In an instant.
Artoria's entire body tensed.
Her gaze shifted from Irisviel straight to the northeast.
She could not tell exactly how far away it was, but it was roughly one or two kilometers.
What came from that direction was undisguised fighting spirit.
There was no attempt to conceal it, nor was it the sinister presence of someone lurking in the shadows. It was an outright challenge.
"I'm here. Who dares face me?"
Artoria's breathing remained steady, and her heartbeat did not change.
Her right hand merely clenched lightly.
The other party was still moving around nearby, deliberately releasing their fighting spirit in search of someone who could meet the challenge.
Judging by that, they were most likely another Servant, and the sort who preferred a head-on fight at that.
It was neither an ambush nor some trap being laid. They had simply come to issue a challenge.
Artoria did not hesitate.
The next moment, she released her own fighting spirit, so sharp it was almost tangible.
"I am Saber. I accept your challenge."
The two surges of fighting spirit collided beneath Fuyuki's evening sky and held for about two seconds.
Then the approaching presence stopped where it was.
Artoria understood immediately.
The other party was waiting for her.
Waiting for her to choose the battlefield.
This, too, was a convention among knights.
The one who issued the challenge left the choice of location to the one who accepted.
Artoria quickly surveyed her surroundings.
The seaside would not do. It was too open, and Irisviel was here as well.
About a kilometer north lay the Fuyuki Port District. The workers all left at night, leaving the container terminal and abandoned warehouses deserted, with cover available and no ordinary people to get caught in the fighting.
"My lady."
Irisviel was about to take another step into deeper water when she heard the address and turned.
Artoria's voice had changed as well, taking on the gravity of someone reporting to their liege on the battlefield.
"Saber? What is it?"
"A Servant has directed their fighting spirit at me. I need to respond."
The relaxed look vanished from Irisviel's face.
She hurried out of the shallows, no longer sparing a thought for the cold as her feet touched the sand.
"So soon? This is only the first day."
"Daytime is a ceasefire. But it is nearly sunset now."
Artoria set the paper bag on the ground and handed Irisviel her shoes.
"The Servant over there is likely suited to direct combat-most probably Lancer or Rider. Their approach is very straightforward. It does not seem like a trap."
Irisviel crouched to put on her shoes, her silvery-white hair falling beside her face.
"Are we going?"
"Yes."
Artoria answered without the slightest pause.
According to Kiritsugu Emiya's plan, Irisviel was now to pose as Artoria's Master, handling public appearances, drawing attention, and accompanying the Servant.
Meanwhile, the real Master, Kiritsugu Emiya, would remain hidden and seek opportunities to snipe the other Masters.
Now that a Servant had come looking for them, it gave Kiritsugu just the opportunity he needed to act.
"Let us go, my lady. Toward the port."
Irisviel stood, shook the sand from her skirt, and drew a deep breath.
The last traces of playful enjoyment had vanished from her wine-red eyes, replaced by the calm, hard expression Einzbern had created.
The two hurried away from the seaside.
Meanwhile, somewhere above Fuyuki City, at an altitude beyond the reach of the naked eye.
Mayuri hovered in the darkening sky, a panoramic view of Fuyuki spread beneath her from roughly three hundred meters up.
Her wings were folded, and her Astral Dress was fully in place. She had turned her presence reduction up to its maximum, suppressing her magical energy signature to a very low level.
She could fly without actually spreading her wings. It was an innate ability of Spirits, independent of wings in the physical sense.
She simply floated silently in midair, like an aerial surveillance camera that could not speak.
Her gaze rested on a figure moving across the ground.
He wore a green, form-fitting combat outfit, and his short, dark brown hair streamed back as he ran.
Even from three hundred meters up, Mayuri could still make out his face. His features were almost excessively handsome, their lines carrying both a touch of softness and a hint of sharpness-the sort of face that was hard to forget after seeing it once.
Lancer, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne.
The foremost warrior of the Knights of Fianna had been openly roaming Fuyuki's urban streets since that afternoon.
He released waves of a Servant's fighting spirit without any concealment, practically shouting to the entire city: I'm here. Come fight me.
Mayuri thought there might be something wrong with him.
Tactically speaking, this was little different from standing on a battlefield holding a torch and shouting, "Shoot me."
But from the perspective of chivalry...
Mayuri leafed through the knowledge the Holy Grail had stuffed into her and found the entry on Diarmuid.
All right, considering his experiences in life and his wish in joining the war, his actions were not entirely incomprehensible.
He wanted a fair duel between knights.
He wanted honor won openly and honestly in battle.
That was why he had issued his invitation in the most direct way possible, waiting for someone with the same knightly spirit to accept.
In a sense, that purity was rather...
Mayuri shook her head, suppressing the flicker of "being moved" before it could surface.
Don't let ACG-style romanticism go to your head.
She was now the Tohsaka faction's Caster. Her duties were surveillance, reconnaissance, and gathering intelligence.
She could not act out of sympathy, much less fight out of sympathy.
During the time she had been watching Diarmuid, she had not actually been his only observer.
Thanks to her presence reduction, Mayuri could sense other spiritual entities nearby.
At least three gazes were watching this Lancer from different directions.
The familiars' presences were faint, but they were definitely there, and they came from different sources.
Everyone was watching.
And everyone was waiting for the first proper clash.
Then, shortly after five that evening, Lancer stopped.
High in the sky, Mayuri leaned forward slightly.
She had sensed it.
Another surge of fighting spirit had risen from the direction of the port.
Sharp and clean, with an imposing air that could command the field.
Unlike Lancer's eagerness to fight, this response was more like an already drawn sword: cold, steady, and needing no further words.
A Servant had answered.
The corner of Diarmuid's mouth shifted on his masklike, cold face.
He moved.
His light brown hair lifted in the night breeze as the foremost warrior of Fianna headed toward the spot where the other party had stopped.
He walked at first, then moved faster and faster, until he broke into a run.
He was heading north, toward the Fuyuki Port District.
Mayuri adjusted her altitude and flight angle, following roughly four hundred meters above Lancer.
She had no intention of intervening.
Tokiomi Tohsaka's orders for her tonight had been very clear: observe, record, and remain concealed.
If she could see the other Servants' Noble Phantasms or abilities, all the better, but she was absolutely not to initiate combat.
The first night was for gathering intelligence, not risking her life.
Mayuri tucked a strand of long, pale golden hair that the night breeze had blown across her face behind her ear, her rose-red eyes faintly reflecting the city lights in the darkness.
"The war has begun."
No one heard those words.
Below, Diarmuid had already rounded the final street corner in the port district. The open container terminal lay ahead.
The last trace of orange-red twilight over the distant sea was almost gone as well.
Fuyuki City's first night had begun.