours. I'd rather see a more expressive and emotional knight than—"
BOOOOSH!
A fierce blast of wind erupted from her Excalibur, a powerful surge of energy that nearly drove the fake Arthur to his knees. But he held his ground, pushing back against the force with a hidden smirk. The two were thrown apart by the blast, sliding to a halt on opposite ends of the battlefield, their blades still leveled toward each other.
"You... Who are you?" She demanded; her voice edged with anger.
This Servant knew too much about her, yet she recognized nothing about him. No knight had ever wielded Excalibur or Avalon, much less a fake version of it. The fact that he could replicate her sword style so closely—though intentionally distorted—only deepened her agitation.
"Prove you are who you claim to be," the fake Arthur responded coolly. "And prove that I am not what others believe I am. Make your decision, because I will not wait."
Without another word, he raised his imitation Excalibur, the blade erupting with a golden light that blazed with intensity. The ground beneath him shattered from the sheer force of the energy being unleashed. Everyone's eyes widened in shock as the golden beam of the fake Excalibur grew, its destructive power growing.
"You...!" Saber's eyes widened in horror as she realized the fake Arthur's intent. He was prepared to destroy the entire area in a single, devastating strike.
"Lancer! Retreat!" Lancer's Master commanded urgently, recognizing the imminent danger. He knew better than to risk losing his Servant—or his own life—by staying anywhere near when the Noble Phantasm was unleashed. It was more prudent to let these two Servants exhaust themselves and strike later.
"Yes, my lord." Lancer leaped back, his figure disappearing into the shadows.
"Saber!" Irisviel cried out, staggering back from the roaring light that now filled the dock.
"Get out of there!" Kiritsugu's voice rang through Irisviel's earpiece as he retreated from his sniping position. "Saber!"
"I know!" Saber responded, her voice tense as she summoned her own Noble Phantasm. Excalibur burst into a golden radiance that matched the fake's, the sheer power of the two swords threatening to tear the place apart. "Allow me to prove to you that you are not King Arthur, pretender!"
"I prefer 'Faker,' honestly," the fake Arthur huffed, his grip tightening on his weapon.
"EX—" Saber's voice rang out as she prepared to unleash Excalibur.
"EX—" The fake Arthur echoed, his own sword blazing with destructive energy.
""-CALIBUR!"" they roared in unison, their voices merging as they swung their swords down with all their might.
BOOOOM!
The two blades collided, and the world exploded in a blinding flash of golden light. The ground shook violently, the air itself seemed to crackle and tear as the two Excaliburs clashed. The force of the impact sent shockwaves rippling through the dock, reducing the surrounding area to rubble as the two combatants stood locked in a titanic struggle.
Lancer and his Master, watching from a distance, were both fascinated and relieved they had retreated in time. Despite the frustration of missing out on the battle, Lancer's honor kept him from intervening. Meanwhile, Kiritsugu, Irisviel, and Maiya watched with growing anxiety, knowing that the outcome of this clash could shift the balance of the entire Holy Grail War.
WOOOOOOOOOOO!
The battle was supposed to affirm who truly wielded the power of the King of Knights. Artoria Pendragon, the real King Arthur, was pitted against a mere imitation—a false reflection of herself.
It should have been clear, decisive. But the moment their blades collided in a brilliant golden light, something deep within Saber—her Instinct skill—screamed that something was terribly wrong.
Crack!
For a heartbeat, everything felt distorted. Her mind struggled to process what her eyes were witnessing: Excalibur, her sacred, indestructible holy sword, beginning to crack under the force of the fake Arthur's blade.
CRACK!
In that split second, time seemed to slow. Saber's heart pounded in her chest as she violently jerked to the side, desperately trying to evade the descending golden beam. But it was too late. The blinding light consumed her vision, her fate seemingly sealed.
SHOOOSH!
Suddenly, a fierce burst of wind surged from the fake's blade, dispelling the golden beam at the last possible moment. The force of the blast rippled through her hair, sending her hurtling backward.
She crashed through the battlefield, her grip tightening around the broken remains of Excalibur, her face etched with shock and disbelief. The sound of her impact echoed through the now-silent battlefield, the clash of their powers leaving an eerie stillness in its wake. All eyes were drawn to the impossible sight before them: the mighty Excalibur, shattered and broken.
