DW DXD Remastered Chapter 8 A Clash of Legends (Patreon)

Fuyuki Docks

The night air was thick with anticipation. The cold breeze carried the sharp scent of salt from the ocean, slipping between stacks of metal shipping containers and weaving through the rows of cranes like a ghost. The rhythmic crashing of waves against the concrete pilings provided a steady backdrop, a slow, relentless drumbeat beneath the tense quiet that had settled over the docks.

Two warriors stood poised on the open ground, framed by the dim glow of scattered floodlights, one clad in black, the other in shining silver over a deep blue dress.

Saber and Lancer faced each other in perfect stillness, their gazes locked, neither willing to give even the illusion of yielding. Between them, the space felt taut, as if the very air had become a drawn bowstring, ready to snap with lethal force at the slightest movement.

Saber’s invisible blade rested at the ready, both hands firm on the hilt, her stance low and balanced. Her armor caught what little light there was, reflecting it in clean, sharp lines that marked her as a knight rather than a mere fighter. Every muscle in her body was coiled with restrained power, yet her expression was calm, resolute and unwavering.

Lancer, in contrast, seemed almost relaxed. His dark armor hugged his frame, the moonlight glinting softly along each curve of metal. His crimson spear rested lightly in his hand, point angled toward the ground, but there was nothing casual about the way he held it. His weight was centered, stance fluid and ready to spring in any direction, eyes keen and alive with battle-honed focus.

The wind tugged at their hair and clothes. Somewhere in the distance, a ship’s horn sounded, long and low, then faded.

Neither knight flinched.

The world narrowed to a single line between them, one that would be broken only when the first strike fell.

—-----------------------------------

“It's pretty cool that we have front row seats and that nobody is noticing or hearing us. Your illusions must be pretty powerful, Tamamo.” Issei smiles while sitting on a stack of the storage containers.

The metal beneath him was cold, the container stacked high enough that he could look down over the battlefield like it was some kind of VIP balcony. Below, Saber and Lancer faced off in the open clearing of the docks, perfectly visible and yet, not a single eye turned toward him.

Tamamo, nestled comfortably beside him, leaned in with a satisfied smile. “Mikon! Aren't I amazing, husband.” She nuzzled against his arm, tail swaying with amusement.

Her tails curled lazily behind them. To the outside world, they were nothing but an empty shadow between containers.

(FOCUS.) Ddraig screams in his mind with a growl.

The sudden mental roar made Issei wince, shoulders jerking. “Alright. No need to scream my head off.” He grumbled under his breath, forcing himself to tear his attention away from Tamamo’s warmth and back to the duel below.

He quickly notices that Lancer was just a pretty boy with a long red spear and shorter yellow one. The moonlight glinted off that annoyingly handsome face and armor. He frowns, wanting to punch his face. ‘Pretty boy knight with two badass weapons, of course he has to look cool on top of it.’

He quickly pays more attention to the two bombshells that were Saber and Irisviel. Too bad one of them is married, so he mainly focuses on Saber. “Hey, where's her sword?”

At first glance, it looked like she wasn't holding anything, yet her stance was unmistakably that of a swordswoman prepared for battle. Her hands were set just right, shoulders angled, feet planted in a textbook sword stance, only the weapon itself was missing.

Tamamo, sitting beside him with her arms folded beneath her chest, thought. “Ah, you noticed. Saber is concealing her blade with a powerful enchantment. Possibly the element of wind.”

Issei's eyes widened. “Whoa, that's pretty cool. An invisible sword.”

Tamamo's ears flicked as she observed the battlefield. “It keeps her sword hidden, forcing her opponents to fight without knowing its reach, making it harder to defend.”

Her tone was casual, but her eyes were sharp, tracking every tiny movement below as the air around Saber shimmered faintly, proof that beneath the empty space in her hands, a legendary blade was already poised to strike.

——-----------------------------------------------

“A charm spell.” Saber remarked coolly as her gaze flicked to the small mole beneath Lancer’s eye.

Lancer gave a casual shrug, his expression wry, almost apologetic. “Sorry. It's a curse I have no power over. There's nothing I can do about it. Blame it on my birth or the fact that you were born a woman.”

Saber’s eyes narrowed, her stance unwavering, invisible blade at the ready. “Surely you don't believe that a pleasant face will save you from my blade, spearman.”

“I certainly hope not. It would spoil the fun.” Lancer smirked, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted his grip on his weapons. The twin spears, one longer and another  shorter gleamed under the harbor lights as he shifted his weight. “But seeing how you resist it shows that the tales of the Saber-class magic resistance were accurate. Very well. I prefer not to kill a girl who's throwing herself at me, anyway. It would sully my reputation. I'm pleased that my first opponent is made of stern stuff.”

“Oh? So you desire a fair fight?” A glimmer of approval flickered in Saber’s eyes. For all the strangeness of this era, there was still something familiar, two knights meeting honorably in single combat. “I consider myself fortunate to encounter such a proud hero.”

