As Saber struggled with the weight of her wavering morale, the battle took a darker turn. Berserker, ever the relentless force, recognized the shift in her demeanor and seized upon it. The fire in Saber's eyes had dimmed, and though her skill was unmatched, the psychological burden she bore was evident. Berserker, a warrior of intuition and cunning despite his madness, quickly altered his approach. If he couldn't defeat her with a single, overwhelming strike, he would dismantle her piece by piece, methodically stripping away her strength until victory was inevitable.

His first target was clear—Saber's right hand.

Throughout their fierce exchange, Berserker had noticed that Saber's right strikes were far stronger and more precise than those delivered with her left. The right hand, gripping her legendary blade, was the source of her power, the force behind her relentless onslaught. If he could cripple that hand, he knew the battle would tip decisively in his favor. Without the full strength of her dominant arm, Saber's power would be halved, and her formidable presence on the battlefield would diminish significantly.

Berserker's strategy evolved in the blink of an eye. He no longer sought to end the fight with a single, devastating blow. Instead, he aimed to erode her defenses, to weaken her incrementally until she could no longer resist. His attacks became more targeted, his movements more calculated. Each swing of his weapon now had a singular purpose: to disable her right arm.

But Saber, despite her shaken spirit, was no easy prey. Even in the throes of doubt, her instincts as a warrior remained sharp. She felt the subtle change in Berserker's tactics, sensed the looming danger in the way his attacks began to focus on her right side. Though she couldn't fully comprehend his plan, her experience on countless battlefields had taught her to adapt in the face of adversity.

Her grip tightened on her sword as she adjusted her stance, shifting her weight to protect her vulnerable side. Berserker's relentless assault was met with a renewed, albeit desperate, defense. She parried and dodged with precision, her sword flashing as it intercepted each of Berserker's calculated strikes. Yet, even as she defended herself, she knew something had changed. Berserker was no longer fighting with a singleminded goal; there was a cold, terrifying logic to his movements now.

Each clash of their blades sent shocks of pain through her arms, and each step backward was a concession to Berserker's growing advantage. The battle became a grim dance of survival, with Saber fighting to defend herself from Berserker's relentless pursuit rather than fighting back. Every time she countered one of his attacks, another followed, more vicious and precise than the last.

Berserker's eyes burned with a maddened focus as he pressed the assault, forcing Saber further into a defensive posture. His attacks came faster, harder, each strike aimed to break through her guard and land that crippling blow. Saber's once fluid movements grew more strained as the fatigue from her wounds and the psychological strain of the battle began to take their toll.

But Saber's indomitable will refused to falter. She fought back with everything she had, pushing herself beyond her limits. The flicker of determination that had carried her through countless battles reignited, driving her to match Berserker's brutal onslaught with her own fierce resistance.

However, Berserker was not deterred. Each time Saber thwarted his attempts, he adapted, changing his approach in response to her defenses. His attacks became more unpredictable, mixing feints with genuine strikes, seeking to throw her off balance. He was willing to do whatever it took to win, even if it meant changing his strategy again and again.

In this deadly game of cat and mouse, Saber understood that she was facing a different kind of opponent—one who was not only powerful but also ruthlessly adaptive. Berserker wasn't simply a force of madness; he was a predator, and she was his prey. He was hunting her, aiming to wear her down until there was nothing left to defend.

A flicker of complaint appear in her mind. Is this how a Berserker should fight? Clearly he's an Assassin, Saber thought in jest.

The battle raged on, the cavern echoing with the clash of steel and the heavy breathing of two warriors locked in a fight to the death. Saber's mind raced as she tried to anticipate Berserker's next move, knowing that a single mistake could be the end. But even as she fought to maintain her defense, a part of her couldn't shake the feeling that Berserker was driving her toward a final, inevitable confrontation—one where her strength would be insufficient.

