Fuyuki harbor district, container terminal.
Diarmuid Ua Duibhne stood in the center of the terminal.
His dark green, formfitting combat suit almost blended into the surrounding shadows, but his exceptionally handsome face still stood out beneath the lights.
The wind blew his long, dark brown hair back, and his golden-amber eyes watched two people approaching from the south side of the harbor.
One in front, one behind.
The one in front was not tall, but her steps were steady. Her blond hair was tied neatly behind her head, and her emerald eyes met Diarmuid's from over thirty meters away.
A woman with long, silver-white hair followed behind, her wine-red eyes shining in the darkness.
Diarmuid's gaze passed over them both before settling on the blond figure in front.
"The Saber class, then."
The fighting spirit emanating from her Spirit Origin was pure and direct, with a forward-driving force that only a swordsman would possess.
Artoria stopped.
About twenty-five meters separated her from Diarmuid.
That was close enough to talk, yet far enough to react immediately if the other charged.
"Lancer."
It was likewise not a question.
Twin spears, a class specializing in polearms, and the distinctive fighting spirit he released made the answer clear.
"Thank you for accepting my invitation."
Diarmuid gave a slight nod, his manner displaying proper knightly etiquette.
"To face a worthy opponent in honorable combat on the first night of this war is the greatest honor I could ask for as a warrior."
Artoria did not respond to the courtesy.
Her emerald eyes had already begun assessing him for battle, scanning his stance, his center of gravity, where his hands held the spears, and the length and shape of both weapons.
The two spears, one long and one short, were wrapped in dark strips of cloth that thoroughly concealed their appearance and dimensions.
Cloth-strip Mystic Codes.
A common method of sealing a Noble Phantasm's effects and concealing its appearance.
He was hiding his trump cards.
Then she would not reveal much either.
Artoria raised her right hand.
The next second, blue-white motes of light began rising from the collar of her black men's suit.
Silver armor plates covered the black fabric, her white shirt became a fitted underlayer and trousers, armor formed over her collarbones where her tie had been, and matching silver pauldrons materialized over her shoulders.
A blue overskirt spread beneath her waist armor, and metal gauntlets extended all the way up her forearms.
The entire process took less than two seconds.
By the time the last plate fastened behind her neck, the figure standing on the terminal was no longer a blond bodyguard in a suit, but Britain's King of Knights.
Her silver-and-blue armor gleamed coldly beneath the harbor's dim lights.
Her right hand held-air.
Or rather, what looked like air.
Artoria's right hand was clenched around something, yet nothing could be seen between her fingers.
Diarmuid's combat instincts, however, told him quite clearly that something was there.
Something concealed from sight rested quietly in that hand.
Interesting.
It was the same idea as wrapping his spears, except she was using a more advanced spell that made her weapon visually disappear altogether.
"Well then-"
Diarmuid lowered his body slightly, gripping the middle of each spear with one hand. With their tips angled toward the ground, he assumed the opening stance of the Fianna Twin Spears.
"Let us begin, Saber."
Artoria did not answer.
She simply stepped forward.
The ground shattered.
Her silver-and-blue armor became a blur as she charged straight at Diarmuid. No probing, no detour-her first strike was a direct assault.
The invisible weapon traced a path through the night wind too fast for the naked eye to follow, the sound of air tearing apart its only warning.
Diarmuid slid to the right two-tenths of a second before the attack arrived.
His feet skimmed the ground as he shifted half a body-width sideways, simultaneously snapping the shaft of his long spear upward to block.
Clang-!
The crash of metal rang through the empty harbor.
Sparks burst from the point where the spear shaft met the invisible weapon, drawing a short orange arc through the darkness.
Diarmuid's arm went numb.
The blow was heavy.
The impact transmitted by that invisible weapon at the moment of contact was far heavier than that of an ordinary sword.
Mana Burst. She was pouring large amounts of magical energy into her weapon to directly enhance its physical strikes.
Their first exchange took less than half a second. Both stepped back half a pace, opening the distance again.
Then the second exchange followed immediately.
Artoria advanced in a relentless rush.
The first slash, the second, the third.
Each came from a completely different angle-a horizontal sweep, an upward cut, a downward cleave. Combined with the explosive power of Mana Burst, they kept the pressure tight.
An invisible sword meant her opponent could not judge its length or reach by sight. Every block had to rely on instinct.
Diarmuid blocked them.
And even as he blocked, he counterattacked.
His long spear thrust through the opening after a block, aiming straight for the joint in Artoria's shoulder armor.
His short spear traced an arc on the other side, trying to cut at the gap in her defenses beneath her knee.
The twin spears alternated between attack and defense, the long spear maintaining distance while the short one exploited openings. Two rhythms operated simultaneously, as though two different fighting styles had been packed into one body.
Artoria's Instinct warned her every time the short spear approached.
Her response was simple: accelerate further.
She unleashed Mana Burst A at full power.
The explosive strength of her magically reinforced legs pushed her speed to a level human eyes could barely follow.
Her silver-and-blue armor streaked across the terminal, leaving a trail of shattered concrete.
The invisible sword swung faster, each strike carrying enough force to slice through steel plate.
Diarmuid responded by accelerating as well.
His agility of A+ was now on full display.
He darted back and forth through Artoria's onslaught, every step precise, every turn of his body letting a lethal slash pass just beside him.
The wind from her blade slashed several rents in his dark green combat suit, but not a single strike truly landed.
Ten exchanges.
Fifteen exchanges.
Twenty exchanges.
The clashes of steel merged into an unbroken clamor beneath the harbor's night sky.
Sword cuts and spear marks densely covered the ground, and fragments of concrete flew everywhere.
A nearby container was knocked ten degrees askew by the force spilling from their battle, a deep diagonal cut gouged into its metal wall.
Neither gained an advantage.
They were completely evenly matched.
Three hundred meters up in the night sky.
Mayuri hovered in the darkness, her rose-red eyes watching the fierce battle below.
She kept Presence Reduction active, suppressing her Spirit Origin's signature to a very low level.
Most of her attention was not actually on the battlefield in the center.
The remainder was watching for anything else in the harbor that should not have been there.
Atop the tallest gantry crane to the east, a dark figure that almost blended into the night lay pressed against a metal beam.
One of Hassan of the Hundred Faces' separate bodies.
Her presence was heavily suppressed, but looking down from above, Mayuri could still pick out that unnatural black outline.
On the edge of a warehouse roof to the north stood a man in a dark blue aristocrat's coat, his light flaxen-blond hair stirring gently in the night wind.
Kayneth El-Melloi.
Lancer's Master.
Kayneth watched his Servant fight, his arms folded across his chest and his bearing haughty.