On the outer steel framework of another gantry crane's control cabin to the west, a lean man in a black trench coat crouched on a metal crossbar.
Kiritsugu Emiya.
His muzzle slowly swept across the high points around the harbor district, searching for the other Masters.
To the southwest, Maiya Hisau lay prone at the edge of another warehouse roof.
She, too, wore a black, close-fitting combat suit. Her black hair was short, and her slender frame looked efficient and capable. She also held a weapon.
Kiritsugu's and Maiya's lines of sight crossed, covering most of the harbor district between them.
Atop a streetlamp not far from the harbor district, nothing was visible.
But Mayuri's Servant senses still caught a trace of fluctuation from someone in Spirit Form.
A Servant was stationed there.
The fluctuation had a very distinctive quality: ancient, ostentatious, and faintly condescending.
The young Gilgamesh.
On the eastern bridge, those two had made little effort to hide.
A huge red cape billowed in the sea breeze. An almost absurdly burly man stood beside the bridge railing with his arms folded, his amber eyes watching the spectacle at the docks.
Beside him stood a small, thin boy. The wind had tousled his already messy dark brown hair even further. His face was pale, and both hands clutched the railing.
Waver Velvet. Iskandar, King of Conquerors, had brought his Master along.
Farther away, in the direction of the Matou Family residence in Miyama Town, a Servant's aura, violent to the point of madness, was rushing toward them.
Moving along with that aura was a very weak magical energy signature from a Master, so faint it was almost imperceptible, as though he were on his last breath.
Kariya Matou and his Servant, Berserker, were hurrying toward the harbor.
Through the magical energy link of her Master-Servant contract, Mayuri swiftly passed everything she had seen to Tokiomi Tohsaka.
Tokiomi Tohsaka received the information at his residence.
Mayuri could feel a faint pulse of satisfied magical energy from the other end of the contract, an acknowledgment of receipt and a signal to keep watching.
There really are a lot of people here.
Mayuri remarked to herself.
The very first battle of the first night had actually drawn almost every participant here.
Now, on this stretch of docks, the two in the arena were fighting fiercely, while the surrounding corners were already packed with spectators.
She turned her attention back to the central battlefield.
Saber and Lancer were still fighting.
After more than twenty exchanges, their pace had gradually shifted from the full-speed bursts of the opening into a more intricate close engagement.
Both sides had figured a few things out.
Saber's weapon was invisible, but its attacks were powerful, every strike enhanced by magical energy.
Lancer's twin spears combined offense and defense. His movements were fast, and his short spear specifically targeted openings.
But neither had gained any real advantage.
The situation remained deadlocked.
Until Kayneth El-Melloi ran out of patience.
On the warehouse roof, the aristocratic mage, one of the Clock Tower's Twelve Lords, watched his Servant fail to defeat his opponent after more than twenty exchanges. Impatience had already crept into his pale purple eyes.
His fingers, folded before his chest, tapped lightly twice, a little habit of his when irritated.
A voice-transmission spell activated.
Kayneth's voice rang out directly above the battlefield, cool, clear, and commanding.
"Lancer. You have permission to use your Noble Phantasm. End this battle as quickly as possible."
That was all.
No unnecessary words, just a very direct command.
Diarmuid's movements did not falter in the slightest when he heard the order.
Even amid their high-speed exchanges, he received his Master's instructions without a hitch, which alone showed how fast his reactions were.
His golden-amber eyes shifted slightly during his next retreat.
His tactics changed.
Diarmuid tugged with both hands at once.
The dark cloth strips wrapped around both spears came away at once, falling straight off as though the mechanism had been prepared in advance, revealing the spears' true forms.
One long, one short.
The long spear was crimson from end to end. Its tip flared like flower petals, its edges curved strangely, and it gave off a dark red glow in the night.
The short spear was golden yellow. Its shaft was nearly a third shorter than the red spear's, its tip sharper and narrower. Dark gold patterns covered its surface, making it unpleasant just to look at.
Artoria's Instinct gave her different warnings about the two spears at the same time.
The red spear: a moderate threat.
The yellow spear: an extremely high threat.
Then Diarmuid did something that made Artoria frown slightly.
He tossed the short spear away.
The golden-yellow short spear traced an arc through the air, tip down, and plunged straight into the concrete three meters away.
Its shaft trembled slightly after sinking in, giving off a low hum.
He had thrown away a weapon.
He had voluntarily switched from two spears to one.
In other words, he had abandoned pressure from two fronts and tactical variety, keeping only the crimson long spear.
With the spear in his right hand, his weight shifted forward, and its tip aimed at Artoria, his entire fighting stance abruptly changed to a single-spear charge.
To others, it looked as though he was narrowing his approach, trading flexibility for speed.
Artoria did not think so.
Her Instinct warned her that discarding the yellow spear was not abandonment, but part of another arrangement.
But the fight pressed too hard for her to spare any time to consider what he intended to do with the yellow spear planted in the ground three meters away.
Because Diarmuid had already charged again.
A single-spear charge.
Without the short spear to occupy him, Diarmuid concentrated all his attention on the red spear.
The long spear's attack rate rose abruptly. Freed from the constraints of the twin-spear rhythm, a single spear was faster instead.
Crimson spear shadows thrust through the night, withdrew, then thrust again, the movements a notch faster than before.
Artoria raised her sword to block.
The instant the red spear's tip met the blade-
The wind dispersed.
The barrier of wind pressure enveloping the sword split open slightly at the point of contact, exposing half an inch of the actual blade within.
Artoria's pupils contracted.
Magic nullification.
This red spear's ability was to dispel all defenses and effects formed from magical energy.
A second clash.
The red spear grazed the surface of Artoria's pauldron, leaving a crack in the silver armor.
That was not simple physical damage. The magical energy forming the pauldron had been directly erased.
The metallic substance vanished from the split, exposing the lining beneath.
Invisible Air's concealment had been broken.
Armor formed from magical energy could also be sliced open with ease.
Artoria grasped the situation as she retreated.
The red spear's ability was already clear: it could sever and erase defenses formed from magical energy.
Her suit of knight's armor had been condensed from magical energy to begin with. Against this spear, it was essentially no different from paper.
Not only would it fail to block the spear, but when pierced, it would also send magical energy recoiling into her.
This armor had now become a burden.
Artoria made her decision.
Without hesitation.
A magical energy command issued from deep within her Spirit Origin: release.
The silver-and-blue knight's armor peeled away from her body piece by piece, turning into dense motes of blue-white light that scattered into the night breeze.
Every metallic protective layer covering her body vanished within two seconds.
All that remained was a thin white lining and a short blue skirt.
The girl's figure suddenly looked considerably more delicate.
But her stance had not changed. She remained straight-backed and steady.
The invisible sword remained in her right hand, and her emerald eyes showed no sign of retreat.
Dispelling her armor in exchange for greater agility.
Without the burden of heavy armor, both her reactions and her movements would be a notch faster.
Against an opponent who nullified magic, this was the most direct approach.
At the sight, a sharp glint flashed through Diarmuid's golden-amber eyes.
Here it comes.
This was exactly what he had been waiting for.
The two clashed again.