"Both of you, sheath your weapons! In the presence of a king, do not presume!"
Iskandar threw his arms wide and declared grandly.
Naturally, no one listened.
"Cough… cough…"
Only when the smoke finally thinned did Diarmuid—his body crisscrossed with wounds—glare furiously at Iskandar.
"You. Not only did you pull a despicable sneak attack, you even interrupted a duel between knights?!"
"Mm. Even if you say so…"
The completely innocent Iskandar scratched his cheek and shrugged helplessly.
"The one who intervened in your fight wasn't me. I only saw that little girl make a move and couldn't keep my blood from boiling, so I charged in without thinking. She was a bit slow, though—ah, look. Isn't she coming over right now?"
Diarmuid jolted. Only then, realizing something was off, he turned around.
The girl hugging a book had appeared behind him at some point—less than ten meters away.
Close enough that, in the blink of an eye, she could take his head the moment the fighting began.
"Lily is a friend. And Waver's group will make this stage livelier. As for Lancer… you should be eliminated quickly."
"You—"
Hearing Ophis say it so casually, as if she were simply announcing his defeat, Diarmuid's indignation flared—yet he forced himself to stay composed.
By the bull-chariot rider's account, it had been this little girl who attacked him just now. Diarmuid still couldn't understand the mechanism of that strike, and he couldn't afford to act rashly.
Heroic Spirits never played by common sense. Judging an opponent by appearance was stupidity.
After all, even Saber—who had just crossed blades with him evenly—looked no older than fifteen.
Diarmuid stared at Ophis with a grave expression, and the air grew heavy.
"Hahaha! Little girl—and you too, splendid warrior—don't look so eager to draw blood."
Iskandar laughed, shattering the tension.
"I am Iskandar, the King of Conquerors. I have descended in this Holy Grail War as Rider. I asked you once already, little girl, but I'll ask again—will you join my camp and yield the Holy Grail to me?"
That declaration left everyone staring, dumbstruck.
"Forgive me, but I refuse."
Diarmuid shot Ophis a wary glance—only to find her watching Iskandar with open interest—then answered with solemn firmness.
"I have sworn to present the Holy Grail to my lord, and that lord will never be you, Rider."
"That is impossible."
Saber immediately followed.
"I, too, bear the crown of Britain. I will not bow my head to anyone."
And just like that, her identity was practically handed over on a platter.
"Oho? So the famed King of Knights is a little girl like this?"
"Would you like to taste the sword of the 'little girl' you speak of, King of Conquerors?"
Ophis spared a glance at this Lily—who somehow seemed even more foolish—then ignored the Conqueror King's chatter and returned her gaze to Diarmuid.
They'd wasted enough time.
Finish it quickly. Rest sooner.
Under the pressure rolling off Ophis, Diarmuid's body tensed again.
"Who are you? And what is your purpose in attacking me?"
Ophis tilted her head, genuinely puzzled.
Wasn't the Holy Grail War supposed to be a fight to the death?
Did you need a reason to throw hands?
But Saber frowned.
"Wait. Lancer is my opponent. Are you intending to interfere in our battle?"
Hearing that, Ophis tilted her head again.
"I just saved Lily, you know?"
At the way Ophis addressed her, Saber's pupils tightened.
Lily…
A long time ago, someone had called her that.
It was a past she had discarded after drawing the Sword in the Stone—so distant even her own memories had blurred.
"You know that name… then have we met before? Were we bound by some thread of fate?"
Ophis only smiled, offering no answer. Saber could only set the question aside for now and lift her sword.
"Though I am grateful for your aid, this is a duel between Lancer and me, as knights. I must settle it with my own hands. I ask that you do not interfere."
"Oh?"
Ophis looked at Saber.
"And if I insist on fighting?"
"Then please—judge the might of Lancer's spear and my sword together."
Saber spoke with unwavering resolve.
The reason she was willing to maintain such a knightly duel with Lancer was simple: he too was a noble knight, someone who made her willing to set aside her crown and the reality of war to cross blades fairly.
But against any other opponent, she had no qualms about letting them taste the methods of war.
Two on one? Not even a little pressure.
Iskandar, left out in the cold, scratched his cheek with a helpless sigh.
"Good grief. It seems my presence is less noticeable than a little girl's."
"Thank goodness…"
Beside him, Waver was overwhelmingly relieved, letting out a long breath.
"Waver Velvet."
And then, in that moment, a voice rang out—complete with a dramatic echo…
Ophis paid the teacher, the student, and the student's Servant no mind as they sniped at each other. Her eyes only swept between Lancer and Saber, both staring at her with hard seriousness.
"I see."
After a moment's thought, Ophis kept her smile and slowly opened the book in her hands. Line after line of runes surfaced on the blank pages.
"Caster?"
The sight made both Saber and Lancer tense.
"So she truly means to fight us both at once? And as a Caster—the class least suited to frontal combat? Is this arrogance… or confidence backed by strength…?"
But in the very next second, Ophis snapped the book shut.
"Huh?"
Before either could question it, a vast surge of mana erupted from Ophis. In the next instant, she vanished—leaving only a crater where she had stood.
Saber's warning bells screamed.
Ophis was already in front of her—pulling a golden longsword from a golden ripple that had appeared beside her at some point—and bringing it down in a heavy slash.
Saber raised her blade on reflex, but her ahoge twitched. Instinct screamed wrong, and she forced herself into a backward leap, even at the risk of losing her balance at the moment of impact.
The invisible blade and the golden longsword collided.
BOOM!!!
The golden longsword flickered—and a violent explosion blossomed toward Saber, blasting her away.
Ophis tossed aside the hilt, its blade already gone. Then she opened the Book of Creation she'd been holding in her other arm, and to Lancer—rushing in to support the instant he saw Saber falter—she smiled slightly.
From within the book, she drew an eerie weapon, spinning at high speed, and aimed it at Lancer.
"[ENUMA ELISH]."
---
T/N: NOOOO DONT DO IT TO OUR BOY