"Hmm... It is a bit much for me to say it myself, but am I not Iskandar, the rather famous King of Conquerors?"
"What amusing words, Rider. The one true king and hero in all of heaven and earth is I, and I alone. The rest are nothing more than mongrels who can only look up to me in admiration."
Golden hair fluttered in the wind. A beautiful person. That was Waver's assessment of her.
The eyes, distorted by a faint anger, were not the least bit unsightly; rather, they seemed to be a catalyst that amplified her charm.
Crimson eyes that resembled brilliant rubies. A sensual figure visible through the gaps in her armor, truly lacking nothing to be called a hero.
As Waver was mesmerized by her beauty, Rider slapped his back with a hand as broad as an iron plate.
"Ouch! What was that for?!"
"You've been charmed, boy. Snap out of it."
"Charmed…?"
Ah. Waver murmured softly.
He could feel a subtle magical energy in the eyes of the woman gazing at him. Mystic Eyes of Charm. Did she possess such an ability as well?
Feeling as though his meager magecraft skills had been exposed, Waver shrank back.
Rider stepped forward, in front of his Master.
"You certainly have the spirit of a Heroic Spirit. Good. In that case, what is your True Name? If you too are a king, you would not be stingy with your name, I presume."
"Does a mere mongrel dare to lecture me? How insolent."
By simple logic, Rider's words were correct, but not from her perspective.
"To be granted the grace of an audience with me, yet fail to recognize my royal face, is no different from forfeiting your right to stand upon my earth."
With a clank of her golden armor, she rose into the sky. Already floating, she could now take in everyone at the wharf in a single view.
As she raised her hand, a change occurred. From the numerous golden ripples that had appeared in the air with her arrival, cold weapons began to emerge.
Swords, spears, axes; weapons of familiar shapes but unknown names.
There was not a single magus who was not horrified at the sight of them, numbering well over a few dozen.
"Th-those... every single one of them is a Noble Phantasm! That level of Mystery and magical energy... they have to be Noble Phantasms!"
"Is that so. Then they are treasures worth plundering."
"Are you an idiot?! We have to run, now!"
A Noble Phantasm is typically assigned one per Servant.
When looking back at a hero's records, the most impressive weapon, technique, or something else is designated as a Noble Phantasm.
If a Servant possessed more than ten Noble Phantasms, it meant that their standing was on a completely different level from other Servants.
Waver pulled at Rider's leg, but his leg, as thick as a log, didn't even budge.
"You are a worthy opponent, but the location is not ideal. Hey! What is your class? Archer, I presume? Or Caster?"
Did she deem him unworthy of further conversation? Rider licked his lips as he watched the silent woman.
The idea that popped into his head was truly that of a supreme ruler.
If he could just join forces with that Servant, world conquest would be within his grasp.
"First, we battle. I suppose I'll know after we've had a go. …Hmm?"
Just as Rider, having made his decision, was about to take the reins, the pulse of a warrior, so strong it shook the very earth, resounded.
It was, in a word, violent. A presence unlike any Rider had ever seen, even after fighting countless wars and crossing blades with numerous heroes.
At that warrior's pulse, Rider let go of the reins. He could not miss such a fine opportunity.
Waver was utterly bewildered by the sudden appearance of such immense magical energy.
"Wh-what is that? A sudden magical energy reading from underground…?!"
Something was breaking through the ground at high speed. Tearing through a vertical passage… now!
The asphalt road shattered as a figure appeared at the wharf. A Servant.
It was a Servant, but its form was closer to a shadow than a person.
The only thing that could be inferred was that it was tall. The shadow, completely shrouded in a black aura, was additionally equipped with jet-black armor.
The only thing emanating from him was killing intent. And more killing intent.
The single, gleaming red glint of light in its inorganic appearance swept over everyone gathered at the wharf.
Saber and her Master. Lancer, Rider and Waver Velvet. And finally, the blonde Servant.
"Arrr…..arrk!!!!"
The black Servant roared.
Rider was not flustered by the sudden intruder. He stroked his beard and contemplated.
"That must be Berserker. Considering who's left, that blonde one is probably Archer. She seems too hot-tempered to be a Caster. Wouldn't you agree, boy?"
"…I can't see them."
"Hmm?"
"That Servant, I can't see his status or anything!"
Masters in the Holy Grail War can basically see a Servant's status. Even if they don't know the True Name or Class, the status parameters are supported as a basic function of the ritual.
