Time passed without them realizing it. The sun now stood directly at its zenith, yet the air was noticeably colder than the day before.
Since the previous night, the atmospheric temperature had gradually dropped by several degrees.
On the rooftop of Fuyuki City Hospital, white sheets hung out to dry fluttered in the wind. A wooden bench sat nearby, and on it, Rin and Shirou were seated together.
"The appearance of an eighth Master with that strange Servant…" Rin began listing things off in an irritated tone.
"The traces of Caster and Assassin have vanished."
"Soichiro Kuzuki, who was suspected to be Caster's Master, is already dead."
"And the mana disappearance incidents, from last night until this morning…" Rin rubbed her face in frustration. "Ugh… I don't even feel like listing everything."
"This Holy Grail War is getting crazier for some reason."
Rin's words poured out like an endless stream of complaints, while Shirou remained silent, listening intently.
Shirou's hand, resting on his thigh, clenched tightly. His veins stood out, and his expression hardened as he held back something left unspoken.
A few moments of silence passed before Rin turned toward Shirou, her gaze steady and filled with conviction.
"Hey, Shirou," Rin called out, her voice serious. "We can't just let this go. We need to work together."
Shirou turned to her, falling silent for a moment. Rin's words lingered in his mind, forcing him to think carefully before he could give an answer.
But just as Shirou was about to open his mouth, the white sheets dancing in the wind on the rooftop were suddenly swept aside.
From behind them emerged the figure of Archer. He walked forward casually, yet his voice instantly cut through the air.
"Hm… cooperating with a Master who doesn't even possess real power?" Archer's tone was bitter, cold, openly dismissive of Shirou. "That's not a wise decision, Rin."
The words struck deep, and Shirou immediately stood up from the bench, his expression hardening.
"What do you mean—"
"Enough, both of you." Rin's voice suddenly rose, sharp and commanding, cutting in before their argument could ignite any further.
Rin glanced back and forth between the two of them, clearly trying to prevent an unnecessary argument.
Her sharp gaze quickly settled on Archer. She extended her hand, pointing straight at her Servant.
"Hey, Archer," Rin said casually, yet firmly. "I'm your Master. So listen to me."
Archer merely snorted in response, offering no reply. He crossed his arms over his chest, as if refusing to comment any further.
The next moment, Archer's body slowly faded, disappearing into spirit form—whether out of irritation or simply because he didn't want to keep looking at Shirou.
Rin let out a long sigh, a hint of annoyance showing on her face. "That guy… I really don't understand his personality."
Even so, Rin soon turned back to Shirou. A confident smile returned to her face. "So, what do you say, Shirou? You're in, right?"
Shirou closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, then nodded. "Alright, Tohsaka. Let's work together."
***
The day passed swiftly, as if carried away by a mere evening breeze, until the sun finally set and the skies over Fuyuki City were draped in the curtain of night.
Far from the city's bustle, in the quiet marshlands on the outskirts of the forest, two Servants faced each other—Lancer and True Assassin.
There was no light conversation, no pause to catch a breath.
All that existed was a fierce battle, the clash of weapons and deadly swings far surpassing the abilities of ordinary humans, even skilled Magi.
Yet, despite the intensity of the fight, Lancer's dominance was unmistakable.
Lancer's crimson spear danced wildly, pressing True Assassin to the very edge of his limits.
Finally, a swift strike carved a lethal path, striking the skull mask that concealed True Assassin's face.
A crack rang out clearly. Lancer's eyes widened for a moment—he had finally seen what lay hidden beneath the mask.
True Assassin, holding the mask over his face, leapt backward, creating about five meters of distance to readjust its position.
"You… saw my face, Lancer!" shouted True Assassin, his voice filled with frustration and bitterness.
"That's just the beginning," Lancer replied calmly, stepping forward with ease as he twirled his spear.
"Damn you!!" True Assassin cursed, raising his blade once more.
In the next instant, the battle erupted again. Though fierce, it was clear that True Assassin was now at a disadvantage.
