Boom!
Lancer of Red—Karna—was blasted away like a cannonball, crashing violently into a stone structure near the Church on the Hill.
Yet the next moment, under the frigid gaze of Lancer of Black—Vlad III—Karna pushed aside the rubble and emerged unscathed.
The execution stakes that had pierced through his body were now reduced to ashes, burned away by the crimson flames of magical energy that erupted from him.
Soon, the wounds across Karna's body began to heal rapidly. Except for the gash corroded by purplish-red mana particles expanding over time, the rest had vanished without even a bruise.
Seeing this, Vlad let out a faint sigh in his heart.
So this was the defense of Karna, the Son of Surya, the Sun God. With his Kavacha and his A-rank Divinity amplifying both endurance and regeneration, if not for the power bestowed by Her Majesty, he might not have been able to inflict any real damage at all.
"Lancer of Black, that purple-red mana earlier—it doesn't belong to you, does it?"
Holding his golden spear of the sun, Karna traced the long, thin wound across his chest and said with certainty, "...That was the power of a god."
Earlier, their clash of strength had been nearly equal, but ever since those purplish-red mana particles burst from Vlad's body—an aura that even made Karna's heart tremble—his own power was crushed instantly. Even his divine regeneration was suppressed by that corrupt force.
"Yes, it is the blessing of Her Divine Majesty. Son of the Sun, Karna... your might is formidable, I admit, but even so, I cannot back down."
Surrounded by countless black execution stakes, Vlad III gripped his silver lance tightly, looking as though he had returned to the days when he defended his homeland against the Ottoman Empire.
"Borrowing divine power may be unsporting, but the land we fight upon is mine! Whether to reclaim my honor or defend this soil, I will give everything I have!"
"Then once more—hmm?!"
Vlad turned his head sharply. Two arrows imbued with mana shot skyward, streaking upward like twin meteors.
The next instant, blinding light burst forth. Starlight filled the heavens like a newly unveiled Milky Way, descending with a deadly, beautiful brilliance.
Each point of light was a green-glowing mana arrow. Countless beams of light poured down in a torrential storm, filling the air with a roar that drowned all else.
Seeing this, both Vlad and Karna halted their battle simultaneously, shifting into defensive stances.
"Kazıklı Bey!" Vlad roared.
Instantly, countless black stakes glowing crimson erupted from the ground, layering themselves around him in a dome of protection.
Archer of Red—Atalanta's—Noble Phantasm covered a vast area, but in truth, its power was relatively weak against Servants of this caliber.
For Karna and the Prince Vlad, it was merely an inconvenience—its damage negligible beyond restricting movement.
One endured with his golden armor, the other countered with an ever-expanding fortress of stakes.
Meanwhile, through the token granted by Selene, Vlad temporarily lifted the manifestation seal of the Astartes Legion soldiers, commanding them to withdraw.
Better to conserve their strength. Even if they could be re-summoned after death, the cooldown period would still hinder future operations.
"Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!"
"My Lord Duke!"
"Mm." Vlad gave a brief nod as Berserker of Black—Frankenstein—and Archer of Black—Chiron—leapt within his protective barrier.
"This assault may not have slain the Red Masters, but it has forced them to expend Command Spells. That alone fulfills our objective."
Indeed, the Prince understood it was time to retreat. They had failed to eliminate the enemy Masters in their first strike, and now, with the Red Servants recalled, the numbers were no longer in their favor.
At that moment, a telepathic message reached them all:
'My King, our objective has been achieved. Her Majesty has already eliminated two of the enemy Servants. The purpose of weakening the Red side is fulfilled. You may now retreat.'
Every Servant of Black received the same order simultaneously from their Masters.
Upon hearing the message, Prince Vlad's stern face finally softened into a faint smile...
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
As the rain of light arrows came to an end, the entire church district surrounding the Church on the Hill was razed to the ground—flattened as though bombarded by artillery fire. Not a single tree remained standing, and the earth was left pockmarked with craters.
Crack—!
Vlad stepped out from behind the fortress of countless black execution stakes, glancing one last time toward Lancer of Red—Karna—who had dismissed his twin golden shields, and the dark-skinned priest beside him.
"Servants of the Yggdmillennia clan—retreat!"
"Eh? We're done already? I was just getting started! Don't run!"
After their brief clash, Mordred shouted irritably at the silent, stoic Saber of Black, who lowered his sword and turned away without a word.
Seeing that Red Saber intended to pursue, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada quickly stopped her. "Saber, don't chase. We're preparing to withdraw as well."
"And who the hell are you to order me—uh..."
Originally, Mordred had no intention of listening to that tanned priest. Anyone who worked alongside that scheming poison-witch could hardly be a good person!
"Yes, Master, I understand." However, under the strict command of her Master, Kairi Sisigou, Mordred reluctantly relented. "Hey, tanned priest, my Master told me to listen to you! He'll be here soon. Where are we going now?"
"Such insolence! Did your parents never teach you manners, you rude little girl?" snapped Semiramis, standing beside Amakusa with her arms crossed.
"Hah? Little girl?! Look who's talking, you cranky old hag!"
That word—"little girl"—hit every one of Mordred's nerves. She couldn't possibly let it slide.
"What did you just say?!"
"..." Watching the two women immediately erupt into hostility, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada's "pure" smile nearly cracked apart.
At that moment, he realized that failing to seize control of Saber of Red might actually have been a blessing in disguise. If these two—Semiramis and Mordred—were under the same command, their constant infighting would drive him insane.
