The streets of Fuyuki were silent at this hour, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, but that peace was deceptive. If one looked closely—if one had the capable eyes to see through the illusion of normalcy—they would witness something truly impossible.
Two figures dashed through the streets, moving at speeds no human should be capable of. The first was a man, clad in an archaic red coat that flared dramatically as he sprinted forward. His silver-white hair barely moved despite his speed, and his eyes—sharp and unreadable—were locked ahead, scanning for an escape route. The second figure, just a step behind him, looked like something out of a legend: a young woman dressed in royal blue battle attire, silver armor gleaming in the dim light, her golden hair streaming behind her. She gripped a sword—an invisible blade that flickered against the night air, its presence felt rather than seen.
And behind them—
A monster.
A hulking, pitch-black figure tore through the cityscape like a force of nature. His massive frame was barely human, his skin burned with some eerie, otherworldly energy, and his blood-red eyes burned with a single, unwavering intent—kill.
The asphalt cracked beneath his sheer weight as he moved. Every step he took left deep imprints in the ground, and the very air around him distorted with sheer pressure.
Berserker was relentless.
And unstoppable.
Buildings trembled as he crashed into the streets, his sheer momentum sending shockwaves through the city. He didn't dodge obstacles—he destroyed them. Cars, streetlights, even chunks of sidewalk—all were obliterated in his path. The once-pristine road was now a jagged ruin, torn apart as if a meteor had been dragged through it.
And yet—
Despite the sheer calamity behind them, nobody saw a thing.
To the average citizen, the streets were empty, silent. The destruction, the battle, the forces at play here—none of it registered to ordinary human eyes.
That was the nature of the Holy Grail War.
Invisible battles, fought by legendary warriors, unseen by the world they threatened to destroy.
Archer shot a glance at Shirō as they ran. "So. Got a brilliant plan yet?"
Shirō, panting as she tried to keep up, glared at him. "You told me we should run! So I'm running!"
Archer clicked his tongue. "I meant an actual plan, not just 'run until we collapse.'"
Shirō ducked just in time as a street sign was ripped from the ground and hurled past her head—Berserker had ripped it out with his bare hands.
"Holy—"
She leaped over a destroyed car, Excalibur flashing in her grip, before turning to Archer. "I don't have a plan, okay?! What do you suggest?!"
Archer didn't answer immediately. He was calculating, scanning the surroundings, looking for something—anything—that could give them even a sliver of an advantage.
Then—
His eyes narrowed.
"The bridge," he said.
Shirō blinked. "What?"
Archer pointed ahead. "There. If we make it across, we can use the terrain. Force him into a tighter space."
Shirō followed his gaze. In the distance, spanning across the river, was the Fuyuki Bridge.
Wide. Long. Stable.
And, most importantly—
There were no civilians.
"…That's actually smart," Shirō admitted.
Archer smirked. "I do that sometimes."
They both ran faster.
Berserker, of course, did not care about their strategies. His only strategy was destruction. And right now, that meant catching and pulverizing the two figures before him.
He roared, the sound shattering nearby windows, his massive frame crashing forward with impossible speed.
Illya's voice rang out behind them, mocking.
"Running again, Big Sister?!"
Shirō gritted her teeth.
Illya giggled. "Berserker~ don't let them escape!"
The bridge was close. So close. Just a few more steps—
A shadow fell over Shirō.
Her instincts screamed.
She turned—
Berserker was above her.
The monster had leaped—LEAPED—from the street below, clearing a massive distance in an instant, his massive body hurtling toward her like a falling meteor.
"MOVE!" Archer's voice snapped her out of it.
Shirō barely threw herself to the side before—
BOOM.
Berserker crashed into the bridge with enough force to shake the entire structure. The ground beneath them buckled—massive cracks spread outward from the impact point, chunks of stone exploding into the air.
Shirō rolled, barely managing to stay on her feet. "Okay!" she gasped. "New plan—"
Archer moved.
In an instant, twin swords appeared in his hands—Kanshou and Bakuya—black and white, curved like fangs, their edges glinting in the moonlight.
"We fight."
Shirō blinked. "Wait, what?!"
Archer didn't wait. He launched himself forward, blades whipping through the air in a storm of steel.
Berserker swung—a massive, brutal, inhuman strike. The sheer force of it could've split a building in two.
But Archer twisted—dodging with inhuman precision, sliding under Berserker's attack and countering in a single, fluid motion.
His blades struck—sparks exploding off Berserker's skin.
And did absolutely nothing.
