A few minutes earlier.
The forest remained immersed in silence as two figures walked without hurry among the tall trees. Cú Chulainn advanced carefreely, his spear resting on his shoulders, as if he were strolling instead of invading enemy territory. His gaze wandered through the vegetation with distracted curiosity, and the slight smile on his face clearly revealed that he was eagerly awaiting a worthy fight.
Beside him, Sasaki Kojirō walked with an almost absolute serenity. His hands remained hidden within the wide sleeves of his simple kimono, his steps silent and elegant as those of a swordsman accustomed to decisive duels. His eyes observed the forest with calm contemplation, as if each tree were part of a carefully arranged garden.
When they discovered that a possible confrontation would take place near the Black faction's territory, both had advanced there at full speed. After all, they had been waiting days for a real battle.
The problem was that had been... some time ago.
Long enough that now they were just walking aimlessly through the forest.
The silence was finally broken.
"Lancer," said Kojirō calmly. "Are you lost?"
A large drop of sweat rolled down Cú Chulainn's forehead.
"Shut up," he replied with an irritated grunt. "And don't criticize me. Locating enemies is Assassin's job, not Lancer's."
Kojirō maintained his impeccable posture, but a slight smile appeared on his face.
"Curious to hear that from someone who decided to advance even before waiting for Caster to give us the exact location of the enemy base."
Cú was silent for a second.
"That's your fault!" he retorted immediately. "As Assassin, you should be giving me support! You know... tracking enemies, finding clues... that kind of crap."
The swordsman stopped for a moment.
A vein bulged discreetly on his forehead.
"Support?" repeated Kojirō, slowly.
He sighed, as if he had just heard something deeply offensive.
"I am here to battle," he replied firmly. "Not to provide assistance to a lost lancer in the forest."
He then lifted his chin slightly.
"The fact that I was summoned as Assassin is merely an insignificant detail. In practice, it would be more appropriate to treat me as a Saber."
Cú let out a laugh.
"Saber? You?"
He pointed his spear at the man.
"I've never heard of such a weak Saber in my life."
The vein on Kojirō's forehead pulsed more strongly.
Even so, he tried to maintain his composure.
"Differences in parameters are irrelevant," he replied calmly. "A skilled swordsman can compensate for them with technique."
Cú laughed again.
"Ah, sure. Technique."
Kojirō narrowed his eyes.
"Besides," he continued, "being qualified for a knight class doesn't seem like a big deal. From what I see, any idiot holding something pointy can apparently qualify as Lancer."
Now it was Cú who had a vein bulging on his forehead.
"It might be that the requirements for the knight class aren't that high," he replied with an annoyed smile, "but one thing I'm sure of."
He tilted his head.
"To be a Saber, at least you need to have actually existed."
Silence.
For a full second, the two stood completely motionless.
Then, in the same instant, both drew their weapons and advanced towards each other.
The collision seemed inevitable.
But, at the last moment, the two passed each other at high speed.
Their weapons cut through the air in precise strikes.
Not against each other.
But against the empty space around them.
The next instant, two small figures plummeted from the trees.
Creatures made of clay split in half upon hitting the ground: small surveillance golems, camouflaged among the branches, watching every move of the intruders.
Cú spun his spear in a casual motion and approached one of the destroyed dolls.
He poked the creature's remains with the tip of his weapon.
"So..." he said. "Does that mean we're close to enemy territory?"
For a few seconds, there was no response.
Then the forest changed.
From the darkness between the trees, a silhouette emerged.
Then another, and another.
Dozens of enormous figures began to slowly emerge from the vegetation.
Giant golems.
Each over three meters tall, massive bodies of stone and clay reinforced by magical inscriptions glowing faintly on their surfaces. Their heavy steps made the ground vibrate as they advanced one after another, forming a veritable living wall in the middle of the forest.
Cú watched the scene in silence; beside him, Kojirō let out a small, dry laugh.
"I imagine that answers your question."
The reaction was immediate.
Cú Chulainn broke into a wide smile upon seeing the line of clay giants advancing through the forest.
"Hah... now this is more like it!"
He spun the spear on his shoulders as if just warming up before a race.
"Finally something worthwhile!"
Beside him, Sasaki Kojirō observed the constructs with his usual calm. His eyes traced the heavy movements of the golems, analyzing posture, rhythm, and reach.
"They are... larger than I imagined," he commented serenely.
Despite his calm tone, there was a subtle glint of interest in his eyes.
The golems did not hesitate.
Almost simultaneously, dozens of them advanced.
For creatures of that size, their speed was surprising. The ground trembled under their steps as giant arms reached out to crush the two intruders.
But, against Servants, that was still insufficient.
The two vanished from where they stood.
Cú and Kojirō weaved between the giants like living shadows.
Kojirō moved first.
His steps were quick, precise, almost elegant. The long nodachi slid from its sheath in a fluid motion, and the blade traced a clean arc through the air.
Enormous arms that tried to reach him simply separated from the clay bodies.
Another strike.
Two more limbs fell.
Kojirō advanced as if dancing among the enemies.
A golem raised its giant fist, trying to crush him. The swordsman responded with a light leap, spinning his body in the air while his blade traced a circular cut.
When he landed again on the ground, Kojirō looked calmly at his own blade.
"Hm..."
He spun the sword lightly between his fingers.
"Strangely resilient."
Behind him, the golem finally collapsed into a pile of debris. Heavy fragments of clay plummeted one after another.
Meanwhile, Cú Chulainn advanced in a completely different manner.
He shot through the forest like a projectile.
He leaped between the trees at high speed, his body moving like a blue and red blur among the trunks.
Three golems tried to block him.
Cú simply passed through them.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the three giant bodies split in half, separated by perfect cuts.
A red trail hung in the air for a second before disappearing.
Another golem tried to intercept him.
The creature placed its entire body in the lancer's path, raising its arms like a wall.
Cú just smiled.
"Out of the way."
His foot struck the monster's chest with absurd force.
The impact sent the golem flying several meters backward like an empty doll.
Cú landed on the ground right after, his spear resting lazily on his shoulder.
He narrowed his eyes as he watched the giant fly through the air before crashing among the trees in the distance.
"Hm... too light."
At that moment, a new golem appeared behind him.
The colossal arm descended, trying to crush him from behind.
But before the blow could reach its target,
A pillar of scarlet energy pierced the creature's chest.
Cú's spear had been thrust backward without him even turning around.
The golem's body hung suspended for a second before crumbling.
Another construct immediately advanced from the front.
The giant arm descended in a vertical strike.
Cú simply took a step to the side.
The fist crushed the ground where he had been a moment before.
"Too slow."
He pushed the spear forward.
The tip of the weapon sank deep into the creature's torso.
But the golem did not react.
On the contrary.
The clay that formed its body began to move.
The construct's surface rippled as if it had gained a life of its own. The mass of clay slowly extended around the spear, enveloping the weapon like an organism trying to swallow it.
Cú raised an eyebrow.
"...Oh?"
For a moment, he actually seemed surprised.
But soon his expression hardened.
Mana exploded through the spear.
"Tch."
A violent burst of mana was discharged through the weapon.
The impact tore the golem to pieces, scattering clay fragments across the clearing.
Before Cú could even reflect on what had happened, another giant appeared behind him, trying to grab him.
But for someone with Cú Chulainn's instincts,
That was like an attack in slow motion.
He leaped high into the air.
One hand quickly touched the top of the golem's head as a foothold.
