The remnants of a once functioning city lay around them, a landscape ravaged by destruction.

The sky was overcast, the ashen clouds swirling ominously above as if the heavens themselves mourned the ruin of what once had been a thriving city.

The streets were now littered with jagged debris, the remains of shattered buildings, and the occasional flicker of fire that hadn't yet been quelled by the winds.

The distant wail of a collapsed structure groaned under its own weight, a grim reminder of the chaos that had unfolded here.

Ritsuka staggered slightly as they walked, her eyes scanning the remains of the city. "This place... it feels like a living nightmare," she said softly, her voice laced with disbelief.

"I wouldn't call it a nightmare," Olga responded, her tone cold as ever. She paused, her gaze fixed ahead, her fingers brushing against the straps of her arm, still swollen and tender. "Nightmares end when you wake up."

"And this doesn't," Mash finished for her, her expression somber. She took a step forward, adjusting her armor and looking around warily. "The leyline is close. Once we stabilize, we'll be able to communicate with Chaldea again."

Olga didn't seem particularly reassured. "Let's just hope Chaldea can actually manage something useful. At this rate, it feels like we're scrambling for breadcrumbs in a storm."

The group pressed forward, their footsteps echoing against the desolate streets, moving in the direction of the leyline's faint glow that shimmered through the smoke-filled air.

The landscape seemed to hold its breath around them, an eerie silence reigning as they navigated the ruins.

As they arrived at the leyline, Mash immediately knelt down, placing her hands to the ground as she began her task of stabilizing the area.

Olga, clearly exhausted from their journey, moved to sit on a chunk of concrete nearby, cradling her injured arm with a grimace.

Ritsuka, meanwhile, sank to the ground, feeling the weight of the air around them pressing against her chest.

"Finally," Ritsuka muttered, her voice tinged with frustration as she wiped her forehead. "If I had to climb over one more pile of rubble, I think I would've just sat down and never gotten up."

"We all need a break," Olga acknowledged, though her words had no softness in them. "But make it quick. I don't plan on staying in one spot for too long. It's too dangerous."

Their quiet tag-along, standing a few paces behind them, remained as still as ever, his single eye scanning the horizon, ever watchful. Despite the devastating scene around them, he didn't seem to be fazed.

His movements were fluid but careful, and he adjusted the cloth tied over his left eye socket with a subtle discomfort, as though the action had become automatic.

Ritsuka, focused on her work of trying to make herself as comfortable as she could, took a moment to glance over her shoulder. Her brow furrowed with concern as she looked at their silent tag-along. "Director, do you mind if I ask a question?"

Olga gave her a sideways glance, eyes narrowing. "Depends on the question."

Ritsuka hesitated before speaking, her voice lower than usual. "How long do you think he's been like this?" She nodded toward the subject of their conversation, who was still standing apart from the group, gazing into the distance.

Olga's eyes flicked toward him, her lips curling into a thin line. "Don't tell me you're starting to pity him."

"I'm not pitying him," Ritsuka answered quickly. "I'm just... curious. He's been through so much, but he's so calm. I can't imagine going through… this like that," she emphasized the word, hinting at the stranger's covered eye, "without going crazy myself."

"He's a mystery," Olga said flatly. "And if we don't start getting answers soon, we won't last much longer out here."

Before Ritsuka could respond, Olga shifted her gaze to the mute, now fully aware of the lingering tension in the air. She couldn't suppress her curiosity anymore.

The questions burned in her mind like a fire that needed to be extinguished. "Alright, enough of this. Time to get some answers out of him."

The mute man's posture remained unchanged, but his gaze flicked toward Olga, as if anticipating the inevitable.

Olga's patience, already frayed, finally snapped. "You," she called sharply, fixing him with a glare. "Enough with the silent act. I want answers. Who are you? Where did you come from? And how did you manage to find Mash?"

He gave a small shrug, raising his hand to his chest, then gesturing vaguely to his head, before shaking his head as if in uncertainty.

"He's mute." Mash stepped forward, her voice soft as she addressed Olga's frustration. "He doesn't know, Director. He's lost his memory. It's likely some form of amnesia."

Olga's eyebrow arched, her face unreadable. "Convenient, isn't it? A complete stranger showing up with no past and no way to answer. How ideal."