“Then let us begin.”

For a heartbeat, the world held its breath.

Then, in an instant, the silence was shattered. They moved.

Lancer lunged first, his long spear lashing out like a striking viper, the tip streaking straight for Saber’s heart. His footwork was precise, his momentum clean, no wasted motion, no hesitation.

Saber pivoted, her dress flaring. Her invisible blade flashed up to meet the incoming thrust, steel ringing out as it intercepted the lance. The force of the impact sent a shockwave rippling through the air, scattering dust and loose debris across the ground, the containers around them groaning faintly from the displaced force.

She countered immediately, driving forward with a precise thrust aimed at Lancer’s midsection. The air around her blade distorted as it cut forward, a compressed gust of wind trailing in its wake.

But before her strike could land, Lancer twisted his body with inhuman grace, slipping just outside her line. His shorter spear flashed upward in a brutal arc, a yellow blur that came dangerously close to her face. The deadly tip skimmed past her cheek, slicing through the air with a hiss as Saber jerked her head aside, narrowly evading what would have been a fatal blow.

Boots scraped against concrete. Sparks flew where steel kissed steel. Their weapons met and parted in a storm of motion from thrusts, parries, feints, and counters flowing together so quickly that to an untrained eye it would have looked like a blur of light and shadow.

The deadly exchange lasted only seconds, but in that short span, steel had clashed, dust had risen, and the air itself seemed to buzz with the sheer speed and precision of their attacks.

———-----------------------------------------

From their vantage point, Issei and Tamamo watched the battle unfold below, perched atop a stack of metal containers like two secret spectators in the gods’ seats.

“That’s insane,” Issei muttered, his eyes locked onto the duel. “They’re fighting so fast, I can’t even keep up.”

“Here, Master, this should help.” Sherri’s voice echoed calmly from the Dimensional Watch.

A faint warmth washed over Issei’s eyes as his vision sharpened, pupils tightening. For a moment, the world seemed to stutter then everything snapped into razor focus. The glow in his eyes reflected faintly on the metal beside him.

Issei blinked, startled. “Thanks, Sherri.” He quickly thanked his helper AI. “I can see the fight, but even then they’re so fast.”

Seated beside him, Tamamo rested her chin on one hand, elbow propped on her knee, golden eyes narrowed in keen observation. Her ears twitched with every clash of steel, tails swaying lazily behind her as if the fight were entertainment rather than a deadly duel.

“That’s to be expected. Even among Servants, Saber and Lancer belong to the fastest classes.” Her tail flicked idly as she analyzed their movements, gaze tracking each step, each feint. “Saber’s got excellent footwork, but Lancer’s attack range is keeping her at bay.”

Issei’s hands curled into fists on his knees, tension building in his shoulders as he watched Saber forced back by a flurry of red and steel. “I see. Saber’s kind of on the back foot.”

Tamamo smirked, a faint, sly curve of her lips. “Yes, but who knows for how long?” Her tone carried the quiet, amused confidence of someone who’d seen countless battles and knew one thing for certain, this clash of knights was only just getting started.

—-------------------------------------

Across the battlefield, hidden figures observed the fight with calculating eyes.

From the shadow of a stacked container, Kiritsugu Emiya watched the clash of Saber and Lancer through the faint haze of the battlefield. The air around the docks thrummed with mana, the unnatural stillness of the area a clear sign that this was no ordinary night.

“It’s started. Someone’s put up a barrier,” Kiritsugu noted, his voice clipped and precise. “Probably the Master of the enemy Servant.”

Beside him, Maiya Hisau pressed her back against the metal surface, eyes darting across the harbor through the scope of her gun. The faint glimmer at the periphery of her vision, the slightly warped air, the muted sounds from beyond, it all painted a clear picture.

Maiya nodded, her sharp gaze scanning the area. “From up there, we can survey the entire battlefield.”

Her eyes had already settled on the tall crane looming over the docks, a skeletal tower of metal that rose high above containers and cargo. A perfect place for a sniper… or for an enemy Master to hide.

“Indeed. That’s the best vantage point. Anyone would think so.” Kiritsugu’s tone was measured, but his mind was already working through possible strategies, paths of fire, escape routes. “You circle around to the eastern wharf. I’ll take the west. We’ll find spots where we can monitor both the battle and that crane.”

“Understood.”

Maiya moved swiftly, her footsteps silent against the concrete as she melted into the deeper shadows between containers, already adjusting her route to avoid any potential line of sight from Servants or familiars.

Kiritsugu remained still for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing as he watched the duel unfold through the gaps between steel boxes. Lancer’s spears were a blur, Saber’s invisible sword cutting arcs of compressed air. Even from here, he could read their tempo, their level.

“Let’s see what you’re capable of, my adorable King of Knights.” His words were quiet, almost swallowed by the distant crash of waves but there was a cold, clinical edge to them. This wasn’t admiration. It was an assessment. Every movement Saber made, every exchange she took, would decide how he used her in the battles to come.