Berserker's eyes gleamed with the knowledge that his plan was working. Each failed strike, each calculated feint, brought him closer to his goal. Saber was running out of options, and he could feel her resolve beginning to crumble. He was prepared to change tactics as many times as needed until he achieved his victory.

Berserker's relentless assault continued, his eyes burning with a savage intensity as he launched his next attack. With a powerful swing, he drove his sword into the ground, the impact sending up a burst of dust and gravel that engulfed the battlefield in a choking cloud. The thick haze obscured Saber's vision, turning the cavern into a murky battleground where every movement was shrouded in uncertainty.

"The same trick won't work on me twice, Berserker!" Saber shouted, her voice cutting through the swirling dust. She tightened her grip on her sword, ready to deflect any incoming attack. She had faced him before, knew his tactics—she wouldn't be caught off guard again.

But as the dust began to part, something unexpected hurtled toward her with deadly speed. Instinctively, Saber parried the projectile with a swift motion, her blade striking true. Yet the force behind the impact sent a shock of recognition through her.

Her eyes widened in disbelief as the projectile clattered to the ground, revealing itself—a golden short spear, unmistakable and all too familiar.

'What?' Saber's mind raced as she stared at the weapon lying before her, confusion clouding her thoughts. 'Why is it here…?' But before she could piece together an answer, another attack sliced through the remaining dust, faster and more lethal.

It was Berserker, and in his hand a familiar spear.

A red spear, its deadly point gleaming as it pierced through the haze, aimed directly at her heart. The weapon was familiar, too familiar, and Saber's reaction came just a heartbeat too late.

Squelch!!

A sharp pain erupted in her shoulder as the spear pass through her armor as if it didn't exist, embedding itself deep into her flesh. Blood began to drip from the wound, staining the ground beneath her as the initial shock of pain surged through her body.

Berserker remained expressionless, his cold eyes watching as Saber staggered back, the spear still lodged in her shoulder. He had aimed for her heart, intending to end the fight with one decisive blow, but her late reaction had altered the spear's trajectory. Though he had missed his mark, the damage was done—Saber's left shoulder was severely wounded, the injury deep enough to hinder her movements.

Saber's eyes narrowed as she fought through the pain, her gaze locking onto the weapon that had pierced her. Recognition dawned on her like a cold, bitter wind—this was no ordinary spear. The red weapon, now slick with her blood, was Diarmuid's demonic spear, Gáe Dearg. And the golden spear she had parried earlier—it was Gáe Buidhe. Together, they were the cursed spears of the legendary hero, weapons that should have vanished with him.

But here they were, in Berserker's hands.

"How do you have that spear?" Saber's voice trembled with a mix of fury and pain, her teeth gritting as she glared at Berserker. Hot rage coursed through her veins, the betrayal of seeing those spears in the hands of another twisting like a knife in her gut. She needed answers—no, she demanded them.

Berserker, however, offered no explanation. His silence was more infuriating than any taunt could have been, his expression unreadable behind the darkness of his madness. His grip tightened on the spear as he prepared for his next move, seemingly unfazed by Saber's fury.

"Answer me, Berserker!" Saber roared, her voice echoing through the cavern, fueled by her desperation to understand. But her demand was met only with cold indifference.

Saber attitude suddenly changed if previously she was a despaired warrior fighting a losing battle, now she return as a raging knight.

it was as if her previous desperate situation never existed.

Without a word, Berserker yanked Gáe Dearg from her shoulder with a sickening squelch, the blade sliding free with a spray of blood. Saber gasped, the pain nearly overwhelming her, but she forced herself to remain standing, to not show any weakness.

Berserker leaped back, creating distance between them as he prepared for the next phase of their battle. He had already achieved what he set out to do—cripple Saber, weaken her to the point where she could no longer fight at full strength. The wound in her shoulder would severely limit her ability to wield her sword with the power and precision she was known for.

To Berserker, this battle was now his to win. With Saber's power effectively halved, their next bout would be a far easier endeavor. But Saber, despite the blood dripping from her wound and the pain wracking her body, was not one to be underestimated. The fire in her eyes had not dimmed, and though her strength was waning, her resolve remained as fierce as ever.