"Director..." Mash started, her tone a little more cautious. "Maybe we should—"

"No," Olga snapped. "He's the one who is suspicious here, getting involved with us, and now we need to know who he is. If he's going to be tagging along, he needs to stop being a walking question mark."

He stood silent, and it was clear that his situation wasn't one he could control. But still, he did nothing but offer his quiet gestures, raising his hands to show he had no answers, and his body language suggested that he wasn't about to speak up.

Frustration flared in Olga's chest, but she forced herself to take a breath, glancing at Mash and Ritsuka. The latter gave her a small, understanding nod.

Mash took a step closer, her voice gentle. "He's not hiding anything from you, Director. It's just..." She hesitated, then sighed softly. "He's been through something... maybe too much. The fact that he's even here, helping us, is already a testament to his strength."

Olga's lips pressed together as she glanced at him again, her gaze softening just a fraction. "Strength, huh?"

"I mean, you saw half the things he did to those skeletons, right?" Ritsuka said, bringing up the feat of skill she witnessed not too long ago. "Sheesh. If that's not strength, then I don't know what is." Ritsuka glanced between the two of them, looking at Mori. "Still, though, if he's a muggle like me… then there's a high chance he isn't even aware about any of this."

"What do you mean?" Olga repeated with a frown, not quite understanding.

"The Moonlit World," Ritsuka explained, her voice trembling just a little. "I don't know about you, but it's a whole different world for us mundane people. One full of things most people outside of it would never believe. Heck, I still find it hard to believe it myself..."

The mute's expression didn't change, but his eye flicked over to Ritsuka, then to Mash. He shifted his stance as though confirming her words.

Olga leaned back against the rubble, rubbing her temples. "A civilian, then. Just what we need right now." Her sarcasm was biting. "The Mage's Association and the UN will love hearing how we've got a civilian tagging along. Great work, team."

"Wait. Maybe you're wrong about that." Ritsuka spoke suddenly, lifting her head. "He's not just some random civilian. Maybe he's someone from here. Someone local."

Mash's eyes widened in understanding. "He must be local. If Chaldea has no record of him, there's no way he could've been part of the original Rayshift."

Ritsuka blinked, frowning. "Wait... if he wasn't part of the Rayshift, then—"

Olga interrupted, voice harsh. "Then it means we're probably the only ones who made it through. The Klein Coffins likely activated their safety protocols, preventing anyone else from being transported. A necessary feature, if not inconvenient."

The weight of her words hung in the air, the reality of their situation settling in.

Ritsuka bit her lip. "So... we're the only ones here?"

"Looks like it," Olga replied shortly, before wincing. She glanced down at her injured arm and grimaced.

"Director!" Mash was at her side in an instant, her concern evident. "Your arm—let me see."

Olga reluctantly removed her hand, revealing the inflamed wound. The skin around it was swollen and red, with faint streaks of discoloration radiating outward.

"That's not good," Ritsuka said, voice tinged with worry. "Can't you use one of your spells to heal it?"

Olga shook her head, her face tight. "I'm low on energy. Can't spare enough to even heal something like this. I'll be fine... for now."

The man stepped forward, drawing their attention. He crouched beside Olga and unslung the battered haversack he carried. From within, he pulled a small first aid kit, its polymer pouch scuffed but intact.

Mash blinked in surprise. "You had this the whole time?"

He nodded, then opened the kit and gestured for Mash to take it.

"Thank you," Mash said softly, accepting it with both hands. She began cleaning Olga's wound with steady, careful movements, her expression focused.

Meanwhile, the man reached into his bag again, producing a tightly packed ration and a canteen of water. He handed them to Ritsuka, who looked up at him with wide eyes.

"For me?" she asked, hesitating.

He nodded again, gesturing for her to share them with Olga.

Olga, caught off guard by the gesture, mumbled a quiet, "...Thank you." She took the offered canteen and drank deeply, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

Ritsuka tore open the ration and offered half to Olga. "Here. You need this more than I do."

The man, meanwhile, settled himself on the edge of the clearing, his gaze sweeping their surroundings.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Mash asked, noticing his lack of interest in the supplies.

He shook his head, then tapped the ground with two fingers and pointed outward, a silent indication that he was more focused on keeping watch.

