Dating Caster

Life and death intersected.

In the brief moment as Lancer brushed past, a spray of fresh red blood blossomed vividly, only to dissipate in an instant.

Saber, having charged through, came to a halt, and simultaneously, both turned back to face one another.

Both stood straight, neither having lost the will to continue their confrontation; both Servants remained standing.

In the split second before the outcome was decided, Saber had managed to shift the trajectory of her charge ever so slightly.

As a result, the short yellow spear that had been poised to pierce Saber through the chest struck her left forearm instead.

Likewise, Saber's golden sword had gently veered away from Lancer's vitals, the blade striking Lancer's left arm instead.

"So unwilling to hand me the victory? Very well, I admire such tenacity."

Lancer wore a bleak smile as he stared at Saber, seemingly trying his best not to show concern for the wound on his arm.

And indeed, as if watching a film in reverse, Lancer's wound healed without anyone touching it, until not even a trace remained. As the wound vanished, the voice of Lemon Head rang out.

"Why are you still wasting time with such idle chatter? You fool, to think you didn't land a fatal blow."

"I, too, am filled with regret, my Master." Lancer flexed his fully restored left hand, his gaze sharpening as he glared at Saber.

In stark contrast to Lancer, Saber's dignified beauty could not hide her pain and agitation.

"Irisviel, heal me."

The power of a spear suspended in mid-air and a sword gripped by both hands is, of course, different. To the naked eye, the wound on Saber's forearm where the short spear had pierced her was a minor injury compared to Lancer's.

But—

"I have already done so. I clearly used magecraft, so why..." Irisviel's expression was even more distraught than Saber's. "The healing should have taken effect; Saber, you should be fully recovered by now."

Saber kept her guard up, refusing to let her focus waver as she stared at the wound on her left arm. The wound wasn't bleeding much and appeared minor, but the disaster was that the tendons had been severed. Her thumb, the most important of her five fingers, would not move, leaving Saber unable to grip her sword hilt with sufficient strength.

Everyone could feel the fluctuation of Irisviel's magical energy; it was undoubtedly high-level healing magecraft, yet the forearm remained unhealed, and the thumb on her left hand remained motionless, as if it were congenitally disabled.

Lancer, ignoring Saber and launching no attack, bent down with confidence. He picked up the short yellow spear that had fallen to the ground with his left hand.

"In the face of my Noble Phantasm, Gáe Dearg, you have learned that armor is useless. That is not bad."

Perhaps deciding that there was no need to hide it further after demonstrating the effect of his Noble Phantasm, Lancer spoke the true name of his weapon without hesitation.

"However, discarding your armor was a rash decision. Had you not discarded it, you might have been able to defend against Gáe Buidhe..."

As he explained, Lancer raised his red long spear in his right hand and his yellow short spear in his left, spreading them out like wings.

This stance was identical to the one he held at the start of the battle. This was no feint; it was a unique killing technique this warrior had mastered through intense training.

"I see, so that is a cursed spear that prevents wounds from healing. I really should have realized it sooner."

A red spear that severs magical energy. A yellow spear of curses. Add to that the beauty mark under his left eye that can bewitch a maiden—putting these factors together made it easy to conclude. In terms of legend, the fame of the hero celebrated in Celtic mythology even shared some kinship with the legend of King Arthur. It was truly strange that Saber herself had not thought of it.

"Diarmuid of the Love Spot, foremost of the Fianna, I never expected to have the honor of crossing blades with you."

"That is the wonder of the Holy Grail War. However, I am the one who is more honored. Anyone who has crossed time and space to sit upon the Throne of Heroes would surely recognize that golden sword."

Lancer, having had his true name exposed, was not annoyed; instead, he squinted with a refreshed expression.

"To be able to cross blades with the renowned King of Knights and even gain the upper hand—it seems the heavens have not yet abandoned me."

"Then, now that we know each other's names, we can finally have a proper knightly duel. Or perhaps—you cannot accept that you only realized this after I pierced your hand? Saber."

"Don't be ridiculous. To care about such a minor wound would be an insult to me," Saber asserted resolutely, once again gathering her magical energy to don her silver-white armor. Though it was merely a waste of magical energy in the face of Lancer's Gáe Dearg, it was still useful for guarding against Gáe Buidhe.

At the same time, she gathered the "Invisible Air," and the golden sword vanished from sight once more.

Despite being at an overwhelming disadvantage, there was no sign of dejection on Saber's face; rather, her spirit was even higher.

Lancer's expression was the same; both were delighted to have encountered such a worthy opponent.