—————-----------------------------------

On the battlefield, the fight had only grown fiercer.

Saber pivoted sharply, boots grinding against the concrete as she used the momentum of her last dodge to launch a sudden vertical strike. Her invisible sword came down in a clean arc, the compressed air howling around it, an attack with enough force to cleave through several sheets of steel.

Lancer reacted instantly. His right-hand red spear, the longer of the two, whipped up to meet her strike. Steel met unseen steel with a deafening crack, a spray of sparks bursting between them as the weapons collided. The impact sent a sharp shockwave rippling outward, tugging at cloaks and rattling loose debris across the dock. For a fleeting second, the two knights were forced apart, sliding back across the ground.

Then they engaged once more.

Lancer’s assault turned relentless, his body becoming a blur of motion. The long spear lashed out first, its tip snapping toward Saber’s throat, heart, and joints in rapid succession, a barrage of thrusts aimed with pinpoint accuracy at her vitals. He wove seamlessly between his two weapons, the long spear driving her back while the shorter one darted in from unexpected angles, flashing like a concealed dagger seeking the smallest opening in her defense.

Each time she deflected the longer spear, the shorter one was there to follow up, stabbing at ribs, wrists, and exposed gaps in her armor. The rhythm was merciless, stab, twist, feint, follow-through—like a storm of steel.

Yet, despite the overwhelming speed of his attacks, Saber held her ground.

Her movements were devoid of waste. Every shift of her feet, every turn of her shoulders was measured and exact. Her sword, though unseen, flowed, its presence marked by the shock of impact and the shimmering distortion in the air. She met each thrust with the smallest possible motion, knocking Lancer’s strikes just off-line rather than clashing head-on, redirecting instead of absorbing the full force.

To an outside observer, it looked like a dance of inches. A spearhead missing a vital point by a hair’s breadth. A blade that wasn’t there, yet always exactly where it needed to be.

Saber’s expression remained calm, eyes sharp with her breath steady. No panic. No hesitation.

Only for Lancer to press harder. Yet she refused to yield.

————---------------------------------------------------

It was hard, but even Issei could tell who had the advantage.

“She’s stuck reacting to him,” He murmured, eyes tracking every blur of red and silver below.

Tamamo nodded, her gaze never leaving the duel. “Lancer’s dual-wielding techniques are forcing Saber into a defensive stance. If she had more room to move, she could shift momentum, but with how close he’s pressing her…”

Down on the dock, Saber twisted her body at the last possible instant. Lancer’s spear carved through the space her shoulder had occupied a heartbeat earlier, the tip close enough that Issei swore he saw a few strands of blonde hair tumble away in the wake of the attack.

“This guy’s insane,” Issei muttered. “It’s like he’s using two separate fighting styles, and she has to defend against both at once.”

Tamamo’s ears twitched, her expression turning more serious, playful warmth fading into the cool focus of an experienced Caster analyzing a threat. “It’s worse than that.”

Issei tore his gaze away from the fight just long enough to look at her. “What do you mean?”

“Remember what Sherri said, those spears are Noble Phantasm,” She explained, eyes narrowing as she followed the arcs of red steel. “If she doesn’t realize that soon, she’s going to get seriously hurt.”

Issei swallowed, suddenly very aware that, for all their flashy movements, this wasn’t some anime fight on TV, one mistake here meant death. “Then shouldn’t she just go all out?”

Tamamo smirked, one corner of her lips curling up, tails giving a slow, anticipatory sway. “Oh, I’m sure she will. The question is—will she still be standing when she does?”

—----------------------------------------------------

Saber’s sharp eyes tracked the two spears Lancer wielded, never losing sight of either for even a heartbeat.

‘She’s watching both spears simultaneously. Lancer's greatest advantage is his opponent's uncertainty as to which he will use.’ Irisviel realized, anxiety tightening in her chest as she watched Saber gradually give ground. ‘If she guesses wrong even once…’ This was left unsaid as to not think of this any further.

‘The long spear in his right hand, or the short spear in his left…’ Saber’s mind remained cool even as her body moved at blinding speed. ‘I wonder which is the Noble Phantasm. If I were sure, I could commit to an attack.’

Lancer’s strikes came fast and fluid, his crimson long spear cutting through the air in vicious arcs while the shorter yellow spear hovered just outside her guard, always poised to dart in the moment an opening appeared.

“What's wrong, Saber? You're on the defensive!” Lancer called out, his tone mocking, but his eyes sharp.

‘Curse that blade of hers.’ Lancer clicked his tongue inwardly, even as his lips curved into a confident smirk. ‘Without knowing its exact length, I cannot get close enough to strike. The fact that she is able to repel my strikes so easily means that she must be a master swordsman.’

For all appearances, he held the advantage yet he, too, was fighting with incomplete information.

Saber pivoted sharply, her dress moving as she sidestepped another thrust. Using the momentum of her dodge, she launched a sudden vertical strike, her invisible sword cleaving downward.

