My Fates Codex of Type-Moon Chapter 26

The man's tall, robust body was completely encased in armor, leaving no gaps. However, it was entirely different from Saber's silver armor or Archer's luxurious golden attire. The black armor worn by the man had no exquisite decorations, nor did it possess a polished sheen. It was merely a deep black, like endless darkness or a bottomless abyss. Even his face was covered by a hard steel mask, its features hidden.

The only thing visible were his eyes, burning like flames from within the slits of the mask, exuding an eerie radiance.

There was no doubt about it; this was a Servant.

But what kind of Heroic Spirit could possess such an ominous form? This black knight lacked the brilliant elements possessed by the Heroic Spirits that had already appeared.

Diarmuid, King of Knights Artoria, King of Conquest Iskandar, King of Heroes Gilgamesh—each possessed their own unique splendor, a point of pride for them as Heroic Spirits. This glory was called "legend," a condensation of collective admiration and aspiration, and a necessary element for them to become "Noble Phantasms."

Yet, this black knight who had just appeared possessed none of these elements. If anything, he seemed closer to Assassin. The darkness surrounding the black armor was entirely a "fluctuation of negative energy."

Perhaps that person wasn't a Heroic Spirit, but some kind of "vengeful spirit"...

"...Hey, King of Conquest. Why don't you invite him to join you?" Lancer's eyes were fixed on the black knight, not daring to let his guard down. Only his tone remained flippant as he teased Rider.

Rider, feeling teased, scowled. "Even if I wanted to invite him, that guy looks like he wouldn't be open to discussion from the start."

What emanated from the black knight was nothing but endless killing intent. Even the vortexes generated by magic seemed like the malevolent groans of lament.

Berserker... Everyone instinctively knew it was Berserker, without needing to ask. Such a ferocious aura of killing intent could only belong to a Berserker.

And...

"Look, I can't see him!" Waver stammered, staring at the black knight. "I can't see any of his stats or any other information!"

Not only Rider, but Saber, Lancer, and even Irisviel, who was watching from the sidelines, had noticed. No matter how closely they observed, they couldn't get a clear look at Berserker's appearance.

The black armor was like a blurred image, its outline always indistinct and hazy. At times, it even seemed to split into two or three shadows. It appeared that not only vision but even the Master's abilities were affected.

That Heroic Spirit must possess some special ability or curse that could delude enemies and hide his origins.

"Even the Master's abilities are useless?" Iskandar muttered. "A Berserker who can conceal his identity... The quality of this Holy Grail War is truly high."

At this moment, the black knight stood on the long street, meeting the gaze of the golden king perched on a lamppost.

And caught between them, the bloody Assassin lay on the cement ground like a mixture of solid and liquid, only intermittent twitches indicating he was enduring the pain of staying alive.

But soon, a golden spear pierced the Assassin's head, mercifully granting him death.

Gilgamesh, who had fired this Noble Phantasm, didn't even glance at his nominal "ally." Instead, he stared at the black knight, his eyes, more reptilian than human, harboring a volcanic rage.

Only he knew that Berserker's chilling gaze was directed solely at him, standing on the lamppost.

"You think I'll save him? Hmph, wishful thinking!"

The swords and spears floating around the King of Heroes slowly turned, their tips now aimed at Berserker, who had become the primary target.

"Mongrel. At least die with some dignity and entertain me."

Accompanied by Archer's chilling declaration, the spear and sword shot through the air.

To be able to fire weapons from his treasury without even touching them—this was likely why Gilgamesh was an Archer.

However, his treatment of Noble Phantasms was too casual, his rough throwing style almost like tossing stones, carelessly discarding and smashing the most important treasures of Heroic Spirits. Even so, his attacks possessed immense destructive power. The road buckled as if hit by an explosion, and shattered asphalt turned into dust, obscuring vision.

Everyone held their breath—because Berserker was defending, just like Sakutsuki, with a shield or similar weapon.

But when the dust settled, the slender black figure faintly emerged, proving Berserker was still alive.

At his feet, slightly shifted, the road was deeply gouged into a crater-like hole. This was the result of a spear, one of the weapons Archer had fired, missing its target and flying slower.

However, the sword, which should have hit the target earlier than the spear, caused no damage. That was because the sword was now held in Berserker's hand.

How many people even saw this exchange of attacks, which unfolded at divine speed? At the very least, Irisviel and Waver didn't even know what had happened.

The reality was—Berserker had effortlessly caught the sword fired in Archer's first attack and used the newly acquired weapon to block the second attack, the spear.

"...Is he really Berserker?" Lancer whispered nervously, while Rider grumbled in response, "For someone who's lost his mind, his skill is quite remarkable."