"Excalibur... broke?" Irisviel's voice trembled as she struggled to comprehend what had just happened.
Kiritsugu, hidden from view but watching every moment with razor-sharp focus, couldn't suppress the doubt gnawing at him.
"... Was the Saber we summoned... really a fake?" His voice was low, questioning, as if speaking aloud the unsettling thoughts that had taken root in his mind. Was it possible that their summoning had gone awry? That something had been wrong with the catalyst, Avalon, itself—the very artifact they had used to summon Saber?
The battlefield remained tense; the air thick with uncertainty. Lancer, who had been observing from a distance, wore an expression of disbelief and growing unease. Even his Master, who had remained confident and composed until now, seemed troubled by the turn of events.
The fake Arthur, standing amidst the rubble, allowed his Excalibur to dim, the light slowly fading from the blade. He glanced down at the broken remains of Saber's sword—his expression hidden behind his helmet.
Shhhhhhhh…
Saber struggled to her feet, her body aching, her mind reeling from the impossibility of what had just occurred. She clutched the fractured Excalibur, a symbol of her shattered legend and shaken resolve. Her thoughts raced, grappling with the reality that her most trusted weapon had been broken, not by an enemy of equal power, but by a mere imitation.
"Excalibur?" she muttered, staring blankly at the broken sword. A cold, unsettling truth began to dawn on her. "It's... fake?"
Had she been wielding a counterfeit Excalibur all along? And if so, what did that make her?
"Is this not what you desired?" The fake Arthur's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. His towering figure stepped forward. "Did you not wish to undo your legacy? To erase the memory of your rule?"
Saber's eyes widened in shock as his words hit home. Her hands tightened around the hilt of the broken sword, but she found herself defenseless, stripped not just of her weapon, but of her very identity.
In the distance, Kiritsugu, her Master, saw the dire situation and prepared to use a Command Spell.
"Saber! I—"
"Don't ruin my fun," a chilling feminine voice interrupted him, freezing his magic circuits as if they had been plunged into icy water.
"Urgh…" Kiritsugu's body tensed as he struggled against the unseen force, his eyes widening in alarm. Over his earpiece, he heard Maiya's voice, strained and echoing with the same helplessness.
"Hello, Master of Saber," the shadowy figure of a woman draped in a black veil appeared behind him. "Save your salutations. You can call me Caster." She chuckled softly, as if amused by some private joke. "Just sit back and watch. I can't allow you to spoil such a beautiful scene."
Back on the battlefield, Saber managed to pull herself together, though she still clutched the hilt of her broken sword, her eyes filled with uncertainty.
"How are you wielding Excalibur?" she demanded, her voice wavering.
Silence hung in the air for a moment.
"Why are you surprised?" the fake Arthur finally spoke, his voice eerily calm. "You wished to undo your legacy, didn't you? To pass the sword to someone more worthy, someone who might tread a different path but ultimately meet the same end." He slowly raised the fake Excalibur, holding it aloft. "I, too, was betrayed. I, too, died alone, misunderstood by all."
Saber's heart pounded in her chest as she took a step back, the implications of his words dawning on her.
"No... it can't be…"
"Tell me, Artoria," the sound of her true name froze her in place, her breath catching in her throat. "Did you ever rule with pride? Did you ever take up the mantle of king with any sense of fulfillment?"
Saber's grip tightened around the broken hilt. The answer was one she had known all along, buried deep within her heart.
"No." Her voice was barely a whisper.
She had never ruled with pride. She had taken up the mantle out of duty, not desire, driven by the need to protect her people and her kingdom at any cost.
"Then we are the same," the fake Arthur continued, his voice softening almost to a whisper. "Both of us wore a mantle, both of us bore the weight of lofty expectations, but neither of us found solace in our achievements. We are bound by our shared fate, by the hollow victories we won for others but never for ourselves."
Saber's heart sank as his words resonated with her deepest fears, the doubts that had plagued her in life. She had always questioned whether she had done the right thing, whether her choices had truly been for the best. And now, faced with this twisted reflection of herself, she found those doubts magnified a thousandfold.