One had used one of his two Noble Phantasms first, cleverly catching his opponent off guard—a display of combat intelligence that was truly astonishing.

The other had blocked a sneak attack from the lethal Gáe Buidhe at the cost of her left arm—a display of adaptability that commanded respect.

The fact that both adhered to the code of chivalry only added to their mutual admiration.

"Prepare yourself, Saber. This time, I shall be the victor."

"That is something you should say only after I have failed to win, Lancer."

"What a pity, Saber..."

Watching the disadvantageous situation on the battlefield, Medea couldn't help but feel a sense of regret. Although she harbored an inexplicable desire for Saber, Medea possessed no noble sentiment to save this King of Knights.

"Rest assured, Saber will be fine."

Kong squinted as he looked toward the sky. If his memory served him right...

The next second—

The tension-filled air was suddenly shattered by a thunderous roar echoing from the sky.

I'll just finish the filler plot all at once~

As the title says, today's extra chapter is during the day~~

Please add to your favorites~~

Chapter 19. Wryyyyyyyyyyyy--

"Wryyyyyyyyyyyy--"

A flying object streaked across the sky in a straight line, heading straight for this location, scattering purple sparks of lightning into the night air. There was no doubt that the sound had originated from it. Irisviel stood dumbfounded, her mouth agape in astonishment.

"A chariot..."

Judging by its appearance, this was an ancient chariot with two heads. Tied to the yoke were not warhorses, but massive, muscular bulls with rippling physiques. Their hooves trod upon the void, pulling the magnificent, luxurious chariot.

No, it was more than that; the chariot wasn't simply floating in the air. Its wheels roared, and beneath the bulls' hooves, they stepped not on the earth, but on lightning. Every time the hooves and the chariot kicked against the empty sky, purple lightning flashed in spiderweb-like tendrils, churning the atmosphere upward with a deafening roar. The magical energy erupting from the lightning was likely on par with the full-force strikes unleashed by Lancer and Saber.

Only a Servant's Noble Phantasm could be this bizarre and emit such immense magical energy. Without a doubt, this was the presence of the third Servant class.

Saber and Lancer both wore tense expressions, staring in silence at the suddenly visiting chariot. Their respective Masters also felt a sense of panic at the appearance of the intruder.

If this Heroic Spirit was shrouded in such immense thunderous energy, perhaps he was a precursor to a god of thunder. And if it were a thunder god associated with bulls, the first to come to mind would be the supreme god of Olympus. This chariot could hardly be called a Heroic Spirit itself, but even as an accessory to one, it was undoubtedly filled with a powerful sense of threat.

The lightning-treading chariot circled menacingly above Lancer and Saber before slowing down and descending to the ground. It landed right between the two dueling Heroic Spirits, blocking their sword blades and spear tips. As it touched down, it retracted the blinding lightning, revealing the figure of a giant standing majestically on the chariot's platform.

"Both of you, put away your weapons in my presence!"

This composed shout was enough to rival the thunderous roar he had emitted while racing through the sky. His piercing gaze held an aura that seemed capable of forcing back the clashing blades and spearheads.

Saber and Lancer were both renowned Heroic Spirits; naturally, they wouldn't be intimidated by a couple of shouts. However, this newly arrived Heroic Spirit wasn't here to attack them, but merely to disrupt their duel. Not understanding his intentions, both chose to remain on guard, waiting to see how the situation would unfold.

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

Rider's self-introduction left everyone present stunned. On the battlefield of the Holy Grail, it was impossible for a Servant to reveal their true name, as the true name was the key to combat.

"What are you thinking, you idiot!!"

But if anyone was the most shocked, it had to be Rider's own Master. A scrawny, unbelievable-looking boy suddenly jumped up inside Rider's chariot, clinging to Rider like a hamster and wailing.

Yet, to everyone's surprise, Rider suppressed his Master with a single flick to the forehead.

After handling his domestic affairs, Rider glanced at Saber and Lancer on either side and asked:

"I know you are all killing each other to claim the Holy Grail, but before you clash, I have one thing to ask. Would you like to join my ranks and yield the Holy Grail to me? If you do, I can treat you as friends and share with you the joy of conquering the world."

It was an utterly absurd proposal. Saber was too stunned to even feel angry, and Lancer, standing opposite him, was equally at a loss for words, frozen in place.

The King of Conquerors, Iskandar, was a top-tier Heroic Spirit even when viewed across world history. The lands he had conquered ranked second among all kings throughout the ages, surpassed only by Genghis Khan Temujin and standing above the "Scourge of God" Attila. He possessed the legendary feat of building the greatest empire in the shortest amount of time.

