"This is magnificent! What a mighty warrior! What an unyielding spirit! Had such a hero lived in my age, I would surely have challenged him to a glorious battle!"
With his Dragon Eyes active, Sovell took in every detail of Red Berserker's valiant figure. The blood boiling in his chest had even made him unconsciously adopt a king's manner of speech.
But just then, a friendly reminder from their Archer, Chiron, reached him through telepathy:
"Lancer, I can tell you're delighted, but please take note of the tree roughly seven hundred meters away, thirteen degrees to the left of where you're facing. There are three Spirit Origin signatures there."
Enemy Servants?
Sovell's smile faded a little. He patted his cheeks to clear his head, then looked in the direction Chiron had indicated. Sure enough, he could sense three Servants there.
It seemed the enemy Masters were no disorganized rabble, either. From the looks of things, they probably intended to use Red Berserker as an expendable probe to test his side's capabilities.
In this forest terrain, Rider Astolfo would have trouble deploying his Hippogriff, and with his own combat prowess hovering between second- and third-rate, he probably wouldn't be much help either.
As for Berserker Frankenstein, she was out of the question. Who in their right mind had to blow themselves up just to unleash their Noble Phantasm at full power? And it was only B-rank at best.
Thinking about it that way, did that mean I had to go myself?
"Ah, 'how truly sorrowful.'"
"What's wrong, Lancer?"
"No, nothing. An old friend of mine used to say that all the time when I was alive. I ended up picking it up myself."
After poking fun at his old brother-in-arms from a thousand years ago, Sovell issued orders through the Servants'