Even Sakutsuki, who had anticipated it, couldn't help but exclaim, "As expected of Endless Martial Arts, as expected of the Knight of the Lake."

Endless Martial Arts was the complete unification of mind, technique, and body, a peerless, exquisite martial art that could unleash one hundred percent of its combat capability under any mental control (including Mad Enhancement).

As the flower of the knights, unmatched in martial prowess at the Round Table, Lancelot's martial arts remained formidable even after transforming into Berserker.

"Really, even I'm getting fired up," Sakutsuki licked his lips, suddenly beckoning with both hands, and the Yin and Yang twin swords appeared in them.

Even though he only inherited Emiya's abilities, the twin swords known as "Gan Jiang and Mo Ye" were still the most comfortable weapons for Sakutsuki.

His white robe billowed, and the conceptual garment made of the Shroud of Magdalene replaced his kimono. The young man smiled and tied a red headband around his forehead.

A burning killing intent surged without hesitation towards the handsome man wielding the demonic spear, Lancer.

"What the..."

"What's going on?"

Waver and Irisviel took several steps back, hiding behind their Servants, their eyes wide with shock as they looked at Sakutsuki.

Disaster! A traitor has appeared among us!

Here's a Master who's eager to fight a Servant!

Even Diarmuid hadn't reacted, finding himself challenged by a Master. He stood stunned for a long moment before chuckling in annoyance:

"It seems I've been underestimated. Hey, little Master of whichever Heroic Spirit you are, you still have time to apologize properly before I get truly angry?"

Sakutsuki, fully armored, returned the smile, elegantly executing a knight's bow. "Please."

With an invitation offered in the spirit of chivalry, Diarmuid had no reason to refuse. Furthermore, his Master, Kayneth, had also issued a command:

"Kill him, Lancer."

"As you command, my liege." Diarmuid's smile turned bloodthirsty. His twin spears carved beautiful arcs through the air before he stepped forward, lunging towards Sakutsuki!

With all stats except Strength restored, Sakutsuki faced the charge fearlessly, his twin blades dancing as he met Lancer head-on!

"How did it come to this..." Waver lamented, watching the situation suddenly descend into chaos.

Triggered by Assassin's second elimination, the golden King clashed with the black-armored Knight. The Master, whose mortal body rivaled Servants, fought with his sword against the wielder of twin spears. As for the rest...

"There's no reason for us to fight, is there? King of Conquerors?" Artoria asked, sensing Iskandar's ill-intentioned gaze. She took a step back, shielding Irisviel, her words a veiled threat disguised as submission.

"Hmm, while I am tempted, now is not the time to fight you," the red-haired giant replied, shaking his head as he soothed his divine oxen. "Besides, kicking someone when they're down is not the act of a king."

Saber silently loosened her grip on her sword. Though the wound on her left hand had stopped bleeding, a lingering weakness prevented her from wielding it freely.

Worse still, her trump card... was now unusable because of it.

With both Master and Servant present, Rider and Saber tacitly suppressed their fighting spirit, silently observing the two ongoing battles and gathering necessary intelligence.

But how could one escape unscathed when caught in the midst of a battlefield?

The flames of war ignited between Archer and Berserker were the first to reach the Rider pair.

It began with Archer's volley, which Berserker effortlessly deflected. Adhering to the principle of "What is given must be returned," the Black Knight let out a low growl and suddenly drew a sword.

"What is this..." The golden King frowned in displeasure. "A fake?"

The sword was twisted and spiral-shaped. Its original color was tainted by Berserker's magic, its blackness streaked with crimson patterns.

Before Gilgamesh could utter another word, Berserker silently swung the sword. A torrent of black and red magic surged forth, transforming into a beam that shot towards the golden figure on the lamppost.

Gilgamesh had already lightly leaped before the iron pillar snapped, landing on the ground as if nothing had happened.

Ignoring the trajectory of the black beam, or rather, even if he knew it, the King of Heroes' objective remained unchanged.

"Damn you, you foolish wretch... to make me, who should gaze upon the heavens, stand upon the same earth as you!"

At this, his anger reached its peak. The deep vertical lines between Gilgamesh's brows made his beauty appear ferociously menacing.

"Such disrespect is unforgivable, even unto death. You mongrel, I will absolutely turn you to dust!"

As Archer declared his killing intent, another pair of Servants was also facing a crisis – whether intentionally or not, Rider was currently positioned directly in the line of fire between Gilgamesh and Lancelot!

The black energy cannon easily swallowed the lamppost and continued its trajectory towards Iskandar's chariot.