After a monumental effort, Amakusa finally managed to pacify the feuding pair. Surveying the smoldering ruins—no, the scorched wasteland—of what was once the church, he spoke calmly: "Let's go. We'll need a new base of operations."
"The first round... goes to them."
...
Sighișoara — inside a residence owned by the Holy Church.
Creak~
"Master! You're so slow!"
Following the familiar's directions, Kairi Sisigou pushed open the door, and before he could even step fully inside, Mordred's impatient voice hit his ears.
"Ah, sorry, Saber. The enemy still outnumbers us. Better to be cautious," he replied, shaking his head as Mordred pushed him down onto the bench.
"Tch... Whatever. At least you finally showed up. I was about to lose my mind stuck here with this woman!" Sitting cross-legged beside him, Mordred shot a glare across the room at the woman dressed in black finery.
A vein pulsed on Semiramis' forehead. "You! You really are insufferable!"
"Enough, Assassin. Saber. This isn't the time to quarrel. Or do you want the Yggdmillennia clan to laugh at us?"
Tapping the table lightly to draw their attention, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada smiled as he poured coffee for both the quarrelsome pair—whose relationship seemed more like father and daughter than Master and Servant.
"Indeed," Sisigou agreed, accepting his cup. "But, Father, where are the other Red Masters?" He glanced around. Aside from the five Servants present, only two Masters had arrived—himself and Amakusa.
Amakusa didn't answer immediately. He simply smiled and took a slow sip of his coffee.
"Mr. Sisigou, was it? The other Masters are currently... indisposed. They've entrusted us with formulating the next strategy. In fact, this meeting was arranged especially for you and your Saber—given your... independent tendencies."
At that moment, Semiramis' voice reached Kairi Sisigou's ears.
"What an insufferable woman," Mordred muttered under her breath.
Kairi silently agreed from the bottom of his heart.
Heh... "The other Masters are currently indisposed," huh? If he couldn't see through that blatant excuse, he might as well quit the Mage's Association altogether.
"All right, Assassin, let's not get distracted. Mr. Sisigou has more pressing concerns. Let's move on to the information we've gathered."
Seeing that Kairi wisely chose not to pry further, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada set down his teacup and clapped his hands lightly.
"Now then, based on the intelligence obtained from the recent battle at the Church on the Hill, we've confirmed the identities of four Servants belonging to the Yggdmillennia clan."
"Mr. Sisigou, I believe you already have some idea of the Black Lancer's true name, don't you?"
"Yeah," Kairi nodded. "Our earlier guess was right. It's Romania, after all. Naturally, the Yggdmillennia clan would summon one of the country's own heroes."
In Fuyuki, that might not matter—but in a Holy Grail War held on Romanian soil, there was no reason not to summon the nation's most famous hero.
"Lancer of Black—Vlad III, the Prince of Wallachia," Kairi said grimly. "With the leyline blessings of his homeland, he's a troublesome opponent..."
"No... he alone isn't the real problem. Nor are Berserker of Black—Frankenstein; Archer of Black—Chiron; or Saber of Black—Siegfried. Their identities are confirmed, but none of them are the greatest threat."
"The true issue lies with the one—born of divine descent."
Seated across from Kairi, Amakusa Shirou rested his elbows on the table, fingers interlocked before his face. His expression turned cold.
"Previously, we lost two Servants—Rider of Red, Achilles, and Berserker of Red, Spartacus. Both were exceptional warriors. Yet even after an entire night, even with Command Spells used to recall them, there has been no response."
"Let's exchange intelligence, then," Amakusa continued. "Saber and Mr. Sisigou, you were the first to engage the Black Servants. Tell us—what exactly did you encounter in Trifas?"
"We fou—"
"Saber."
"Tch!" Mordred crossed her legs and folded her arms, turning her head away with a scowl after being silenced by Kairi.
"I'll handle it..." Kairi said at last.
Though he hadn't fought the Astartes soldiers directly, nor faced Selene herself, even a distant glimpse of that silver-white Servant had left a deep impression. Just looking at her filled one with the suffocating sense of divine authority—an overwhelming presence that pressed upon the soul, as though facing the ruler of heaven and earth itself.
Mordred had been tossed around like a rag doll—barely able to retaliate.
"What about her class? What kind of Noble Phantasm or weapon did she use?" Amakusa pressed. Knowing a Servant's class was crucial; even gods, once bound to a Saint Graph, were constrained by its limits.
"Uh... unfortunately," Kairi admitted, glancing at Mordred's sullen face, "she only used her fists."
For a moment, the room fell into complete silence. Even Semiramis, ever ready to mock Mordred, held her tongue. She might dislike the Saber, but she wouldn't deny her strength.
"Could it be some kind of physical enhancement spell...?" Amakusa murmured.
"Rider."
The quiet, solitary figure leaning against the wall—Archer of Red, Atalanta—spoke up suddenly.
"Rider?" All eyes turned toward her.
"Yes. Rider. That was the intelligence Achilles sacrificed his life to pass on. There's no mistake—the god-descended Servant belongs to the Rider class!"
Covering half her face with one hand, Atalanta's voice trembled slightly, but her conviction was unwavering. "I didn't see her use any mount... but the massive black-and-white lance she wielded—it's unmistakably a cavalry weapon."
"Rider, then. That gives us a direction to plan around."
...
Fortress of Millennia.
"Cough..." Who's talking about me? Walking down the corridor toward the artificial homunculus workshop, Selene suddenly felt a tickle in her nose—as if someone, somewhere, were gossiping about her.
But soon, as she turned a corner, a slender, frail silhouette appeared in her path.
"Avicebron," she said calmly, "is this the core you've chosen?"