"Are you sure, Eresh-chan?"
["There's a Servant signature. It's Archer... Red Archer. He's already locked onto us. Should I step in?"]
"Let me handle this."
["Alright. I'll grant you the Blessing of the Underworld."]
Magical armor began to coat his body. Wayland gripped the crimson thorn-spear in his right hand and stole a quick glance at the system log.
[Due to the influence of the Blessing of the Underworld and Dragon Armor, the host's attributes have increased: Strength C, Endurance C, Agility C, Mana C, Luck EX.]
'This effect... it almost makes me the one being supplied with prana.'
In terms of pure attributes, he was now on par with a third-rate Servant.
A sudden wind whipped through the moonlit night, howling with a piercing intensity as if something had attained a lethal velocity.
A brilliant streak of light trailed across the sky like a falling star.
A blood-red point rapidly expanded in his vision.
It was an arrow.
***
The First Battle
The crisp sound of impact was immediately followed by a violent explosion. As the smoke billowed outward, a figure rocketed upward as if launched from a cannon.
His face was almost entirely obscured, his eyes cold and devoid of emotion.
The long spear in his hand pulsed with a sinister, blood-red light.
He swung the weapon with bruising force, smashing it directly into the incoming arrow.
With another thunderous boom, the projectile detonated.
The Dragon Armor absorbed the brunt of the shockwave. Without losing any momentum, Wayland sprinted across the glass facade of the skyscraper.
A barrage of arrows followed in quick succession, raining down from the top of the building like a localized storm. The whistling projectiles, a mix of white and red light, wove a lethal, glittering tapestry against the night sky.
Glass shattered into a thousand glittering shards.
Wayland shielded his eyes from the debris, feeling the invisible pressure of the onslaught from all sides. He spun his spear in a wide arc, the weapon humming as it knocked the fletched shafts aside. Suddenly, the scattered arrows expanded, transforming into a localized gale that swirled around him.
Zip!
A single arrow broke through the defensive web of spear-shadows, exploding in the ten-centimeter gap between his body and the weapon.
Wayland was thrown back, his feet skidding across the glass.
"These arrows... they're useless!"
A low growl escaped his lips. He planted his feet firmly on the structural frame of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, his muscles tensing for explosive movement. In an instant, his body became a streak of white light, charging straight toward the sky.
Standing at the vantage point was a man in red, aiming a massive black bow directly at him.
The man's right arm pulled the string back with a strength far surpassing that of any human. The bow curved into a perfect crescent. With a sharp twang, the arrow tore through the air like a bolt of lightning, aimed directly for the space between Wayland's eyes.
A spark of light flickered briefly in the darkness.
Wayland's spear blurred in a parry, and the arrow vanished into a faint vibration against the head of his weapon.
He lunged forward, red elemental energy enveloping his body. His spear shimmered like molten iron, exuding an overwhelming, predatory aura.
He thrust the weapon toward Archer without a shred of hesitation.
Clang!
A tremendous force vibrated through his hands as he met a pair of blades that had appeared out of nowhere.
Kanshou and Bakuya.
The impact felt like wave after wave of crashing surf. In the span of a single heartbeat, the two had exchanged several dozen blows.
"Are you a Lancer?" Archer's white eyebrows furrowed, his instinct telling him something was fundamentally wrong.
"Obviously," Wayland replied, purposely deepening his voice.
Before Archer could press him further, Wayland pressed his spear downward. The magic circuits beneath his armor surged into action, and a sudden, localized hurricane manifested on top of the building.
His hips and legs snapped forward like a released spring, and his entire being became a concentrated burst of wind.
In a fraction of a second, the distance between them vanished.
The spear held in his hands flared with a flickering flame.
Archer took a half-step back, though he kept his body tilted forward. The sheer weight of the impact caused him to shudder violently, but he held his ground. With a fluid, bird-like grace, he retracted his twin blades, leaping high into the air. He used the blades as daggers, aiming them directly for Wayland's eyes.
Through their brief exchange, he had already identified the weakness of the Dragon Armor.
At that moment, a command rang out in German.
Three gems landed at Wayland's feet, and a blinding green light erupted like a flashbang.
'What perfect timing.'
Rin Tohsaka stood a short distance away, her blue eyes incredibly calm and focused. A magical circle glowed in her hand.
Wayland narrowed his eyes against the brilliance, but his reaction was a fraction of a second too slow.
The twin blades struck his forehead. He didn't avoid them entirely, but he managed to tilt his head just enough.
A faint mark appeared on the armor, only to vanish as the self-repair function kicked in.
Archer lunged again, bringing both blades down in a lethal overhead strike.
But Wayland's spear was faster. Starting from below the chest, a flurry of crimson spear-shadows rained upward like a torrential storm, a staccato of metallic clashes ringing out as the weapons met.
Archer managed to block the relentless assault with his twin blades.
Showering sparks lit up the moonlit night as the two combatants were pushed apart by the force of the collision.
"With spear techniques like that, you're clearly not some nameless warrior."
Archer was testing him. Wayland's presence was giving off incredibly discordant signals; Archer's memories,corrupted as they were,told him that this 'Lancer' was an anomaly.
Wayland remained silent. Archer was a Heroic Spirit from a potential future, one who had participated in a different timeline of the Fifth Holy Grail War. Aside from Gilgamesh, he would be the one most likely to realize that Wayland's identity was a fabrication.
"A Lancer clad in armor... that's quite rare," Archer remarked again, his eyes narrowing.
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]