Then he propelled his body again, launching himself away while the creature grasped only empty air.
Shortly after, the two Servants retreated a few steps almost simultaneously, stopping back-to-back in the center of the devastated clearing.
Around them, the remains of several golems were scattered on the ground, broken arms, cracked torsos, and shattered clay heads.
Cú spun his spear slowly between his fingers.
"These ones are strange..." he commented, observing the debris.
Kojirō nodded slightly.
"And surprisingly resilient."
It was then that something changed.
One of the golems that had been split in half began to move again. The clay dragged itself across the ground like a living mass, slowly reassembling until it partially reconstructed its body.
Another did the same.
And another.
Fragments began to recompose as faint magical inscriptions glowed on the cracked surfaces.
Cú clicked his tongue.
"Ah... so that's how it is."
Kojirō watched in silence, attentive to the creatures' movements.
"Constructs of this level..." he murmured. "They can only be the work of a Servant."
He lifted his head slightly.
"A Caster, probably."
Cú shrugged.
"Makes sense."
Another golem stood up completely before them, the clay still rearranging itself like living flesh.
Kojirō tilted his head.
"Does that mean they are immortal?"
Cú pointed with his spear to the side.
Some golems remained fallen on the ground, completely motionless.
"Not all of them got up."
Kojirō followed the gesture with his eyes.
"I see..."
Cú rested his spear on his shoulder again.
"Same as any normal golem. There must be a core somewhere inside the body."
He broke into a smile.
"Destroy that, and it's done."
Kojirō sighed softly.
"Even so..."
He observed the growing number of giants rising around them.
"It will still take quite a bit of work to take them all down."
Cú looked at him with a crooked smile.
"What's this?"
He nudged the swordsman's shoulder with the tip of his spear.
"The great pseudo-Saber is afraid of a bunch of golems?"
A vein appeared on Kojirō's forehead.
"No."
He replied with controlled calm.
"I could destroy them all by myself."
He paused.
"I merely commented that, considering their number, it would take a bit of—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
Because at that exact moment, Cú leaped backward.
"Ah, great!"
Kojirō turned his head in time to see the lancer already moving away.
"If you can handle everything by yourself, then I won't get in the way!"
"Wait—"
Cú was already in the air.
He leaped directly towards the same golem whose head he had used as a foothold moments before.
The creature immediately raised its arms trying to intercept him.
But something gleamed.
A rune carved into the clay began to emit scarlet light.
Cú had marked the creature the instant he had placed his hand on it.
"Good luck!" he shouted. "Golem slayer."
The next second, the golem exploded in flames.
Its entire body was consumed by a violent magical explosion, and Cú landed on the creature at the exact moment it began to crumble.
Using the burning colossus as a platform, he propelled his body in another powerful leap.
The impact reduced the golem to flaming debris.
And then the lancer disappeared among the trees like a red projectile.
Kojirō remained still.
Watching.
Silent.
Meanwhile, the remaining golems began to move.
One.
Then another and another.
Three-meter giants advanced slowly until they completely surrounded him, blocking all escape routes.
Kojirō sighed.
With a calm motion, he rested the nodachi on his shoulders.
"Hm..."
He looked calmly at the circle of enemies.
"I think I'm finally understanding..."
Another golem raised its giant fist.
Kojirō closed his eyes for a moment.
"...why Archer hates you so much, Lancer."
...
Back to the present.
The battlefield had transformed into a scene of devastation. Open craters marked the forest floor, trees had been uprooted or reduced to fragments, and countless destroyed golem bodies were scattered across the terrain like the remains of a brief, yet violent, war.
In the center of that destruction, Spartacus remained on his knees.
The colossal body of the Red faction's Berserker was covered in deep cuts and perforations. Several black stakes pierced his flesh, pinning him to the ground like iron chains. A thick mass of clay, remains of destroyed golems, enveloped part of his torso and legs, hardened like an improvised prison. His left arm had completely disappeared, torn off during combat.
Even so,
The giant still breathed.
His chest rose and fell with difficulty as blood flowed from the open wounds. Still, a disturbing smile remained on his face.
Before him, mounted on his black horse, Vlad III observed the scene.
His eyes were cold.
As piercing as the stakes that held the gladiator.
To the right of the King of Wallachia, Siegfried stood motionless. The swordsman rested the tip of his sword on the ground, both hands on the hilt, like a silent statue observing the outcome of the battle.
To the left, Avicebron analyzed the combat field with visible interest. One hand rested thoughtfully on his chin as his eyes traced the craters and scattered debris around.
"More efficient than I expected," commented the Caster calmly. "The Berserker's blows were quite destructive, but my golems fulfilled their role well."
Vlad did not take his eyes off the imprisoned enemy.
"And the others?"
Avicebron responded almost immediately.
"The Red Servants are approximately forty kilometers from here."
He adjusted his glasses slightly.
"As for the Blues... our plan to separate them was a success."
A short pause.
"Or rather... the Lancer simply abandoned his ally and advanced alone."
Upon hearing that, Siegfried lifted his head slightly.
"The Blue Lancer..." he murmured.
He looked in the direction of the forest.
"Wouldn't it be better if I intercepted him?"
Vlad replied without hesitation.
"No."
His tone was firm.
"Those are Darnic's orders."
The black knight continued observing Spartacus as he spoke.
"Besides... it's still too early to underestimate our own allies."
Siegfried remained silent for a few seconds.
Finally, he nodded.
"Understood."
Even so, an unease persisted in his gaze.
He knew well the strength of Astolfo and Frankenstein. Both were capable of facing powerful enemies.
Even so,
Something inside him would not settle.
Siegfried had never seen the Blue Lancer fight directly. Yet a memory insisted on returning.
The memory of a single strike.
A single spear advancing like lightning; he had witnessed that with his own eyes, and he knew perfectly well what it meant.
That man was dangerous, very dangerous.
Siegfried opened his mouth to speak again,
But another voice interrupted him.
A distorted voice.
Euphoric.
"HA... HAHAHA..."
All eyes turned to Spartacus.
Even impaled by multiple stakes, the Berserker still raised his face. His eyes shone with a mixture of pain, madness, and fervor.
"Even..." he said with difficulty, "pinning down... my body..."
His smile widened.
"You... will never... imprison... my freedom!"
For a moment, there was silence.
Vlad observed the gladiator with an expression that resembled something close to respect.
"I recognize your determination," said the King of Wallachia.
His voice was cold.
Contained.
"And I must admit... I admire your struggle."
He paused briefly.
"However, in this moment, we are enemies."
Vlad's eyes grew even colder.
"Therefore... unfortunately, I will have to take your freedom."
Then he raised his hand slightly.
His voice became colder than ever.
"Submit."
For a second, the world seemed to stop.
Then Spartacus exploded in fury.
"OPPRESSOOOOORS!"
His muscles began to contort grotesquely. The giant's body expanded even more, muscle fibers swelling as his skin seemed unable to contain that growing strength.
The stakes pinning him began to creak.
One broke.
Another bent.
Spartacus advanced.
Even with his body being torn apart by the stakes themselves, he kept moving. Pieces of flesh came loose as blood flowed onto the ground.
He advanced.
Forcing his body forward with pure brute strength.
Faced with that grotesque scene, Vlad merely let out a small sigh.
A sigh of disappointment.
"What a shame."
Then he raised his hand.
The ground responded immediately.
Dozens of black stakes emerged from the earth like monstrous fangs.
