Movement of Darkness

Night.

It was the time when the clock struck the darkest hour of the night, when even the plants and trees were sound asleep. Throughout history, this time has been regarded as a forbidden hour when demons roam and spirits wander. It is a time that cannot be defined as late at night or early in the morning, and there is virtually no one who ventures outside during this hour.

No, in the current city of Fuyuki, the number of people outside at this time is literally zero. There is not a single person foolish enough to wander the streets at night without any protection.

Naturally, this is to be expected, and yet it is also an abnormal sight. While it might be understandable in a remote countryside, Fuyuki City is a metropolis worthy of recognition. Normally, even during this time, there would be some signs of human presence. However, now there is not even a trace of a cat. The only thing that fills the streets at night is an oppressive silence.

And rightfully so. No ordinary person would willingly venture into danger. Even without any logical explanation, the residents of Fuyuki City instinctively sense the impending crisis.

The increasing number of gas leaks.

Numerous cases of disappearances.

Unexplained object breakages.

Suspicious individuals wandering the streets at night.

Various news reports about these incidents. If it were just one or two, they could be dismissed as rumors and laughed off, but when they start to pile up, it is undoubtedly abnormal. The ominous atmosphere steadily drains the vitality from the city. Although it is gradual, this city is unquestionably on the path to destruction.

People have started avoiding going outside even during the daytime, so there is no reason for anyone to be out and about in the middle of the night. Therefore, at this hour, there is nothing present in the territory of Fuyuki City except darkness.

...Or so it should be.

"Damn, this is bad. Whatever that thing is, it doesn't seem like anything good."

A carefree voice resounds in a city devoid of any human presence.

The nocturnal city. The only slender figure that stands tall amidst the darkness.

Adorned in protective runes, wielding a crimson spear in his right hand. He is undoubtedly the Servant called Lancer, the great hero of Celtic mythology, Cu Chulainn.

"Hmph. Looks like it's trying to lure me in, whatever it is. It's not my hobby to jump into traps willingly..."

The man mutters as he casually twirls his blood-colored spear in his palm, leaning his back against a tile. Despite lounging on the roof of a residential building in such a vulnerable manner, there is not a trace of vulnerability about him.

"Fight them all but don't kill them." That seems to be the order. What a bothersome restriction they've put on me.

"But... I don't know what that guy is thinking, but it's my pride to get the job done. Well, I guess I'll have to do some work..." he says, sighing.

Lancer rises reluctantly from the tile roof where he had been reclining. As always, his body exudes no sense of vigor. If he didn't have his spear, one might wonder why he bothered to get up, as he appears overwhelmed by weariness.

However, he is an ancient hero. A Servant whose purpose is to wield his spear, fight, and emerge victorious. When he moves, there is only one thing he must accomplish.

In a mere instant, Lancer's demeanor subtly changes. His eyes, tinged with the blood of gods, narrow, and a faint strength fills the arm that grips his Noble Phantasm. The aura emanating from his enlarged physique is befitting of a true hero.

But there's something off about it. As he himself stated, he was given orders only to gather intelligence on the enemy. While he was commanded to engage with the enemy, he was also instructed not to kill. Therefore, there is no reason for him to engage in futile combat. As the role assigned to Lancer is that of a scout to assess the enemy's strength, there is no need for him to stand out in such an obvious location. He could simply hide in the shadows and observe.

I suspected it might be a chant for a grand spell or preparation for activating a Noble Phantasm, but it's taking too long. Besides, there's no reason to use such a trump card without any traps.

It's not an attack, not scouting, not preparation. That leaves only a few possibilities.

Lancer has made several attempts to approach the woman. However, every time, she keeps her distance. When he thinks she's trying to escape, she maintains a certain distance and refuses to budge. It's as if she's trying to gauge Lancer's movements by standing there motionless.

Conversely, whenever Lancer creates distance, the woman closes the gap immediately. Of course, with Lancer's agility, he can easily shake off any other Servant, but that would serve no purpose. After all, as the man known as the Hound of Culann's reputation suggests, fleeing is not an option for him.

In that case, there is only one path left for Lancer. To pursue that Servant who clearly beckons him and willingly walk into the enemy's trap.

Certainly, it is a last resort, but Lancer himself does not consider it reckless. He is accustomed to unfavorable battles, and overcoming any kind of trap is the pride of a heroic spirit. Even though his abilities are restricted, as a Servant specialized in survival, he will prevail in any situation.

"Ah, damn it! I came here for a fight, not to exterminate yokai!" Lancer muttered with frustration before leaping into action. With his exceptional physical strength and remarkable agility, he closed the distance between himself and the enemy Servant with just one leap.

...However, this distance was not one that could be closed in an instant, even for the swiftest of Servants.

Indeed, as soon as the spearman made his move, the tall figure standing on top of the building began to move away from Lancer, seemingly trying to escape. By the time Lancer landed on the rooftop, the mysterious enemy had already moved to the top of an electric pole.

This Servant simply repeated its movements without showing any sign of drawing its weapon or launching an attack, only to move around. Lancer found this behavior eerie and let out an annoyed click of his tongue.