"Is that why you fight?" she asked quietly. "To undo your past?"
"Long ago, I fought with the hope of one day undoing my past. But it was a foolish, regret-filled dream. The past is set in stone, unchangeable. And this Holy Grail you chase will not grant you that wish."
Saber's expression was one of pained disbelief. Was all her struggle for naught? Was her reign as King Arthur no more than a futile endeavor?
"Lies," she said through clenched teeth. "You're lying."
"Am I?" The fake Arthur's voice remained eerily calm. He pointed his sword at her, a challenging gesture. "You enter this war as a pawn for ambitious and greedy fools and expect it to be anything more? The Holy Grail you fight for is cursed. Even if it weren't, it could never undo the past. It's not omnipotent. It's merely an imitation of something humans are not meant to wield."
Saber's heart sank even deeper at his words. The idea that the Grail might be a lie—a mere illusion of her deepest hopes—hit her hard. Why did his words ring with such a semblance of truth, even though she desperately wanted to believe otherwise?
"You're…"
"Lying? No." He tilted his head, as if listening to an unseen sound. "So, it begins..." With a swift motion, he raised his sword.
Swoosh!
The fake Excalibur suddenly flew from his grasp, spinning through the air. Saber's instincts kicked in, and she caught the sword with a fierce glare. Her eyes, momentarily ignited by the renewed hope, focused on her adversary. She charged forward, her movements driven by desperation and defiance, aiming to prove that her efforts had not been in vain.
RING!
The fake Arthur intercepted her strike with a defensive move, using the fake Avalon as a shield. Sparks erupted from the clash, the impact forcing him back. Despite his defensive stance, he seemed almost detached, allowing Saber's fury to drive him further away.
"I will not fall for your falsehood!"
"Grief, denial, and stubborn." the fake Arthur sighed, blocking another of her furious attacks. He then purposefully left himself open, as if taunting her.
Seeing her opportunity, Saber pressed forward, her grip on Excalibur firm. She locked her blade against the fake Avalon, and with a powerful tug, wrenched it from his grasp before bringing down Excalibur with all her might.
SHING!
The sound of metal clashing against metal filled the air as Excalibur was met by two new blades. One was a black sword with a tortoise shell pattern, the other a white blade adorned with a wave motif.
"What—?" Saber's eyes widened in shock as she saw the new weapons intercepting her attack.
"I won't go down that easily," the fake Arthur said as he pushed back and assumed a ready stance, now wielding two new Noble Phantasms that gleamed beneath the moonlight.
"That's… not King Arthur," Irisviel murmured, her eyes wide with disbelief. The swords now in the fake Arthur's possession were unknown to them, and there were no legends of a hero wielding such blades that she was aware of.
The audience watched the battle with slight astonishment, not expecting that the fake Arthur possessed a pair of Noble Phantasms that did not align with Arthurian legends.
"Could it be?" Lancer observed, his gaze fixed on Saber. "The moment she took the blade, it seemed to complete her. Perhaps she truly is King Arthur?"
"This is the genuine Excalibur," Saber said, a note of confidence returning to her voice as she adopted a defensive stance. She could feel the familiar resonance of her true Noble Phantasm. "What you did earlier when we clashed was your Noble Phantasm, wasn't it?"
"Sharp as usual. Does it remind you of anyone?"
Saber's eyes narrowed as she racked her mind. The Throne of Heroes provided information on other Servants, though the system of the Holy Grail War obscured some details to ensure fairness. The more she learned about a Servant's appearance and Noble Phantasms, the easier it was to deduce their true identity. However, this Servant felt elusive. She couldn't recall fighting anyone with a fake Excalibur and Avalon, and yet, there was a vague familiarity in the back of her mind. The Throne of Heroes did hint at a Servant who might fit this description.
RUMBLE!
Before Saber could voice her thoughts, a bolt of lightning struck the ground between them, sending a shockwave through the battlefield. A massive chariot, drawn by two powerful bulls, crashed onto the scene. At the helm of this chariot was a towering figure with a red mane and beard, his laughter booming across the battlefield.