They pierced Spartacus's body from all sides.
Chest.
Back.
Legs.
But avoiding his spiritual core.
The giant was impaled in the air.
His body hung suspended, held only by the stakes that pierced him.
Finally, the Berserker stopped writhing.
Silence returned to the forest.
Vlad ordered Caster to take the body of the enemy Berserker.
However, before any response could be given, something made all of Siegfried's instincts scream in alarm.
The Black Saber reacted instantly.
With a quick, precise movement, he advanced in front of his allies, the great sword tracing a gleaming arc in the air. Two arrows emerged from the darkness of the forest, fast and silent as serpents. The blade intercepted them with absolute precision, deflecting the projectiles away with two dry metallic clicks.
But Siegfried barely had time to recover his posture.
Before him, a figure was already in motion.
"Yo."
A young man with greenish hair advanced with a vibrant smile on his face, his spear spinning naturally in his hands as if it were an extension of his own body.
The strike came faster than the arrows themselves.
The spear struck Siegfried with overwhelming force. The impact echoed across the battlefield as the Saber was hurled several meters backward, carving a deep trench in the earth as he slid until he disappeared among the destroyed trees.
"Ha!" laughed the newcomer, clearly excited.
Without wasting time, Achilles advanced again.
His target was clear.
Vlad.
The King of Wallachia didn't even seem to have turned his head to follow the knight's movement. At first glance, it might have seemed he hadn't even noticed his presence.
But his eyes... had been fixed on him from the start.
As soon as Achilles advanced, the ground responded.
Dozens of black stakes exploded from the soil like the fangs of a monstrous beast, emerging at lethal angles to intercept the Red Rider.
Achilles dodged by millimeters.
Leaped.
Twisted his body in the air.
Landed a few meters back with an almost irreverent lightness.
"Now this looks fun."
Before he could advance again, new arrows came cutting through the air from the forest's shadows.
Avicebron reacted immediately.
Raising his hand, the Caster made the fragments of golems scattered across the field begin to move. As if obeying an invisible order, the pieces of clay quickly gathered before him, forming a solid wall that intercepted the enemy archer's shots.
Meanwhile, Achilles was already moving again.
He ran around the adversaries in wide circles, moving with absurd speed. Even with Avicebron clearly being the most vulnerable target there, the demigod's attention was entirely focused on Vlad.
The black lancer then spoke, his voice firm and authoritative.
"Caster. Fall back."
Avicebron did not hesitate.
With a quick leap, he moved away from the combat line, while new stakes emerged from the ground trying to intercept Achilles.
The Red knight, however, seemed to treat it all as a game.
He dodged the stakes with minimal, almost lazy movements, while continuing to advance.
"You'll need more than that to stop me!"
Vlad did not respond to the provocation.
His eyes merely narrowed slightly.
Then he raised both hands.
The mana around him began to resonate with the environment, spreading across the field like a heavy, oppressive pressure.
Achilles sensed the danger immediately.
Without a second thought, he leaped backward.
At the same instant, thousands of stakes emerged from the ground simultaneously in all directions.
The surrounding forest was swallowed by a veritable storm of black spears.
Now suspended in the air, Achilles let out a small sigh as he observed what he had avoided.
"Wow... that was close."
But when he looked again at Vlad, something caught his attention.
The King of Wallachia didn't look frustrated at all.
Quite the contrary.
A sinister smile was slowly forming on his face.
Suddenly, all the stakes began to vibrate.
One after another, they detached from the ground.
Then shot into the sky like black projectiles, flying like rockets towards Achilles.
The stakes struck the target in succession.
The impact was brutal. Each collision crushed the stakes themselves against the demigod's body, creating an explosive sequence of impacts that quickly obscured the sky with a dense cloud of dust.
For a moment, Vlad seemed satisfied.
But before he could savor any sense of victory, his instincts alerted him.
He crossed his arms before his body at the exact moment a powerful punch collided with his guard.
The impact was devastating.
The head of Vlad's horse was completely crushed, disintegrating instantly as the blow sent the black lancer himself flying backward.
Before him stood Spartacus.
The Berserker who had been impaled moments before was now standing again.
More than that, his body seemed even more powerful than before.
The fact that Spartacus had fully recovered in such an absurdly short time would have been shocking enough.
But luck rarely left lancers in peace.
Before Vlad could even regain his balance in the air, another presence appeared before him.
Achilles.
The Red Rider advanced again, smiling intensely.
To the black lancer's surprise, he didn't have a single scratch.
Without hesitation, Achilles brought his spear down on Vlad.
But this time,
It was he who was surprised.
A blade intercepted the strike with a powerful impact.
Siegfried had returned to the battle.
Where he had been struck earlier, there was merely a small scratch on his armor.
The Black Saber pushed Achilles back with the force of his blow.
The moment Siegfried and Vlad touched the ground again, a new hail of arrows came tearing through the air towards them.
But this time, something emerged from the ground before the projectiles could hit them.
A huge clay arm rose before them, intercepting the arrows.
And then another.
And another.
One after another, new golems began to emerge from the ground, joining the battlefield.
Courtesy of Avicebron.
The Caster watched the fight from a distance with calculating attention. He knew his limits well and knew that directly engaging in a confrontation between Servants of that level would be unwise.
Thus, the two forces reorganized on the devastated field.
On one side, Spartacus smiled with an almost disturbing joy, while Achilles merely stretched casually, as if warming up before the real fight.
In the distance, Atalanta watched the scene with her bow ready, her eyes attentive to every movement.
On the other side, Vlad remained unshaken, his regal posture intact despite the violence of the battle.
Beside him, Siegfried took a deep breath, concentrating silently as he prepared for the confrontation to come.
In the distance, from atop the fortress, Chiron's eyes remained fixed on the young man who, with an almost irritating lightness, faced his allies as if none of it held any real weight. For a brief moment, the archer closed his eyes and tilted his head, a contained sigh escaping along with an expression laden with melancholy.
But the moment passed.
When he lifted his face again, there was no hesitation, only a slight, almost carefree smile, like a master observing a student about to be tested.
"By Zeus..." he murmured, in a low but firm tone. "don't embarrass me in front of everyone, boy."
...
In the densest part of the forest, Astolfo and Fran remained on guard.
The atmosphere was heavy.
In the distance, the sound of violent impacts echoed without end. Tremors ran through the ground at irregular intervals, as if the earth itself were being torn apart. Even at that distance, it was impossible to ignore.
The battle had already begun.
Fran stood motionless, her feet planted on the ground, the massive club resting beside her body. Her posture resembled that of a statue, rigid, silent, but the tension in her muscles betrayed that she could move at any moment.
Astolfo, on the other hand, seemed relaxed.
He rested his spear lightly, almost distracted.
But only on the outside.
His eyes scanned the forest with constant attention.
This isn't right...*
Before he could deepen the thought,
Something caught the attention of both.
A small stone dragged itself across the ground.
It moved irregularly, almost organically, like an insect trying to move. A symbol glowed on its surface, pulsing weakly with each small movement.
Astolfo tilted his head slightly, curious.
"Hm...?"
The stone stopped.
The symbol glowed more intensely for a brief moment.
"Is that a... rune?" he murmured.
Before he could analyze further,
A presence emerged.
From the shadows between the trees, someone walked carefreely.
Light steps.
Without any attempt to hide his presence.
"Man... what a drag," commented the newcomer, running a hand through his hair. "These protection fields are a pain to get through."
