Jayr POV - Nasuverse, Moon, Far Side, Sakura Labyrinth - 2030 AD
Some time later, the aftereffects of that announcement still echo through my mind long after the sound itself fades.
Raphael Gold. Eliminated.
For a moment, I just stand there, staring at nothing in particular. The marble floor beneath my feet feels colder than it did a second ago, while my thoughts wander, 'Another Master is already gone. Another reminder that this isn't a tournament with scheduled matches. People are going to be erased one after the other if they are too careless. In this kind of setting, no one is safe. This is the true face of the Holy Grail War.'
Before my thoughts spiral out of control, Nero is the one who snaps me out of it by saying lightly, but with clear steel beneath the warmth, "Praetor. This isn't the time. Keep your eyes forward."
I exhale slowly and nod while thinking, 'She's right. If I start spiralling now, I'll miss something important.'
Then I mutter a quiet, "Thanks." Before I fully focus back on the present.
The Funnels are still moving, their feeds are streamed directly into my mind like fragments of other worlds stitched together.
I'll never fully get used to this kind of sensation, even if my enhanced and evolved mind does make it a lot easier.
Each Funnel doesn't just transmit sight, but spatial awareness, mana density, and interference patterns. My mind has to sort, compress, and prioritise everything at once while also taking into consideration any other factor. Forest humidity bleeds into the sharp thin air of the mountain paths. The quiet rustle of leaves overlaps with the distant grind of stone shifting under unseen weight.
I slow my breathing and let the processing arrays do their work.
The forest feed shows depth first. Roots thick as pillars break through the soil, some natural, others reinforced with ritual lacquer. The mist isn't random either. It drifts in looping patterns, responding to mana flow like a living thing. That alone tells me this floor wasn't rushed. Someone spent time tuning it.
A Funnel brushes past a cluster of ferns, and the mana readout spikes.
But it is too late to react.
The ground beneath it folds inward, space collapsing into a shallow singularity before snapping back into place. The construct barely escapes, its outer shell warped, internal systems screaming warnings at me. I pull it back immediately.
Then I mutter, "Spatial compression layered under natural terrain. Clean execution. Whoever did this knew what it was doing."
Nero doesn't respond, but I can feel her attention sharpen through our link.
The mountain floor is worse. Here, the danger is waiting in plain sight.
Every narrow path is a potential execution ground. Sigils carved directly into the stone walls pulse faintly, synchronised across long distances. That kind of coordination means shared processing or centralised oversight. Either way, it's efficient.
One Funnel advances too boldly, and a mana thread snaps taut across the path.
I barely have time to register the anomaly before the construct is sliced cleanly in half, the cut so precise the two pieces drift apart before gravity remembers them.
I shut down the remaining units' aggressive advance.
At the same time, I whisper, more to myself than anyone else, "I've to be more careful now. They're hunting intrusions, not reacting to them."
This isn't passive defence. It's active filtration. Anyone careless enough to move at full speed would be erased before they even realise they've been targeted.
And whoever designed this knows exactly what kind of opponents they expect to face and how to use the surroundings to its outmost advantage.
One set pushes through the forest domain, the other advances along the mountain range, reaching the next floors.
Still no sign of Masters. No Servants. And neither any other mark that would help me identify our neighbours, nor give us a clear idea of their capabilities.
The new forest floor looks deceptively peaceful at first glance. Towering trees, uneven ground, and mist clinging low to the soil. But now that the Funnels are deeper in, I can see it clearly. Traps are everywhere. Pressure runes hidden beneath fallen leaves. Mana threads stretched between branches like spider silk. Some are so well concealed that even my constructs don't catch them in time.
One Funnel detonates in a flash of distorted light, shredded by a spatial snare I didn't even notice until it was too late.
The next mountain floor isn't any better.
Jagged peaks rise like broken teeth, sheer cliffs dotted with sigils carved directly into the stone. Enemy Programs patrol the narrow paths, their behaviour too coordinated to be random. They move with purpose, guarding choke points, watching staircases, responding instantly to intrusions.
As I send the feed to Nero through our bond, she observes everything with narrowed eyes before she comments, "This isn't a scouting layer like the previous one."
I agree with her, "You're right. This is clearly a fortress meant to eliminate those who venture this far."
Then the Funnels find them.
A temple crowns the highest peak of the mountain floor, built in traditional Chinese style, its roof tiles shimmering faintly with protective arrays. Defensive formations overlap so densely around it that the air itself looks warped.
On the forest side, a massive tree rises above the canopy, hollowed out and reinforced, its interior bristling with layered traps and concealed barriers.