True Assassin continued to leap backward, maintaining distance to stay out of reach of Lancer's crimson spear. This time, he put about fourteen meters between them.
Lancer grinned, his expression that of a predator toying with its prey, and casually advanced once more.
"So, is this it at last?" Lancer muttered dismissively, as if savoring the game. "I wonder… what is a sandworm doing out here in the marsh?"
Unnoticed by Lancer, from the murky marsh behind him, something far more terrifying began to stir.
A figure—"the worst of humanity"—slithered forth, taking the form of black strands streaked with blood-red, writhing like tentacles.
In the next instant, the space around the marsh pulsed, distorted like ripples of unnatural energy.
The black strands sliced through the murky water, writhing swiftly through the mud. One of them suddenly coiled around Lancer's leg.
Lancer, who had been casually advancing toward True Assassin, was taken aback.
Before he could react further, his body was yanked violently, dragged across the marsh's surface multiple times like a ragdoll.
Of course, Lancer did not remain passive. With immense effort, he struggled to free himself from the binding strands, each tug pressing against his entire body with overwhelming force.
Finally, summoning his full strength, he broke free. Lancer leapt out of the marsh and immediately reached into his pocket.
He pulled out several red gemstones and hurled them into the murky water.
The moment they landed on the marsh's surface, a barrier of blue magical energy materialized, enveloping him in protection against any further attacks.
Heavy breaths escaped his mouth. His crimson spear twirled once in his hand, ready to strike anything that approached.
However, the barrier did not hold for long. With just a single touch, the black strands seeped through, corrupting the defense before shattering with a crackle, like paper consumed by fire.
Now, the red-gradient black strands had completely encircled Lancer, floating and twisting within the water, like hungry wolves closing in on their prey.
Lancer prepared to strike or evade when a loud, threatening voice cut through the chaos:
"If you move… you will be devoured."
Lancer froze, his eyes sharpening as he glared toward True Assassin standing in the distance.
"Damn it…" he growled, jaw tightening. "Do you even know what this thing is?!"
True Assassin did not respond. He merely raised his right arm, tightly wrapped in bandages, and slowly began unbinding it from beneath his tattered cloak.
Meanwhile, from the murky marsh, even more red-gradient black strands emerged, writhing as if alive.
In an instant, attacks came from every direction—right, left, front, and back—relentlessly swarming Lancer.
Lancer clicked his tongue, then slammed his red spear onto the surface of the marsh.
A burst of mana erupted, blasting away some of the black strands while splashing water into the air, creating wild, crashing waves.
He immediately leapt back, trying to put some distance between himself and the encroaching strands.
But the black threads gave no opening. Like a pack of predators, they relentlessly pursued him, launching wave after wave of attacks, keeping him constantly on the defensive.
Meanwhile, as Lancer struggled under the relentless assault, True Assassin had finished unwrapping all the bandages from his right arm.
What emerged was no ordinary human arm—it was a long, red limb, twisting and writhing like a living whip.
This was the source of True Assassin's terrifying moniker: The Cursed Arm.
The weapon was not merely a limb, but the manifestation of his Noble Phantasm—Zabaniya: Delusional Heartbeat.
Zabaniya was a demon hand, a cursed arm rooted in Middle Eastern magical tradition, created specifically to bring death through a heart curse.
True Assassin usually concealed its form with wrappings, making it appear like a useless, paralyzed arm. But when unleashed, the hand revealed its true nature.
This Noble Phantasm functioned by creating a mirrored shadow of the target's heart using Ether Clump.
By destroying this false heart, Zabaniya's curse immediately shattered the victim's real heart without even touching it.
More than that, True Assassin could consume the opponent's heart to empower himself, enhancing both his instincts and intelligence.
"Treasure Tool!" True Assassin shouted loudly, his right hand spinning wildly, ready to strike. "—Zabaniya!"
In midair, amidst his struggle against the writhing black threads, Lancer glanced over. His eyes widened.
"Treasure Tool…?!" he muttered in shock, realizing that the distance between them had suddenly widened significantly.