He sighed, looking around with disinterest.
"But it was worth it."
His eyes finally fixed on the two.
"Finally found someone."
Cú Chulainn.
Fran reacted immediately.
With a deep sound, she advanced a step ahead of Astolfo, her teeth clenched, fury evident in her expression as she raised her club in guard.
Astolfo, on the other hand, just stood up calmly, spinning his spear slightly before resting it on the ground.
His eyes quickly glanced at the small stone on the ground.
Still.
The rune fading slowly.
"I see..." he murmured.
He then smiled, excited, and planted his spear lightly.
"I am Astolfo! one of the twelve Paladins of Charlemagne! and Rider of the Black faction!"
He pointed at the opponent with almost childlike enthusiasm.
"And you? Will you introduce yourself too?"
Cú just observed them for a few seconds.
Then he laughed.
"Hah... you're lively, huh?"
He spun his spear lightly between his fingers.
"Just call me Lancer."
Simple, direct, without ceremony.
Then his gaze swept the clearing once more, attentive, as if searching for something, or someone who had yet to reveal themselves. For a moment, a subtle disappointment crossed his expression, almost imperceptible, but present.
When he turned his attention back to the two before him, the scene didn't help at all.
Astolfo was distracted, his gaze wandering to the side as if he had become interested in some random noise or creature in the woods, completely oblivious to the tension of the moment. As for the Berserker, although she stared directly at him, she conveyed a strange feeling, not of focus, but of emptiness, as if she were only half present.
Cú let out a long sigh, relaxing his shoulders as he stretched, clearly unimpressed.
"No offense," he said, in a casual, almost carefree tone, "but I was hoping to find Saber... or at least the other Lancer from your faction."
He shrugged.
"I heard those two are strong."
Astolfo laughed.
"Hey, hey... I think you'd better not underestimate us like that!"
Cú let out a light sigh.
"That's not it..."
He scratched the back of his neck, a bit reluctant.
"It's just that I made a promise to my master. I'd prefer to avoid hurting you, if possible."
Astolfo blinked, surprised.
"Eh?"
But before he could respond,
BOOM.
A shockwave tore through the forest.
The trees shook violently, leaves and branches ripped off by the distant impact.
The sound came from far away.
But the intensity was absurd.
The battle of the other Servants.
Cú smiled.
A different smile now, sharper.
"Looks like the party has already started..."
He adjusted his posture, ready to head in that direction,
But his instincts reacted.
He leaped backward.
The next instant, Fran's club descended with brutal force.
The impact deformed the ground, creating a crater instantly.
Cú hovered in the air for a moment, observing the destruction below with genuine surprise.
"Woah..."
But he had no time for more.
His gaze went up.
A spear was already coming his way.
He raised his own weapon on reflex.
Clang!
Astolfo's thrust was intercepted.
Cú spun his body in the air and retreated, landing lightly on a tree branch.
The wood creaked under his weight.
Before him, Fran and Astolfo had already repositioned themselves.
Fran let out a low roar, an aura of fury pulsing around her.
Astolfo spun his spear once more and smiled, confident.
"I appreciate Sieg's consideration," he said, "but, in this situation..."
He pointed his spear at Cú.
"We are your opponents."
His smile widened.
"And it would be pretty shameful to let a wild dog like you run around bothering everyone, don't you think?"
For a brief moment, silence hung in the air.
Then Cú smiled.
A wild smile.
His eyes shone with excitement.
"Heh..."
He adjusted his spear on his shoulder.
"Alright... you've convinced me."
The aura around him changed.
Heavier.
More dangerous.
"I'll take you seriously."
His eyes focused on Astolfo.
"But don't complain later."
A brief moment of pause.
Then, in an almost casual tone:
"And as for you..." he said, pointing his spear slightly, "I promised not to kill you."
A crooked smile appeared.
"But maybe I'll have to hurt you a little."
The wind passed between the trees.
The leaves trembled.
And, in the next instant,
The battle began.
...
Celenike watched the battle through the high stained-glass windows of the Yggdmillennia fortress.
Outside, the forest was no longer a silent field. Explosions of mana tore across the horizon, tremors ran through the stone walls, and even at that distance, it was possible to feel the weight of the clashes between Servants. It was a war in full eruption.
Beside her, Caules remained rigid, his eyes fixed on the outside, clearly tense. Fiore, on the other hand, maintained her usual serene posture, analyzing the situation with absolute focus. Roche... well, Roche seemed more excited than worried, murmuring to himself about his golems.
And then there was him.
Darnic.
Seated on the throne as if he were already a consecrated king, observing everything with an almost irritating calm.
Celenike let out a low sigh, laden with contempt.
What a pathetic scene.*
Her eyes slid to the patriarch. The haughty posture, the distant gaze... everything about him now conveyed authority. Security. Control.
She almost laughed.
Because she knew exactly how fragile that was.
It was almost comical to remember that this same man, now so proud, was content to act like an obedient dog in the presence of his Lancer. The difference was glaring. Repulsive.
Her disgust grew with each passing moment.
Rider was already a problem in himself, ignoring orders whenever it suited him. But this... this was worse.
The faction was being led not by the masters... but by the Servants.
Servants.
Glorified familiars.
Tools.
And yet, they were the ones deciding strategies, defining movements, shaping the course of the war.
Her fingers twitched slightly.
She remembered perfectly Darnic's words at the start.
The greatness of the Yggdmillennia.
The future they would build.
The dominion they would conquer.
All in the name of the family.
Lies.
She didn't really care about the family, truth be told.
But she couldn't help but notice that as soon as the war truly began, he pushed them away. One by one. Restricted meetings. Decisions made in secret. And at the center of it all,
The Servants.
Always them.
It was almost insulting.
And the worst part was that Darnic allowed it. No, he encouraged it. The man who had brought everyone to this point now bowed, almost invisibly, to those who were supposed to serve him.
Her eyes narrowed.
And that false king...
The way he looked down on everyone.
As if he were above everyone there.
As if they were... inferior.
A slight crack echoed.
Celenike had pressed her teeth together hard.
In the end, there was no doubt.
Darnic never intended to benefit anyone but himself.
She had always known that.
It wasn't as if she wasn't planning to do exactly the same thing.
Even so, she hadn't expected it to be so... blatant.
Her gaze darkened.
Still... that didn't mean she would accept it.
Never.
Her mind drifted back a few days.
The meeting.
Just one among many.
She was present, but it was as if she wasn't. Words crossed the hall, strategies were drawn, decisions were made...
And she just listened.
Like an irrelevant spectator.
As if she weren't part of the family.
As if she had no value at all.
And at the center of it all, those damned Servants discussing as equals.
No.
As superiors.
It was at that moment that something inside her broke.
When the meeting finally ended and those present began to disperse, Celenike didn't move immediately. Her fingers slowly closed, her nails pressing into her palm.
And then,
"Darnic."
Her voice cut through the air.
He stopped.
But didn't turn immediately.
"What is it?" he replied, without much interest.
She advanced a few steps, her eyes fixed on him.
"What was that, exactly?" her voice came out controlled, but charged. "Another meeting where I just stand watching while... they decide everything?"
Darnic finally turned, an eyebrow raised.
"If you had something to add, you should have said so."
She laughed.
Dry.
Devoid of humor.
"I tried."
A brief silence settled.
"Or didn't you notice?" she continued, her tone rising slightly. "Or did you simply not find it relevant enough to listen?"
