Shirō wasted no time. In an instant, her nightclothes shimmered away, replaced by her battle attire—a deep blue dress, silver-plated armor, and gauntlets that gleamed under the moonlight. Excalibur materialized in her grip, its golden brilliance a stark contrast to the destruction around her.
Illya's eyes sparkled with twisted amusement. "Oh? You have a sword?" She tilted her head, her voice dripping with mock pity. "That's cute, but it won't be enough against Berserker!"
With a snap of her fingers, the towering monster roared, his presence alone shaking the foundation of what remained of Shirō's house.
Oh, hell.
Shirō barely had time to brace herself before Berserker lunged. He moved impossibly fast for his size—one second, he was at the hole in the wall, and the next, he was right there, his massive fist coming down like a falling meteor.
She kicked off the ground, rolling to the side as the impact obliterated her tatami floor, sending wooden splinters and debris flying in all directions.
Archer had already moved, taking position on what remained of the rooftop. "You idiot, why did you summon your sword here?!" he snapped, loosing a flurry of arrows.
"Excuse me for not wanting to die in my pajamas!" Shirō shot back, deflecting a stray piece of wood with her gauntlet.
Berserker barely acknowledged the arrows piercing his flesh. If anything, they only seemed to anger him more. With another guttural growl, he turned toward Archer and jumped.
Archer barely had time to move before Berserker crashed into the rooftop, completely demolishing what remained of it. He leaped away just in time, but the shockwave sent him flying, forcing him to roll midair to regain his footing.
Shirō saw this as her chance. I need to get him away from the house!
With a burst of mana, she sprinted toward the mountain path behind her home.
Berserker, like the unstoppable force he was, immediately gave chase.
The ground quaked beneath her as she ran, each step of Berserker's pursuit sending tremors through the earth. Trees snapped like twigs in his wake, the sheer weight of his presence causing nature itself to bow in submission.
Illya followed behind leisurely, giggling as if this were nothing more than a fun little game.
Shirō gritted her teeth. Damn it, she's just playing with us.
She reached a clearing at the foot of the mountain and skidded to a stop. If she ran any further, she'd just endanger more people. This ends here.
Berserker landed a few feet away, his monstrous form towering over her. His breath was heavy, his red eyes glowing like embers in the night.
Illya smirked. "What's wrong, Big Sister? Tired already?"
Shirō pointed Excalibur at her. "Call me that one more time, and I swear—"
She didn't get to finish.
Berserker was already attacking.
A massive fist came hurtling toward her. Shirō barely had time to react—she raised Excalibur just in time to block, but the sheer force sent her flying backward. She crashed against a tree, the impact knocking the breath out of her lungs.
Before she could recover, Berserker was on her again.
He doesn't stop. He doesn't slow down.
Shirō rolled as another punch shattered the tree where she had been, then pushed off the ground, launching herself into the air. With a battle cry, she brought Excalibur down in a golden arc.
Her blade met Berserker's arm—
—and bounced off.
Her heart nearly stopped.
She hadn't even scratched him.
Illya cackled. "Oh, did I forget to mention? Berserker's got twelve lives! You'll have to kill him twelve times before he actually dies!"
"Twelve?!" Shirō spat, flipping away as Berserker tried to grab her.
Archer landed beside her, looking thoroughly unimpressed. "So, what's the plan? Keep swinging at him until he gets bored?"
Shirō glared at him. "You got a better idea?!"
Archer clicked his tongue, then summoned two swords—Kanshou and Bakuya. "Try not to die."
Before she could retort, he was already moving.
Archer dashed in, his dual blades moving in a blur. He aimed for Berserker's joints, slicing at the tendons behind his knees, slashing at his exposed sides. It was fast, precise—calculated.
But Berserker didn't care.
The giant roared and swung, his arm moving in a brutal arc. Archer barely ducked in time, the sheer force of the swing ripping through the ground, sending dirt and debris flying.
Shirō saw her opening.
If Excalibur can't cut through his body, then—
She flipped Excalibur in her grip, pouring mana into the blade. Golden light radiated from the sword, illuminating the battlefield.
Illya's eyes narrowed. "Oh?"
Shirō dashed forward, her grip tightening. She didn't need to cut through him. She just needed force.
With a roar, she swung.
Excalibur's golden light collided with Berserker's chest, sending a shockwave through the air.
For the first time, Berserker stumbled.
The force of the attack sent him skidding backward, his feet digging into the ground. A massive wound opened on his torso—and then immediately began to heal.
Shirō clenched her teeth. Damn it.
Illya clapped her hands. "That was a good hit! But you'll have to do that eleven more times!"
Shirō exhaled sharply. "Great. Love that."
Berserker roared, his wounds fully healed. He rushed forward, faster than before. Shirō barely dodged as his fist came down—
—only for Archer to appear above him.
"Trace, on."
In his hands was Caladbolg, twisted and deadly.
With a smirk, he fired.
The blast was deafening. A spiral of destruction engulfed Berserker, the sheer force shaking the mountainside.
For a moment, there was nothing but smoke and rubble.
Then—
A figure emerged.
Berserker.
His wounds had barely registered.
Shirō swallowed. "We are so screwed."
Archer landed beside her, not looking much happier. "Oh, really? What gave that away?"
Illya giggled. "Don't worry, Big Sister! I'll make sure Berserker kills you in a very painless way! Well… mostly painless."
Shirō groaned. "Stop calling me that!"
Berserker stepped forward again, ready for round two.
Shirō sighed. "Guess we're doing this the hard way."
Archer cracked his neck. "When is it ever easy?"