Lancer reacted instantly, raising his right-hand spear to parry the blow. The sheer impact once again forced both warriors apart for a brief second, boots skidding against the concrete.

Then they closed the distance with Lancer’s assault returning to become a storm. His long spear lashed out in a furious barrage, each thrust aimed with pinpoint accuracy at Saber’s vitals while the shorter yellow spear snapped in from low angles, slashing at her wrists, ribs, and exposed gaps in her armor like a concealed dagger.

Yet, despite the overwhelming speed of his attacks, Saber stood her ground as she diverted the force of every strike, turning deadly lunges into harmless glances that skimmed past her armor.

To Irisviel’s eyes, it was like watching two storms collide—red and unseen steel, trading blows at a speed no ordinary human could even perceive. And in the middle of that storm, both knights silently searched for the same thing: the tiniest hint of the other’s true weapon.

———--------------------------

Meanwhile, on the distant rooftops, the other Masters observed the battle.

Kiritsugu lay prone on the cold concrete of a warehouse roof, his body aligned perfectly behind the sniper rifle. The weight of the rifle was familiar against his shoulder, the rubber of the stock pressed firmly into place. Through the scope, the world narrowed to circles of magnified light as it saw Saber’s clash with Lancer at the docks, Irisviel’s white coat at the edge of the battle… and beyond them, shadows.

“Northeast of Saber and Iri. On the roof of that warehouse. That is Lancer’s Master. Can you see him?” He muttered, barely moving his lips.

Maiya’s voice crackled softly through his earpiece, faint under the ambient hum of wind and distant city noise. “Negative. Not from my position.”

“Understood,” Kiritsugu murmured.

His finger settled along the trigger guard, then slipped into place. The crosshairs rested on a faint silhouette just enough of a presence to confirm a human figure watching the fight from another rooftop. Calmly, mechanically, he adjusted for wind, distance, and elevation.

“I’ll take him out from here.”

Just as he began to squeeze the trigger, a flicker of movement at the edge of his vision caught his attention. Something shifted in the shadows near the supposed Master—too fluid, too precise to be a trick of the light.

Kiritsugu’s sharp eyes narrowed as he nudged the scope, tracking the disturbance.

A shape emerged from the darkness, cloaked in black, its outline barely distinguishable from the night itself.

“Assassin?” He breathed, tension spiking for the first time as he saw a figure long thought dead standing calmly on the rooftop, very much alive and very much watching.

—————------------------------

Elsewhere, within the quiet confines of the church and the opulent study of Tohsaka Manor, two men observed the same battlefield through a pair of unseen eyes.

In the dimly lit office of the Fuyuki Church, Kotomine Kirei stood before an altar, hands folded behind his back. The only light came from a single lamp and the stained-glass moonlight filtering in from above. His expression was impassive, eyes unfocused in the way of someone seeing somewhere else entirely.

“There is activity at the warehouse district at the mouth of the Mion River. The first battle has finally begun,” Kirei reported.

Far away, in a richly furnished room lined with bookshelves and elegant décor, Tohsaka Tokiomi sat in his high-backed chair, a glass of wine held delicately between his fingers. The faint, distorted view projected by Assassin’s senses played across the mirror-like surface of a divination tool at his side.

“Not the first,” Tokiomi corrected smoothly. “To the others, this would be the second battle, Kirei.”

Kirei’s gaze remained steady, his tone unchanged. “It would appear that Lancer and Saber are the combatants.”

Tokiomi swirled the wine in his glass, watching the liquid catch the lamplight as much as he watched the distant fight. “Can you ascertain their status with Assassin’s eyes?”

“With ease. Saber’s abilities are especially high. Most of her parameters are rank A or higher,” Kirei noted, observing the flowing movements of the armored knight as she clashed with Lancer.

Tokiomi’s brow arched slightly. “I see. It’s no wonder that they are considered the strongest class. Saber likely presents a greater threat than Lancer. Can you see either Master?”

Kotomine focused, narrowing Assassin’s vision, sweeping the surroundings of the harbor. After a moment, he spoke again. “There’s only one person besides the Servants who is in the open. Standing next to Saber is a woman with silver hair.”

Tokiomi’s expression hardened. “Then Lancer’s Master is wise enough to remain hidden. That’s no novice. They understand the rules of the Holy Grail War.” His brow furrowed slightly. “Wait. A silver-haired woman?”

“Yes. Caucasian, with silver hair and red eyes,” Kirei confirmed without inflection.

“That doesn’t sound human… An Einzbern homunculus?” Tokiomi muttered, his mind racing through old alliances and rivalries. “I had thought the only pawn Jubstacheit had on the board was Kiritsugu Emiya. It would appear that I was wrong.”

Kotomine’s tone remained unreadable. “Then is that woman the true Einzbern Master?”

“Who knows? Either way, she will be a critical factor in the rest of the Grail War,” Tokiomi stated, setting his glass down with care. “Kirei, keep a close eye on her.”