Darnic stared at her for a few seconds.
Impassive.
"Get to the point."
That response was like gasoline on a fire.
"I'm being sidelined," she said, now without beating around the bush. "Ignored. As if I had no value here at all."
Her eyes narrowed.
"And you," she pointed lightly in the direction the Servants had left, "trust them more than your own family."
A brief silence.
Heavy.
"I know about the meetings," she added, quieter but sharper. "The private... conversations."
Darnic showed no surprise.
Nor concern.
Just... disinterest.
"And?" he said, simply.
For a second, Celenike was left speechless.
And then he continued.
"Knowledge and experience," his voice came out cold, measured, "have more value at this moment than any... inferior practice you may have acquired."
The blow came clean.
Direct.
Without hesitation.
The ensuing silence was suffocating.
Inside, something shattered.
Hatred came like a wave.
Raw.
Visceral.
Her mind filled with images, ways to make him pay, to make him bow, to tear that arrogance away piece by piece,
But she didn't move.
Not there.
Not yet.
She took a deep breath.
Once.
And then spoke again.
"Even so..." her voice came out lower, forcibly controlled, "this is still a war of the Yggdmillennia family."
Her eyes didn't waver.
"The least... would be to include at least one of us in these decisions."
Darnic observed her.
In silence.
His hand went to his chin, thoughtful.
The seconds dragged on.
And then,
"Very well."
Her heart beat faster.
For a moment... a spark.
Maybe,
"Fiore will participate."
Simple.
Cold.
Final.
The world seemed to waver.
"...what?"
The word escaped before she could contain it.
"She hasn't disappointed me so far," Darnic continued, as if it were obvious. "She has real potential."
Each sentence was a blow.
"And, unlike others... she has an obedient Servant."
Celenike stepped forward.
"That doesn't make sense, I—"
"Enough."
The word cut her off.
Without effort.
Without room.
He was already walking away.
"The decision has been made."
And like that, he left without looking back, ending the conversation.
Ending... her.
...
Back to the present, Celenike's fingers slowly rose to her lips.
She bit the tip of her finger hard, almost compulsively.
Her eyes trembled.
Her breathing, irregular.
And in the midst of that whirlwind of thoughts, of anger, of humiliation, only one thing remained.
A name.
Fiore.
Her gaze slowly moved in the girl's direction.
Cold and Cutting.
And laden with something that went far beyond simple envy.
At that moment, Celenike's mind was no longer in the room.
Or rather... it was.
But distorted.
Fragmented.
Consumed.
Images formed one after another, too vivid, too detailed. Fiore before her. Motionless. Vulnerable. Her fragile legs, those same ones that kept her trapped in that chair, being slowly destroyed before her eyes.
She imagined the sound.
The crack, the break, the expression.
Would it be pain?
Despair?
Or... nothing?
That was the most interesting part.
If even that would draw some reaction from her.
A slight blush colored her face.
Her body trembled subtly as a distorted smile formed on her lips. Her fingers pressed hard against her own lips, as if trying to contain something that threatened to escape.
It was... exciting.
Disturbing.
And completely silent to everyone around.
"Celenike."
The voice pulled her back.
Abruptly.
Her eyes focused again on reality, and found precisely the one occupying her thoughts.
Fiore.
The girl's expression was serious, focused on the battlefield beyond the stained glass.
"Your Servant..." she said, calmly, "is about to engage in combat."
For a brief moment, there was silence.
Then, as if obeying an invisible command, all eyes turned outward.
The forest. The point where the presences converged.
Rider. Berserker.
And,
The enemy Lancer.
The atmosphere changed instantly, tension condensing in the air. Darnic remained seated. Motionless, as if this were just another piece in a game he had already solved.
A slight smile appeared on his lips.
"Hm..." he murmured, almost amused. "I'm curious to see... what that Servant's limit is."
His eyes showed no concern.
Only interest.
Roche, beside him, seemed so hypnotized by the golems in battle that he didn't even turn his head.
Fiore watched in silence for a moment, analyzing the situation.
Then she spoke:
"Should I instruct Archer to provide support from a distance?"
Direct.
Precise.
Darnic refused without even looking away from the battle.
"No."
His voice was firm.
"He must focus on the other front."
A brief pause.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"And eliminate the Red Rider the moment an opportunity arises."
There was no hesitation in his tone; it was an absolute order.
Fiore nodded.
"Understood."
But, as she lowered her gaze slightly... something changed.
Her attention diverted for an instant.
To Caules.
The tension on her brother's face was evident. His rigid shoulders, his gaze too fixed, his breath held.
She said nothing.
Not there.
Instead, she closed her eyes for a brief second.
And then,
Connection established.
Her consciousness extended through the bond.
"Archer."
The response came almost immediately.
Calm. Stable.
"I'm listening."
"Do you have both within your reach?"
A minimal pause.
"Yes."
Simple.
Precise.
Relief came like a silent sigh.
Imperceptible to anyone around.
"Understood."
Fiore maintained the connection for another moment.
"If the situation gets out of control... intervene."
On the other side, there was no hesitation.
"Naturally."
The presence dissipated, and the connection was closed. Fiore opened her eyes again, her expression returning to its usual state, calm, controlled, unshakable.
But now...
Prepared.
Meanwhile, beside her, Celenike watched silently.
But her eyes... were no longer on the battle.
...
The wind swept through the clearing the moment the tension finally broke, but Cú Chulainn didn't even wait for that brief moment to act; he simply disappeared.
The first sign of his movement came as a dry clang of colliding metal, when Astolfo raised his spear on pure reflex and intercepted a strike that should have already pierced him.
The impact reverberated through the paladin's arm, forcing him several steps back, his feet dragging furrows in the soil as sparks cut the air.
Still, he laughed, more excited than intimidated.
"That was fast!"
But there was no one before him anymore.
Beside him, Frankenstein advanced with a low roar, the ground giving way under her charge as the club descended in a brutal arc that tore through the air with enough force to distort it.
The blow crushed only earth and roots.
Cú was no longer there.
He appeared at the Berserker's flank at the last moment, dodging with a single minimal, almost lazy step, while the blade of his spear grazed her shoulder, opening a superficial cut before he retreated again with lightness.
Astolfo didn't hesitate, advancing with almost reckless energy, spinning his spear in a wide motion while announcing:
"Hey, over here! Take this!"
The thrust came fast, but predictable. Cú dodged with a simple wrist twist, deflecting the trajectory with irritating precision.
"Do you always announce before attacking?"
He tilted his head slightly, his crooked smile widening.
"Some kind of knight's code?"
Fran was already coming right behind. No technique, no rhythm, just pure force. Her club descended again, and the impact cracked the ground in an explosion of earth and fragments.
Astolfo pressed from the other side, alternating quick strikes, trying to force openings, and for a few moments, the combination of the two created the illusion of an advantage.
It was just that: an illusion.
Cú moved between them like a living shadow. His body turned by centimeters, dodging at the exact limit, blocking only when necessary.
His spear appeared and disappeared in short, precise cuts, forcing both to constantly retreat.
He tested the rhythm, analyzed patterns, adjusted his own movement.
In the Yggdmillennia fortress, the silence was heavy.
Everyone watched. Celenike observed with growing impatience, annoyed by the enemy's almost offensive ease. Caules kept his eyes fixed, his heart tightening with each impossible dodge.
On the field, Astolfo gritted his teeth. He noticed. They were being pressured, even two against one.