"Oh, I see. Looks like this monster has fast legs. Let me enjoy how far it can escape from me for a bit."

Lancer leaped once again, and the woman also jumped, widening the distance between them once more.

Lancer pursued relentlessly, while the enigmatic Servant continued to evade. Their monotonous movements gradually turned into an intense chase.

The two extraordinary beings raced through the dark streets of the city, leaping over houses, running through parks, and sprinting along the roads. Their strange game of cat and mouse as Servants continued without an end in sight.

However, as with everything in this world, this game was also headed towards its conclusion.

The reason was simple and clear. The pursuer had greater speed than the one being pursued.

Servants of Lancer's class required high agility, and among them, Cu Chulainn was one of the greatest spear users. Despite the decrease in his abilities due to the decline in faith, the limitation imposed by command spells, and the inadequacy of his Master's abilities, his agility remained top-class. There was no reason for him to be inferior to ordinary Heroic Spirits.

On the other hand, the Servant being pursued did not possess such great speed. While faster than average, it fell short of the speed of a great hero. Therefore, unless some means were employed, the Servant being pursued could never escape from Lancer.

The distance between them closed, but it was still far from the striking distance. In that case, Lancer decided to accelerate even further, fully aware that he would be disobeying orders. His instinct warned him that he should defeat that Servant here and now. Following his warrior's intuition, he had resolved to finish off the enemy tonight.

As Lancer closed in, the woman's speed began to decline. Whether it was due to her running out of magical energy or some other strategy, it didn't matter. Lancer targeted her back and dashed towards her with his spear.

...Soon, the mysterious Servant came to a halt. Lancer also stopped, putting the brakes on his own movement.

"Tch. Another shabby place. It's unbearable with all the grudges and grievances echoing. I didn't know what happened, but it's making me sick."

Lancer looked around his surroundings. Despite cornering his prey, a clear expression of displeasure appeared on his face.

And rightly so. There was no reason for him, an ethereal being, not to feel anything in a place that even ordinary people avoided.

...The site of the former civic hall.

The scars from the fire that ravaged Fuyuki ten years ago still remained. Despite numerous investigations, the cause of the fire remained unknown, making it a true disaster that struck Fuyuki. The number of casualties reached hundreds, and many were left with lasting aftereffects. Countless buildings were reduced to ashes, and the total damage was comparable to a natural disaster. In fact, it was a disaster in itself.

This place, believed to be the source of the fire, was imbued with the curses and grudges of the hundreds of people burned alive. Isolated from the peaceful outside world, this park had become a kind of unique bounded field.

And this place was also where the decisive battle of the Holy Grail War ten years ago took place. For those who knew this, it seemed like nothing more than a cruel twist of fate that Servants were gathering in this place once again.

"You've led me to an unpleasant place, without a doubt. I don't know what happened here, but I feel sick."

"But I suppose it's pleasant for you, isn't it? It seems to be the entertainment of monsters to feast on human delusions."

Lancer's cold words were delivered with a mocking tone. However, the woman in black remained motionless, still crouched slightly as if observing Lancer's actions. In that case, where did the barrage of throwing daggers come from?

The darkness trembled. Something was definitely standing among the trees. No, was it on top of a tree? In that location, it would have a clear view of the entire park.

...An ominous moon. A white skull laughed in the pitch-black sky.

"Ha...!"

The battle began in an instant.

The white skull remained silent as it unleashed a barrage of dagger bullets like rain. The black-clad woman also drew chain-like daggers from the void.

A deluge of dagger projectiles rained down, concealed among the trees in the park, as the two extraordinary beings moved swiftly. The eerie chain-like daggers that mowed down the darkness in all directions were almost impossible to dodge. The relentless onslaught of bullets, each aimed at a vital point, posed a threat that went beyond mere intimidation.

Moreover, this was a land shrouded in darkness where even moonlight could not reach. The blackened daggers, different in shape from ordinary swords, were undoubtedly difficult to deal with, even for a Saber-class Servant.

...However.

"Fool. Do you think something like that would work on me?"

The embodiment of heroes, the Servant, is the one who defies such logic. The battlefields traversed by heroic spirits are not something so easily dealt with.

The thrown knives, the chain swords tracing inexplicable trajectories - Lancer parries, blocks, cuts, and deflects them all. His composure is abnormal, surpassing the lurking shadows.

When facing an opposing Servant, this outcome can be predicted if only one of them is the opponent. Despite being bound by numerous constraints, Cu Chulainn is a great hero with high skill and noble lineage. There is no reason for him to lag behind a Servant who can barely be called a heroic spirit.

However, the current situation is two against one. Outnumbered, lacking advantageous terrain, and having lost the initiative, it is a struggle for Lancer to even hold his ground. Once he stepped into the trap, defeat was virtually assured from the beginning. All that remained was to be slowly tormented to death.

...Or so it seemed.

"So, that's the Assassin over there, and that monster is the Rider's Servant. What a pain in the ass, having to deal with these troublesome fellows."

While calmly surveying his surroundings, the blue spearman knocks down one deathly blade after another. With a flick of his wrist, he deflects the swarm of swords with his magical lance.