Kotomine’s tone darkened almost imperceptibly. “Agreed. I shall keep one Assassin tasked to her at all times.”

——————--------------------------

Maiya lay low against a rooftop, binoculars pressed to her eyes as she tracked the faint silhouette moving along the opposite warehouse.

“I can see them. But Assassin should be dead, so why is he here?” She wondered aloud, remembering clearly the footage of Assassin’s “execution” at Tohsaka Manor.

Across the way, Kiritsugu adjusted his scope, following her line of sight. The black-clad figure clung to the shadows near the supposed position of Lancer’s Master, just watching.

“I knew something was up.” He muttered. The earlier timing, Tohsaka’s convenient display, Assassin dying in a way everyone could see… it all clicked together in his mind. “Let's see how this plays out. Continue to observe Assassin. I'll watch Lancer's Master.”

He exhaled slowly, settling his crosshairs. ‘So that whole scene was staged to make us think Assassin was off the board… and to flush out anyone careless enough to move early.’

“Let me attack Assassin, and while I have him distracted, you take out Lancer's Master,” Maiya suggested pragmatically, already adjusting her position for a possible strike.

“No, Maiya. Not against Assassin.” Kiritsugu’s response was immediate, firm. His gaze never left the scope. “We're not equipped to fight Servants right now.”

In a direct confrontation, humans were nothing but prey. Even with preparation, even with the right weapons, engaging a Servant head-on was suicide.

Maiya didn’t argue. “Understood.” She sank back into the shadows, watching in silence as Assassin lingered in the dark, confirming that the game the Church and Tohsaka were playing was far from simple.

——————------------------------------------------

Back at the docks, Saber and Lancer continued their intense battle, the ground beneath them scarred by their repeated exchanges. Dust and fragments of concrete littered the open space, faint scorch marks and gouges tracing the path of their blades and spears.

“There is no honor in a battle fought without an exchange of names,” Lancer called out between clashes, his breath steady despite the strain. His long spear spun once, knocking aside Saber's invisible blade before he slid back a half-step to reset his stance. “But allow me to offer my regards. It is quite impressive for a woman to fight so hard without even breaking a sweat.”

“You needn’t be so humble, Lancer,” Saber replied, her voice steady despite the brutal pace of their duel. Her armor was smudged with dust, but not a hint of fatigue showed in her expression. “Even without knowing your name, words from such a master of the spear do me honor.”

“I gratefully accept them.”

For a heartbeat, the clash of steel stilled as two knights acknowledging each other in the middle of a war.

A voice then interrupted their moment. “That’s enough fun for now, Lancer,” Keyneth El-Melloi Archibald’s cold command rang out, echoing from the upper levels of a nearby structure.

‘Lancer’s Master.’ Irisviel’s expression hardened as she glanced toward the source of the voice, her crimson eyes narrowing as she spotted the silhouette standing above the battlefield, watching them like pieces on a board.

“Do not allow this battle to go on. That Saber is a formidable opponent. Eliminate her at once. You may use your Noble Phantasm.”

Lancer’s jaw tightened. His grip on his spears subtly shifted as power began to gather around him, the air prickling with a new, sharper tension. “Yes, my Master.”

The easy banter was gone now. In its place remained only duty and the promise of a blow meant to kill.

—---------------------------------------------------

From the sidelines, Tamamo’s ears perked up, the lazy sway of her tails going still.

“Oh dear,” she mused, tone light but eyes sharpening. “Lancer’s Master just gave him the order to use his Noble Phantasm.”

Issei tensed, fingers curling against the cold metal of the container they sat on. “Wait, that means—”

Tamamo’s tail flicked once, slowly. “He’s going for the kill.”

—---------------------------------------------------------

On the battlefield, Lancer exhaled sharply, his breath misting faintly in the cold night air as he shifted his stance and buried the yellow spear on the ground. With his long crimson spear lowered slightly, the point angled toward Saber. A faint, ominous glow began to pulse along its length, the steel catching the moonlight in a way that felt wrong, almost predatory.

Saber immediately noticed the change. ‘So the long spear is his Noble Phantasm,’ She thought grimly, tightening her grip on her invisible blade.

Lancer smirked, the corners of his mouth curling with a mix of respect and lethal intent. “You heard him. I’ll be going for the kill now. Saber, are you going to keep using focused wind mana to keep your blade concealed? You must have a reason to hide your sword. My guess is that the sword reveals your true name.”

“How unfortunate, Lancer,” Saber countered, her voice firm, eyes hard as emerald steel. “You will never know the name of my blade. I’ll finish this before you get that chance.”

“We’ll see about that.” Lancer’s eyes gleamed, the red spear humming faintly as mana gathered around it. “You’ve exposed your sword.”

He lunged, not with brute force, but with precise intent.

As the blades clashed, a sudden shift in the air made Saber’s eyes widen in realization. The wind that had been compressed around her blade, normally stable and calm in her hands, suddenly buckled. ‘The Invisible Air is disintegrating?!’