So he decided to take a risk.
He advanced again, guard open, exaggerated movement, almost careless, and, as always:
"Coming through!"
Cú couldn't help but smile.
"You never learn, do you?"
He advanced to punish the opening, fast, direct, lethal, and it was at that exact moment that the ground gave way under his weight.
Cú's supporting foot slipped, sinking into a small hole hidden under loose leaves, almost invisible amidst the destroyed clearing.
A trivial detail.
Something that, under normal circumstances, would never have affected him.
That hole... Astolfo had noticed it earlier, while distractedly kicking leaves on the ground, without any real intention. There was no plan, no elaborate strategy, just a chance that, at the right moment, turned into an opportunity.
And he seized it.
Even caught off guard, Cú's posture wavered for only a second.
But a second... was all Astolfo needed.
"Gotcha!"
Spinning his body with full momentum, he pulled his own spear in an ascending arc, striking the shaft of Cú's weapon and knocking it from his hand. The impact deflected the enemy spear, which was hurled away, spinning through the air before disappearing among the trees.
For a moment, time seemed to stop.
"Fran!"
The Berserker was already in the air. Her entire body converged on that single strike, all her power channeled into the brutal descent of the club. The impact was monstrous. The ground shattered, the air exploded in a shockwave that swept the clearing, raising dust, trunks, and debris.
In the fortress, relief washed through the environment.
"She hit him..."
But something was wrong.
The dust began to settle.
And someone was standing.
Cú Chulainn remained motionless in the center of the crater, his arm raised above his head, blocking the strike. The skin was torn, blood flowed... but the limb remained firm. His eyes slowly rose to Fran, and the smile returned, colder now.
"Is that all?"
He tilted his head slightly.
"Is this the full strength of a Berserker?"
The next instant, he advanced.
The punch was simple. Direct. Brutal.
Fran was launched like a projectile, crashing through trees in sequence until she disappeared into the forest.
In the fortress, the atmosphere changed immediately.
Astolfo reacted on the field, advancing against his disarmed enemy, but it was too late. The crimson spear spun in the air, pulled back as if it had a will of its own. Cú caught it with absolute naturalness.
Astolfo stopped.
In the distance, Fran began to stand again.
Silence fell.
And then Cú disappeared.
Without sound. Without warning.
He appeared before Fran.
A kick, almost lazy, sent her flying through the air again.
Before Astolfo could react, Cú was already behind him.
The blade cut the air.
Astolfo ducked by instinct.
Barely.
He tried to react, raise his spear,
But there was no time.
The shaft of Cú's weapon struck his abdomen.
Dry.
Precise.
Devastating.
All the air left his lungs. His body locked up. His knees gave way. He fell, gasping, unable to breathe.
Cú remained motionless before him.
Watching.
Calm.
Almost bored.
"..."
The silence weighed on the devastated clearing.
And at that moment, both on the field and in the fortress, the truth became impossible to ignore:
From the start...
He had been holding back.
Astolfo remained kneeling, his body curled as he struggled to get air back, each breath failing before completion.
The world was still spinning around him when Cú Chulainn's shadow fell over him. The Lancer watched him from above, his spear resting carelessly on his shoulder, as if none of it had required real effort.
"No hard feelings, okay?"
His voice came out light, almost casual.
"But this fight... isn't going anywhere for you guys."
He looked away for a moment, towards the distant point where the other battle echoed with growing violence.
"And I really don't want to have to kill you."
Without hurry, he stepped aside, already turning away.
"So just stay there. I've got a better fight waiting for me."
But the moment he began to walk away,
The air exploded.
Fran appeared again.
The impact came from above, brutal, accompanied by a violent flash.
The club collided with Cú's spear with enough force to make the sound reverberate like thunder. For the first time, the Lancer was pushed back. His feet slid a few meters backward, furrowing the soil as he absorbed the impact.
He raised his eyes.
Something had changed.
Fran was different.
Her breathing was irregular, heavy, but that wasn't all, chains of electricity ran through her body, crackling across her skin and the metal of her weapon.
The energy vibrated around her, making the air tremble slightly. Her presence... had increased.
Cú tilted his head, analyzing.
"Hm..."
He spun his spear once between his fingers.
"So you still have more to show."
A slight smile appeared.
"Not that impressive for a Berserker... but—"
His eyes gleamed with interest.
"You're pretty persistent, aren't you?"
Fran didn't respond. She just advanced again.
This time, her movements were faster.
Heavier.
Each step left deep marks in the ground, and each strike came loaded not only with force, but with pure electrical energy that exploded on impact. The club descended in sequence, blow after blow, without pause, without retreat.
Cú blocked.
Dodged.
Retreated a step... two... sometimes forced to absorb the impact directly.
But still,
It still seemed like a game to him.
In the fortress, tension reached a suffocating point.
The silence was no longer just attention, it was pure apprehension. Caules could no longer hide. His breathing was irregular, his forehead drenched in sweat as his eyes remained glued to the image of the battle.
Fran advanced.
Attacked.
Destroyed the surrounding terrain.
But it didn't matter.
It didn't matter the speed.
It didn't matter the strength.
The enemy... simply wouldn't yield.
Beside him, Fiore pushed her chair forward.
"Grandfather."
Her voice came out firm.
"Allow Archer to intervene."
Darnic didn't look away from the scene.
"Denied."
The response came immediately.
"His focus must be on the enemy Rider. He is the greatest threat on the battlefield."
Fiore clenched her fists slightly.
"An uncertain opportunity to eliminate one enemy does not justify the sacrifice of two Servants!"
Her voice came out louder than usual.
It cut through the air.
The entire hall fell silent.
Even Roche seemed distracted for a second.
Darnic finally looked away, staring at her. There was a trace of irritation there, but not only that. He brought his hand to his chin, thoughtful.
And this...
This caught Celenike's attention.
Still irritated by Fiore's tone, she now observed something she found absurd.
Darnic was considering it.
Considering her words.
That girl.
That "ideal heiress".
That invalid he treated as a valuable piece while ignoring the rest.
Her fingers twitched slightly.
Darnic, who never listened to her.
Who always dismissed her.
Now paying attention to that broken girl... while his own Servant was being humiliated on the battlefield.
And in the end,
It would be *her* Servant who would appear.
Who would save the day.
Who would take all the credit.
The thought made something inside her snap.
No.
She would not accept that, not that way.
A fierce scarlet glow erupted in her hand.
The command seal burned.
The magical presence made several eyes turn immediately to her.
And then came the order.
Absolute and irrefutable.
"Rider."
Her voice came out charged with intent.
"Destroy the enemy Lancer."
On the battlefield, something changed.
The magical pressure in the air intensified abruptly, heavy, almost oppressive, and Fran responded first.
The electricity already coursing through her body intensified violently, crackling like lightning trapped under her skin.
She advanced without hesitation, each step cracking the ground, the club descending in a strike charged with pure destructive power.
Cú didn't retreat this time.
He entered the attack.
The spear advanced like lightning, piercing Fran's defense with surgical precision. The blade cut her flank, tearing flesh and releasing an explosion of blood and electrical sparks. The Berserker's body locked up for an instant, minimal, but fatal in a fight at that level.
"Too open," he murmured.
Before he could follow up with the strike, however,
Astolfo moved.
He felt it.
The flow of mana through his body was different.
More intense.
More direct.
The command seal was pushing his capabilities beyond normal. His muscles responded with lightness, his perception sharpened,
But his expression was one of pure ecstasy.