...None of them hit. Not a single one of the many daggers or the intense barrage of projectiles has landed on Lancer.

They weren't avoided or parried. All the bullets that should have been impossible to dodge were nullified by Lancer.

This was an obvious abnormality. It was inconceivable for him to block and nullify bullets using only his spear, without even resorting to armor or a shield. After all, polearm weapons are not meant for defense. The advantage of their reach is accompanied by the disadvantage of being unable to defend against attacks closer to the wielder.

Then why is it that this man can effortlessly fend off the thrown daggers and chain swords from outside his field of vision?

"And it seems like there's more to it than this. Dealing with them any longer is troublesome... I think it's about time to finish this."

Lancer clicks his tongue. His intellect has already deciphered the true identity of the enemy.

Until this night, Lancer has fought and drawn with four Servants: Caster, Berserker, Saber, and Archer. Including himself, he has already confirmed the existence of five heroic spirits.

That means there are only two remaining classes: Rider and Assassin. While irregular classes have existed in the past, Lancer has heard from his Master that only the seven basic classes were summoned in this Holy Grail War. So these two must be the respective Servants of those classes.

The skull-like spirit specializing in killing is the Servant of Assassin.

The mysterious woman shrouded in black is the Servant of Rider.

The fact that two sets of Servants are allied or in a cooperative relationship is unexpected to Lancer, but it is not surprising. These two, who are clearly inferior in terms of power, would likely find it difficult to win the Holy Grail War on their own. It's not strange for them to form a cooperative relationship.

In fact, even if they continue to fight, Lancer doesn't see a future where he loses. He surpasses his opponents with his sheer skill and has already overcome the traps set by the assassination swords. He knows full well who will be left standing in the end.

More than their skill or attributes, these two are well-suited opponents for Lancer. The reason lies in their attack methods.

At a glance, both Assassin and Rider primarily rely on projectiles. Assassin shoots knives from a distance, while Rider manipulates chain swords from mid-range. Against multiple multi-angle attacks concealed in the darkness, an average Servant might have been killed. But this Servant called Lancer boasts an unparalleled advantage when it comes to dealing with projectiles.

One of his innate abilities, the Protection from Arrows. If it is a thrown weapon, it nullifies all visible attacks from the opponent—an inherent special ability. Unless an extraordinary Noble Phantasm is used, projectiles from within Lancer's line of sight won't work.

"Ki...!"

With a strange cry, Assassin launches another wave of throwing attacks. Her eerie white mask dashes through the gaps between the trees.

Six thrown knives are released. They aim for the forehead, both eyes, abdomen, and both legs. With precision that could pass through the eye of a needle, the simultaneous flashes of the swords possess an unprecedented sharpness. If he doesn't deflect all the attacks at once, the blue spearman has no future.

Facing imminent death in a second. Faced with the blade that cannot be avoided... the fierce hound of Clan Cu Chulainn wears a smile filled with fighting spirit.

"Wha...t!?"

Assassin is astonished. Her precise and unmatched movements freeze for an instant in mid-air. The hidden eyes within the skull stare at an unbelievable sight.

"You think it's over with just this?!"

Despite being attacks that cannot be evaded or defended against, this heroic spirit effortlessly surpasses them all.

As he lands, he rotates his spear widely, knocking down all the thrown knives. Although he is concealed in the darkness, the positions from which the knives are thrown can be easily predicted. The problem is that the enemy is also constantly moving.

"If that's the case, I just need to jump to where the projectiles are launched the moment they are fired."

In the sky, where free movement is impossible, even if he can move his body, as long as he assumes a human form, there will be a brief moment of vulnerability when he touches the ground. In that moment, while facing the imminent threat of the opponent's sword thrust into his back, it is only natural for Rider to rush forward.

"Before attempting to take my life, you should take a good look at your opponent..."

Lancer had anticipated this, and it was also inevitable.

Bursting flames.

As if protecting Lancer's back, flames suddenly erupt from the ground. The heat and light are so intense that it could be mistaken for daylight, disrupting Rider's sensory organs.

If it were just ordinary flames, there would be no reason to be concerned. Physical attacks have no meaning against spiritual bodies. Even if the flames were as hot as the heat generated by a nuclear weapon, they would not burn the skin of a Servant.

However, the flames currently blazing transcend the laws of the mortal world. They possess a technique that even Rider, who has resistance to magic, cannot ignore. In an instant, Rider retreats and pierces the sky, and a crimson spear sweeps through the space where the woman's head was just a second ago. The strike that should have severed Rider's head only manages to scrape her skin.

"Tch. You've got quite the intuition."

Lancer's feet touch the ground as he lands. The spearman who effortlessly repelled the Assassin without even receiving a scratch regains his footing with a light and agile movement. Assassin, who was struck in the face, is unlikely to immediately get up. This composure in the face of adversity could be seen as the arrogance of a strong individual.

However, the enemy Lancer is facing is not just one person. It is the Servant of Rider, a woman wrapped in black. It is inconceivable for someone who could be called a Heroic Spirit to miss such an opportunity.