To Irisviel, watching from the edge of the dock, the effect was immediate. The shimmering distortion that had cloaked Saber’s weapon, once a smooth, invisible blur, began to flicker and peel away like mist torn by a storm.

Irisviel gasped. ‘What’s going on?’

Up on the containers, Issei watched in shock as the air around Saber’s hands warped violently, the invisible barrier shredding in fragments of refracted light.

‘That red spear is chipping away at the Invisible Air!’ Saber realized, gritting her teeth as the enchantment unraveled under the spear’s cursed influence.

With a final, decisive thrust, Lancer broke through the last of the wind’s concealment. The distortion vanished in an instant, leaving the outline and true length of Saber’s sword laid bare.

Lancer smirked, eyes narrowing with satisfaction. “I have the length of your blade now. Now I needn’t worry about being struck!”

—----------------------------------------------

On the sidelines, Issei clenched his fists, knuckles whitening. He was really getting drawn into the fight now, heart pounding in sync with every clash of steel below.

“Her sword, he figured it out.” His voice came out tight, frustration leaking through.

Tamamo nodded solemnly, the playful light gone from her eyes for once. “Now that he knows its reach, Saber’s advantage is gone.”

Down on the dock, Lancer’s movements had already shifted, his footwork looser, his lunges bolder, no longer wary of stepping too close to an unseen edge.

“Then she has to do something before he attacks,” Issei muttered, eyes locked on the battlefield.

Tamamo tilted her head, fox ears angling forward as she watched the red spear begin to hum with gathering power. “The question is, does she have an answer to that spear?” Her tails gave a slow, restless sway, the implication clear: this next exchange wouldn’t just decide who had the upper hand. It might decide whether Saber walked away at all.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Saber narrowed her eyes, forcing her breathing to remain steady despite the pressure mounting in front of her. ‘I still have ways to counter his techniques. I just need to wait for an attack, one less powerful than the rest.’

She shifted her stance ever so slightly, centering her weight, the tip of her invisible blade lowering by a fraction. Her gaze no longer followed Lancer’s whole body, only the line of his shoulders, the angle of his hips, the subtle twitch that would telegraph his next thrust. She watched carefully, waiting for that single, exploitable opening.

Lancer advanced, the red spear humming faintly with mana as he circled, probing her defenses. Then, as the distance between them closed and the next clash became inevitable, Saber moved.

Just as the Servants were about to collide again, Saber brought her plan into action with her blade cut in at an angle meant to deflect and counter in the same motion, her timing precise.

But then pain exploded in her side.

Lancer’s red spear slipped in like a serpent, the tip piercing through Saber's armor and biting into the flesh of her midsection. The impact drove the breath from her lungs, warm blood blooming beneath the silver breastplate.

She gritted her teeth and forced her body to move, instinct and discipline overriding the shock. Saber quickly stepped back, boots skidding against the concrete as she retreated out of Lancer’s range, placing distance between them before he could press the advantage.

“Irisviel,” She spoke calmly, despite the tension in her voice and the pain flaring with every breath.

“Yes?” Irisviel’s answer was immediate. She rushed to Saber's side as far as the battlefield allowed, lifting her hands. Pale light gathered at her fingertips as she quickly started healing Saber's injury, magecraft flowing into the wound. Flesh knitted, blood flow slowed, and the sharp pain dulled beneath the steady warmth of restorative magic.

“My thanks. The healing is working.”

Irisviel nodded, though concern lingered in her eyes as she watched some of the blood still seeping beneath the armor. Saber’s face remained composed, but the fact that she’d been hit at all was alarming.

“So, this won’t be an easy victory,” Lancer remarked from across the way, twirling his spear with a casual flourish, as if he hadn’t just nearly disemboweled a King.

‘But why?’ Saber’s mind raced even as her expression stayed level. ‘My armor should have easily deflected that strike… yet the blade of his spear—’ Her gaze flicked down to her breastplate.

It was intact with not a single dent, not even a scratch.

‘The armor itself isn’t damaged? What is at work here? The only explanation is…’ Her mental calculation snapped into place. ‘Lancer’s spear bypassed the magical protection.’

Realization struck like lightning. “So that’s it.” Saber raised her head, eyes sharpening. “I see the secret of your spear, Lancer.”

Lancer, noticing the subtle change in her expression, chuckled. “Oh?”

“That red spear…” Saber’s grip tightened around her invisible hilt. “It negates magic.”

Lancer smirked, clearly pleased she’d worked it out. “Your armor was created using magic. If you were counting on it to protect you my spear makes its defense null, you should just surrender, Saber. You’re as good as naked before my spear.”

Saber’s gaze hardened, not with fear but with renewed resolve. “Don’t think that simply defeating my armor gives you the upper hand. If I cannot block your blade, I need only kill you before it strikes.”