"Heh... this actually helps..."
He advanced.
This time, without announcing.
Or almost.
His initial movements were the same, open, visible, predictable. A direct advance, a thrust that seemed easy to read. Cú was already preparing the counter-attack,
That's when Astolfo disappeared.
At the last moment, he released all the speed the seal allowed.
His body cut through the air in a blur, appearing at a completely different angle, low, almost scraping the ground, the spear pointing directly below Cú's defensive line.
"NOW!"
The strike came desperate.
Unpredictable.
And yet,
Cú reacted.
His body twisted at the limit, dodging by millimeters. The blade passed grazing, cutting only air.
His smile disappeared.
"Tch..."
He retreated a step, his eyes more attentive now.
"So you can do that..."
His expression hardened slightly.
"Look... I said I didn't want to kill you."
He adjusted his spear.
"But it looks like I'm going to have to hurt you more than I thought."
In the fortress, tension exploded again.
Fiore turned her head sharply.
"Grandfather, this has already gone too far—"
This time, he didn't interrupt immediately.
His eyes were fixed on the battle.
Calculating.
Weighing.
Finally,
"...Archer may intervene."
The response came short and direct.
Fiore didn't hesitate for a second.
The connection established.
On the field,
Cú advanced.
The spear shot out in a brutal sequence, too fast to follow.
Astolfo tried to block, tried to retreat, but the strike pierced his guard. A dry impact hit his shoulder, followed by another to his abdomen, and his body was flung backward, the air being ripped from his lungs again.
Fran roared.
Advanced, even wounded, even bleeding.
Cú spun his spear to finish,
And then the air cut.
Two arrows.
Fast.
Silent.
Precise.
Cú reacted by instinct, dodging at the last moment as the projectiles passed grazing.
He stopped.
Looked in the direction of the origin.
His eyes narrowed.
"...These arrows..."
A slow smile formed.
"Heavy."
Another came.
He dodged again, this time spinning his body out of the trajectory.
"And precise."
In the distance, Chiron had already taken position.
The tension on the field changed completely.
"Interesting..." murmured Cú.
And it was enough.
Astolfo and Fran advanced together.
Now there was rhythm.
Coordination.
Pressure.
Fran attacked from the front, heavy blows that forced Cú to move, while Astolfo circled, exploiting openings with speed amplified by the seal.
And above them, the arrows fell like judgment, forcing the Lancer to interrupt counterattacks, to reposition, to adapt.
For the first time,
He was truly being pressured.
Cú tried to react.
A spin, a thrust,
Interrupted.
An arrow deflected his trajectory.
Another forced him to retreat.
His expression closed off.
"This is getting annoying..."
Astolfo took advantage.
Advanced straight.
Spear forward.
No tricks.
No hesitation.
Cú responded simply.
A kick.
The tip of his foot found the shaft of the spear and deflected it brutally, wrenching the weapon from the Rider's hands. It spun through the air, falling far away.
Astolfo was disarmed.
Cú advanced immediately.
The intention was clear.
End it.
Astolfo drew his sword on reflex, raising it to defend himself, his body still unsteady, his breathing failing,
But then,
He smiled.
"Got you."
He extended the sword.
Mana exploded.
The air tore.
A roar echoed through the forest.
And then the hippogriff appeared.
The creature advanced like a living projectile, wings spread, claws forward, colliding with Cú with crushing force.
The impact dragged him immediately, his body being thrown backward as the hippogriff pushed him violently through the forest, trees being destroyed in sequence in the collision's wake.
The sound echoed in the distance.
Silence fell for a brief moment.
In the distance, observing from his elevated position, Chiron narrowed his eyes slightly.
"..."
A short pause.
"He is a fool with flashes of genius..."
Another arrow was already being nocked.
"Or a genius who pretends to be a fool?"
His eyes returned to the field.
"Hm. I'm still not sure."
At the same time as Astolfo's hippogriff disappeared among the trees, dragging Cú Chulainn in a trail of destruction, something changed on the field. Fran stopped.
Abruptly.
Her body, which until then had advanced driven by pure fury, simply ceased movement. The electricity still ran across her skin, but now... there was intention. Direction.
Through the bond, the order came clear.
Use.*
Your.*
Noble Phantasm.*
In the fortress, Caules's heart raced. He felt it. That intention, that decision... there was no more room for hesitation.
"Go..." he murmured, almost without realizing.
And then he raised his hand.
The command seal glowed.
The order was absolute.
"Fran... win."
The power coursed through the bond like a violent current.
Fiore turned her head, surprised, not by the decision itself, but by the firmness in it. Still, she said nothing. She just watched.
On the field, Fran responded immediately.
Her body steadied. Her posture changed. Mana began to concentrate in her weapon, densifying the air around her.
Electricity exploded in intensity, snaking across the ground, climbing nearby trees, making the entire environment vibrate with unstable energy.
The ground trembled.
The air crackled.
And then,
A rumble.
The hippogriff returned.
The creature was hurled out of the forest like a defeated projectile, its body spinning in the air before colliding violently with the ground of the clearing. A deep impact mark sank into its ribs, a brute, direct blow.
Behind it, Cú Chulainn emerged.
Walking.
Slow.
Each step heavy enough to raise dust.
The expression on his face had changed.
It was no longer light.
No longer carefree.
There was fury there.
His eyes fixed immediately on Fran.
He felt it.
The concentration of mana.
The danger.
And without hesitation,
He positioned himself.
"So this is it..."
His spear began to pulse red.
"You're going to try everything at once."
Before he could advance,
Astolfo appeared.
"Don't even think about it!"
He advanced without hesitation, even with his body clearly worn out. His breathing was heavy, his movements no longer had the same lightness as before, but still, he forced his own body forward.
Cú saw him.
For an instant,
The intention arose.
Finish it.
End this, eliminate the irritating distraction. His fist clenched, but then he remembered.
The promise.
An annoyed click echoed in his mind.
"Tch..."
He adjusted the strike.
Wouldn't kill, but...
"You're going out."
He advanced.
But before he could conclude,
The sky cut.
Arrows.
One.
Two.
Three.
Chiron.
Cú spun his body, dodging at the limit, the spear intercepting one of the arrows with a dry clack. The impact reverberated up his arm, much heavier than the previous ones.
"...These damn arrows again—"
Another came.
And another.
Now it wasn't just a nuisance.
It was real pressure.
Dodging required effort, time, and precision.
Astolfo took advantage and advanced.
Even tired.
Even wounded.
But the contrast was clear.
The command seal was beginning to fade. His speed decreased. His body demanded the price of accumulated damage.
Still, he continued.
Pushing.
Gaining seconds.
Meanwhile,
Fran walked.
Slow.
Implacable.
The energy around her had reached an absurd level. The electricity was no longer just a discharge, it was a field. A contained storm around her body. Her weapon glowed with increasing intensity.
Her Noble Phantasm.
Charged beyond the limit.
200%.
Cú noticed.
And decided.
Enough.*
With a brusque movement, he broke free from Astolfo, a brutal elbow strike hitting the Rider and sending him flying backward. Without wasting time, he spun his spear, the red pulsing with lethal intensity.
"I'm ending this now."
He advanced.
But his instincts screamed.
His spear moved before even thinking.
CLANG!
An arrow collided with it.
The impact was absurd.
Different from all the previous ones.
Cú's body was dragged backward several meters, his feet carving deep furrows in the ground as he resisted the force of the shot.