His mere thirty-three years of life left behind a legend of endless conquest; in human history, no one else had been as desperate to realize the ambition of conquering the world as he was.

Even so, what of it?

To appear suddenly, state his true name openly, and demand respect from others before even crossing blades—all these actions made it seem as if he had no intention of participating in the Holy Grail War. This was the first time such a thing had ever happened.

Has the world really been conquered once by such a fool? More than one person on the battlefield had this thought.

"A fool whose head is stuffed with nothing but muscle." Medea commented with disdain from the sidelines.

"Ugh..."

At this moment, a groan from beside her caught Medea's attention. She turned her head and was nearly frightened by Kong's current state.

Pale-faced and drenched in cold sweat, Kong was curled up, clutching his head. He was biting his lip so hard to keep from making a sound that his gums were beginning to bleed; one could only imagine the agony he was enduring.

Seeing this, Medea hurriedly cast a spell to soothe Kong's pain. Healing magic poured down upon him, and seeing his expression calm slightly, Medea was suddenly struck by the urge to leave.

Although it would be simple for her to leave, but...

Medea glanced helplessly at the object beside her—written as a burden, read as Kong. In this gathering of Heroic Spirits, trying to leave while carrying him—

How difficult it would be.

Medea could only pray to the goddess Hecate, hoping that no more unexpected trouble would arise.

However--

"Tell me, there are others, aren't there? Those who are watching us from the darkness."

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

Saber and Lancer both wore expressions of surprise.

"What is the meaning of this, Rider?"

Facing Saber's inquiry, the King of Conquerors smiled broadly and gave a thumbs-up.

"Saber, your battle, fought without reservation, was truly magnificent. I am not the only Heroic Spirit who was drawn here by the clear sound of clashing steel."

Rider wanted his deafening voice to reach every corner of the surroundings, and he shouted again.

"Pitiful! How pitiful! You heroes and legends gathered in Fuyuki. Seeing the spirit displayed here by Saber and Lancer, do you have no thoughts at all? To possess a glorious true name yet only watch from the shadows—how cowardly! The names of your Heroic Spirits are weeping!"

After a burst of loud laughter, Rider tilted his head slightly, a fearless expression on his lips, and finally scanned the surroundings with a provocative gaze.

"Heroic Spirits invited by the Holy Grail, gather here now! Those cowards who are still afraid to show their faces, you shall not escape the humiliation of the King of Conquerors, Iskandar!"

"This is bad."

Medea muttered to herself after hearing Rider's taunt.

Sure enough--

The golden radiance that appeared illuminated half of the warehouse district.

"Two people who don't hold me in their eyes and call themselves kings without knowing the immensity of heaven and earth have popped up in a single night."

Bonus chapter delivered~

After the flood of filler, here comes the real substance~~~

Chapter 20. Unexpected

"Two people who don't hold me in their eyes and call themselves 'kings' without knowing the immensity of heaven and earth have popped up in a single night."

"That person is..."

Although she had only seen him briefly through the images transmitted by her familiar, it was impossible for Medea to mistake a figure that left such a strong impression. Standing leisurely atop the high street lamp was none other than—

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

The heavy equipment, with every inch of his body covered in armor, could not be a Caster, and if he had appeared in response to the summons of the Rider, it proved he possessed the judgment to view Rider's arrogant words as a provocation, meaning he could not be a berserk Berserker either.

Thus, using the process of elimination, only one identity remained—the last of the three Knight classes among the Heroic Spirits, the Archer.

The Masters situated on the battlefield judged the golden Servant's class at the very first moment.

The golden Servant stood on top of a street lamp ten meters above the ground, looking down at everyone below with undisguised arrogance. As soon as he spoke, the golden Heroic Spirit curled his lip in extreme displeasure, revealing his contempt for the three Servants currently in a standoff.

Although Archer's proud attitude and tone were identical to Rider's self-importance, they were fundamentally different; the King of Conquerors' voice and gaze were not as cold and heartless as Archer's.

Rider also seemed not to have expected someone to appear with an even tougher attitude than his own, scratching his chin with a puzzled look. "Even if you speak rudely, I, Iskandar, remain the world-renowned, one and only King of Conquerors."

"Ridiculous. There is only one hero in heaven and on earth who can truly be called a king; the rest are nothing but mongrels filling the ranks." Archer stated his declaration, which was even worse than an insult, with bluntness. Saber was enraged by this, but Rider put on a thoughtful expression.

"Since your tone is so grand, how about you state your name first? If you are also a king, surely you wouldn't be afraid to reveal your title?" Saber took the lead in questioning Archer.

Fury ignited within Archer's crimson eyes.