With that, in one smooth motion, her armor disappeared as it was unsummoned. The silver plates vanished in a shimmer of light, dissolving into spirit particles and leaving her clad only in her blue dress and the invisible sword in her hands. She stood lighter now, freer, every movement unburdened by the weight of plate and mail.

Lancer’s smirk widened. “A bold move. Betting everything on one strike. Courageous. I like it.” He shifted his stance, lowering his center of gravity as the red spear came to rest in a ready position. “But in this case… it was a foolish mistake, Saber.”

“We shall see.” Saber’s voice was steady as stone. She raised her unseen blade, the air distorting around it. “Tell me your opinion again after my next attack.”

—-------------------------------------------------------

The moment the heavy plating vanished in shimmering golden light, revealing the slim blue dress beneath, Issei's eyes widened in disappointment.

“That's it,” He muttered under his breath, staring at Saber’s very modern, very modest oppai.

Tamamo’s ears twitched. “What was that, dear?”

“Nothing,” Issei said quickly, snapping his gaze away as if burned. Internally, he reeled. ‘All that majestic presence and she’s totally flat?!’

Tamamo wasn’t fooled for a second. She smirked knowingly, leaning in just enough that her own assets pressed against his arm. “Oh my, were you expecting something more abundant?”

Issei coughed, face heating. “I mean, with all that knightly confidence, I kinda thought—” he sighed, cutting himself off. “Nevermind!”

Tamamo’s tail swayed mischievously behind them. “You should know by now, darling. Size isn't everything.”

Issei sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Yeah, yeah. But still…” He glanced back down at the battlefield, trying very hard to focus on the deadly serious duel and not on his shattered expectations.

—-------------------------------------------

On top of the Fuyuki Bridge

The night wind howled around the great red arch of Fuyuki Bridge, tugging at clothes and hair as it rushed over the river below. From the highest support beam, the city looked like a constellation turned upside down, streets and lights glittering against the dark.

“This is bad. Extremely bad,” Rider rumbled, arms crossed over his broad chest as he observed the duel in the distance with a deep frown.

Waver clung beside him, still glued to the steel beam like a terrified barnacle. “What—what is?” he asked nervously, trying to keep up with his Servant’s train of thought and not think about the horrifying drop beneath his feet.

“Lancer has begun his ultimate attack. He intends to end the battle here.”

Waver blinked. “Isn’t that better for us?”

Rider turned to him with a sideways glance, unimpressed. “Idiot! What are you talking about? I wanted to sit back and watch until we saw a few more Masters. But at this rate, Saber may fall. Then it will be too late.”

“T-too late for what?” Waver stammered, stomach twisting, not from the height this time, but from the sense that he’d just missed something very important.

“The plan was to attack once they’d weakened each other! I admit, I had hoped another Servant would answer Lancer’s challenge.” Rider’s voice took on a wistful tone as he stared toward the docks, eyes gleaming like a child eyeing a festival. “Of course, it would be faster to fight them together than to find them one by one.”

Waver frowned. “Together?”

“Yes.” Rider’s grin widened, the wind whipping his red hair and cape around him like a banner. “Rarely does one have the chance to exchange blows with heroes from another time. And with the chance to fight as many as six, I’d hate to miss out on a single one.”

His eyes burned with excitement as he gestured grandly toward the distant duel. “Observe, boy! Saber and Lancer, both are valiant warriors whom I would dearly love to duel. I cannot let either die.”

“But… isn’t that the point? The Grail War’s objective is to kill one another!” Waver exclaimed, voice breaking on the words. ‘Has he forgotten what we’re here for?!’

“To win, but not destroy. To subjugate, but not humiliate.” Rider’s lips curled into a confident grin, his voice swelling with conviction that seemed to shake the steel beneath them. “That is true conquest! We will watch no longer! We shall join the fray, boy!”

“You idiot! What you’re doing is insane!” Waver nearly shrieked, clinging even tighter to the beam as Rider’s enthusiasm clearly meant movement. Fast, terrifying movement.

Rider let out a booming laugh that echoed across the bridge, rich and unrestrained. “If you don’t approve, will you stay here and observe?”

Waver grit his teeth, torn between terror and the stubborn pride that had led him to steal a relic and summon a King in the first place. “I’ll go! Take me with you, damn it!”

Rider’s laughter rumbled across the rooftops like distant thunder. “Excellent! That is my Master! Now we march!” The declaration hung boldly in the night as the King of Conquerors prepared to charge straight into the heart of the battle.

——————------------------------------------------------

On the battlefield, the decisive clash was about to begin.

The tempo of the fight shifted. Lancer’s stance lowered, his movements growing sharper, more deliberate, like a predator finally done testing its prey.

‘He’s preparing something.’ Saber realized, her eyes narrowing.

Then, in a blur of motion, Lancer revealed his second trump card as he brought up the yellow spear with his foot and grabbed it with his left hand. The shorter spear began to glow with the same ominous energy as the first, golden light crawling along its edge like living fire.

‘That was a misstep.’ A chill ran down Saber’s spine. ‘A Noble Phantasm needn’t be merely a single weapon.’