Shirō cursed.
This wasn't just any Servant. This was Hercules. The strongest warrior in history, blessed with madness and an ability that made him effectively unkillable.
Shirō tightened her grip on Excalibur. "Alright then," she muttered. "Guess we are doing this."
She charged.
Her sword clashed against Berserker's arm, a shockwave bursting from the impact.
It barely scratched him.
But she didn't stop. She couldn't.
Berserker turned, red eyes burning.
His fist came down—
Shirō barely managed to dodge—but the impact alone sent her flying across the bridge.
She landed, rolled, forced herself up—
Her body burned.
She couldn't keep this up.
Archer, dodging another blow, called out to her. "Shirō! Think!"
Think.
Think.
Think—
Then it hit her.
Mana Burst.
A flash of a memory—
Not hers, but Saber's.
The energy. The power.
She focused.
And—
A sudden rush of energy erupted from her body.
It wasn't huge. It wasn't even that powerful. But it was there.
And when she swung Excalibur again—
The impact actually pushed Berserker back.
Not much. But enough.
Archer raised an eyebrow. "Huh."
Shirō panted. "What?"
Archer smirked. "Pathetic. But an improvement."
Berserker growled.
Illya giggled.
"Now, now, Big Sister—just because you learned a new trick doesn't mean you can win."
Shirō wiped the sweat from her brow.
Yeah.
She knew.
But she wasn't done yet.
[—(/-\)—]
Just when things seemed to be spiraling further into disaster, a new voice rang out across the bridge.
"What the hell are you two idiots doing?!"
Shirō barely had time to register the voice before a column of brilliant blue light crashed into the bridge like a meteor, the sheer force of it blasting the air apart and sending debris everywhere.
Berserker staggered.
Illya's expression twisted in surprise. "Huh?"
And then, stepping out of the dust cloud, hands on her hips, expression thunderous, stood Rin Tohsaka.
Shirō almost collapsed in relief.
"Finally!" she gasped. "Where the hell have you been?!"
Rin glared at her, tossing her long black hair back with a dramatic flick of her hand. "I wake up to find half the city getting torn apart, and this is what you idiots have been up to?! Fighting Berserker?!" She shot a glare at Archer. "And you! I thought you were supposed to be the smart one!"
Archer crossed his arms. "We had a plan."
Rin's eye twitched. "Oh? What was it? Die?"
Berserker, done with being ignored, roared—a sound that shook the entire bridge.
Rin didn't even flinch.
She reached into her pocket, pulled out a handful of jewel-like crystals, and, without even hesitating, threw them at the raging monster.
The air exploded.
A series of magical detonations erupted around Berserker, slamming into his massive form with the force of multiple high-level spells. Each crystal she threw was packed with ridiculous amounts of stored magical energy, and now, unleashed all at once, they blasted the black giant backward in a storm of energy.
Shirō stared.
"…Holy shit."
Rin flipped her hair. "Oh, now you appreciate me?"
Archer smirked. "Took you long enough."
Illya, from the other end of the bridge, pouted. "That's not fair! You brought in a third wheel!"
Rin pointed dramatically at her. "Oh, shut up! Do you have any idea how much this city's repairs cost?! Some of us actually live here, you know!"
Illya huffed. "I don't care. Berserker! Kill them all!"
Berserker—who had just finished regenerating—charged.
Shirō barely had time to react before Rin grabbed her wrist and dragged her backward.
"Alright, new plan," Rin snapped. "You two, keep him busy. I'll prepare a real attack."
Archer sighed. "Oh, so now it's my job to get punched in the face?"
Shirō gritted her teeth, readied her sword, and nodded.
"Fine."
And just like that—
The battle began again.
[—(/-\)—]
The battle was reaching its tipping point. Shirō and Archer fought side by side, their movements in sync despite the overwhelming force they were up against. Every time Berserker swung his massive weapon, the ground trembled, and the very air seemed to quake under the sheer weight of his strikes.
Tohsaka, standing a fair distance away, flung another set of glowing blue crystals at Berserker's feet, the magical energy inside them erupting into powerful restraints that latched onto his legs. For a second—just a second—the monstrous Servant stilled, his movement halted.
Shirō took the chance to dash forward—
But before she could even react, Illya moved.
A single strand of her white hair drifted through the air, catching the moonlight like a silver thread.
Then, with a flick of her wrist—
She threw it.
A howling force erupted from the single strand, like a miniature storm of destruction. Before Shirō could dodge, the energy slammed into her, sending her flying backward.
