While the Berserker class grants a Servant higher base statistics through the incantation of Mad Enhancement, it places an exponentially more grueling burden on the Master.
This is especially true regarding magical energy. The moment a Berserker begins to act, the Master's prana is drained at a violent, staggering rate.
Zouken Matou had forced Kariya to summon a Berserker for two reasons: not only was Kariya an immature amateur as both a Master and a magus, but the old man also intended to heap further agony upon a man whose life was already guttering out.
Kariya, fully aware of this malice, had done nothing but grit his teeth, maintaining a stubborn "Watch me endure this, you old bastard" attitude without ever backing down.
However, Kariya's original intent was simply to rendezvous with Ludwig and discuss their alliance in depth. He hadn't expected the spiritualized Berserker to forcibly break free from his restraints and materialize specifically to attack Saber.
Faced with Ludwig's questioning, Kariya lacked the strength to answer immediately. The moment he tried to speak, blood sprayed from his lips.
It took several ragged gasps for Kariya to stabilize. He struggled to lift his head and saw Ludwig crouching before him.
In the nearby clearing, Berserker and Saber had already engaged. Saber was focusing primarily on defense, and for the moment, she didn't seem to be in any significant trouble.
"I'm going to ask you a question. What happens next depends entirely on your answer," Ludwig said with a smile. It was a smile that held no warmth; instead, it was laced with a cold, simmering fury.
Kariya understood. He was the one who had approached the boy for an alliance, yet it was his Servant who had launched an unprovoked attack on the boy and Saber. Whatever fragile trust might have existed was now shattered.
"Ask... go ahead..." Kariya whispered.
He had no intention of fighting the boy, nor did he believe he could successfully pull off a surprise attack even if he tried.
"What is Berserker's True Name?" Ludwig asked. "I've become Saber's Master; I already know hers."
Berserker had attacked Saber twice now. If it wasn't by the Master's order, then it could only be attributed to the near-instinctive obsession of a mindless warrior. Ludwig suspected this might be a situation similar to Gilles de Rais.
"...The strongest Knight of the Round Table, Lancelot," Kariya replied, steadying his breath to ensure his voice was clear.
Ludwig, whose face had been a mask of cold hostility, couldn't help but look taken aback. "Who did you say? Lancelot?"
"That's right..." Kariya saw the boy's enmity begin to recede. He struggled to roll over, trying to find a more comfortable position on the cold, hard ground.
Ludwig slowly stood up. He stopped his interrogation and turned his gaze toward the stalemate between Saber and Berserker.
He had told Saber to stall Berserker while he interrogated Kariya. He hadn't expected to uncover something so significant.
It was barely two hours ago, before they set out, that he had been asking Saber about her history—specifically the affair between Lancelot and Guinevere that fractured the Round Table and ultimately led to Britain's ruin.
Fate had a twisted sense of humor, granting the former sovereign and her knight a chance to meet on the battlefield once more.
Yet one had been transformed into a Berserker, stripped of his reason, swinging his weapon and attacking without mercy the very monarch who had been betrayed by him—and had forgiven him.
"Berserker... What is Lancelot's wish?" Ludwig asked.
"I don't know. Berserker has almost no sanity left; I haven't been able to communicate with the man at all." Kariya gritted his teeth as the rapid drain of prana caused the Crest Worms to become active, writhing beneath his skin.
"I see..."
Ludwig watched Saber fight, recalling the things she had told him.
Artoria had never resented Lancelot. She had handled the entire affair with leniency, even allowing the liaison between him and Guinevere and intending to offer them her blessing. As a woman in reality, Artoria could not give Guinevere true happiness. This was why she felt a profound sense of debt to the Queen who had helped her maintain the facade of Britain's rule.
If anyone was to harbor a grudge, it should have been Guinevere—not a knight who had betrayed his King only to be pardoned.
Had Artoria lied?
No. More likely, she had simply stated the facts as she saw them from her subjective viewpoint, attempting to be objective about her own genuine attitude.
The "rightness" she so staunchly believed in was not universally accepted; it was precisely because of this that the Knights of the Round Table had split.
Perhaps Artoria didn't even truly understand the thoughts of the knights under her command. Including the Lancelot she had forgiven...
Realizing the situation was far more complex than it appeared, Ludwig took a long, slow breath to dispel the mental fatigue that came with such heavy thoughts.
"I can't have you and Berserker dying here just yet. I'm still counting on you to be useful in the fight against Archer," Ludwig said, drawing Durandal. "Let's bring this guy under control first."
Kariya offered no objection. It was a great mercy that the boy hadn't demanded he use a Command Spell to suppress Berserker. After all, Ludwig could have simply killed Kariya first and then dealt with a Lancelot who no longer had a mana supply.
At that moment, Artoria was finding Berserker's maddened assault to be quite a headache. Since Ludwig had asked her to stall, she had chosen to focus entirely on defense and evasion rather than counterattacking.
Just as she was looking for an opening to see if the discussion over there had reached a conclusion, a flash of cold light streaked across the battlefield.
The sharp edge of Durandal swept in, forcing the attacking Berserker to retreat instantly. He dodged a thrust that would have pierced his neck, but he couldn't avoid the follow-up kick to his chest.
The black-armored warrior faltered, leaving a glaring opening. Seeing that the time for a counterattack had come, Artoria lunged forward, a heavy horizontal slash falling with the weight of her Mana Burst.
The lamppost Berserker held—which had been transformed into a D-rank Noble Phantasm by his touch—could not withstand the sheer force and snapped in two.
The Knight King's holy sword scraped across the armor wreathed in black haze, producing an ear-piercing screech of metal on metal.
Despite being under the mental grip of Mad Enhancement, Lancelot possessed the "Eternal Arms Mastership" skill, allowing him to exercise one hundred percent of his original combat prowess. It was enough to give Artoria a run for her money.
Provided, of course, that Artoria was fighting alone.
The Knight King didn't need to worry about her Master. She simply unleashed wave after wave of attacks, and Ludwig was always there to back her up—and always there to keep pace with her. Without any prior practice, their coordination relied entirely on their exceptional individual capabilities.
BOOM—!
Under a relentless barrage that gave Lancelot no time to recover, the Mad Warrior was completely overwhelmed after only a few exchanges.
Ludwig's foot slammed into Berserker's back with extraordinary force, pinning him down so hard the ground beneath them collapsed into a shallow, circular crater.
"A truly... magnificent display of combat capability," Artoria said, relaxing her stance and offering a smile of praise.
She had wanted to praise Ludwig's martial "skill," but the boy didn't actually possess anything that could be called technique. His style was a pure, raw amalgamation of power, speed, and durability. High-damage horizontal swings, high-damage vertical chops. "Outstanding combat capability" was the only way she could describe it.
Ludwig simply laughed it off.
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