Berserker was eager, his eyes burning with a fierce determination as he pressed forward, each step driving Saber further back. His resolve had hardened—he would do whatever it took to claim victory, even if it meant tearing Saber apart piece by piece.

"Spirit and technique, flawless and firm," Berserker intoned, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the cavern.

With a swift motion, he summoned his twin blades, their edges gleaming ominously in the dim light. Without hesitation, he hurled them at Saber with all his might, the swords cutting through the air like deadly missiles.

Saber, though surprised by the sudden attack, reacted with the speed and precision of a seasoned warrior. Her own blade flashed, deflecting the twin swords with ease. The clang of metal against metal rang out, echoing off the cavern walls. But even as she repelled the attack, Berserker was already on the move, closing the distance between them with terrifying speed.

"Our strength rips the mountains," he chanted, his voice a rhythmic cadence that seemed to fuel his momentum.

He summoned another pair of blades, charging at Saber with unrelenting fury. Their swords clashed in a fierce exchange, the impact sending sparks flying as Berserker pushed forward, his strength overwhelming. Saber, weakened and forced to fight with only one hand, struggled to hold her ground.

"Our swords split the water," Berserker continued, his assault growing more ferocious with each passing moment.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The sound of their weapons clashing echoed like thunder, each strike driving Saber further back. Despite her best efforts, it was clear that the balance had shifted. Every time Berserker's blade met hers, she was forced to retreat, her strength ebbing away under the relentless pressure.

But Saber was not one to be easily defeated. She watched Berserker's movements closely, timing her response with calculated precision. When the moment was right, she met his attack head-on.

Clang!!

With a surge of strength, Saber parried Berserker's twin blades with her own, the force of her counterattack sending his swords flying from his grasp. For a brief moment, it seemed as though she had turned the tide. But as she looked at Berserker, expecting to see shock or frustration, she was instead met with a cold, knowing smile.

"Our names reach the imperial villa," Berserker murmured, his voice calm, almost serene.

It was then that Saber noticed something amiss. The twin blades she had just disarmed did not fall to the ground as expected. Instead, they hovered in the air, suspended by some unseen force. Confusion flickered across her features as she quickly scanned the battlefield, only to realize that four swords now encircled her, spinning rapidly, closing in from all sides.

"Trace on: Overedge," Berserker whispered, and in the next instant, the spinning swords shot towards Saber with deadly precision, hemming her in.

Saber's heart pounded in her chest as she instinctively raised her sword to defend herself. But before she could react further, Berserker was upon her once more, his presence like a dark storm cloud ready to unleash its fury. In his hands, he now wielded two massive broadswords, one black and one white, their edges gleaming with lethal intent.

"The two of us cannot hold the heavens together," Berserker declared, his voice rising with the power of his incantation as he launched himself at Saber in a final, devastating attack.

"Triple Links Crane Wings!"

The words barely left his lips before the cavern erupted in a cataclysmic explosion. The force of the blast shook the very foundations of the cave, sending shockwaves rippling through the air. Dust and debris filled the space, obscuring everything in a thick, choking cloud.

When the dust finally began to settle, the battlefield was a scene of utter devastation. The once solid and unyielding stone floor was now shattered, scorched, and riddled with craters. The air was thick with the smell of burnt earth and blood, a testament to the ferocity of the clash that had just taken place. Amidst the wreckage, Berserker lay on the ground, struggling to rise. His powerful frame, usually unyielding, was now trembling with the effort. His chest bore a deep, gruesome gash stretching from his left shoulder to his right hip, the wound oozing blood that pooled on the ground beneath him. Despite the pain, his gaze remained fixed on the spot where Saber had been, his eyes burning with a mix of frustration and disbelief.

For a brief moment, the battlefield was eerily silent, the only sound being the faint crackle of crumbling stone. Then, as the last remnants of the dust cloud began to disperse, Saber's figure emerged from the haze.