During the instant when Lancer lands, there is a brief moment of vulnerability. Even if she could move her body in mid-air, since she assumes a human form, she cannot avoid vulnerability the moment she touches the ground. In that moment, it is only natural for Rider to thrust her sword into his back.

"Before attempting to take my life, you should take a good look at your opponent..."

Lancer's words echoed through the air, and the flames erupted around him, protecting his back. The flames surged from the ground, engulfing the area. The intensity of the flames, resembling daylight, bewildered Rider's senses.

If it were just ordinary flames, there would be no reason for concern. Physical attacks hold no meaning against spiritual bodies. Even flames with the heat of a nuclear explosion would not scorch the skin of a Servant.

However, the flames before them transcended the laws of this world. They possessed a technique that even Rider, with her resistance to magic, could not ignore. In an instant, Rider retreated and pierced the sky, while a crimson spear swept through the space where her head had been just moments before. The strike that should have beheaded Rider only grazed her skin.

"Tch. You've got quite the intuition."

Lancer landed firmly on the ground. The spearman, who had effortlessly repelled Assassin without a scratch, regained his balance with a light and nimble movement. It was unlikely that Assassin, who had been struck in the face, would immediately rise. This composure in the face of adversity could be seen as the overconfidence of a strong individual.

However, the enemy Lancer faced was not just one person. It was the Servant of Rider, a woman cloaked in black. It was inconceivable for someone who could be called a Heroic Spirit to miss such an opportunity.

During the instant Lancer landed, there was a fleeting moment of vulnerability. Even if she could move in mid-air, the moment she touched the ground as a human form, she would inevitably expose a slight opening. Naturally, it was an opportunity for Rider to thrust her sword into his back.

"I told you, didn't I? Projectiles won't work well on me... And I believe I also said this."

Rising flames. From behind the flickering smoke, the voice of a spearman resonates lowly. In response to the enemy's voice, Rider reveals her wariness.

── Cu Chulainn. His expertise extends beyond just spears.

According to the legends, he learned martial arts and was bestowed with a magic spear in the Land of Shadows. In that place, it is said that he also studied magecraft along with various martial arts.

Carving symbols to manifest mysteries, an ancient art. Lancer has completely mastered the primordial eighteen runes of magecraft. His skill surpasses modern magicians by far and even possesses the aptitude of a Caster Servant.

To deceive Rider, Lancer carved the runes of Ignis Annas into existence. In an instant, he created a wall of flames that would make even Rider, who has resistance to magecraft, cautious.

While attacking Assassin, he deliberately showed an opening.

A trap to protect his vulnerable back and incinerate the intruding enemy.

A spear strike through the wall towards the hindered enemy.

What is commendable is whether Lancer, who came up with three-layered traps in an instant, or Rider, who skillfully dodged them purely on instinct.

The wall of flames vanishes. Emerging from the smoldering smoke, the unscathed Lancer appears. As their magic spears and chain swords are pointed at each other, the two Servants confront each other at a distance.

Rider remains vigilant. Though she doesn't show any emotions, pure enmity can be seen in her beautiful countenance. Rider understands well that this enemy cannot be easily defeated.

On the other hand, Lancer observes Rider as he sways the tip of his spear. Unconsciously swaying the tip of his weapon, a high-level tactic that confuses the enemy's gaze. The unconscious display of skill tells the tale of how superior a warrior Lancer is.

"Only one of you remains. Shall I quickly end this before any more troublesome ones show up──"

Lancer charges swiftly. His speed rivals that of a falcon, befitting the swiftest Heroic Spirit. Caught off guard by his overwhelming agility, Rider's reaction is slightly delayed.

Rider raises her dagger with difficulty. However, her countermeasure is rather foolish. A single flash of the spear, swung horizontally, strikes her body, disregarding her clumsy defense.

A faint groan escapes her lips. Uttering a cry of agony, Rider is thrown to the side. Though she avoided a fatal blow, Lancer's strike, fueled by his weight and centrifugal force, violently jolted Rider's organs.

Unable to halt her momentum, Rider skids along the ground. This single blow has determined the outcome. It is impossible for the thrown-off Rider to evade Lancer's pursuit.

However, Lancer does not move. Though it is an excellent opportunity to slay the enemy, he lacks the authority to do so.

The order imposed upon him is to fight the enemy but not to kill. It is an inexplicable command that goes against reason, but as a Servant bound by a Command Spell, Lancer must obey the given instructions. Therefore, while he can freely engage in combat, he cannot unleash a deadly blow against an unfamiliar opponent.

No, if he were to force it, he could still manage to deliver a single blow. If the opponent were alone, it wouldn't be a bad idea to use it as a decisive strike. However, as he defies the Command Spells, the burden on Lancer's body increases. Though he cannot return to the frontlines just yet, engaging with Assassin's Servant and more will lead to a decline in his abilities that will ultimately result in his own demise. Therefore, the timing to unleash his magic spear must be carefully measured.

"Even though there are two of you, this is all you can do? Neither of you can even compare to Saber, let alone Archer."