But for the Berserker before him, nothing of the sort was visible. How strong he was, how agile, he couldn't tell a thing.
A Noble Phantasm that conceals one's identity? Which Heroic Spirits have such a thing?
There was no time to think.
Because they were all overwhelmed by Berserker's skill.
"By whose permission do you look up at me, you mad dog…."
Archer lowered her hand. Instantly, the weapons that had been peeking out of the golden ripples bombarded the ground like lightning.
A deafening roar echoed as roads and tiles were shattered. A massive cloud of dust rose at the wharf.
Six Noble Phantasms had been unleashed. Waver was certain Berserker was dead.
He tried to persuade Rider that they had to escape before those Noble Phantasms were aimed at them.
But Rider's eyes were calm. He was staring at the shadow standing nonchalantly within the dust cloud.
"He… survived? How?"
"Watch his hands carefully, boy."
The cloud cleared, and Berserker's form was revealed clearly under the moonlight. There wasn't even a small scratch on his body.
In his hand was one of the Noble Phantasms Archer had fired. Around him, the other five weapons were embedded here and there in the ground.
"He caught the first weapon that fell and used it to deflect the rest. Now that is considerable skill. Are you sure he's a Berserker?"
Rider stroked his beard. He had never seen such a feat anywhere.
No, wait. A renowned King of Knights might be capable of it. Rider turned his gaze to the side.
But Saber's expression told him that even she considered it an impossible feat.
Deflecting them might be possible, but snatching a flying weapon out of the air is difficult. The King of Knights uses the swordsmanship of a knight, not the fighting style of a prancing clown.
Abandoning that hope, Rider decided to enjoy the show between the two, listening to Archer's erupting roar of fury.
"Mad dog! You dare touch my treasures with those filthy hands…!"
Archer opened three times as many gates as before. Once again, a downpour of Noble Phantasms rained down.
Far from being intimidated, Berserker easily dodged and parried the rain of Noble Phantasms, as if daring her to do more.
A simple volley wouldn't be enough to defeat Berserker. But could she guarantee victory in close combat? That, too, would be difficult.
He was a warrior of considerable skill.
If not for a Noble Phantasm that concealed his identity, anyone would have been able to guess his True Name at a glance. Berserker was that much of a genius warrior.
"It seems the matchup is the worst possible, boy."
"You mean Berserker and Archer?"
"Yes. Archer doesn't seem confident in close combat… and there, Berserker is on the move."
Deep wrinkles marred the beautiful face. Archer ground her teeth, looking down at the earth.
It was beyond irritating. The mad dog before her was twisting Gilgamesh's insides with a different kind of talent than the witch.
Not only did he defile her treasures, but he was also utilizing the advantages of the Noble Phantasms to their full potential.
Berserker was displaying a feat possible only for a handful of the most renowned warriors, as if to boast right in front of her.
It was as if he were saying, 'You can't do this, can you?'
"You wretch…! Very well. I did not wish to draw this, but… if a mad dog rushes to its own death, I shall personally grant it a beheading!"
Having completely lost her temper, Gilgamesh finally drew a single sword.
Saber's eyes widened. That sword… it looked remarkably similar to Caliburn.
"No, it's the other way around. If Caliburn resembles that sword…."
Saber vaguely realized Archer's True Name.
Gilgamesh. The protagonist of the oldest epic and the great King of Heroes.
The king said to possess all the treasures of the world.
The sword Gilgamesh held was the original of Caliburn.
Instinctively, Saber felt fear. What had scarred the spirit of a trained knight was none other than the fear of the flesh.
That was a demonic sword that slays dragons. For Saber, who possessed the heart of a dragon, it was the worst possible matchup.
Was Berserker trembling? Saber, who had tried to deduce Berserker's True Name in that moment, had to give up. Berserker, under Mad Enhancement, felt no fear at all.
He merely directed his unwavering killing intent at Archer, who was radiating immense magical energy.
Gilgamesh shouted as she released the sword's magical power.
"I will burn you to death, without leaving even a single scrap of flesh behind!"
"You've finally brought it out."
But just then, a small mirror appeared behind her.
An eeriness felt like a ghost was roaming. A meticulousness that made it impossible to fathom since when she had prepared a spell this close.
A mirror made of water.
Before Gilgamesh could even realize what it was,
"Kyle's Noble Phantasm. I will be taking it."
A pale hand emerged from within the water mirror and snatched Gilgamesh's sword away.