Mash hesitated, then asked, "Do you think we'll find a map? Or anything that might give us a sense of direction?"

To that, the non-verbal man reached into his haversack once again. This time, he pulled out a flat rectangular object. Wordlessly, he handed it over to Mash, who perked up upon realizing what it is.

"A map!" The shield-toting girl exclaimed, proceeding to unfurl the item she'd been given.

Ritsuka, from where she's sitting, noticed something about the map. "Huh, those look like the ones you'd get at a visitor center or a train station. Were you a tourist?"

Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to answer the question properly, his mind drew up a blank. He could only shrug and shook his head, an action he found he's becoming familiar doing. He hoped it wouldn't be like that for long.

Olga sighed. "Forget it. That thing's as good as scrap with the whole city turned inside out." The young Director waved her free hand, the one that wasn't holding a plastic wrapper, in a gesturing manner. "Look around you and tell me you recognize any of the streets on that map.

Ritsuka, holding her own piece of ration bar, gave Olga a look. "Then what do you suggest we do? Find another one?"

Olga sighed. "Not unless we get a better connection with Chaldea. Without proper intel, we're stumbling in the dark."

As if on cue, the comms bracelet on Ritsuka's wrist flickered to life. A holographic image of Dr. Roman materialized, his expression a mix of relief and exhaustion.

Roman's avatar looked frazzled but relieved. "Director Olga! You're alive! Thank goodness. And Mash, Ritsuka—good to see you both safe. And…" His gaze landed on the man, his expression shifting to confusion. "Who's this again?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Olga said, folding her arms. "He's been tagging along with us, but we have no idea who he is."

Ritsuka chimed in, "He might be a local. He's definitely not with Chaldea."

Roman frowned, taking in the man's eyepatch. "That injury... It's a miracle he survived. Most people wouldn't have made it."

The man shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, as if to say, I'm just lucky.

Roman tilted his head. "Why isn't he speaking?"

"He's mute," Mash explained gently.

Roman blinked. "Mute? Huh. That's... unfortunate."

"He's also an amnesiac." Ritsuka chimed in, before adding, "just saying."

"Yikes, that's even more unfortunate…"

Olga cut in, her impatience evident. "Can you send us supplies or intel, Roman? We're running on fumes and walking blind here."

Roman's expression grew grim. "I wish I could, but Chaldea's systems are still in shambles. We're doing what we can with the skeleton crew we have left, but... it's not looking good. And the other Master candidates are in critical condition."

Mash's face fell. "Are they... going to be okay?"

"For now, yes. But we've had to activate the Coffins' cryopreservation procedures for them in order to stabilize their conditions."

Olga winced, almost cursing. "That's literally illegal without consent."

Roman sighed. "I know. But it was that or let them die."

A heavy silence settled over the group.

Eventually, Olga straightened. "Fine. Do what you have to, Roman. We'll keep investigating until you can find a way to get us out of here."

Roman's face softened, his voice tinged with sympathy. "I understand, Director. Be careful, alright? Don't take any unnecessary risks."

"We won't," Olga replied, her eyes meeting Ritsuka's.

Once the call ended, the group was left with a new sense of urgency. Olga nodded towards the path leading to the Fuyuki Bridge.

"We move out," she said, her tone unyielding. "We get a better vantage point. We establish a better connection with Chaldea. And we figure out what the hell happened here."

Ritsuka, Mash, and even their mute tag-along, who now stood at the ready, nodded in agreement. Ritsuka broke the silence with a thoughtful hum. "We still don't know his name," she said, gesturing toward the man. "We can't just keep calling him 'you' or 'hey.'"

Mash turned to him with a gentle smile. "Do you have a preference? Something you'd like us to call you?"

The man shrugged, his expression indicating that he was fine with whatever they decided.

"Well, that's helpful," Olga muttered.

They tossed a few ideas back and forth, none of which seemed to stick. Finally, Ritsuka snapped her fingers. "How about Mori?"

"Mori?" Mash repeated, tilting her head. "Does it mean something?"

Ritsuka blushed slightly. "Not really. It just... popped into my head." She looked away, muttering something incoherent underneath her breath.

The man—now Mori—nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile.

