At my invitation, Medea sat slowly, her gaze still sharp with suspicion.
"...State your reason for bringing me here," she demanded.
Straight to the point, then. It was a reasonable response given her circumstances. She had been rescued from the brink of oblivion by the Master of another Servant—a complete stranger who chose to spare her life.
In her mind, she likely assumed she was being kept as a mere pawn or a tool to be exploited. She would have to be a fool to trust me unconditionally.
I met her gaze and nodded, acknowledging her wariness.
"To put it bluntly, Caster... I desire you."
"...Excuse me?"
"...Excuse you, Berserker?!"
Medea stared at me, her face flush with a mounting heat and a look of utter bewilderment. Beside her, Illya's expression was one of complete disbelief, as if she couldn't process the words she had just heard. I tilted my head. Was my phrasing unclear?
"Wh-What do you mean by that, Berserker?!" Illya stammered.
"I mean exactly what I said. A contract between Servants."
"You don't just announce a contract proposal like that!"
An indignant fist connected with my side. Illya huffed in frustration, having delivered a sharp—if harmless—blow. I looked back at Medea, who was now regarding me with an even more profound sense of unease.
"Why are you looking at me with such distaste?" I asked.
"You are... No, clearly you said that without a shred of self-awareness... Very well. Putting that aside, why do you trust me? What makes you think I won't betray you at the first opportunity?"
"If you do, I shall simply force your departure then. And truthfully... I find it impossible to imagine a scenario where I lose to you."
"...You certainly don't lack for confidence, do you?"
"Indeed. My hide is somewhat more resilient than most."
In my past life, even before I was bathed in the dragon's blood, I had sustained nothing more than minor burns after taking a direct blast of dragon's breath. After the dragonization process was complete, my body became harder than any known substance. This physical absolute manifested as my Noble Phantasm: Armor of Vortigern.
It is an absolute bulwark, an ironclad defense that renders any attack of A-rank or below utterly meaningless. My very flesh is the armor.
To pierce this defense, one would require the likes of the Rhongomyniad that claimed my life, the True Name Release of Excalibur, or the peak armaments of Gilgamesh's Gate of Babylon—noble phantasms of A+ rank or higher.
In short, her A-rank magecraft would be as effective against me as a light autumn breeze. Medea stared at me as if she were looking at an absurdity of nature.
"...What kind of Noble Phantasm is that? That is nothing short of a cheat!"
"Hmph! My Berserker is the strongest! He needs nothing less!"
Illya spoke with pride, placing her hands on her hips and puffing out her chest.
"...Very well. I was destined for dissolution regardless. I shall cooperate. It's not as if I have much of a choice."
"Excellent! Caster, I welcome you to the Einzbern estate! Sella! Leysritt!"
"You called, My Lady?" the two maids answered in unison as they entered the room.
Illya beamed at them. "Tonight, we feast! Prepare a party!"
"As you wish."
"Preparations shall begin immediately."
Illya clapped her hands together with a sharp *crack*. "Now then! Before we begin our celebration for our new Servant..."
She turned her attention toward a blue crystal sphere resting on the table. Reflected within the glass was a man in blue azure armor, brandishing a crimson spear. He was approaching the castle—a Servant, likely of the Lancer class.
"...Let us greet our intruder."
A mischievous, almost wicked smile played across her lips.
***
Clad in a skintight azure bodysuit, the blue-haired, red-eyed Lancer stepped into the grand hall of the castle. His expression was one of pure boredom as he balanced his spear over his shoulder, his voice echoing through the hollow stone corridors.
"Hey now! I've come for a bout, Einzbern! Since you've got a guest, how about you come out and show some hospitality? I know you've been watching me."
"...How lacking in refinement," Illya said, looking down from the second-floor balcony, her eyes narrowed with disdain. "And for a common intruder, at that."
"Ha! Is that any way to speak to someone you've just met?"
"It is hardly for an uninvited guest to lecture me on manners. However, I suppose I can make an exception for the ignorant. I am Illyasviel von Einzbern, Master of Caster and Berserker."
"Aha! So that's where Caster crawled off to. You certainly managed to bring her home. And a brat like you is the Master? I suppose the Einzberns are truly falling on hard times."
Lancer smirked, sliding his spear off his shoulder and leveling the crimson point toward Illya.
"So, I don't suppose you're my opponent. Why don't you send out your Servant? Or do you intend to face me yourself?"
"Hmph. Dispose of this nuisance, Berserker."
At Illya's command, I manifested my armor and visor with a surge of prana. I stepped out from the shadows of the balcony and plummeted toward the hall floor.
I landed silently, my weight seemingly betrayed by the grace of my movement. Lancer watched me, his eyes sharpening as he took in my form.