The contrast between the two headquarters is striking, but the intent behind them is the same.
The mountain temple is an anchor.
Its foundations are sunk deep into the peak, binding ley flow directly into the structure. The overlapping defensive formations aren't meant to stop a single overwhelming attack. They're layered to absorb, redirect, and bleed an enemy dry over time. Anyone assaulting it would be forced into a prolonged engagement on hostile terrain, exactly where mountain floors excel.
It tells me the Master here values attrition and control.
The forest tree, on the other hand, is deception made manifest.
Hollowed from the inside, reinforced along growth lines that look organic unless you know what to look for. Traps aren't placed symmetrically. They overlap in irregular patterns, forcing intruders to second-guess every step. Even the stair access is partially obscured, mana masked to blend with the forest's ambient flow.
Two strongholds. Two philosophies. But in the end, they make me reach the same conclusion as I say quietly, "These aren't fallback positions. They're meant to be lived in. To be defended. To endure attacks."
Nero nods once and adds, "Then abandoning them means confidence."
I also nod while thinking, 'Or desperation. Either way, it narrows the possibilities. A Master willing to leave behind this level of preparation isn't planning to survive by hiding. They're planning to end someone else first.'
Observing the feed sent by the Funnels, my thoughts continue to race as I come to the most obvious conclusion, 'Headquarters. Their main bases. This confirms it. These floors are meant to be held, not abandoned. And yet… there's still no one here.'
The realisation settles in quickly as I murmur out loud, "They are not there. They moved out. They choose to be aggressive. They're attacking someone else instead of waiting."
Nero lets out a soft laugh, sharp and confident, "Then they are fortunate they did not choose us."
I glance at her, and she meets my eyes without hesitation as she continues calmly, "If they had, they would already share Raphael Gold's unfortunate fate."
There's no arrogance in her voice. Just certainty. And I don't argue, as part of me knows she's right.
At our current level of power, the only ones we have to be wary of are the Champions. The other Masters and Servants, no matter how competent, skilful, and powerful, are no match for us.
But that doesn't mean that I would enjoy taking them out; in fact, it is the exact opposite. If possible, I'd like to avoid eliminating another Master for as long as possible.
This is also one of the reasons why I choose to be more restrained, instead of simply charging into the other Masters' floors.
I order the remaining Funnels to advance. Carefully this time. The mountain units slow to a crawl, probing for traps and avoiding direct engagement with the Enemy Programs.
The forest units move faster, slipping between hazards with less resistance and before long, they reach the next staircase.
The Funnels assigned to the forest set of floors emerge into a familiar sight. The same layout as the first forest floor. Same terrain. Same lower density of traps. But still no trace of the Master who controls these floors or the Servant.
Looking at the feed, I realise, 'That confirms it. Three floors per Master. One stronghold in the middle, buffer zones on either side. This Master chose the same setting plan for his floors. And this Master is definitely on the offensive. A very careless choice, no matter how confident one is in their own abilities.'
The Funnels assigned to the mountain set of floors advance last.
The moment they cross the threshold, the feeds explode into motion.
Mana flares. Shockwaves ripple through stone. The sound of steel cutting air reaches me even through the filtered transmission.
There's a battle already in progress, making me immediately realise that the Master who controls these floors didn't choose to be on the offensive, but is rather defending against the invasion of another Master.
Under my direct command, the Funnels carefully advance toward the area where the battle is taking place, and soon I have a clear view of the battlefield.
On one side, a young Asian woman stands amid a defensive formation, talismans flying from her hands in rapid succession.
She is fairly young, even by the standards of most Masters, with the kind of face that could disappear into a crowd if you did not look twice.
Long black hair that falls straight down her back, tied low, loose strands clinging to her cheeks as sweat and smoke thicken the air.
Her eyes are dark and steady, not sharp with confidence but calm in a way that suggests she has already accepted the worst outcomes and planned around them.
She is dressed simply, favouring layered robes over anything modern; the cloth is marked with faint inked symbols that only became visible when prana flowed through them.
Thin paper talismans are always within reach, tucked into her sleeves, pinned along her collar, or folded carefully between her fingers. Each one carries a specific purpose. Binding, obscuring presence, dulling pain, delaying death by a few crucial seconds.
Codecasts unfold midair, forming barriers, binding spells, and suppressive seals all to support her ally and obstruct her enemies.
She does not waste power on grand displays. Her support is quiet and precise, timed to the exact moment her Servant needs it.
