The Swordswoman agreed with that statement. Her icy expression softened slightly, but her grip on the invisible sword did not loosen in the slightest. An unavoidable battle was about to begin.
But at this crucial moment, the Lancer's gaze shifted past the Swordswoman to the silver-haired, red-eyed woman behind her. The Swordswoman stepped forward and fixed the Lancer with a wary stare. "Can you tell me what you intend to do to my Master?"
Compared to Heroic Spirits whose names had been recorded in epics, Masters were undoubtedly fragile. Assassinating a Master was far easier than fighting another Servant.
"I bear that lady no ill will," the Lancer said in a low yet clear voice. "It is merely that my lord is greatly concerned with one Master in this Holy Grail War. That person is my lord's mortal enemy."
He spun his spear in a flourish, then reversed his grip and assumed a fighting stance. In a tone as if merely stating a fact, he said, "The facts prove that your Master is not that person."
"Are you looking down on us?" The chill in the Swordswoman's eyes deepened, as though invisible blades lay concealed within them. Without question, she had been angered. At that moment, she was like an awakening volcano, on the verge of spewing scorching flames.
Without hesitation, the Swordswoman attacked the Lancer. Her foot crushed pavement sturdy enough for heavy trucks to drive over, while the airflow stirred by her sword became a howling gale. The pressure created by her swing cleanly severed a streetlamp. It was clearly only an ordinary slash, yet it carried suffocating power.
Diarmuid, who had long been prepared, naturally did not retreat. He shifted aside, evading the Swordswoman's slash, then flicked his wrist and thrust out his spear at an equal, if not faster, speed, like a streaking rainbow.
For the Swordswoman, killing on the battlefield was as commonplace as a daily meal. Fighting enemies was as familiar as using a knife and fork. A colorless yet tangible barrier unfolded, and a violent gale howled around the sword blade, forcibly exerting tremendous force upon the Lancer's spear and knocking it off its original trajectory.
Boom! The spear, diverted from its course yet still carrying enormous force, effortlessly blasted through the concrete wall. Countless chunks of stone flew everywhere, and the metal siding on the warehouse's exterior peeled away like twisted tin foil. If one ignored the Lancer's presence, the scene was no different from an anti-tank cannon firing.
Saber naturally would not miss the moment when Lancer made a mistake. Gripping her sword with both hands, she surged forward to close the distance with Lancer. An inch longer, an inch stronger; an inch shorter, an inch more perilous. Though the spear held the advantage in reach, getting too close easily exposed openings. So long as she brought Lancer within the range of her sword, Saber would cut off his head.
Clang! Another collision rang out. The short spear in Lancer's other hand blocked the invisible sword—in the manner of a slash!
Saber was startled. She had thought his Twin Pistols were merely meant to confuse others, preventing them from discerning which was his true Noble Phantasm. Yet she had never expected him to use the short spear as a sword to block her attack.
Lancer's method of using a spear was entirely different from the spear techniques she remembered. Faintly, she could see the shadow of an exceptionally exquisite sword style within it. It was not difficult to tell that Lancer's true self was extraordinarily skilled with the sword, perhaps even more skilled than he was with the spear.
Who exactly was he? There were not many heroes in history who excelled at both swordsmanship and spearmanship.
Lancer was equally troubled. Though he had blocked Saber's attack, that block had been a struggle. Saber's sword was wrapped in wind; its length and the width of its blade were both unknown. Forcing himself to withstand such attacks was troublesome even for a battle-hardened Lancer.
Threatened by that sword, Lancer had to devote considerable focus to defense. The moment he attacked with all his strength, he would be in grave danger.
The two took a step back in tacit understanding. Both had realized how difficult their opponent was. If they did not act carefully, they could easily expose a flaw and meet their end on the spot.
That was how duels between masters worked: either three hundred exchanges without a clear victor, or one side lost their head within ten moves.
They watched each other. Just as they had retreated together earlier, they once again swung sword and spear, beginning an elegant yet deadly duel.
The worlds of legend and myth were thus recreated in the modern age. Their high-speed movements surpassed what human eyes could track, and outsiders could only feel the aftershocks of their battle. A frenzied storm ravaged the deserted shopping street, destroying and trampling everything in its path. A close-quarters battle between only two people could devastate an entire street.
The clash between sword and spear continued.
P.S. Combat scenes were still too difficult for a rookie like me. Writing them felt like squeezing toothpaste from a tube.
The Masters' Battle
"Monsters." Kiritsugu Emiya, hiding in the distance with an oddly shaped sniper rifle weighing over ten kilograms in his arms, wore a grim expression. Even though he had read the Einzbern Family's records of past Holy Grail Wars and had mentally prepared himself, only upon witnessing a battle between Servants did he understand how terrifying these figures who had left their marks on history truly were.
It would be more convenient to find a way to deal with the Lancer's Master. Kiritsugu Emiya made his decision. He had once been confident that he could use magecraft and his Servant to contend with opponents for a while, but after watching the Swordswoman and Lancer's duel, those notions of individual heroism had been thrown to the back of beyond.
The Lancer's Master had yet to reveal himself and remained an independent threat. Generally speaking, a Master would stay near their Servant, directing them while providing necessary magical support. So long as the Lancer's Master did not completely trust his Servant, he had to be hiding somewhere nearby, observing the Lancer's battle.
Kiritsugu Emiya shifted his gaze elsewhere. There were not many suitable observation points in this area. If he eliminated them one by one, he should be able to find the Lancer's Master.
For example, the crane towering in the darkness. Kiritsugu Emiya used a thermal imager to observe that ideal vantage point. The cab stood more than thirty meters above the ground. If someone could quietly climb up there, it could be called the perfect place to watch the battle.