CRACK!
She collided into the pavement like a ragdoll, skidding across the stone with a sickening scrape. A deep, burning gash slashed across her dominant shoulder, warm blood spilling down her arm in waves.
Her grip on Excalibur faltered.
Shit.
She could barely hold her sword now.
Illya tilted her head with an innocent, mocking smile. "What's wrong, Big Sister?" she cooed. "Is holding that sword too much for you~?"
Shirō grit her teeth.
Archer, pissed, summoned a barrage of swords and sent them hurtling toward Illya in retaliation. The weapons ripped through the air, cutting toward her like a rain of steel—
But before they could reach her—
Berserker moved.
With a single sweep of his massive weapon, he obliterated the incoming swords in a violent burst of force. The sheer shockwave of the impact sent tremors across the bridge, ripping through the air like an explosion.
And then—
He charged.
A black blur against the night, fast—too fast—racing toward them like a demon from a nightmare.
Shirō barely had time to brace herself—
And then Rin was there.
She jumped in front of Shirō, arms raised, a defensive spell flaring to life around her just as Berserker's massive fist came crashing down.
A massive impact.
The barrier shattered, but it was enough. Rin staggered back, panting heavily, but still standing.
Shirō, still on the ground, gasped for breath.
She was losing too much blood.
The wound was deep—her fingers felt cold. If this went on, she wouldn't even have the strength to swing.
Shit.
Tohsaka, out of breath, reached into her pocket—
Then froze.
Her crystals were almost gone.
Archer was also struggling—his breathing uneven, movements sluggish. He was getting tired.
Shirō forced herself up, swaying, her vision spinning.
Shit. Shit. Shit—
And then—
A voice.
Deep. Ancient. Familiar.
"I am the bone of my sword."
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
She closed her eyes.
Took a deep breath.
And didn't fight it.
Focus.
Analyze.
Fortify.
The knowledge flowed through her.
Her fingers tightened around Excalibur's hilt.
Her body hummed with energy, her circuits burning with renewed mana.
The wound on her shoulder closed.
Her blood, once drained, now rushed back into her body like a returning tide.
And then—
Her sword lit up.
Blinding golden light erupted from Excalibur, flooding the entire bridge with an otherworldly radiance.
Everything stopped.
Illya's eyes widened.
Berserker, for the first time, hesitated.
Archer's breath caught. Rin gawked.
Because in a single, impossible moment—
Shirō moved.
Fast—inhumanly fast—zigzagging between Rin and Archer in a golden blur.
She appeared right before Berserker—
And swung.
"—EX—CALIBUR!"
A crescendo of golden energy detonated from the sword, erupting into a massive, unrelenting wave of pure destruction.
The sky split apart—
The bridge shook violently beneath their feet—
The water below vibrated in massive ripples, stretching out into the darkness—
And at the center of it all—
Berserker screamed.
The holy light tore into his massive form, obliterating his torso in a single, devastating stroke. His once-monstrous body was severed, a gaping hole where most of his chest used to be.
For a moment—
Everything was silent.
Shirō swayed on her feet.
She could barely breathe.
The exhaustion hit her like a sledgehammer, her limbs trembling as the last remnants of mana faded from her body.
Across the battlefield, Illya clicked her tongue in annoyance.
"...Tch." She sighed, brushing back her hair. "Well, that's annoying." She eyed Berserker, watching as his body slowly started to regenerate—far slower than before, but still healing.
Then, looking at the barely-standing Shirō, she smiled.
"You did well, Big Sister," she mused. "But you're done now."
With a snap of her fingers, a portal of black shadows ripped open behind her.
"Well then~ I think we'll call it a night."
And with that—
She vanished.
Berserker, his nearly-destroyed body still healing, followed after her, disappearing into the shadows.
The battlefield fell into silence.
Shirō, still gasping for breath, staggered.
And then—
She collapsed.
Her vision blurred. Her body was numb.
Falling—
Falling—
And then—
A pair of strong arms caught her.
Archer. Again.
He sighed. "Honestly. You're reckless."
Shirō groaned weakly. "...Shut up."
Archer smirked, shifting her weight effortlessly. "And heavy, too."
Shirō twitched. "I will stab you."
"Mm." Archer hummed, not even remotely threatened.
Rin, still standing nearby, crossed her arms. "Great, now I have two idiots to babysit."
Shirō, half-conscious, weakly lifted a hand—
And flipped her off.
Rin snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Let's just get you home before you pass out again."