A cold contempt is spat out. Assassins who lurk in the darkness, seeking to slit throats, relying on numbers and traps, are nothing more than obstacles to this Heroic Spirit who desires a straightforward battle.

Covered in blood, lurking in the shadows, a dark existence. Incompetent skills that can't even exchange a single blow, relying on numbers and traps. None of these are compatible with Cu Chulainn.

The Servants he has fought so far, though different in class, were all formidable opponents.

The Berserker, whose very existence is akin to a disaster, a half-god like himself.

The Caster who calmly wields ancient magecraft and showers the enemy with cannon-like grand sorceries.

The Saber who uses ancient magecraft to conceal herself and boasts supreme Noble Phantasms and overwhelming power.

The Archer who, with only his keen eyes, opposed him and even defended against his magic spear.

Everyone, without exception, was a Servant worthy of competing against Cu Chulainn, who manifested on the battlefield. Though it is regrettable that he couldn't fight with his full power in the first battle due to the constraints of the Command Spells, once it becomes the second battle, those restrictions will be lifted. Cu Chulainn eagerly awaits the moment when he can confront them with his true power. That anticipation is directed equally towards the two Servants he has yet to encounter.

── Nevertheless. Assassin and Rider have both been disappointing to Cu Chulainn.

To be frank, Cu Chulainn was thoroughly disappointed. While he cannot let his guard down as they have yet to reveal their Noble Phantasms, both of these Servants are inferior to Cu Chulainn in terms of ability and skill. Moreover, their reliance on underhanded tactics not only leaves him disappointed but even angry.

"How dull. If you really wanted to fight me properly, you should have shown your Noble Phantasm already.

── But well, if you want to continue fighting like this, I don't mind. No matter how much you struggle, it will be over by the next attack."

Cu Chulainn narrows his eyes. At that moment, the very space begins to groan.

The face of the man who had sighed and showed disdain. Now, it is filled with a killing intent to crush the enemy.

"Ku──!"

Rider assumes a stance. However, she is well aware of her own disadvantage.

Even so, if she doesn't fight, she will die. If that happens, her cherished wish──to save the young girl who is her Master──will never be fulfilled. That is something Rider cannot tolerate.

Then, how can she achieve victory against him? Ironically, similar to Cu Chulainn, Rider is restrained, unable to fully exert her power. Without that, there is no way she should be so overwhelmed, but the reality is that she is cornered.

With abilities and skills that are simply inferior, her only remaining means are the unveiling of her Noble Phantasms. But even if she were to use them, can she resist this Heroic Spirit?

"Fine, if I don't block it, I'll die──!"

For Cu Chulainn, Rider's contemplation is irrelevant. Flash after flash bursts forth unceasingly, with the intention of slaying the enemy.

His speed surpasses even Assassin's throwing. Equalling Saber and overpowering Archer, Cu Chulainn's spear handling, which had once again manifested tonight, is swift.

Anticipating that she can't withstand it, Rider evades. The red trajectory aims for her arm as it leaps to the side. The tip grazes her, and crimson droplets dance in the dark night.

Ignoring the graze, the woman flips her purple hair and leaps. If Assassin is a spider that rules the night, then she is akin to a serpent. Utilizing her flexibility and instant acceleration to the utmost, Rider avoids a future of death.

Coolly and accurately, Cu Chulainn presses her. Even if she weaves feints and aims for vital points from any angle, Rider's attacks are nullified by the swaying of the spear's tip. Conversely, Cu Chulainn's attacks, no matter how casual, possess a weight that jars Rider's bones simply by receiving them.

It would be cruel to attribute this to Rider's lack of power. On the contrary, her ability to withstand him to this extent, in front of such a great Hero, is an admirable feat.

From the start, Rider, as a mounted warrior, is not someone who fights with her own sword. Her way of fighting is to ride and control divine beasts, magical beasts, tanks, battleships, and bury the enemy with the power of her mounts. Furthermore, Rider is ill-suited against Lancer. Being a non-combatant, Rider has never undergone formal combat training. In addition to fighting solely with her own capabilities, Rider does not possess the appropriate tactics to employ.

On the other hand, Lancer, as an unquestionable hero who received guidance from the Queen of Shadows, Scáthach, has acquired numerous martial arts. A true hero who repelled armies single-handedly and repeatedly defeated monstrous creatures, his skill, which fights purely on instinct, cannot be compared to enemies who rely solely on instinct.

Performance gap. Skill gap. Weapon gap. Bad compatibility.

Difference in experience. Surpassing the boundary of death. Navigating through the battlefield. Instantaneous judgment.

In every aspect, Rider is inferior to Lancer. Therefore, the outcome is inevitable.

"Ahh, ah... guh..."

With a cry of pain, Rider's body slides along the ground. She couldn't fully defend against the strike from above, and the blow from Lancer's spear shatters her shoulder, leaving her crawling on the ground in a pitiful state.

Attempting to stand up and take a defensive stance, Rider's movements are clearly lacking in vitality. Her eyes, covered by an eyepatch, show not only pain but also signs of exhaustion.

"Hmph. It seems we both have unnecessary restraints. With that, you won't be able to unleash your full power.