In the chaotic battle, she rarely raises her voice. Commands are murmured, almost gentle, as if speaking too loudly might disturb the fragile balance she maintains.
When the fighting closed in, and the enemy pressed hard, her hands moved faster, seals snapping into place with practised ease. There is a faint tremor in her movements, not fear but strain. She is pushing herself beyond what her body likes, burning through reserves she can not easily replace.
What makes her stand out is not raw talent but her restraint. She knows her limits and chooses to stand on them anyway, trusting preparation over instinct. She's fighting on her own ground, and she knows it.
Beside her moves her Servant.
He is a man with a fair skin tone. He has long, dark green hair with long sideburns that reach his chest. His eyes are light green, and his expression is somewhat neutral.
He has a muscular build and stands in a relaxed, confident posture, with a large rose tattoo that covers his chest and stomach, and smaller tattoos are visible on his upper chest.
He is wearing a black cape with wheel-like gold embellishments at the shoulders. His arms are covered in black sleeves with blue and gold armour on the forearms. His lower body is adorned with a blue and red decorative belt with a gold emblem. He wears loose-fitting, dark purple pants and white shoes with red straps and blue and gold accents. A long, white fabric panel hangs from his belt down to his ankles, trimmed with gold. A red scarf is around his neck.
Thanks to all the time I've spent playing Fate/Grand Order, I immediately recognise him; he is the Assassin class Servant Yan Qing.
(Image Here - Yan Qing)
He flows through the battlefield like water, striking from blind spots, vanishing, reappearing. Every movement is precise, every attack meant to disable rather than overwhelm. He's buying time. Holding the line.
And looking at their opponents across from them, I almost feel my stomach tighten as I see a familiar face.
Rani VIII.
She stands calmly behind her Servant, expression unreadable, eyes fixed on the battlefield as if she's watching an equation unfold. There's no hesitation in her movements, no uncertainty.
Her Servant is also impossible to miss.
He is a huge, muscular man with bronze skin. He has short, spiky red hair and black tribal markings on his face.
His eyes are completely white, and despite that piercing, his expression is stern.
He is wearing elaborate red and gold armour with fur trim around the neck and shoulders. The armour features a fierce lion-like face on the chest. A white sash is tied around his waist. He is also wearing black pants with gold trim and dark brown shoes. Two long, red ribbons extend from his headwear, curving behind him. He is standing with his arms slightly outstretched, creating an imposing stance.
His large hands appear to have blades or sharp edges integrated into the edges of his gloves.
I also recognise him in an instant; he is the Berserker class Servant Lu Bu.
(Image Here - Lu Bu)
He tears through the terrain like a force of nature, every swing of his weapon sending shockwaves through the mountain. Defensive arrays shatter on contact. Enemy Programs are reduced to debris. Yan Qing avoids him by instinct alone, never meeting him head-on.
Watching the battle through our link, Nero says quietly, "She's the invader."
I nod, "Yes."
She looks at me and asks, "Do you intend to intervene?"
The question hangs heavier than it should.
If I wanted to, I could end this. A few redirected Funnels, a targeted strike, and neither side would survive the encounter. That's the truth. And pretending otherwise would be dishonest.
But this war isn't about easy victories anymore, so I say slowly, "There are no allies in the Sakura Labyrinth. And no enemies. Just survivors."
I pause for a moment, and Nero patiently waits for me to continue until I conclude, "I won't interfere. Not unless Rani is about to be erased."
She studies my face, then nods once, "You still feel indebted."
I admit, "I do. That much hasn't changed. She had helped us when we needed. I just can't attack and eliminate her. Not like this. If she attacks us, then we will defend ourselves. But until then, I will still treat her as a friend."
As I reach that conclusion, we continue to watch the feed from the Funnels.
The battle tightens its pace as Lu Bu moves first.
There is no warning beyond the sudden displacement of air as Houtengeki comes around in a brutal horizontal sweep. The halberd howls as it cuts through space, its edge trailing compressed mana that gouges the mountain wall even before impact.
Yan Qing drops low.
The blade passes inches above his head, pulverising stone where he stood a moment earlier. He slides across broken rock, bare hand slamming into the ground to redirect his momentum, boots skidding as he twists back onto his feet.
The defending Master's talismans ignite in sequence.
A faint sigil flashes beneath Yan Qing's soles, reinforcing friction and balance just enough to let him pivot instead of tumble. Another talisman burns away, sharpening his perception, stretching the instant between Lu Bu's movements into something readable.
Lu Bu does not slow.
