[T/N: Sorry for the late update guys, these are last week's chapters, I will post this week's chapters tomorrow. ENJOY!]
Before I forget, please donate some power stones]
Thrown onto the ground hot enough to feel like molten rock, Berserker let out another furious roar.
But this time, having grasped what had just happened, he didn't recklessly charge in again. Instead, he gripped the steel pole in both hands, holding it as a knight would a greatsword.
With both hands on the weapon, his strikes would be faster, heavier. As Roland landed lightly back on the ground, the steel pole, its surface already corroded by magic suddenly accelerated, slicing and compressing the air with raw, unadulterated force before swinging down with terrifying might.
Roland met the strike with only one hand, reaching out to catch the weapon mid-swing.
BOOM!
At the instant of impact, an overwhelming shockwave tore through the area. The ground around them buckled under the violent wind pressure, layers of scorched, shattered earth peeled away as the storm spread outward.
Yet no matter how much force Lancelot poured into his weapon, the legendary Knight of the Lake could not move that single hand by even an inch.
"Is this the limit of the so-called Knights of the Round Table?" Roland said flatly.
The title seemed to sting. Lancelot's head snapped up, his muffled voice emerging as a savage roar. With a sudden pull, he wrenched his weapon back and launched a whirlwind of slashes.
Each swing tore the air apart, unleashing bursts of concussive force. Flames scattered across the street were whipped up into blazing spirals that reached toward the sky. The asphalt shook beneath their feet, cracking under the force.
Then just as the shockwave from his last strike kicked up a blinding cloud of dust Lancelot abruptly shifted his stance. His right arm dropped low, thrusting forward.
The steel pole, its surface veined with ominous dark-red lines, drove toward Roland's heart like a spear, its point sharpened to a lethal edge by repeated strikes.
All those wild slashes had been nothing but a feint for this one killing blow.
Even without coherent thought, instinct told Lancelot this was the moment. No matter how strong his opponent's body, this thrust, delivered with every scrap of mana he still possessed, would pierce through.
Roland's eyes glinted, and he gave a faint, almost regretful smile.
As the tip closed in, he slowly raised his left hand.
Something flickered in Berserker's wild eyes. This wasn't like the earlier strikes, this one carried the last dregs of his magical power, approaching the peak strength he'd known in life. Even if Roland blocked with his bare hand, the bones would shatter.
But then, a thin layer of blazing crimson flame enveloped Roland's palm.
The instant the steel tip made contact, the metal liquefied, dripping away as molten iron.
Lancelot's eyes widened in disbelief. Even a makeshift weapon in his hands held the durability of a D-rank pseudo–Noble Phantasm. Yet it had been reduced to slag in an instant. How could anyone control such violent fire with such precision?
Still, he didn't falter. Casting aside the molten remains, he lunged in, arms spreading wide to seize Roland's wrist, initiating the most primal form of combat, pure grappling.
Weapons? Who needed them? They were a hindrance compared to his own body.
Roland chuckled as his wrist was caught. "Smooth. If someone didn't know better, they might think you'd planned to close in from the start."
And truly, Roland wasn't a master of martial arts. The Holy Lord's knowledge couldn't help him here in close combat as he was almost a pure Caster. Against Lancelot's masterful hand-to-hand skill, he might lose…
If not for the simple truth that....
Raw, absolute power trumped all skill.
"If you'd unleashed your Noble Phantasm, you might have shown something more impressive. But you lack the mana now. And fire…" Roland's smile sharpened. "…fire is nothing more than a toy in my hands."
His eyes locked onto Lancelot's, the knight's chest and abdomen exposed in the grapple.
"Did you think holding my hand would stop me from using it?"
In Roland's pupils, a surge of crimson light condensed to a burning point. A beam of compressed heat erupted forward, piercing straight through Lancelot's chest.
"No weapon is needed. A true hero kills with his eyes."
The beam tore through armor, flesh, and bone with ease, laying bare the knight's vitals.
Even on the brink of death, Lancelot tightened his grip, unwilling to die without tearing something away from his foe.
But Roland's voice cut through his frenzy.
"Killer Queen."
A figure appeared, a cracked, cat-eared humanoid with the same scarlet eyes as Roland. Its hand morphed into a blade, stabbing clean through Lancelot's back.
Berserker's strength failed instantly, giving Roland the opening to wrench himself free. He reached forward, his hand plunging into the knight's spirit core, forcing a new Master–Servant contract with searing magical energy.
"Dog, obey your new master."
Under the weight of the command, Lancelot stilled. His grievous wounds began knitting together.
"Now… you'll use that madness to forge Saber into a weapon worthy of me."
"…Arthur…"
Hearing his name, Lancelot seemed to regain a fragment of clarity. Dropping to one knee, he bowed his head in the manner of a knight pledging fealty to his king.
Satisfied, Roland turned to Matou Kariya, who stood frozen behind Caster, disbelief etched into his features.
Seeing Berserker obedient in another's hands, and Sakura rushing happily into Roland's arms, Kariya's lips twisted into a bitter smile.
Roland walked toward him. Confronted with death, the madness drained from Kariya's eyes, replaced by weary calm.
"Have you decided?" Roland asked.
"You're a monster of that level… My fears for Sakura's safety were pointless. Take my pathetic life."
Roland frowned. "Who said anything about wanting your life? It's worthless to me, especially now that you're no longer a Master. The only reason you're still alive is your surname, Matou."
"…You want to know about the Matou family's downfall? I only learned about it today. I can't help you."
Kariya paused, thinking. "The only thing I can tell you is that Matou Zouken might still be alive. Most of the Crest Worms in me came from him. If he'd truly died, they would've gone berserk."
"Is that so? Anything else unusual from yesterday until now?"
The fall of the Matou family wasn't baseless. They'd been deeply rooted in Fuyuki for generations, making them worthless to most outsiders. If none of the other seven Masters was responsible, the culprit had to have some connection to them, no matter how thin.
Kariya frowned. "No… After I returned Rin yesterday when she'd run out into the city wuthout her mother knowing, I went to the battle near the port"
"Wait." Roland's expression shifted.
"You said… Tohsaka Rin came to Fuyuki?"