With that, the battle finally ended.
[—(/-\)—]
Archer was exhausted.
Not the kind of exhaustion that came from just fighting, no—this was the kind of soul-draining fatigue that came from dealing with absolute nonsense while carrying a deadweight of 49 kilos.
Normally, lifting a boulder wouldn't have been an issue. But this wasn't a boulder.
This was Shirō.
And he was annoyed.
"Of all the things I could be doing right now," Archer muttered, shifting her weight in his arms, "I'm stuck carrying this reckless idiot while you stroll along without a care in the world."
Rin, walking beside him, smirked. "Oh? Complaining already? I thought you were a big, strong hero from the cup—"
"I am," he said flatly. "That doesn't mean I want to carry her."
Rin raised an eyebrow. "What, is she too heavy for you?"
"Don't start."
"You sure? Because if you're struggling, I can always—"
"No."
Rin grinned. "Aww, c'mon, Archer~ If you're gonna carry a girl, at least be romantic about it. Maybe whisper something sweet in her ear? Maybe brush her hair back and say something like, 'You're safe now, my princess—'"
Archer visibly cringed.
"You disgust me," he said.
"Oh? But why? I mean, she's cute, beautiful and blonde. What man doesn't like a blonde girl?"
Archer's eye twitched.
Shut up.
Rin wasn't done.
"And besides," she teased, "you've been carrying her this whole time, all gentle and protective. Maybe deep down, you're actually—"
Archer abruptly threw Shirō at her.
Rin barely caught the unconscious girl, staggering under her weight. "Wha—HEY!"
"I'm not listening to this nonsense," Archer said, dusting off his hands as if they'd been tainted. "You carry her if you think it's so romantic."
Rin scowled, shifting Shirō's weight. "Ugh, okay—how the hell were you carrying her so easily? She's heavier than she looks!"
"Like I said," Archer smirked. "Deadweight."
"You're the worst."
"And yet, you're still talking to me."
Rin muttered something under her breath but kept walking, still cradling Shirō awkwardly. The night was eerily quiet, the cool breeze brushing through the city streets. Despite their exhaustion, they needed to keep moving. Berserker and Illya were already a pain—if they stuck around too long, something else was bound to—
Then—
A mist appeared.
Thick. Unnatural. It rolled in like an ocean of fog, swallowing the street whole. The air felt heavier, the temperature dropping slightly.
Both Archer and Rin tensed.
Magic.
Rin barely had time to react before—
A fist smashed into her gut.
"Gah—!"
She crumpled, the breath completely ripped from her lungs as she collapsed to her knees.
Archer's eyes snapped to the attacker—
And froze.
"...Kuzuki-sensei?!"
Rin wheezed, gripping her stomach, her mind barely processing what just happened. Their teacher—their damn homeroom teacher—had just decked her like it was nothing.
And standing beside him—
Caster.
Archer immediately moved—
CLANG!
A dagger barely missed his throat, slashing through the air with deadly precision. He jumped back, still holding Shirō, his mind racing.
Rule Breaker.
Archer narrowed his eyes. "So, this is how it is."
Caster smirked, lowering her dagger. "Oh, don't give me that look. You're the one who called me a witch the last time we met."
"And you think this is going to change my opinion?"
"Hmm. No. But maybe this will."
With a flick of her wrist, binds of glowing chains erupted from thin air, lashing toward him.
Archer twisted his body, dodging most of them—
But he was still holding Shirō.
And that was exactly what Caster wanted.
A chain wrapped around his wrist.
"Tch—!"
He tried to shake it off, but before he could—
Caster grabbed Shirō.
"Saber!" Archer shouted—
The next second, the binds tightened—
A paralyzing jolt of magic shot through his body.
"Ah ah, no struggling," Caster cooed, pulling Shirō's unconscious form away.
Archer gritted his teeth. He struggled against the spell, but his body wouldn't respond. Damn it! If he weren't already exhausted, he could have broken free—
"Master," Caster said sweetly, "shall I take care of them properly before we leave?"
The homeroom teacher, completely unfazed by the chaos, shook his head.
"That won't be necessary," he said plainly.
Caster frowned. "Master—"
"You only told me we'd be here for Saber," Kuzuki said, his tone calm, as if discussing a mere errand. "We have her. There's no need to waste time."
Caster bit her lip in obvious frustration, but didn't argue.
And then—
They vanished.
Rin, still winded, struggled to sit up.
Shirō was gone.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then—
Archer sighed.
"Fantastic."
