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"RAAAAAAHHH!!!" Lancelot roared, his face contorted, veins bulging on his forehead as he fought against the Command Spell's influence. But the Third Magic's power, etched into his very being, was relentless.
He drew [Arondight]—the The Unfading Light of the Lake, an A++ rank Noble Phantasm.
Forged by the same Fae who created Excalibur, it was an indestructible holy sword, its blade inscribed with runes, renowned for its shimmering, lake-like translucence under the moonlight.
With Arondight in hand, Lancelot's power surged, his parameters exceeding Saber's in every aspect.
The dual Command Spells amplified his strength further, forcing his body to move against his will. He looked at Saber, his eyes filled with a desperate plea, as his arm swung—
The blade sliced through the air, the force of his swing compressing the atmosphere into razor-sharp wind blades that sheared nearby trees in half.
The translucent blade, shimmering like moonlight on water, descended towards Saber's neck.
Saber didn't flinch, her gaze fixed on Lancelot, her expression calm.
A spatial rift tore open, and a hand reached out. Haru, watching from the castle, seeing Saber's lack of resistance, couldn't just stand by. He reached for Arondight, intending to stop the blow, but his hand froze mid-air.
The blade stopped inches from Saber's neck, its surface shimmering like disturbed water.
Lancelot's jaw clenched, his muscles straining. At the last moment, he'd resisted the Command Spell's influence, his willpower overcoming the Third Magic's power.
Saber looked at the blade, her expression filled with a quiet sadness. The once holy sword, corrupted by Lancelot's accidental killing of a fellow knight, had become a demonic blade. Though its appearance remained pure, its essence was now tainted.
She reached out and gently removed Lancelot's helmet, revealing his face—thin, haggard, veins bulging from the strain of resisting the Command Spell.
"Though your sword has fallen, your heart—it remains pure, Lancelot," she said softly.
Tears streamed down Lancelot's face. "W-why didn't you dodge?" If not for Arondight's power amplifying his own, he might have actually killed her. Even now, resisting the Command Spell was taking all his strength, his will stretched to its breaking point.
He knew that if he struck, Saber would die. He was fighting with his life to resist the command.
"You've never raised your blade against me, Lancelot. I had faith—that you wouldn't—this time either." Saber smiled at him, a gentle, trusting smile.
"My king," Lancelot looked at her, his heart filled with gratitude for her unwavering faith. Then, his concentration wavered—
Clang!
The invisible barrier of Avalon deflected Arondight's attack.
"Avalon? Pffft— HAHAHAHA!"
Haru, his hand still outstretched, burst into laughter. The scene—Lancelot and Saber's touching reunion—followed by this—it was too much.
Saber's face burned crimson.
Her Instinct, sensing the danger, had activated Avalon without her conscious command. And that contradicted her earlier words, her unwavering trust in Lancelot. She opened her mouth to explain, but Lancelot spoke first.
"You've learned to—play mind games, haven't you?" His voice, after the initial shock, was filled with a strange—pride. He relaxed, allowing the Command Spell to take over, and the sound of Arondight striking Avalon's barrier echoed through the air.
He knew Saber still trusted him. But her instinctive defense—it was both reassuring and—irritating. He'd wanted her to grow stronger, to be more cunning. But to use that cunning against him.
And as Saber's most trusted knight, he knew the power of Avalon. Knowing he couldn't harm her, he allowed the Command Spell to force his attack, a petty act of revenge for her earlier deception.
Saber, seeing his—tantrum, wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. She hadn't been trying to trick him! She wanted to explain, but seeing the proud look on Lancelot's face, she sighed, deciding to let it go.
It hadn't damaged their bond. in fact, it had strengthened it. A small misunderstanding—it was harmless.
Kayneth, watching Lancelot's wild swings, the stray wind blades slicing through the concrete near him, his eyes wide with terror, thought, "Could you—aim a little better…? You're going to hit me!"
——
Kiritsugu Emiya, his face impassive, felt a surge of frustration. Two Command Spells—and Lancelot had still resisted. Where was the absolute obedience he'd been promised? Had Zouken given him false information?
And then, to make matters worse, Lancelot's A++ rank Noble Phantasm hadn't even scratched Saber.
He had one Command Spell left. And only those with Command Spells could claim the Grail. He couldn't waste it. He had to retreat, regroup, find another opportunity.
But…
He looked at Kirei Kotomine, standing thirty meters away, a smug smile on his face, and his finger tightened on the trigger.
"You first…"
Rat-a-tat-tat!
The muzzle flash from Kiritsugu's submachine gun illuminated Kirei's face, which was now—illuminated by more than just gunfire.
Kirei, his arms crossed before his head, the black keys between his fingers extending into meter-long blades, charged towards Kiritsugu.
Kiritsugu's eyes widened as the bullets struck Kirei's black cassock, sparking harmlessly. "Is that—blessed Kevlar?…"
His face paled. He'd only ever faced Magicians. This was his first encounter with a Church Executor, a being whose powers were—unknown to him. He only had the most basic intel.
And unlike in the original timeline, without Maiya's—sacrificial reconnaissance—he had no knowledge of Kirei Kotomine's skills as a martial artist, a master of Bajiquan.
"Too close…" As Kirei closed the distance, Kiritsugu, gritting his teeth, pulled out his Colt pistol, aiming for Kirei's head.
"Time Alter - Threefold Acceleration!" He activated his family's magecraft, pushing his body to its limits, his movements blurring.
He had no other choice. He had to engage Kirei in close combat.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three shots, aimed at Kirei's neck—the only part of his body exposed above his cassock. He couldn't risk aiming for the head; a pistol's bullets were too easily deflected.
He drew a switchblade from his pocket, slashing at Kirei's eyes.
Kirei ducked, his feet digging into the asphalt, then, with a burst of speed, he lunged forward, his body a coiled spring, unleashing a devastating Bajiquan technique—Iron Mountain Crushing.
His fist connected with Kiritsugu's stomach.
Kiritsugu gasped, his eyes bulging, spit flying from his mouth as he was sent flying, crashing to the ground, his body broken.
Kirei, his face impassive, looked down at the unconscious Magus Killer. He'd anticipated this. An assassin, relying on ranged attacks, facing a master of Bajiquan in close combat, without any knowledge of his skills—defeat was inevitable.
He looked at Kiritsugu, a cruel smile twisting his lips.
Meanwhile, Saber, watching as Lancelot's relentless attacks battered against Avalon's defenses, her heart filled with a sudden, unexpected—sadness, sighed softly.
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