"Great," Olga said, rising to her feet. "Now that we've wasted enough time naming him, let's get moving. The longer we stay in one place, the more likely something will find us."

The group set off again, the ruins of Fuyuki looming around them like a graveyard of forgotten lives. But for the first time, there was a small spark of camaraderie among them, however fragile it might be.

As they began their march toward the bridge, the sound of their footsteps blended with the distant, hollow wind. The city remained a graveyard of memories, but their journey was far from over.

The fractured Fuyuki Bridge stretched ahead, a symbol of resilience and despair in equal measure. Its structure, though visibly damaged, still held firm amidst the smoldering remnants of the once-thriving city.

Beneath the bridge, blackened waters mirrored the faint fires burning in the distance. The quartet approached cautiously, their footsteps soft on the ashen ground, the silence between them interrupted only by the occasional gust of wind carrying the acrid stench of ruin.

Since leaving their previous resting spot, Ritsuka, Olga, and Mash had been volleying questions at Mori. Mostly Olga.

His inability to speak had forced them to rely on yes-or-no inquiries, a method Mash facilitated with her limited knowledge of sign language. The path ahead was treacherous, but curiosity proved a stubborn companion.

"So... you really don't know what happened to cause all of this?" Olga's voice cut through the relative quiet. She cast Mori a skeptical glance, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her tone, though ostensibly inquisitive, carried a sharp edge.

Mori shook his head, his expression neutral but firm. He raised a hand and gestured faintly, his fingers moving with careful precision.

"He says he doesn't know," Mash translated. She hesitated, her perceptive gaze softening as she added, "And even if he did, his amnesia makes it unlikely he could recall anything. We should probably—"

"How convenient," Olga interrupted, her eyes narrowing. "A man who shows up out of nowhere, fights like someone trained in close combat, and just happens to have no memory. Don't you think that's a little suspicious?"

Ritsuka, walking slightly ahead, turned to glance at Olga, her brows furrowed. "He's been helping us, hasn't he? If Mori wanted to hurt us, he's had plenty of chances by now." From her tone of voice, it's clear that she's getting tired of hearing the same question asked by Olga again and again.

Olga bristled, her cheeks flushing with irritation. "That doesn't mean we should blindly trust him! What if he's some kind of... sleeper agent? Or worse—what if he's—"

"Enough." Ritsuka's voice was calm but firm, a quiet strength cutting through Olga's rising tirade. "We can't afford to start pointing fingers at each other. Not now. We need to focus on what's ahead."

Olga opened her mouth to retort but closed it again, visibly fuming. The argument simmered in silence as the group pressed on, the tension palpable. Ritsuka let out a soft sigh, glancing at Mori. "Sorry about that."

Mori offered her a faint nod, his expression unreadable, though the slight downturn of his shoulders suggested he felt the weight of Olga's mistrust.

The atmosphere shifted as they neared the bridge. The air grew heavier, a tangible pressure pressing against their skin. Mash slowed her pace, her head turning sharply as her eyes scanned the surroundings. "Something's wrong."

The sound came first—a metallic rattle, like chains dragging across stone. It echoed faintly at first, but the cadence grew louder, sharper, as if drawing closer. Ritsuka stopped in her tracks, her heart racing as she looked around. "What is that?"

A figure emerged from the haze behind them, her silhouette sharp against the dim glow of distant fires. She was tall, her movements unnervingly fluid as she stepped forward. A dark purple corset hugged her frame, with tattered flaps draping over her thighs. Her pale skin seemed to glow faintly under the orange light, and her long violet hair swayed unnaturally, writhing like a nest of snakes. A frayed hood obscured most of her face, but what little could be seen was hauntingly beautiful—and entirely unhuman.

She carried a sleek scythe, the blade glinting with an otherworldly sheen. As she approached, the shimmering air around her hair seemed to solidify into tangible chains, rattling ominously with each step.

Her voice, low and dulcet, sent a shiver down Ritsuka's spine. "So, there are still survivors left."

The words hung in the air, a chilling proclamation. Mash instinctively stepped forward, raising her shield. "Stay behind me!"

The newcomer struck without warning.

One moment she was standing still; the next, she blurred forward, her scythe arcing toward Mash with deadly precision. Mash barely raised her shield in time, the impact sending her skidding back several feet. Sparks exploded from the clash, and the force of it rippled outward, nearly knocking the others off their feet.