His eyes narrowed.
"...That one was meant to kill."
In the distance, Chiron kept his bow steady.
If not for Cú's natural protection against projectiles, that would have been the end.
But in that instant, that opening was enough.
Astolfo appeared again.
Leaping.
Spear forward.
Cú reacted, grabbing the shaft before the strike could pierce him.
But,
Too late.
The tip grazed his arm in a minimal, almost insignificant touch.
And yet something changed.
Cú froze for an instant.
He felt it.
His eyes widened slightly.
"...What—"
Something was being ripped away.
Not physically.
But,
Internally.
His enhancements disappeared.
His magical resistance.
His protection against projectiles.
His ability to keep fighting even when wounded.
All of it.
Gone.
One after another.
Like pieces being removed.
Silently.
Inevitably.
And then he understood.
His eyes slowly returned to Astolfo.
Now... different.
More alert.
More dangerous.
"...So that was it."
His voice came out low.
"That's why you were so desperate to hit me."
Astolfo barely had time to react when Cú, with a brusque movement, hurled his spear away, the weapon spinning through the air before embedding itself in the distant ground.
The next instant, the Lancer's hand was already closed around his neck, lifting him from the ground with frightening ease.
The grip was firm, suffocating, and the simple fact that Astolfo could still move was a testament to his opponent's immense strength. Above, his eyes met Fran's, and it was at that moment that hesitation arose.
The Berserker froze for a brief second.
The opportunity was there... but so was Astolfo.
In the distance, Chiron had already adjusted his posture, three arrows ready to be loosed.
The calculation was perfect, the angle impeccable, but, the moment he would release the string, Cú moved his body slightly, positioning Astolfo directly in the line of fire. The archer hesitated for a fraction of a second... and canceled the shot.
"Master, should I use my Noble Phantasm?" his voice echoed calmly in Fiore's mind.
Fiore closed her eyes for a moment, her mind working fast, weighing.
"If that would ensure—"
"If you are thinking of using Archer's Noble Phantasm."
Darnic's voice cut off her decision like a cold blade.
"Save it for the Red Rider. Do not waste resources here."
Fiore gritted her teeth, visibly annoyed, but did not respond.
In the distance, Chiron understood without need for further words. The tension grew even more.
Meanwhile, Astolfo, even while being choked, began to act.
His arms rose with difficulty, wrapping around Cú's arm, trying to lock his movement, limit his freedom, anything to open a gap.
"Fran... attack...!"
His voice came out failing, interrupted, but charged with urgency.
Fran did not move immediately.
Confused, she retreated half a step, her eyes seeking direction, and finding only uncertainty.
The bond with her master wavered with indecision.
Caules, from atop the fortress, was pale, his body rigid, unable to react.
Beside him, Celenike was screaming, her voice charged with despair and hysteria.
"Don't you dare! You'll kill him! DON'T DO THIS!"
Behind him, his grandfather's gaze was heavy, silent... crushing.
Roche, ironically, remained oblivious to the chaos.
Caules turned his head, almost instinctively, seeking refuge.
And found Fiore.
For a brief moment, the two stared at each other.
No words were spoken.
But none were needed.
Fiore did not smile, did not nod, just held his gaze, firm, neutral... making it clear that this choice was not hers.
It was his.
Caules's throat went dry. His heart hammered in his chest.
For years he had hesitated, retreated, hid... but not here.
Not at that moment.
He inhaled deeply.
And decided.
"Fran... end this."
The order was clear.
Final.
On the battlefield, the change was immediate. The hesitation disappeared from the Berserker's eyes, replaced by brute determination. With a powerful leap, the ground cracking under her feet, she advanced.
Cú noticed.
And reacted.
"Damn...!"
He pulled Astolfo tighter, trying to use him as a shield while spinning his body to reposition. But the Rider didn't let go. On the contrary, his grip tightened even more.
"I'm not... letting... go...!"
Cú clicked his tongue, irritated.
"Stubborn as hell..."
With no choice, his expression hardened. The spear in his hand glowed a deep red as he raised it.
"Sorry, kid..."
Before he could deliver the final blow, two arrows cut through the air.
IMPALED.
One in his shoulder. Another in his leg.
The impact forced him down, one knee touching the ground. In the distance, Chiron kept his bow raised, sharp gaze, he didn't need permission to act when an opening appeared.
It was enough.
Fran was already upon them.
Astolfo closed his eyes.
The impact came like the end of the world.
A white flash tore through the clearing, followed by a deafening roar. Electricity exploded in all directions, rising to the sky like a twisted tree of lightning, illuminating the entire forest with an almost divine violence.
For an instant... everything disappeared.
Sound.
Shape.
Consciousness.
When the light finally dissipated, what remained was silence, and a colossal crater in the heart of the clearing, still smoking.
Astolfo reappeared a few meters away, his body materializing slowly, courtesy of a second command seal from his master used at the last moment. He fell to his knees, coughing, covered in dust and superficial burns.
"That... wasn't cool at all..."
he grumbled, almost childishly, before forcing his body to stand.
His eyes immediately sought the center of the crater.
And there she was.
Fran remained standing.
Gasping.
Destroyed.
But standing.
Relief hit him like a wave.
In the fortress, Caules nearly collapsed. His entire body trembled as conflicting emotions coursed through him, fear, relief, disbelief... and, for the first time, pride.
Beside him, Fiore allowed herself a small smile.
Even Celenike breathed a sigh of relief, though still tense.
And Darnic... just watched, satisfied.
But then,
"It's not... over."
Fiore's voice cut through the moment.
Everyone turned to her.
"The Lancer... is still alive."
The world seemed to freeze again.
Slowly, all eyes returned to the field.
And then they saw.
Above the crater, suspended in the air, was Cú Chulainn.
Wounded.
Singed.
But far from defeated.
As surprising as it was, he had managed to leap at the last second, avoiding the direct impact.
His body bore marks of the blast, his breathing was heavier... but his eyes still shone with fierce intensity. Even without the enhancements stolen by Astolfo's spear, the pressure emanating from him was crushing.
"Haah..."
He let out a heavy sigh, spinning his wounded shoulder slightly.
"That... was better."
His spear began to glow again, a red even more intense.
Down below, Fran could barely move.
And yet... he pointed it at her.
Instinct screamed.
A new shower of arrows shot out, Chiron once again trying to intervene.
This time, however,
Cú simply spun his spear.
The crimson energy exploded around the blade, deflecting the projectiles violently, as if they were insignificant.
Caules didn't think.
"Fran, return!"
The command seal glowed.
At the same moment Cú uttered the name of his weapon.
"GÁE... BOLG!"
A column of energy snaked through the air, advancing towards the Berserker,
But she was no longer there.
The strike pierced the void, dissipating in the distance.
Silence.
Cú landed slowly on the ground, his eyes still fixed on the point where Fran had been.
After a few seconds... he sighed.
His gaze then moved.
Towards the forest.
Where he knew Chiron was.
He remained like that for a moment.
Waiting.
Challenging.
But no response came.
In the end, he just looked away.
And turned back to Astolfo.
The two stared at each other for a few seconds.
Then, unexpectedly, Cú relaxed his shoulders.
"I really didn't want it to end like this..."
he said, his voice lower, almost sincere.
"Sorry about your friend."
Without adding anything more, he turned around.
And began to walk in the opposite direction.
Leaving behind a devastated field... and a completely confused Rider.