He turned toward Rin, holding out a hand.
She slapped it away.
"I'm fine," she muttered, staggering to her feet. "But if Caster turns Saber into her Servant, we're screwed."
Archer folded his arms, his expression unreadable. "Pathetic as she may be, with Caster as her Master, she'll be unstoppable."
Rin scowled.
"Then we get Saber-chan back."
Archer smirked. "Saber-chan, huh? So, you do care."
Rin glared. "Shut up."
Archer chuckled, stretching his arms. "Well, good luck with that. You just got floored by a teacher."
"You got trapped by a spell, dumbass."
"Tch. Only because I was carrying your favorite idiot."
"Our favorite idiot."
Archer sighed dramatically. "Fine. Our idiot."
Rin cracked her knuckles. "Then let's go get her back."
Archer's smirk widened.
"Lead the way, Master."
[—(/-\)—]
Pain. That was the first thing Shirō felt.
Her body ached, every muscle sore, as if she'd just been thrown through a building—which, honestly, wasn't far from the truth. But beyond the dull throbbing of exhaustion and lingering battle wounds, there was something worse.
Something tight.
Something restrictive.
Shirō's eyes snapped open.
And what she saw—
What she felt—
What the actual fuck?!
She was bound—shackled. Arms tied behind her back, legs spread and restrained in a humiliating position, waist bent uncomfortably forward as if she were a prisoner on display. The cold, metallic touch of enchanted restraints dug into her skin, pulsing faintly with magic.
And then—
The dress.
White. Frilly. Layers of expensive silk and lace, delicate embroidery running along the fabric—a wedding dress.
Someone had changed her.
What. The. Fuck.
Her face flushed red, not out of embarrassment but rage.
Shirō immediately struggled, muscles straining against the chains—damn it! She was strong, but whatever these shackles were made of, they were reinforced. She wasn't getting out of them easily.
The air around her smelled of damp stone and old magic. Dimly lit torches lined the walls, casting eerie flickering shadows across the gothic dungeon she was trapped in.
A castle?
No.
A dungeon.
She clenched her teeth. "Where the hell am I—"
"I see you are awake, Saber."
That voice.
Shirō's head snapped up.
And there, standing in the dim torchlight, was a hooded figure.
A woman. Floating gracefully, dark robes flowing behind her, an amused smirk playing on her lips.
Caster.
"You." Shirō's voice was sharp with pure hatred.
Caster chuckled, gliding toward her effortlessly. "Ah, that expression. Shocked, aren't we?"
Shirō's fingers twitched. If she weren't bound, she'd have already tried to punch her.
"What the hell do you want, you bastard?"
Caster sighed, as if disappointed by her crudeness. "Such language from a knight. But very well—I'll get to the point."
Her smirk widened.
"I want you, Saber."
Shirō scowled.
"Not happening."
Caster tilted her head, amused. "Are you certain? Without a Master, you're extremely weak—but you have immense potential. With my limitless mana supply, you'd be more powerful than ever. If you become my Servant—"
She leaned in.
"We would be unstoppable."
Shirō spat at her feet. "Go to hell."
Caster sighed.
"You are a troublesome girl, Saber."
She lifted a delicate hand, magic humming at her fingertips. "Do you even understand what we could achieve together? The Grail. Imagine what we could do with it."
Shirō wasn't listening.
Because she was too busy trying to break free.
Her body strained against the restraints, raw strength pushing against the magical binds—her fingers twitching, trying to summon Excalibur—come on, come on, come on—
And then—
Pain.
Sharp. Electric.
A jolt of powerful magic ripped through her body.
"GAAAH—!"
Her body jerked, muscles locking as the shock tore through her nerves. It felt like her entire being was being burned from the inside out—every inch of her flesh screaming in agony.
She barely registered the fact that—
Caster was touching her.
Her exposed thigh.
The source of the shock.
Shirō growled through gritted teeth.
"You—fucking—bitch—"
Caster merely smiled.
"So stubborn," she murmured, running a single finger along Shirō's leg as if testing her tolerance. The moment Shirō tensed, she zapped her again—just a little.
Shirō bit her lip, refusing to cry out.
Caster's smile widened. "You have limited time, Saber," she said softly.
She pressed a little harder against Shirō's thigh, letting another pulse of pure mana seep into her nerves.
"Think well."
A pulse. Tingling.
"If you refuse me—"
Another jolt.
"You will be forced to do everything I say."
Shirō glared, her body shaking from the pain, from the fury.
Over her dead body.
TBC