Artoria stepped forward with unwavering determination. Her expression was calm, composed, and devoid of even a trace of nervousness.
Close behind her followed Irisviel, her eyes filled with trust. She wasn't afraid. She believed in Artoria with her whole heart.
Far above the estuary, on a towering bridge overlooking the battlefield, two figures observed the scene from the shadows.
Waver Velvet was petrified. They were so high up, suspended on the bridge like some daredevil act, and the sheer drop below made his knees tremble uncontrollably.
Next to him stood a towering man, his presence regal and commanding—the Servant Rider, Iskandar, the King of Conquerors.
"R-Rider... I don't like this... I want to go back. Let's go home..."
Waver's voice cracked with fear as he clutched the iron beam beside him for dear life, his knuckles white from the strain.
"This vantage point is ideal. Just stay still and observe. The battle that's about to unfold… it's something you shouldn't miss."
Waver had initially tried to charge in, but Iskandar had stopped him with a single look. There was something in Rider's eyes—wise and calculating. Despite his bold and seemingly brash demeanor, Iskandar possessed a strategist's mind, honed through countless campaigns.
"The enemy clearly wants to assess our strength. I'd wager there are more than just two Servants in play here. At least three, possibly more."
Waver nodded instinctively. Despite the fear, he couldn't help but admire how insightful his Servant was. It was clear now—Iskandar was not merely a brute king; he was a conqueror with intellect and vision.
If two other Servants fought to the death, then all they needed to do was wait. When both sides were worn out, Iskandar could sweep in and claim victory like a lion stealing prey from two exhausted predators.
Yes, that was the plan. A classic fisherman's gambit—let the clam and the snipe struggle until the net descends.
Waver understood. He really did. But… did they have to do this from such a terrifying height? One misstep, and they'd be little more than a smear at the bottom of the gorge.
"I—I can't! I'm gonna fall, Rider... please, let's go back."
"Come now, you're a man, aren't you? Don't be afraid of a little height. Besides, training your observation skills is just as vital as wielding a weapon."
Iskandar waved off Waver's panic. In his eyes, fear was meaningless.
With a hearty laugh, Iskandar casually flicked Waver on the back of the head.
"Ah! Don't—!"
Waver clung to the bridge's support like a lifeline. His limbs refused to move, and the Conqueror's idea of tough love wasn't helping.
"Hahaha! You're far too timid, boy!"
Iskandar roared with laughter, amused at his Master's distress, but Waver felt no such joy. He still couldn't figure out how he ended up with such a Servant.
"I want to go back! I'm done with this suicidal scouting!"
"Shh. Quiet now. Look closely… someone's approaching."
"What?"
Iskandar narrowed his eyes, his expression sharpening.
"Two Servants. One's definitely Saber. The other... Lancer, perhaps? Hoh, this will be interesting."
"So, what now?"
"Let's enjoy the show. When the moment's right, we'll descend."
Though he wore a jovial smile, Iskandar's aura had shifted. His spirit was like that of a beast lying in wait—silent, patient, deadly.
Waver, of course, missed all of this. He only wanted to survive the night and get back to solid ground.
On the battlefield below, Artoria and Irisviel advanced with dignity, heads held high. They walked with the grace of champions, unfazed by the tension in the air. Ahead of them, another figure emerged—confident, poised, and unflinching.
The two Servants stopped just meters apart. Four eyes locked across the distance.
The opposing Servant held an unusually long spear—taller than himself—and in his other hand, a much shorter one.
Odd. Most Lancers didn't dual-wield like that. But Saber could tell instantly—the aura, the posture, the fluid stance—this man was Lancer, no doubt.
However, both spears were wrapped in seals of concealment, keeping their true forms—and their Noble Phantasms—hidden. She'd never seen such an unusual combination before.
For Lancer, this setup was also frustrating. He was trained in both sword and spear, but being summoned as Lancer meant he couldn't wield swords in this War. Thus, he had to adapt to dual-wielding spears—his long-range precision and close-combat finesse combined into one deadly style.
"Excellent. Finally, someone worth fighting has appeared," Lancer said with a smile.
"You carry a sharp aura. Are you Saber, by chance?"
"I am. And you must be Lancer."
"Indeed. A pity we cannot speak our true names before battle. It's always an annoyance."
Saber nodded. She felt the same.
"In any case," Lancer said, raising his spears, "I consider it an honor to face you."
Saber returned the smile—a calm, warrior's smile, forged through countless trials of blood and steel.
"Then let us begin."
Lancer lowered into a stance, the long spear leading and the short one tucked behind like the wings of a poised hawk. Both spears glinted coldly in the moonlight.
Saber inhaled deeply, her body radiating magical energy. A flash of azure and silver erupted around her as her armor manifested—blue, silver-trimmed, regal. The armor of the King of Knights.
At that moment, King Arthur had returned in full glory.
"Saber..." Irisviel breathed in awe. The power those two radiated was overwhelming. She knew she couldn't contribute much in a direct fight—but she still wanted to do something, anything.
"Saber, be careful. I only know basic healing magic—don't push yourself too far."
Saber gave a small nod. For her, getting injured wasn't even a consideration.
"I'll defeat Lancer. But keep your guard up—his Master hasn't revealed himself yet. That's not normal."
Indeed, only Lancer had shown himself. His Master had yet to appear. That alone suggested a hidden threat.
"He may be planning something from the shadows. Irisviel, I'm entrusting my back to you."
There was no fear in Saber's eyes. Even if the opponent was a powerful Heroic Spirit, she had unshakable faith in her Master. (Kiritsugu filtered, as always.)
"I wish you luck and strength in battle."
"Thank you."
Saber adjusted her stance, taking a slow, steady step forward. All around her, the winds whispered with the tension of battle. The sky above grew darker, as though nature itself held its breath.
The confrontation had begun. And from above the battlefield, unseen by most, the storm surged beneath the moonlit sky.
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