"Run!" Mash shouted, her voice commanding despite the strain in her arms as she held her attacker's blade at bay.

Ritsuka's body trembled, her instincts screaming at her to flee, but her legs refused to move. She couldn't leave Mash—not like this.

Her hand twitched toward the piece of rebar she's still carrying, but before she could act, Mori stepped in, gripping her arm tightly. He shook his head, his expression resolute, before gesturing toward the bridge.

"He's right," Olga snapped, grabbing Ritsuka's other arm. "You'll only get in the way. Let Mash handle this."

"I can't just—" Ritsuka began, but Olga cut her off.

"Look at that!" Olga harshly pointed out, referring to the clash of attacks that Mash was currently exchanging with their attacker. "You're going to get yourself killed! What good is that going to do anyone?" Olga's voice was sharp, but beneath the exasperation lay a flicker of fear.

Mori released Ritsuka and stepped forward, his dagger and pistol drawn. His movements were measured, deliberate. He glanced back at Ritsuka, his expression softening for a moment, and gave her a small nod.

Ritsuka's heart clenched. "Be careful."

Olga huffed, crossing her arms. "If he wants to get himself killed, fine. Don't expect me to—"

Mori moved swiftly, cutting her off as he climbed a nearby structure, taking the high ground. He crouched low, his pistol trained on the battlefield as Mash and Lancer clashed below. Each shot he fired was precise, his aim unwavering despite the chaos.

Mori's shots rang out, sharp cracks that cut through the clash of weapons. Each bullet streaked toward Lancer, their trajectories perfect, but her speed was far beyond anything human.

She twirled her scythe with an almost mocking grace, deflecting the projectiles mid-flight as if swatting at flies. Her pale-yellowish eyes locked onto Mori, a predatory smile curling across her lips.

"Pathetic," she sneered, her voice like silk woven with venom. "Mortal weapons mean nothing to me."

Mash pressed her attack, thrusting her shield forward with all her strength. "Be careful Mori-san!" she shouted, her voice taut with exertion. Sparks flew as her shield collided with the scythe's curved blade, each clash reverberating like thunder.

Mori didn't flinch under the taunt. His focus was unbroken, his mind calculating. He wasn't aiming to harm her—he knew that was impossible.

But every shot forced her to shift her stance, to divert her attention, even for a split second. He needed to buy Mash any advantage he could.

The enemy Servant, clearly irritated, turned her attention to Mori. The air around her shimmered again, and crimson sigils flared to life, glowing ominously in the space between her eyes and her target.

Mori felt an icy dread wash over him, his instincts screaming danger.

"Mystic Eyes," Mash gasped, panic edging into her voice. "Mori, move!" She shouted, hoping it would be strong enough for the gunner to hear.

He didn't need to be told twice. The moment the enemy Servant's eyes blazed with a menacing red light, he dove to the side, his enhanced reflexes just barely outpacing the beam that shot from her gaze. The spot where he had stood erupted in a burst of invisible energy, sending shrapnel and small debris everywhere.

As he fell from his previous spot, he pulled off a feat of impressive and great skill.

With deftness and great dexterity, he shifted position mid-fall, the hand gripping his pistol stretched and pointed toward the scythe-wielding Servant.

Said Servant, being an entity of pure skill and superhuman ability, managed to catch sight of the quickly falling shooter.

Seeing this, she willed for her chains to appear, the air shimmering around her, as her hair morphed to form sharp lethal appendages that locked in the falling mortal.

Before the chains could reach him, Mash intercepted, slamming her shield down to block them. The impact rattled the ground, but she held firm. "I won't let you touch them!" she declared, her voice unwavering despite the strain.

She hissed in frustration, pulling back her chains. "Fools. All you're doing is delaying the inevitable."

Mori's pistol let out two consecutive shots, barking in quick succession. Even as he was falling, it was impossible for him to miss. Mash's decision of using that opportune moment to distract the Servant's chains ensured nothing less than a sure hit.

CRACK!

The shots struck true, colliding with her glowing eyes. Lancer reeled back, snarling in surprise more than pain. "You insolent wretch—" She cursed loudly.