I don't know what kind of Master you have, but they must be quite foolish. Your power is not limited to that extent."

Lancer toys with his spear in one hand and advances step by step. Despite appearing completely at ease, the fighting spirit emanating from his entire body shows no signs of diminishing.

Despite Rider's efforts to gather strength and rise, her crushed shoulder and insufficient magical energy make it futile. In her current state, there is no way she can stop Lancer's advance.

Easily reaching the critical range, Lancer prepares to activate his deadly strike. Looking down coldly at Rider, who is crouched on the ground, he shows no hesitation in decapitating her--

-- But then, numerous throwing knives rain down on his back.

"What?!"

The sound of projectiles tearing through the air. For Lancer, who has low luck, being able to detect them is an unexpected stroke of luck.

The spear he was about to swing at Rider makes a 180-degree turn. Swinging it behind him, he thrusts his lance forward to deflect the knives. The decision was undoubtedly correct, but it is meaningless as he was caught completely off guard. Two throwing knives aimed at his heart and neck are blocked, but two more pierce his left shoulder and right leg.

"Che--!"

Puzzled, Lancer immediately activates his healing rune. The wounds are enveloped in a faint light, and the blood that was flowing out stops. Dodging further knives raining down on him as if in pursuit, he jumps high into the air.

The man who lands gracefully stares into the darkness with eyes that seem to say he can't figure out what just happened. There is only one person who could have thrown those knives, and he had just dealt a powerful blow to Assassin moments ago. Unless he has a powerful means of recovery, he shouldn't be able to move for a while due to the impact and concussion--

Lancer's gaze falls upon the trees in the distance. Standing there is undeniably a skull mask with a smile.

However, cracks run through the mask that was struck by Lancer's fist. Upon closer inspection, even his hands and feet are slightly trembling. It is indeed evidence that he was struck by Lancer's blow.

"Well, looks like they're high on some kind of drug. Using hashish, what an uncouth tool."

Without recovering or defending, the only plausible explanation is that they are moving while ignoring the pain. If he looks to the side, he can see that Rider, who was lying on the ground, has also somehow recovered. Her unsteady gait and her left shoulder hanging weakly are proof of the extensive damage she suffered. But as Servants, they should not be fatally wounded by this level of damage.

Lancer is nearly unscathed in contrast to the two near-death Servants. Although he took a direct hit from the throwing knives, for him, who has mastered rune magic, healing wounds is a piece of cake. If it were a fatal injury, it could be a different story, but he can heal hand and leg injuries even if they are poisoned. The balance has greatly tilted in Lancer's favor, and there seems to be no sign of it swinging back.

"I have to give you credit for still coming at me with such determination. But you should have chosen someone more susceptible to traps.

-- Of course, that's assuming there will be a next time."

The magic power runs through Lancer's spear with a roar. It is undoubtedly the prelude to activating his Noble Phantasm.

Assassin and Rider prepare themselves against the raging magical power that even creates winds. However, in front of this demonic spear, their efforts are futile. Before they can reach the assassins, they must defeat the spellcaster. They have no means to surpass this other than defeating one of them in a single blow before Gáe Bolg, the "Piercing Spear of Death Thorn," is unleashed.

Lancer, despite forcing himself to go against his master's orders, can only release his Noble Phantasm once. But with that one strike, he can kill one of the two.

As a consequence of defying his orders, his status will likely deteriorate even further, but there is no reason to fall behind against severely injured opponents. He will slay one of them with a single blow and bury the other. Tonight's battle may have been disappointing, but the achievement of being able to eliminate two Servants is significant.

Without any carelessness or openings, Lancer channels his magical power into his crimson spear. His stance, as if crouching on the ground, is for both charging forward and activating his spear simultaneously. With Lancer's instantaneous speed, he can close the distance in the blink of an eye. Even if they try to escape now, Assassin and Rider won't be able to get away.

"Gáe--"

The true name is invoked. In the face of this threat, Assassin and Rider attempt to resist with a barrage of throwing knives.

But it's too late. Before their blades can reach, Lancer's spear annihilates them. Gáe Bolg, the anti-personnel Noble Phantasm, requires only a moment for activation.

Lancer rises from the ground. With his acceleration power, which reaches top speed in an instant, he aims to pierce the white skull.

Lancer targets Assassin. While Rider is an unknown entity, considering the potential future trouble, it was a judgment to defeat the assassin first.

Only one verse remains until the Noble Phantasm is unleashed. Fearing Lancer or trying to escape, Assassin leaps toward his heart--

"--Death Thorn Bol--!?"

In that moment, as he runs on the ground and tries to release his Noble Phantasm, Lancer instinctively jumps back, feeling a chill running down his spine.

"What the hell is this?!"

Lancer hovers in the air. The place where he was just a second ago.

--And there, standing, was a shadow.

An endlessly black, nightmarish beast.

A creature of darkness that surpasses even the darkness of Assassin and Rider. Its lack of substance, reminiscent of a jellyfish, combined with the feeling of dwelling in the sea, gives it an otherworldly presence.