She was kneeling, her body hunched over in exhaustion, with one leg bent beneath her and the other barely supporting her weight. Excalibur, her once mighty sword, now served as a crutch, the only thing keeping her from collapsing completely. Her armor, once gleaming with the pride of a king, was in tatters, barely clinging to her battered frame. Blood streamed from countless wounds, staining the ground in a crimson pool. A pair of blades jutted grotesquely from her right thigh and left shoulder, while two more were embedded in the armor on her back. The most grievous injury, however, was her left eye—blinded by the explosion, it was now a bloodied mess. Despite all of this, one thing remained painfully clear: Saber was still alive.

Berserker cursed silently at the sight. Any other Servant would have been obliterated by the force of his final attack. The sheer magnitude of the damage should have ended her life in an instant. Yet, here she was, battered and broken, but alive. The incredulity of it all gnawed at him, a bitter pill he could hardly swallow.

In that split second before the explosion, Berserker had witnessed the impossible. As he had raised his Overedge sword to deliver the final blow, Saber had not chosen to flee or defend. Instead, she had done the unthinkable—she retaliated. Magical energy had coursed through her sword in a blinding flash, and in a single, defiant swing, she had unleashed an powerfull slash towards him which resulted in an explosion.

Saber's fortune had been as cruel as it had been miraculous. The explosive blade had sent a storm of razor-sharp shards flying in all directions, many of which had embedded themselves in her flesh. One particularly cruel shard had pierced her left eye, rendering it useless. Yet, through the pain and chaos, Saber had somehow managed to maintain her grip on life, her willpower as unyielding as her resolve.

Berserker, though thrown backward by the blast, had been fortunate enough to avoid the worst of the explosion's wrath. Still, the King of Knights had not gone down without leaving her mark on him. The deep gash across his chest was a testament to her strength, a wound that would have killed a lesser being.

And then there were the spinning blades—another near impossibility. In the midst of the explosion, Saber had spun around, catching the pair of deadly blades meant for her in the armor on her back. She had sacrificed her left arm and leg, knowing they were already lost, just to ensure those blades did not pierce her vitals.

All of this had occurred in the span of a seconds.

"Damn it..." Berserker muttered through gritted teeth, his frustration boiling over. Truly, the King of Knights was no ordinary foe. She was a warrior who refused to be defeated, who fought with every ounce of her strength and willpower, no matter the odds. Even now, as she knelt on the brink of death, Saber was not defeated.

Berserker forced himself to stand, his body protesting with every movement. The wound across his chest burned, but he ignored it. Saber, seeing Berserker stand can't just sit by and do nothing. With a grimace, she too forced herself to her feet, using Excalibur as a makeshift staff to steady her trembling legs.

For a moment, the two warriors simply stared at one another, the weight of the battle hanging heavily between them. They were both on the edge, both dangerously close to their limits. But neither of them would back down. They were bound by their pride, their duty, and the knowledge that only one of them would walk away from this battlefield.

As Berserker tightened his grip, the tension in the air thickened. He could see the fire in Saber's one good eye, a burning resolve that mirrored his own. She was ready, and so was he.

Saber raised Excalibur in front of her, bracing herself for Berserker's next move. Her good eye narrowed as she watched him summon both a bow and a sword to his hands. He aimed the bow at her, but did not fire. Saber understood why. This was the final moment, the last chance for either of them to claim victory. Berserker would not release the arrow until he saw an opening, and Saber was certain of that.

But therein lay the problem. Saber could not attack without exposing herself, without presenting that very opening Berserker was waiting for. The two warriors were caught in a deadly stalemate, each unwilling to make the first move, yet knowing that hesitation could mean death.

The tension between them grew, a silent battle of wills that threatened to snap at any moment.

Amidst the suffocating tension within the cavern, a single hand reached out from the shadows, grasping the edge of the ravine that surrounded the Holy Grail.