The damage was superficial—no Servant could be harmed by mundane weapons—but the attack disrupted her concentration. Her Mystic Eyes flickered, their power momentarily stilled.

Mash wasn't going to waste another opening.

She surged forward, her shield slamming into her opponent's torso with a resounding impact. The blow sent the enemy Servant sprawling, her body skidding across the ground.

For the first time, the scythe-wielding Servantlooked vulnerable, her confident smirk replaced with a snarl of rage.

Mash stood over her, her shield raised high. For a moment, there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes—then it vanished. With a cry, she brought her shield down, the edge slamming into her chest with bone-shattering force.

Ther Servant's body dissolved into a mist of shadows, her form evaporating into the ether. The silence that followed was deafening.

Ritsuka and Olga rushed to Mori's side as he recovered from his fall. Mash also rushed towards where her companions were gathering, but it was Ritsuka who reached him first, her hands fluttering nervously. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

Mori waved her off with a faint shake of his head, his body language casual despite his heavy breathing. Olga, trailing behind, crossed her arms and scowled. "Reckless. Completely reckless. You're lucky you're not dead."

Before Mori could gesture in response, Mash stiffened, her shield raising slightly. "Something's coming," she warned, her voice low.

The air thickened once more, the oppressive weight returning tenfold. From the shadows, two figures emerged, their appearances as dark and menacing as the defeated Servant had been.

The first was a woman with charcoal skin and sleek muscles, her hair a dark purple tied into a high ponytail. She wore a plain white mask resembling a skull, obscuring her features. Her movements were precise and calculated, a throwing dagger spinning deftly in her fingers.

The second figure was obviously more feminine. She wielded a sword and buckler, her crimson hair tied into a wild ponytail that matched the fiery rage in her glowing yellow eyes. Her outfit—a mix of leather straps and torn cloth—exuded raw, brutal energy.

The dagger flew first, a blur that sliced through the air toward Olga.

Mori moved without thinking, his body twisting as he pushed her out of the way. A sickening crunch was audibly heard, the thrown dagger embedded fully to the hilt just between his right shoulder blade.

"Mori!" Ritsuka cried, rushing to his side as he staggered.

Mash intercepted the next wave of daggers, her shield deflecting them with practiced ease. "Stay back!" she ordered, her voice sharp.

The crimson-haired warrior lunged forward, her sword meeting Mash's shield in a furious clash. Sparks flew as the two locked in a deadly dance, their movements too fast for Ritsuka to follow.

Meanwhile, Mori pulled himself upright, grimacing as he wrenched the dagger from his shoulder. Blood seeped through his shirt, but he ignored it, his eyes fixed on the masked figure who had attacked him.

Olga, standing beside him, raised her hand. A burst of black energy shot from the tip of her finger, aimed at the masked woman. The attack forced the Assassin back, but Olga staggered, her energy visibly draining.

"Don't push yourself!" Ritsuka urged.

"I'm fine," Olga snapped, though her trembling hands said otherwise. "Just watch him!"

Mori, undeterred by his injury, slipped into a low stance, his dagger held tightly in one hand while his pistol remained steady in the other. His movements were slower now, the injury taking its toll, but his determination burned bright.

The Assassin charged, her daggers gleaming as she aimed for Mori. He dodged narrowly, using his pistol to shoot one blade mid-flight while his dagger parried the other. Though outmatched, his quick reflexes and sheer grit kept him alive.

As Mori and Olga held their ground against the masked Assassin, the air around them grew heavier with each passing moment.

The tension was palpable, every clash of steel a testament to their resolve. Mori's breaths came in short, sudden bursts, his injured shoulder profusely bleeding, but he refused to falter.

The Assassin moved with deadly precision, her daggers flashing as she pressed the attack. Olga provided cover, her Gandr spells streaking through the air and forcing the enemy to evade.

Mori used the openings Olga created to maneuver, keeping the Assassin off-balance with feints and calculated shots.

"She's fast," Olga muttered, frustration etched across her face. "Too fast."

Mori didn't need her to state the obvious. His left eye was useless—his peripheral vision on that side reduced to nothing. He had to rely on his instincts, his senses heightened to compensate for the gap. A sudden shift in the air was all the warning he needed to duck, narrowly avoiding a blade aimed for his throat.