This thin, long entity exudes an intense aura of death. Describing it as a shadow is the only way to explain this mysterious being that appeared suddenly without any warning.

"────This is..."

The tallest tree in the square, which was in his left hand. Lancer, who jumped to the top of it, shudders at the unknown nature of it.

Looking down, in the space where he was about to swing his spear, there are shapeless black tentacle-like entities squirming.

In the distant past, in a world still filled with mysteries, he traveled through the realm of shadows and defeated countless monsters. Kuu

Even Cu Chulainn had never seen anything like that. However, even a first-time observer could understand it. That was undoubtedly the embodiment of death surpassing even Berserker.

If Lancer had activated his Noble Phantasm as it was, he would have undoubtedly died. Before the spear could burst forth, it would have pierced his own heart. After all, that thing didn't even let its presence be known until the moment of its appearance. If it had been hiding from the beginning, its stealthiness surpassed even Assassin's presence concealment.

Perhaps realizing that its prey had escaped, the eerie tentacles squirmed. Dancing around as if searching their surroundings, they all simultaneously turned towards Lancer and stopped, as if indicating that they had found their prey.

Lancer assumed his stance at the top of the tall tree. How that mysterious shadow sensed him by any means was a mystery, but the shadow approached smoothly. The countless limbs made soft sounds as they moved.

"--"

The air freezes. The ground trembles. The entire park itself is trembling in fear of its presence.

Something never seen before.

Without a definite shape, swaying aimlessly, yet undeniably real.

Without intelligence, without reason, and without even the possibility of emotions. In the first place, it does not belong within the framework of life. But since it is here, it is undoubtedly alive.

"--"

Headless, formless, without even a sense of existence. And yet, it had undoubtedly captured Lancer.

"--"

Unreachable. That shadow doesn't have a physical form, it simply exists. There's no way it could capture Lancer, who sits atop the tree several dozen meters high.

And yet, this spine-chilling feeling. It is the fear of death that he has felt countless times in his lifetime. Wasn't this the premonition that struck him when he fell into the witch's trap?

"--"

Then, there is only one answer. That entity is 'death' itself to him. No, not just to him. It is the natural enemy of anything referred to as a Servant. That is what Lancer firmly believed at that moment.

When he realizes it, the figures of Assassin and Rider, who were standing on the ground just moments ago, are no longer there. They must have retreated early to escape that monster.

It's regrettable that he let the wounded Servants escape, but their survival takes precedence over the life or death of others. For now, ensuring Lancer's own safety is the priority.

"--"

What is its objective? That is evident. Since both Assassin and Rider, who are fellow Servants, disappeared simultaneously, there is only one possibility. That shadow is likely something that targets Servants themselves.

Lancer has no way of knowing why something that is neither a Master nor a Servant would target Servants. He only has the intuition that if he is captured by it, he will be swallowed up.

Is he safe because he is up in the tree? That's not the case. There's no way that something capable of freezing the air to this extent just by existing in the same space would be an easy enemy. If he doesn't retreat immediately, he won't be able to see the morning sun.

"--"

"What... is that monster? I've seen enough. Maybe it's time to withdraw."

The deep-sea beast advances step by step. Lancer cannot escape. No matter where he descends in this space, he will be captured by the shadow the next moment. If that happens, his fate is nothing but death.

"--"

But do not underestimate the shadow of darkness. This man is a Servant specialized in survival. If this is the extent of a crisis, he will never become a hero!

He engraves the strengthening runes. With the magical spear, he builds up the mystical symbols in the blink of an eye, which enhance his own power. It is a simple effect, but with Lancer's skills, it is possible to improve various abilities in a short amount of time.

The shadow reaches the large tree. The tendrils run like the raised neck of a snake. With an elusive presence unimaginable from its thin existence, the demon tries to capture Lancer--

"Here we go!"

--In an instant, Lancer escaped a moment faster.

Using the technique of pole vaulting, Lancer supported himself on the spear lodged in a branch and leaped at once. The countless pursuing shadows only managed to cut through his afterimage.

The enhanced strength and speed rival even the madness of Heracles, if only for a short moment. If this space is a death trap, then he must escape from the space itself.

Having escaped from the shadows, Lancer not only clears the park but lands on the roof of a nearby house. The sinister hands that let their prey escape still linger there, licking the branch where Lancer was standing.

Looking up at them with cold eyes, Lancer, who had reached a safe zone, hoisted his trusty spear and turned his heel towards the darkening park.

"Goodbye. I don't know who or what you are, but I'll excuse myself from dealing with you."

Saying that, the ethereal spearman disappeared without a trace.

＊＊＊

"―So they escaped. It seems even with two against one, my eyes have grown old," the voice of a third party echoed in the eerie aftermath, as Lancer departed and the mysterious shadows disappeared, taking the wounded two Servants with them.

Smoothly, the darkness solidified. The mingled shadows transformed and coalesced into a human form. Whatever material composed that body, it was far from ordinary. Dust, mud, or poison.

―No, it was a swarm of insects, even darker than black.

"However, failing to defeat them is somewhat painful. Soon, the white vessel will be opened. But before that, there was something I wanted to take from here―"

Musing, the figure in the form of an old man contemplated.