"Both of you, sheath your blades! You are in the presence of a king!" He spread his arms wide, his voice echoing with regal authority. He turned his gaze toward Saber and the fake Arthur, a broad grin on his face. "I am Iskandar, the King of Conquerors! I am the Rider class in this Grail War!"
His declaration was met with stunned silence from the onlookers. Saber stood with her mouth slightly agape, processing the information. Lancer's expression shifted to one of matching surprise, while the witnesses around them displayed a range of astonished reactions. The fake Arthur's expression remained hidden behind his helmet, betraying no hint of reaction.
On Rider's chariot, a young boy clung to the side, his face contorted with shock and dread as he watched his Servant's grandiose entrance. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he gripped the chariot's rail with white-knuckled intensity.
"W-what the hell are you thinking, you idiot?!" The boy's voice trembled with frustration as he tried to shake the larger man beside him. His efforts were met with a casual flick of Rider's massive fingers, which sent a sharp sting to the boy's forehead.
The shadowy figure concealed in the darkness of the distance observed with quiet amusement. The veiled figure, who had revealed herself as the 'Caster' of this war, chuckled softly to herself.
"It appears that the gathering is beginning, just as predicted," the Caster said. "How delightful." With that, the figure melted further into the shadows. "I release you from my hold, but I suggest you stay and watch how the events unfold. I'll be taking my own... front-row seat."
As the Caster's presence dissipated, Kiritsugu felt the paralysis lift from his body. He let out a breath of relief, the feeling of movement slowly returning.
"Tch, Maiya, are you alright?" Kiritsugu asked, his voice edged with concern.
"Yes, sir. I'm fine," Maiya replied quickly, her tone steady despite the recent shock. "What should we do now?"
"Prepare our contingency plans, all of them," Kiritsugu instructed, his mind already shifting into tactical mode. "We need to gather as much information as possible. Irisviel, listen closely…"
The dynamics of this war have just shifted dramatically, and they need to be ready for anything.
/-/
"I'm genuinely impressed," Morgan praised, observing from his inner realm after having restrained Kiritsugu and Maiya. "You nearly shattered Artoria's resolve with that display."
"That was never my intention," EMIYA—currently known as Accolon—replied coolly. "I only aimed to unbalance her, not completely dismantle her goals. She's far too stubborn for that."
"As stubborn as you and me," Morgan agreed. "In fact, we make quite a trio, don't we? All driven by a sense of purpose that borders on obsession."
""SHUT UP!"" came the joint shout from Saber and Lancer, the latter having returned to the battlefield.
EMIYA—Accolon to all but Morgan—watched the escalating tension, his eyes gleaming with detached amusement. Morgan, unseen in their shared mental space, kept her smirk firmly in place, savoring the unfolding drama.
The conversation on the battlefield quickly devolved as Rider's attempt at diplomacy fell apart.
"Oh? The King of Britain, you say?" The towering, red-haired Rider grinned widely. "What a surprise! I thought he was the King of Britain." He nodded toward Accolon. "Didn't expect the King of Knights to be a little girl!"
"Pfft!"
Saber's expression tightened; her displeasure evident in the thin line of her lips. The remark struck a nerve.
"Would you like a taste of this little girl's blade, King of Conquerors?!" Saber snapped, lifting Excalibur and fixing Rider with a fierce glare.
"The indignant look on her face!" Morgan burst into laughter, and Accolon joined her. The sound grated against Saber's fraying patience, though she could only hear his.
"Something funny, Faker?" Saber's glare shifted to Accolon; her voice laced with venom.
"Ouch." Morgan quipped, speaking for Accolon, who internally winced slightly at Saber's sharp words.
"Just enjoying the irony," Accolon replied, his voice light but edged with a cold, cutting tone. "You're always so quick to anger when you're not wearing the crown. So easily provoked by mere words—no different from Mordred."
Saber's grip on Excalibur tightened, her knuckles whitening as the insult sank in. The comparison to Mordred, the homunculus clone that Morgan had created in her image, struck deep. A surge of anger flared within her, reigniting the old wounds of betrayal.
"Quite a low blow," Morgan silently applauded his retort. "Tit for tat."