"Focus on distracting her!" Olga barked, firing another Gandr shot that the Assassin effortlessly dodged. The masked woman's movements were fluid, like water flowing around their efforts to corner her.

Meanwhile, Mash's battle with the crimson-haired Servant raged on nearby. Each clash of shield and sword sent shockwaves rippling through the ground. The enemy Servant's sheer strength was overwhelming, her strikes forcing Mash to grit her teeth and hold firm.

"You're strong, little knight," she sneered, her voice dripping with malice. "But strength alone won't save you."

Mash didn't respond. Instead, she planted her shield and countered with a heavy swing, catching the Servant off guard and sending her stumbling back.

"Everyone, stay sharp!" Mash called out, her voice steady despite the strain.

At the heart of the chaos, Ritsuka could only watch. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her body trembling with a mix of fear and frustration.

She wanted to help, to do something—anything—but she was powerless. The battle unfolding before her was beyond anything she could comprehend.

Then, she heard it. A voice, low and distinct, speaking directly into her mind.

"Step back, girly. This isn't a place for you."

The voice carried a distinctive Irish lilt, its tone calm but commanding. Ritsuka's eyes widened in alarm as she looked around, searching for the source.

"Who—who's there?" she whispered, her voice shaking.

The voice didn't answer her question directly. Instead, it offered a warning. "Tell your friends to move. Quickly."

Trusting the urgency in the voice, Ritsuka shouted, "Mash! Mori! Director! Get back—now!"

Her warning came just in time. A towering pillar of fire erupted where Mash and the enemy Servant had been clashing, engulfing the crimson-haired Servant in a blazing inferno. Her scream echoed across the battlefield, raw and primal, as the flames consumed her entirely. When the fire subsided, there was nothing left—no ash, no trace of her existence.

Assassin froze, her attention snapping to where her comrade had just fallen. For the first time, there was a flicker of uncertainty in her movements.

Mori and Olga seized the opportunity. Olga unleashed a barrage of Gandr shots, each one forcing the Assassin to retreat further. Mori, despite his injury, moved with a relentless precision, his dagger flashing in the dim light as he kept the enemy's focus divided.

But their combined efforts weren't enough to land a decisive blow. The Assassin's skill was simply too great, her movements too quick for them to counter. Even so, it was clear that their efforts were wearing her down.

"My Magecraft is a cage of flames."

Suddenly, the ground beneath the Assassin erupted. Thick roots and branches shot upward, entwining her limbs and binding her in place. The wooden prison grew rapidly, forming a massive, humanoid figure that towered over the battlefield.

"What—what is this?" Olga gasped, her eyes wide with shock.

The voice returned, no longer confined to Ritsuka's mind but audible to everyone.

"A shrine to purify the wicked."

The wooden giant ignited, flames consuming the structure and the struggling Assassin within.

"The one who destroys…"

Her screams were sharp and shrill, a haunting echo that cut through the night.

"Wicker Man!"

The intensity of the fire forced Mash to raise her shield, shielding herself and her comrades from the blistering heat.

As the flames subsided, the battlefield grew silent once more. Where the Assassin had been, there was nothing left but scorched earth.

From the shadows, a figure stepped forward, his staff tapping against the ground with deliberate, measured movements. He was tall, his long blue hair tied back into a low ponytail, and his sharp, ruby-colored eyes held a glimmer of confidence.

"Well now," he said, his voice carrying that same Irish lilt Ritsuka had heard moments earlier. "Looks like I got here just in time."

Mash lowered her shield cautiously, her gaze fixed on the newcomer. "Who are you?"

The man offered a faint smile, inclining his head. "Name's Cu Chulainn. Caster-class Servant. And no, I'm not here to fight you."

Olga, still catching her breath, glared at him suspiciously. "You'll forgive us if we don't take your word for it."

Cu Chulainn chuckled, the sound light and disarming. "Fair enough. You lot look like you've had a rough time of it. Can't blame you for being on edge." His expression grew serious as he glanced at the scorched ground where Assassin had fallen. "Those two were bad news. If I hadn't shown up when I did…"

Mash stepped forward, her shield still at the ready. "Why are you helping us?"

"Because," he replied, his gaze steady, "I'm not like them. And if you want to survive this mess, you're going to need all the help you can get."

Chapter End

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