He advances in long, crushing strides, halberd reversing direction with terrifying control. Houtengeki comes down in a vertical arc meant to split Yan Qing in two. Yan Qing steps into the attack instead of away from it, twisting his torso sideways as the blade slams into the ground behind him, the impact sending shards of stone flying like shrapnel.
Yan Qing is already moving.
He closes the distance in a blur, slipping inside the halberd's effective range. His fist snaps out, knuckles driving into Lu Bu's ribs, followed by a sharp elbow to the joint beneath the Berserker's arm. The strikes aren't meant to deal damage. They're meant to disrupt balance, timing, and breath.
Lu Bu roars.
The sound is violent enough to rattle Yan Qing's bones. A massive forearm swings toward him, less a strike than an attempt to erase everything in its path. Yan Qing ducks under it, pivots, and lashes out with a low kick aimed at Lu Bu's knee.
It lands.
The impact reverberates up Yan Qing's leg, pain flaring instantly, but Lu Bu's stance shifts just enough for Yan Qing to exploit. He presses in, hands a blur, palms and fingers striking pressure points, joints, and armour seams with relentless precision.
The mountain groans under the strain of their clash.
Lu Bu counters with brute skill, wrenching Houtengeki free and bringing it around in a vicious backhanded sweep. Yan Qing is forced back, skidding across loose stone until his shoulders slam into the cliff face behind him.
There is no room left.
Lu Bu raises the halberd overhead, both hands gripping the shaft as mana surges along its length. The weapon comes down in a devastating arc meant to crush Yan Qing against the mountain.
At the last possible instant, Yan Qing twists.
The blade misses his head by a hair's breadth and slams into the cliffside instead. The impact is catastrophic. Stone explodes outward as Houtengeki bites deep into the mountain wall, the embedded blade sending fractures racing through the rock like veins of lightning.
For the first time, Lu Bu halts, and the Master of Yan Qing seizes the moment.
Three talismans ignite at once, burning down to ash in her hands. One weakens grip and muscle cohesion. Another disrupts mana flow along the weapon's shaft. The third reinforces Yan Qing's body beyond its natural limits, pushing his joints and tendons to the edge of tearing as she whispers, "Now."
In response, Yan Qing moves.
He steps in close, ignoring the proximity to death, and strikes Lu Bu's wrists with precise, bone-rattling blows. His heel drives into the Berserker's knee, forcing it to bend just enough. Yan Qing's hands clamp onto Houtengeki's shaft, muscles screaming as he twists with everything he has.
Lu Bu roars again, trying to wrench the weapon free.
For a heartbeat, neither gives ground, then the talismans take effect.
Lu Bu's grip falters, just slightly, just long enough.
Yan Qing rips.
The halberd tears free from the mountain wall with a thunderous crack, momentum carrying it out of Lu Bu's hands entirely. Houtengeki spins through the air end over end before crashing into the battlefield several meters away, embedding itself deep in shattered stone.
Silence.
Lu Bu stands empty-handed, mana surging violently around him.
Yan Qing staggers back a step, chest heaving, blood running down his arm, but he remains standing.
For the briefest moment, the impossible has happened.
Lu Bu roars, promising retaliation, and the battle continues with even more intensity.
The Master of Yan Qing adjusts her position half a step back, eyes flicking between the shifting terrain and her Servant's movements. Her talismans move with purpose now, not desperation. Each one is chosen, activated, and discarded with precise timing. Codecasts unfolding into layered support spells that never linger longer than necessary but are still very effective while she murmurs, "Left flank. Three breaths."
Yan Qing is already there.
He vanishes the instant Lu Bu's weight shifts, reappearing at an impossible angle, punches and kicks flashing toward the gaps in the Berserker's armour. The strikes are clean, surgically precise, aimed at joints and tendons rather than brute damage. Sparks erupt as reinforced plating gives way, and for a brief moment, Lu Bu's advance stutters.
The mountain answers with a low groan as Lu Bu fiercely roars.
The sound is not words, not even rage in any human sense. It is pressure made audible. Mana surges outward from him, raw and violent, shattering several defensive formations outright. The ground fractures beneath his feet as he surges forward, each step caving stone as though the mountain itself is failing to bear his existence.
Yan Qing does not retreat, facing this immense force, but he flows forward.
He darts in again, faster this time, movements blurring as he slips through Lu Bu's blind spots, striking again and again in rapid succession. Dents bloom across Lu Bu's armour, shallow but numerous, each one placed with intent. Yan Qing's breathing remains steady, his expression calm, but the strain shows in the tightening of his jaw.
The Master responds instantly.