"Excuse me?" Saber's voice was low, a dangerous calm that belied the storm brewing inside her.
Rider, sensing the rising tension, attempted to intervene with a chuckle. "Now, now, you two. I'm sure we can—"
"Stay out of this!" Saber snapped, her gaze never leaving Accolon. "I have no intention of humoring a counterfeit."
"And yet here you are," Accolon replied, his tone unruffled. "Fighting for a wish that's just as fake as any counterfeit."
"You don't know anything!"
"I know enough. And I know you're just as trapped by your past as I was."
"Is this what they call sexual tension?"
"Morgan, be quiet."
"Ahem!" Rider cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "I don't want to interrupt, but…" He turned to his side and shouted with booming authority. "I know there's more of you watching from the shadows!"
Saber's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about, Rider?"
Rider gave her a thumbs-up, his smile widening. "Saber, Lancer, and…" His grin faltered slightly as he glanced at Accolon. "I'm not sure which Servant class you belong to."
"I was wondering when we'd get to that," Lancer said, leveling one of his spears at Accolon. "She's Saber, he's Rider, I'm Lancer… but what are you? Assassin has already been eliminated, and you don't fit the profile of Caster or Archer. Yet you fight like a Saber."
"And you even possess fake Noble Phantasms," Saber added, scrutinizing Accolon with renewed suspicion. "To think you even tried to replicate Avalon." She stepped forward, lifting the fake sheath that mimicked Avalon. "It's lacking in many ways, but it does share some of its properties. I'll ask you again, who are you?"
Accolon deflected the question with a dismissive wave.
"Are you going to ask me that when Rider hasn't finished his grand announcement?" He glanced at Rider, who was already preparing his next dramatic gesture.
Rider's grin returned with renewed vigor. "Ah, my appreciation! There's always time to get to know one another! As I was saying…" He raised both hands into the air and clenched them into fists. "I can't be the only Heroic Spirit drawn out here by the sound of your blades clashing!" His voice boomed loudly. "Heroic Spirits summoned through the Holy Grail, gather here now!" He commanded. "Those too cowardly to reveal themselves will earn the scorn of Iskandar, King of Conquerors!"
The proclamation resonated across the battlefield, and as if on cue, a brilliant golden light erupted.
From the radiant glow emerged a Servant, his red eyes and golden armor gleaming as he materialized atop a lamppost that miraculously remained intact despite the chaos of the earlier clash.
"That's—" Rider's Master, Waver Velvet, gaped in awe.
"The Servant who defeated Assassin!" Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, Lancer's Master, stiffened with sudden tension.
"In a single night, two insolent knaves dare to call themselves kings in my presence." The golden-armored Servant spoke with imperious disdain.
Rider casually scratched his beard, "You are mistaken. I am Iskander, the legendary King of Conquerors himself."
"Nonsense," Archer—known as Gilgamesh, the Archer class—dismissed with a scowl. "I am the one and only Hero King in this heaven and earth. The rest of you are but mongrels."
"Your clone held out better than expected when we sent him out against you. Rest in pieces, clone #1."
"My existence is to suffer…" he mentally sighed.
"In that case, why don't you name yourself?" Rider challenged. "No true king would be ashamed of his own name."
"Hmph, ashamed," Accolon muttered, casting a sidelong jab at Saber, whose eyes narrowed in response.
"Says the nameless hero," Morgan said with a roll of her eyes.
"Are you questioning me, mongrel? Me, the king?!" Archer roared, stomping his foot with such force that it shattered a nearby light bulb. "If you cannot recognize my identity even in the presence of my glory, then your ignorance shall cost you dearly!"
DING!
Reality itself seemed to warp as a golden ripple manifested behind him. Golden gates swung open, revealing an array of Noble Phantasms, each one pointed menacingly at the gathered Servants. Saber's eyes widened as she glanced around for Irisviel. She relaxed slightly when she saw Maiya ushering Irisviel away to safety from a distance.
"Nothing I haven't seen before," Accolon grumbled, his demeanor unperturbed.
"As for you, Faker," Archer's gaze turned icy as he focused on Accolon. "Do not think I would forget your previous intrusion! I will see you and all the fakes you and that witch created destroyed!"
