Wryyyyyyyyyyyy-- / Unexpected

Life and death crossed paths.

As Lancer brushed past, bright crimson flowers of blood bloomed in the air, then vanished in an instant.

Saber, who had charged past, came to a stop. At the same time, both of them turned around.

They stood perfectly straight, neither having lost the will to face the other. Both Servants were still on their feet.

At the last moment before the victor was decided, Saber had managed to make a slight adjustment to the course of her charge.

As a result, the yellow spear that had been poised to run Saber through the heart struck her left wrist instead.

Likewise, Saber's Golden Sword had veered slightly away from Lancer's vital points, its blade piercing his left arm.

"Are you so unwilling to hand me the victory? Good. I admire your tenacity."

Lancer fixed his gaze on Saber with a rueful smile, as if trying his hardest not to mind the wound at his elbow.

And just as if someone had replayed a scene from a film, Lancer's wound healed without anyone touching it, then vanished without a trace. As it disappeared, Lemon Head's voice rang out.

"Why are you still wasting time talking? Idiot. You didn't even inflict a fatal wound."

"I regret it as well, my Master." Lancer flexed his left hand, restored as if it had never been injured, and fixed Saber with an increasingly sharp gaze.

Saber, by contrast, couldn't hide her pain and frustration beneath her dignified beauty.

"Irisviel, heal me."

The spear floating in midair and the sword Saber gripped with both hands were, of course, different in power. Judging by appearances alone, the wound on Saber's forearm, where the short spear had pierced it, looked minor compared with Lancer's.

But—

"I've already tried. I clearly used Magecraft, so why..." Irisviel looked even more distressed than Saber. "The healing should have worked, Saber. You should be completely healed by now."

Saber kept her guard up against Lancer without the slightest slackening, while staring at the wound on her left arm. It had hardly bled and looked minor, but the tendons had been severed. Her thumb, the most important of her five fingers, wouldn't move, leaving her unable to grip the sword hilt with her full strength.

Everyone could feel the fluctuations in Irisviel's magical energy. There was no doubt that she had used high-level healing Magecraft, yet Saber's forearm remained unhealed. The thumb on her left hand was completely motionless, as if she had been born with a disability.

Lancer paid Saber no heed and made no move to attack. With complete confidence, he bent down and picked up the yellow short spear lying on the ground with his left hand.

"It's good that you realized armor is useless against my Noble Phantasm, Gáe Dearg."

Perhaps deciding there was no need to keep the secret now that he had demonstrated his Noble Phantasm's power, Lancer revealed its true name without hesitation.

"But it was reckless to throw away your armor. If you hadn't, you could have defended against Gáe Buidhe..."

As he explained, Lancer raised the red spear in his right hand and the yellow short spear in his left high above his head, like a bird spreading its wings.

His stance was exactly the same as when the battle began. It wasn't a feint, but a unique killing technique this warrior had mastered through fierce training.

"I see. It's a cursed spear that leaves wounds impossible to heal. I should have realized sooner."

A red spear that severed magical energy. A yellow spear that cursed its victims. And a beauty mark beneath his left eye that could enchant a maiden. It was easy to identify him from those clues. His legendary fame came from Celtic heroic tales, and even had some connection to the legends of King Arthur. It was strange that Saber herself hadn't thought of it.

"I never expected to have the honor of crossing swords with Diarmuid, the Fianna's foremost Radiant Visage."

"That's the wonder of the Holy Grail War. But I'm the more honored one. Anyone who had crossed the ages to take their place on the Throne of Heroes would recognize that Golden Sword."

Lancer didn't regret revealing his true name. Instead, he narrowed his eyes with a refreshing smile.

"To measure myself against the famed King of Knights and even gain the upper hand... It seems the heavens haven't abandoned me yet."

"Now that we know each other's names, we can finally have an honorable knight's duel. Or is that too much to ask after I've wounded one of your hands, Saber?"

"Don't joke. To be bothered by an injury this minor would be an insult to me." Saber declared resolutely, then gathered her magical energy again and donned her silver-white armor. It would be a waste of magical energy against Lancer's Gáe Dearg, which dispelled Magecraft, but it could still defend against Gáe Buidhe.

Invisible Air gathered around her as well, and the Golden Sword vanished once more.

Although she was at a crushing disadvantage, Saber looked anything but dejected. If anything, she seemed even more exhilarated.