"Prepare to fall, boy!" With no time for explanations, Rider swung his hand, and the Gordius Wheel dissolved into magic. They, suspended in mid-air, began to plummet.

For Rider alone, facing such an attack, activating divine lightning would have been enough to negate it. But unfortunately, he had a small burden with him – Waver.

The impact generated by the clash between the energy cannon and lightning was something Waver's frail body could not withstand. Moreover, caught off guard, Waver hadn't even managed to cast a basic magical barrier.

"Waaahhh!" Accompanied by the sensation of falling and the terror of the black beam grazing his scalp, Waver shrieked as he plunged downwards.

Rider, meanwhile, was in a state of paralysis from the instant deactivation of his Noble Phantasm and the subsequent aerial suspension, unable to protect his overly tender Master.

This was an excellent opportunity!

As a Knight King who had weathered countless battles, Saber naturally recognized this opening. However, she merely twitched her palm, then turned her head with a placid expression, as if she had noticed nothing.

But while Servants were noble, it didn't mean her Master would miss the chance to strike while the iron was hot.

"The crosswind is strong, adjust the aim three grids to the left. Building wind, a vortex from three directions... adjust the aim one grid to the right, target locked."

Hidden in the shadows, with three Command Spells branded on his right hand, Saber's true Master, Kiritsugu Emiya, aimed at Waver's head and pulled the trigger.

The muzzle of the Walther WA2000 spat sparks.

This is a reference to which anime, I won't say (Heh).

The Walther WA2000 sniper rifle.

Initially designed for Olympic shooting competitions, its accuracy reached the level of the semi-automatic PSG-1 sniper rifle. As it has long been discontinued and only 176 units were produced, each unit is worth around ninety thousand US dollars.

For the Magus Killer, who was already an anomaly, this extraordinary weapon was a perfect match for him.

The 7.62mm bullet shot towards Waver's forehead. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, this tender magus's head would be easily pierced.

Even Waver himself, at that very instant, realized his impending doom.

Is this the end...?

Scenes from his past flashed by like a slideshow. In the end, Waver felt an urge to force a bitter smile.

His past was truly uninteresting, boring, and laughably childish.

To have come to participate in the Holy Grail War simply out of spite was like a runaway child stumbling into the middle of a war-torn Middle East – an undeniable act of seeking death.

Perhaps it was only in the face of death that one could gain enlightenment, but it was all too late.

The bullet tore through the air, and the kiss of death was mere inches away.

Then, a silver gleam pierced the air, arriving later but blocking the bullet in front of Waver.

"Bang!"

Sparks flew as the hard Sword of Cyprus deflected the bullet. The sword itself, due to the recoil, struck Waver's head, much like a certain King's "gentle" flick of the finger, jolting Waver awake from his deathly illusion.

"What are you spacing out for, kid? Hurry up and defend!" Iskandar shouted, maintaining the motion of throwing his short sword.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow!" Waver clutched a red mark on his forehead. Just as he cast a defensive magic, gunfire from a silenced submachine gun erupted from another direction.

An Assassin, and there was more than one!

Although the bullets from the Steyr AUG lacked the penetration power of the Walther WA2000, the overwhelming barrage was more than enough to shred a person's flesh.

"Why is it all coming at me!" Waver exclaimed, on the verge of collapse. Yet, he didn't give up resisting easily. Gritting his teeth, he set up a new defensive magic.

Even though the layers of magic were easily torn apart by the bullets from modern firearms, it still bought Waver enough time.

"Thump." A heavy sound, like a scale weight hitting the ground, clearly indicated this force was beyond Waver's frail body. The next moment, Waver felt the wind whistle past. Rider, who landed before him, scooped him up by the waist, shielding him within his broad chest. Rider then drew his short sword, his expression fierce as he swept it towards the hail of bullets.

The moment Iskandar shielded him, Waver felt an unprecedented sense of security. But he quickly regained his senses and realized the problem: without using his Noble Phantasm, Iskandar was merely a more robust ancient soldier. How could he possibly emerge unscathed from modern firearms!

"Rid—" The word caught in his throat as Waver's pupils contracted, his mind stolen by the splashing blood.

While the Sword of Cyprus did deflect many of the projectiles for Rider, Iskandar was ultimately a king who conquered with his army, not a warrior whose martial skill reached divinity. He couldn't possibly block all thirty bullets.

For the remaining crisis, the red-haired giant chose a simple method to block.

That muscular arm was thick enough, like a small shield, sufficient to block the less powerful rain of bullets.

And so, flesh and blood splattered. The Conqueror King's arm was left with over a dozen horrifying holes, even smoking as it oozed.