"My apologies, King Gilgamesh, oh King of Heroes," Accolon said, his tone smooth but edged with mock respect. "I was merely following orders."
"G-G-Gilgamesh?!" Waver squeaked, his voice trembling with awe.
"The King of Heroes, huh?" Lancer remarked, a note of genuine caution in his voice.
"Hmph, to think that even a Faker knows his true king," Archer sneered, his eyes narrowing. "For that, I will spare you for the intrusion of a mere fake you dared to send."
"Wait… you mean—" Saber began to realize the implications, her eyes widening as the truth became clear.
Everyone turned towards Accolon, slowly coming to a realization about his Servant class based on the conversation.
"You're Assassin!" Lancer exclaimed.
"The one and only," Accolon confirmed with a smirk behind his helmet. "A shame, really. I was hoping to deceive everyone I was a Saber. Although I prefer the Archer class… I'll yield to the class of King Gilgamesh, since he is indeed here."
"Fool! Do not attempt to humor me."
"As you wish," Accolon replied smoothly, then paused as if contemplating something. "Hurry up and show yourself, Lancelot."
Saber's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Lancelot? What are you—"
Her question was cut off as a swirling vortex of blackness erupted on the battlefield.
"Hooooooo!" A towering, imposing figure emerged from the darkness, clad in pitch-black armor and a grotesque helmet with a narrow slit that revealed a sinister red glow.
"Berserker?!" Saber's eyes widened in shock as the imposing figure materialized.
"Ah, the Knight of the Lake reduced to this state. How pitiful," Morgan commented.
The new Servant, fully armored and exuding a menacing aura, drew the attention of everyone present, except for Archer, who seemed unfazed.
"That can't be Lancelot," Saber muttered, her scowl deepening as she studied the Berserker.
"Do you not recognize one of your finest knights?" Accolon taunted her. "Your favorite knight who brought death to many of your Round Table knights?" He turned to the towering Berserker. "Lancelot! She doesn't remember you! I guess her leniency has made her forget your treachery against her, her knights, and her kingdom!"
"Ehehe… this shall be interesting," Morgan's voice echoed darkly from within his inner world.
"How dare you—?!" Saber began, but was interrupted by a sudden, fierce snarl from Berserker, who began to twitch uncontrollably.
"Oh? Are you angered by her supposed generosity?" He continued to taunt; his voice cruel. "Forgiven to the point that your existence is practically forgotten?"
"Grrrrrr…!" Berserker's growls grew louder and more frenzied, his body shaking with suppressed rage.
"How pathetic. An ungrateful dog, a disgraceful knight," Accolon sneered, further fueling the black knight's fury.
"GRRRR!" Berserker's roar was filled with anguish and rage, his sanity slipping away under the weight of Accolon's taunts.
"You should continue to drown in your regrets, Lancelot. You are but one of the many knights who contributed to Camelot's downfall."
"SILENCE!" Saber roared, her fury igniting. "I will not tolerate the insult of my knights, especially when they are not here to defend themselves!"
Unbeknownst to her, the Berserker standing before her was Lancelot, causing something within Berserker to snap. The atmosphere crackled with tension as Berserker suddenly froze, his rage momentarily giving way to a cold stillness.
"Then see for yourself," Accolon answered back, his voice devoid of emotion.
"HOOOOO! ARRRTHURRRR!" Berserker's roar shattered the stillness.
Saber, caught off guard by the sudden, violent onslaught, tightened her grip on Excalibur, her stance braced for the impending clash. She had not anticipated this kind of confrontation.
With a howl of primal fury, Berserker seized the nearest piece of debris—a mangled, jagged shard of steel from the wreckage. With a wild, unrestrained surge of rage, he hurtled towards Saber, driven by sheer, mindless fury.
Going off some details from Fate/Zero LN and Lancelot (Berserker) capability...
I am leaning towards EMIYA, even as an Archer, can take Lancelot out if he plays it smart and knows his enemy. At least, that's what seems to be some verdict out there, but Type-Moon is known for BS anyway.
I mean, even when he wasn't fully recovered in the VN (Fate route), being able to take 6 of Heracles' 12 lives at in melee isn't something to scoff at.