"...So, you're the Einzbern's lapdog?"
The metallic rattle of my armor echoed in the silence.
I saw no reason to offer him words. In silence, I drew the sword at my hip. Seeing this, Lancer's grin widened into something predatory, like a beast eyeing its prey.
"...Hah. It seems your sanity is long gone, but I like your spirit. Then... shall we begin!"
He tightened his grip on his spear, prana surging from his body in an invisible tide. Then, with a speed that defied the eye, he lunged.
True to his reputation as the swiftest of Heroic Spirits, his spear screamed through the air, aimed directly at my throat.
I parried the strike to the side and stepped into a counter-offensive. Lancer recovered with inhuman fluidness, drawing back his spear to block my blade which sought his own neck.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Sparks showered the air with every collision of steel. Our exchange of blows far surpassed the limits of mortal men, a deadly dance where every strike was meant to end the other.
Dozens of exchanges passed in a heartbeat. I deflected a downward strike from his spear by reinforcing my blade with a Prana Burst, the sheer force of the impact threatening to snap his weapon's shaft.
Knocked back by the weight of the blow, Lancer flipped through the air and landed with predatory grace. He stood, breathing steadily, eyeing me with renewed interest.
"...You. Are you truly lost to madness? How can a mindless beast show such exquisite technique?"
"....."
I offered no answer, simply raising my blade and leveling it at him. Lancer sighed, scratching his head as if frustrated by my silence.
"Fine, no talk then. Damn. I only came here for a bit of scouting, but this is turning into more than I bargained for."
He shifted his stance, gripping his spear in a reverse hold. I narrowed my eyes as an ominous crimson light began to coil around the spearhead. The air grew heavy with the weight of an approaching Mystery.
He was preparing his Noble Phantasm. Realizing this, I prepared to close the distance, but Lancer anticipated me. He leapt back, putting distance between us, and took the stance of a thrower.
"Too late! Take this strike! Consider it a flower offered to your grave!"
[Gae Bolg: The Soaring Spear that Pierces with Death!]
The spear was unleashed from point-blank range, a crimson streak of light hurtling toward my heart. Damn, I was careless!
I frantically moved to block with my sword, but the spear—which I should have surely intercepted—defied the laws of physics, already pressing against my chest.
"!! Berserker!" Illya screamed.
The curse of casualty was absolute. I was a second too slow. Is this how it ends? The point of the spear bit into my chest—
CLANG!
It was repelled. ...What?
I stared blankly at the spear as it bounced away.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Even after being repelled, the spear lunged forward again and again, driven by its curse to find my heart. Yet, time and time again, it struck my chest only to be deflected as if hitting an impenetrable diamond. It could not pierce me.
...Right. Gae Bolg's rank was B+. Even reinforced by runes, its limits were at the cusp of A-rank.
Meaning it could not bypass the Armor of Vortigern. The spear eventually lost its momentum, failing to find purchase in my flesh, and spun away into the air.
Unable to watch any longer, Cu Chulainn reached out his hand, and the crimson spear flew back into his grip. He looked at me, his face a mask of utter astonishment.
"...Huh. I've seen 'em dodge it, and I've seen 'em die to it, but I've never seen the damn thing just bounce off... Just what the hell are you made of, anyway?"
He shook his head in disbelief and rested the spear back on his shoulder.
"I'd love to stay and figure this out... but my Master's a bit of a coward. He's telling me to pull back if the spear doesn't do the trick."
He muttered something about how dangerous it was to leave me alive after showing my hand, then turned his back to me.
Illya, finally finding her voice, called out to him. "You think we'll just let you walk away?"
"Hah! Chase me if you want, little lady. But next time... you'd better come prepared to lose your life."
With those parting words, Lancer vanished, leaving only a blur of blue as he exited the Einzbern castle at a speed only his class could achieve.
I gathered prana in my legs, preparing to give chase, but Illya shook her head.
"Stop, Berserker. Let him go."
"...Are you certain?"
She nodded. Seeing her resolve, I sheathed my sword.
"It is only the first day. We can consider it a scouting mission. Besides, we have a party to attend to tonight, don't we?"
She looked up at me with a joyous expression. "By the way, Berserker... you were incredible!" I couldn't help but smile, reaching out to pat her head gently.
"Of course I was. Consider who it was that summoned me."
"Hehe! Right! Since I summoned you, it's only natural you're the strongest! Now, let's head back! Give me a ride!"
I was momentarily stunned by her childlike playfulness, but I laughed softly and offered my back.
"...Very well. Hold on tight."
"I'm on! Let's go!"
"Ha... Truly, there's no stopping you..."
Carrying Illya on my back, I made my way back toward the dining hall.