The realization came a heartbeat too late.

Lancer’s golden spear shot forward, the small gap between them vanishing in an instant as its tip struck true.

Pain flared in Saber’s hand, sharp and blinding. Her fingers trembled around her invisible hilt as control over her grip suddenly loosened.

‘No…’ She tried to close her hand into a fist, to tighten her hold on the sword, but her fingers barely responded, moving sluggishly, as if no longer hers.

A quick glance confirmed her fear. The angle of the blow, the way her hand refused to obey, her thumb’s tendon had been severed.

“You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?” Lancer chuckled, spear lazily tracing a circle in the air as if this were all a pleasant exercise. “Still, I really do like your indomitable spirit.”

“Get to work, you fool. You haven’t finished her.” Came Keyneth’s impatient voice, drifting from the shadows above like a cold draft.

Lancer sighed, shoulders lifting in a faint shrug. “I apologize, my Master.”

Saber took a steadying breath, forcing herself to shift her stance even as pain throbbed in her hand. Her fingers would not close properly around the hilt, but she refused to let the blade slip. “Irisviel. I require healing.”

Irisviel immediately focused her magic, crimson eyes sharpening as she extended her hands. Pale light bloomed around Saber's wounded hand, spreading warmth through torn flesh and severed muscle. The healing energy flowed cleanly, obediently.

Yet… something was wrong.

“Something’s wrong, I’m healing you but…” Irisviel’s hands trembled, confusion overtaking her features. “The healing worked. I’m certain. Saber, you should already be fully healed!”

And yet, Saber’s hand remained weak. Her fingers still would not obey.

Lancer watched the exchange with a knowing smirk. “You were sharp, realizing that my Gae Dearg could penetrate any armor.” He twirled his shorter spear, the one that had struck her, in an easy flourish. “But it was foolish to abandon your protection. Had you not done so, you would have blocked my Gae Buidhe.”

Saber’s gaze darkened as the pieces fell into place, her mind racing through what she knew of cursed weapons and legends. “I understand now. A cursed spear, whose wounds never heal. I should have realized it sooner.”

Her eyes drifted over to Lancer in a single, measuring sweep, his weapons, his stance, his smirking confidence,all lining up with a famous legend.

“Followed by a red spear that destroys magic.” She recited, voice low. “And beneath your right eye, a mole that enchants women. The answer is undeniable. You are First of the Knights of Fianna, Diarmuid of the Love Spot.”

Lancer’s smirk widened with genuine satisfaction. “Such is the pleasure of the Holy Grail War. But it is I who have the honor here. No hero summoned by the Grail could mistake that golden blade of yours.” His eyes glinted with admiration that, for once, was not tinged with mockery. “To face the legendary King of Knights and land even a single blow… I must be pretty damned good.”

Saber straightened, shoulders squaring, refusing to acknowledge the disadvantage she now faced. One hand was compromised, her armor useless, and her opponent had landed a wound that could not be healed. Even so, her eyes held nothing but resolve.

Lancer chuckled. “Now then, since we both know each other’s names, we can duel honorably, as knights should.” His smirk turned teasing. “Or does this displease you, occurring only after you’ve lost the use of an arm?”

“You jest.” Saber’s expression didn’t waver. “It’s humiliating that you would show me concern over such a scratch.”

Lancer grinned, clearly delighted. “Prepare yourself, Saber. Next time, you’re mine.”

Saber’s fingers curled as much as they could around her sword, muscles straining against the curse that bound them. “Only if I fail to strike first, Lancer.”

But before either could move, a sudden gust of wind tore through the battlefield, sending loose gravel skidding across the docks and tugging at cloaks and coats alike.

The air above them roared.

Descending from the sky was a massive golden chariot pulled by snorting, thunder-hoofed bulls, its wheels crackling with energy as they spun. Sparks flew where they met the air, and the very atmosphere seemed to shudder as it descended onto the open ground. The presence it brought with it was like a storm breaking over the harbor.

Standing atop the chariot was a towering figure clad in regal crimson. His mantle billowed dramatically behind him, his imposing frame radiating authority and irrepressible confidence. At his side, a much smaller, quivering young man clung to the railing for dear life.

The giant’s arms were crossed, a confident smirk plastered across his face as he gazed down at the warriors below like a king inspecting worthy challengers.

Rider and Waver had arrived and the tense duel shattered under the weight of a sudden, thunderous voice.

“Hahahaha! Such skill! Such passion! Both of you, sheathe your blades! You are in the presence of a king! I am Iskandar, King of Conquerors!” His booming declaration rolled across the battlefield and out into the night. “In this Grail War, I am Rider!”

Everyone from the Servants locked in combat to the Masters hiding in the dark, to a certain perverted dragon host watching from a concealed perch fell momentarily silent, astonished and stupefied at the sheer audacity of the King of Conquerors announcing himself in the middle of a deathmatch.

Done. Tell me what you think and if I made any mistakes.