Lancer looked the same. Both of them were delighted to have found a worthy opponent.

One of them had used one of his two Noble Phantasms first, skillfully making his opponent lower her guard. His tactical sense was astonishing.

The other had paid for it with her left arm, blocking a sneak attack from Gáe Buidhe, his deadly weapon. Her quick reaction was impressive.

The fact that they both upheld the code of chivalry only deepened their mutual respect.

"Prepare yourself, Saber. This time, I'll win."

"You can say that after you've beaten me, Lancer."

"Poor Saber..."

Watching the battle, where Saber had fallen into a disadvantage, Medea couldn't help feeling a little sorry for her. Though she had an inexplicable desire for Saber, Medea had no noble impulse to rescue the King of Knights.

"Don't worry. Saber will be fine."

Wang Xiaoming looked up at the sky through narrowed eyes. If his memory served him right...

The next moment—

The tense atmosphere was suddenly shattered by a thunderous sound from above.

"Wryyyyyyyyyyyy—"

A flying object streaked across the sky in a straight line, heading straight for them and scattering purple sparks of lightning across the night. There was no doubt that it was the source of the sound. Irisviel stared in amazement, her mouth falling open.

"A chariot..."

Judging by its appearance, it was an ancient chariot with two shafts. Instead of horses, it was hitched to muscular, powerfully built bulls, their muscles rippling like waves. Their hooves trampled the empty air as they pulled the magnificent chariot.

No, that wasn't all. The chariot wasn't simply floating in the sky. Its wheels rumbled, and the bulls weren't treading on the earth, but on lightning. Every time their hooves and the chariot struck the empty sky, purple lightning flashed out like the limbs of a spiderweb, its deafening roar whipping the air upward. The magical energy unleashed by the lightning could probably rival a full-force blow from Lancer or Saber.

Only a Servant's Noble Phantasm could be so strange and release such immense magical energy. There was no need to think twice: it had to be the presence of a third Servant Class.

Saber and Lancer both watched the chariot's sudden arrival in tense silence. Their Masters were also alarmed by the intruder.

A Heroic Spirit wreathed in such powerful lightning might have been a precursor to a thunder god. And if the god was connected to bulls, the first thing that came to mind was the supreme god of Olympus. This chariot could hardly be called a Heroic Spirit, but even as a mere appendage of one, it was surely a formidable threat.

The lightning-footed chariot circled furiously above Lancer and Saber before slowing and descending to the ground. It landed right between the two face-off Heroic Spirits, blocking their sword and spear points. As it touched down, its dazzling lightning faded, revealing the form of a gigantic man standing majestically at the reins.

"Both of you, lower your weapons in the presence of the King!"

His calm, commanding shout rivaled the thunderclap that had accompanied his arrival in the sky. His piercing gaze seemed capable of forcing back the sword and spear points leveled at each other.

Saber and Lancer were both famous Heroic Spirits, naturally not the sort to be cowed by a few shouts. Still, the new Heroic Spirit hadn't come to attack them. He had only made his entrance this way to disrupt their duel. Neither could understand his intentions, so they both chose to wait and see.

"My name is Iskandar, King of Conquerors. I have manifested in this Holy Grail War as Rider."

Rider's introduction left everyone present dumbfounded. No Servant in the Holy Grail War would reveal their true name. A true name was a crucial piece of information in battle.

"What are you thinking, you idiot?!"

But the most astonished of all was probably Rider's own Master. A boy so frail he seemed hardly human suddenly jumped up in the chariot, clinging to Rider like a hamster as he wailed.

To everyone's surprise, however, Rider silenced his Master with nothing more than a flick to the forehead.

After taking care of his personal affairs, Rider glanced from Saber to Lancer and asked:

"I know you're fighting each other for the Holy Grail, but I have a question before you resume. Would you like to join my army and hand the Holy Grail over to me? Then I can treat you as friends and share the joy of conquering the world with you."

It was an absurd proposal. Saber was too stunned to even get angry, while Lancer across from her could only stand there, at a loss for words.

Iskandar, King of Conquerors, was one of the foremost Heroic Spirits in all of world history. The lands he conquered ranked second among all kings throughout history, surpassed only by Genghis Khan, Temujin, and exceeding even Attila, the Scourge of God. His legendary feats told of a man who had conquered the greatest territory in the shortest time.