Talismans burn away in rapid sequence, reinforcing Yan Qing's footing, dulling the backlash of near-misses, sharpening his perception just enough to keep him alive. She is not trying to overpower the enemy. She is managing risk, buying seconds, stretching them into moments.
For the first time, Lu Bu is forced back a step. Then another.
The mountain shudders, but holds.
Yan Qing's eyes sharpen. This is the opening he's been waiting for. So he starts chanting the verse that allows him to unleash his true power, "The outlaw of darkness has arrived! Ambush From Ten Sides, Cast No Shadow! Hah!!"
Mana gathers around him as his presence thins. The edges blur as his Noble Phantasm manifests. For an instant, the battlefield fractures into overlapping vectors, countless possible attacks layered atop one another.
Then Yan Qing briefly disappears entirely.
He strikes from everywhere at once.
His attacks carve through space itself, landing from angles that should not exist, targeting every vulnerable point in rapid succession. The assault is flawless in execution, a masterpiece of assassination theory and martial grace brought to life. Even Lu Bu is forced to halt, the sheer density of strikes overwhelming his immediate defences.
For a heartbeat, it looks like enough, but then Rani steps forward, and she does not seem to be in a hurry, as if everything is still within her calculations, and likely it is.
A precise command pulses outward, woven with alchemical reinforcement far beyond standard magecraft. Lu Bu's presence thickens, defensive parameters spiking as layers of protection settle over him like unseen armour. Simultaneously, Mystic Codes detonate along the battlefield's perimeter, forcing Yan Qing's attack vectors to collapse inward.
The Noble Phantasm completes, and it fails to finish the job.
At the same time, Lu Bu roars again, and the force unleashed makes the whole mountain range shake.
The sound tears through the overlapping illusions as his raw strength asserts itself. Muscles swell, veins blazing with mana as he tears free of the killing web through sheer force. The backlash throws Yan Qing clear, his body slamming into the ground hard enough to leave a crater.
He rises immediately.
Blood streaks his arm, his breathing sharper now, but his stance remains steady. The Master's talismans flash as she tries to stabilise the situation, but I can see it even from here that their margin is gone; any advantage they may have perceived is just a mere illusion.
Lu Bu advances.
Each step sends shockwaves through the mountain floor, collapsing remaining defensive grids. Yan Qing intercepts him again, his fists clashing against reinforced flesh and armour, but now every exchange costs him more than it takes from his opponent.
At this point, Rani issues another command.
Lu Bu plants his feet and summons a two-handed halberd known as Lu Bu's primary weapon and Noble Phantasm, Houtengeki, the Painted Halberd Comparable to Heaven, whose true name is God Force: Five Soldiers of the War God.
A masterpiece of a weapon due to its versatility that puts to use all major characteristics of large two-handed weapons, allowing it to be efficient in slashing, thrusting, battering, scything, and sweeping. The strongest weapon born from the Romance of the Three Kingdoms era of China.
Then the halberd separates into a large bow and arrow.
The mana around him condenses, compressing into a single, violent point as his Noble Phantasm manifests in its ranged form. The air distorts, pressure screaming outward as the attack charges.
Seeing that, Yan Qing moves. Not to attack, but to protect.
He positions himself between Lu Bu and his Master without hesitation, body coiling for one last evasion that will never be fast enough.
At the same time, Lu Bu releases the immense arrow, unleashing a concentrated beam of reddish energy that quickly advances toward its intended target.
The Shoot Force erupts like a divine projectile, obliterating everything in its path. The mountain floor collapses inward as the energy blast tears through Yan Qing's defences, overwhelming him completely. His presence flares violently before it completely vanishes as he is utterly obliterated, leaving behind only the shattered terrain.
The Master of Yan Qing doesn't fare any better.
Her final talisman burns away uselessly in her hand as Rani's Mystic Codes converge to seal off her fate. The remaining barriers shatter, and the unstoppable energy beam unleashed by Lu Bu's God Force slams into her, causing a massive explosion that annihilates everything in the area before the concentrated mana disperses into silence.
The battlefield stills with Rani and Lu Bu standing alone amid the ruins, and moments later, I cut the feed.
Shortly after that, the announcement resounds once more.
[Elimination confirmed. Master Isozaki Remi has been eliminated.]
Silence settles over the Sanctuary again before Nero says softly, "This war is as brutal as expected. In so little time after its begin two Masters are already gone."
I don't answer. I'm already thinking ahead, recalculating, adjusting.
Because if this is how the first encounters look, then sooner or later, someone will come for us, and when they do, I won't just observe, I will fight.