He had known since ten years ago that this battle was far from ordinary. Therefore, he had prepared himself to forgo this battle from the beginning.

However, a few years ago, a slight, insignificant coincidence changed the old man's plans. No, it was more than that. Multiple gears entwined and altered the circumstances, changing the Holy Grail War itself. If even one situation had been different, it wouldn't have twisted this far.

Troublingly, at the surface level, the abnormality didn't appear too severe. The participants caught up in this abnormality had yet to show any signs of realization. Most likely, the majority of them would remain oblivious until the end.

In such a precarious situation, there was no way to open the "Gate." Even if it were opened, would they be able to reach what lay beyond?

"It's dangerous to be noticed by the white vessel. Before that, I must bring everything to an end."

If he alone had noticed the madness of this balancing act, it wouldn't have been a problem. However, at least one person would appear who realized this situation. Among them, she, who was both a "vessel" and deeply connected to the Holy Grail, had no reason to ignore this abnormality.

It was too late for that. If Einzbern intervened, the old man's calculations would crumble. With his weakened power, he would have no chance against a clan that had survived for over a thousand years. If he let this opportunity pass, the hands of Einzbern would undoubtedly reach him. Since the previous battle, the clan had shown no reservations in their methods. If they had a pretext to interfere with the Holy Grail, they would eagerly move to their advantage. In that case, all that awaited him in his state of decline was the two letters of defeat.

―Therefore, he would settle it in this battle. In the Fifth Holy Grail War, he would obtain the Holy Grail for himself.

For that purpose, he had laid various groundwork. For several years, this old man had been devoted to his stratagems, unnoticed by anyone.

What the cunning old man devised was the construction of a "vessel."

Originally intended to be used and discarded as an experiment, it far exceeded the old man's expectations. At this point, it could even be called flawless.

However, no matter how compatible the physical body was, the spirit of that thing proved unexpectedly resilient. Even if it could be satisfied with the slightest gap, it was an arduous task to move it as long as its will remained unyielding. In fact, according to the initial plan, reaching this stage would have taken much longer.

For ten years, it had been an experimental subject infiltrated and invaded by shards of the Holy Grail. Although it had undergone a complete transformation at the cellular level, it was still weak as a vessel.

That's when the old man played his trump card. He unhesitatingly implanted the magical device he had possessed for ten years, another fragment of the Holy Grail, into the experimental subject, even though it would likely leave them a vegetable.

As a result, as the old man had predicted, that thing withstood and simultaneously submitted to the seed of evil. Its spirit remained unbroken, but its body had completely transformed. No matter how much the mind resisted, there was nothing it could do if the body moved on its own. It was a drawback that it couldn't control what emerged, but that could be dealt with easily enough.

"The pieces are in place. Now, it's just a matter of assembling the other pieces―"

The old man contemplated which one to take. Having known almost the entire extent of the previous battle, the old man knew that, in terms of combat strength, the only one this man desired was none other than the Servant of Archer.

The fact that he, who would have been the greatest threat as the overseer's Servant, had become an inexperienced Servant unable to wield his full power was a stroke of great luck. With the power it possessed, it would easily sweep away the pieces he had gathered.

No, it wasn't just that. Even if all six of the other Servants were used, could they truly stand against that Heroic Spirit? The old man, who knew the true identity of the Golden Knight from the previous battle, couldn't fathom the depths of his power, even with his eyes that had lived for hundreds of years.

It was too risky to take it away. In all likelihood, before it could be controlled, their entire camp would be annihilated.

"―"

A faint voice. It was the weak voice that brought the old man back to reality from his contemplation.

"Hm?"

The old man tilted his head. However, he wore a smile that slid across his face as if it belonged there.

When did they start standing there? Hiding in the old man's shadow, they stood there as if cowering, asking a foolish question, "Do we have to defeat that person?"

"―"

Of course. If they couldn't take it, they would bury both the enemy's Servant and Master. What they had seized would fill the vessel that had asked that question.

There was no need to honestly convey that. However, if they were asked, the old man thought he would answer to that extent―after all, he was generous enough to do so. Of course, there was no reason to expect that the answer would be filled with goodwill.

Concealing his twisted delight, the youkai masked the surface with the guise of a kind old man.

"It is only natural for you to say that. This is also for the sake of my dear grandson. As a grandfather, I must allow him to take revenge―

Emiya's child, whom you know well, was targeted by that thing."

"Eh?" A small sound.

A disbelief, as if saying it was unbelievable. However, a slight... a change named hostility appeared in this space.

That was the only crack in its existence. It was the magic key of hope, capable of opening the sturdy door. And when that key was about to be lost, people feel fear above all else.

The flip side of fear is hatred. In the calm, fragile, yet above all sturdy heart of that being, the emotion of hatred infiltrated with just a single word. It was an invisible poison, deep and dark, never to appear on the surface.

Only the person themselves remained unaware. The old man, as the culprit, sensitively sensed the faint dissonance.

"―Ku."

The old man sneered. The evil youkai, filled with malice and distorted desires, laughed like insects.