His brief life of just thirty-three years left behind countless tales of conquest. In all of human history, no one had been as consumed by the ambition to conquer the world as he was.

Even so, what did that matter?

He had suddenly appeared, openly announced his true name, and demanded respect from everyone before even crossing swords with them. All of it made him seem like he had no intention of joining the Holy Grail War. No one had ever seen anything like it.

"Has the world ever been conquered by an idiot like that?" More than one person on the battlefield had the same thought.

"A muscle-brained idiot." Medea sneered from the sidelines.

"Ugh..."

A groan from beside her caught Medea's attention. When she turned, Wang Xiaoming's condition nearly frightened her.

His face was deathly pale and drenched in sweat. He curled up with his arms around his head, biting down so hard to keep quiet that his gums had begun to bleed. It was easy to imagine how much pain Wang Xiaoming was in.

Medea immediately cast Magecraft to ease his suffering. Healing Magecraft poured over Wang Xiaoming, and when his expression eased a little, Medea suddenly found herself wanting to leave.

Leaving would have been easy, but...

Medea glanced helplessly at the object beside her, written as "burden" but read as "Wang Xiaoming." In this gathering of Heroic Spirits, trying to leave with him—

How could she?

Medea could only pray to the goddess Hecate that nothing else would go wrong.

But—

"I say, there are others here, aren't there? People watching us from the darkness."

The muscle-brained idiot Rider in Medea's eyes suddenly faced the empty night sky and laughed at the top of his lungs.

Saber and Lancer both looked surprised.

"What's going on, Rider?"

The King of Conquerors faced Saber, who had asked him the question, and smiled broadly as he raised his thumb.

"Saber, your unrestrained battle was magnificent. But I wasn't the only Heroic Spirit drawn here by the clear ring of your blades."

Rider wanted his thunderous voice to reach every corner of the area, so he shouted again.

"How pitiful! You heroes gathered in Fuyuki! After seeing the spirit Saber and Lancer have shown here, do you feel nothing at all? You possess names worth boasting about, yet you only watch in secret. What cowards! Your names as Heroic Spirits must be weeping!"

After another booming laugh, Rider tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curling into a fearless grin. At last, he swept his challenging gaze over the surroundings.

"Heroic Spirits summoned by the Holy Grail, gather here now! Any coward still afraid to show their face will have to endure the humiliation of being conquered by me, Iskandar, King of Conquerors!"

"This is bad."

After hearing Rider's taunt, Medea murmured to herself.

Sure enough—

A golden light appeared, illuminating half the warehouse district.

"Two people who don't know their place and dare to call themselves 'kings' without a thought for their own insignificance. They've sprung up overnight."

"That person is..."

Though she had only seen him briefly in the image transmitted by her familiar, Medea could never mistake a figure who had left such a strong impression. Standing nonchalantly atop a tall streetlamp was none other than—

The golden Servant who had used overwhelming power to eliminate the Assassin who had invaded the Tohsaka residence last night.

His heavy armor covered him from head to toe. He couldn't be Caster. And if he had appeared in response to Rider's summons, then he had enough judgment to take Rider's arrogant words as a provocation, which meant he couldn't be the frenzied Berserker either.

That left only one possibility by process of elimination: the last of the Three Knight Classes, Archer.

The Masters on the battlefield all identified the golden Servant's Class at once.

The golden Servant stood atop a streetlamp ten meters above the ground, looking down at everyone below with undisguised arrogance. As soon as he opened his mouth, the golden Heroic Spirit gave a deeply displeased little click of his tongue, his contempt for the three Servants facing off below plain to see.

Archer's pride and tone were much like Rider's arrogance, but at their core they were different. The King of Conquerors's voice and gaze weren't as cold and merciless as Archer's.

Rider seemed not to have expected anyone to be even more overbearing than he was. He scratched his chin in confusion. "Even if you insult me, I, Iskandar, am still the world-famous, one and only King of Conquerors."

"Ridiculous. I am the only hero in heaven and on earth worthy of being called a king. The rest are all pretenders." Archer made an even more insulting declaration without hesitation. Saber was enraged, while Rider wore a thoughtful expression.

"If you're so boastful, why not give us your name first? If you're a king too, surely you aren't afraid to reveal your title?" Saber challenged Archer first.

Archer's blood-red eyes blazed with anger.