Buzz—
Before the blade even made contact, the air had already begun to shake with violent vacuum ripples—proof of just how powerful Rider's strike truly was.
It was a blow launched with the resolve to utterly annihilate the enemy. A lethal strike meant to kill, no questions asked.
But then—
Nothing happened.
Rider's sword never landed. His attack came to an abrupt halt. A second force had suddenly intervened, blocking his assault right between him and Saber.
It happened in an instant, so fast that Rider couldn't even react. Then, in the very next second, a chilling gust swept through the air—bringing with it the palpable breath of death that surged toward Rider.
The sound of limbs being torn apart echoed eerily in the night, accompanied by the excited laughter of a young girl. Rider's expression turned grim as he stumbled back several steps, the inner lining of his cloak on one side now completely soaked in blood.
The opponent Rider was originally meant to face tonight now stood before him. A youthful girl with a wild, almost manic smile spread across her face, held out her arms toward the injured Rider.
"Looks like Heroic Spirit blood is red too… But the taste's not that great. Can't compare to Master's at all."
"Tch… So your Class is Berserker, huh? That crazed aura really does suit you to a frightening degree."
Rider let out a helpless smile and shook his head, but there wasn't even a trace of fear in his eyes.
"Even if the night's already deep, you were my target from the start tonight. Let's properly finish the battle we postponed!"
With a flourish of his cape, Rider paid no mind to the injuries on his arm. Facing Flandre standing before him, he spoke with unshaken fighting spirit.
"A battle? With you in your current state?"
Flandre looked down on Rider with clear disdain. Courage was one thing, but sometimes what passed for bravery was simply the recklessness of a fool.
Had Rider still been in peak form and able to deploy Ionioi Hetairoi, he would indeed have posed a serious problem. But now, after using that trump card, with only a fraction of his strength remaining, he wasn't even worth her attention.
"So what? As a king, how could I ever retreat on the battlefield?! Even if every one of my soldiers fell before me, I'd still charge ahead without fear and continue fighting!"
Rider shouted defiantly, raising his sword with his uninjured arm and launching a charge at Flandre.
It was a charge full of courage, yes—but also a charge that had no hope of success. It was a death charge, plain and simple.
"Is that so… But don't forget, I am—Berserker!"
Fighting a Berserker head-on was undoubtedly one of the stupidest things anyone could do. In exchange for losing reason, Berserkers possessed the most overwhelming combat ability among all seven Classes. Once they entered a frenzy, almost no one could stand against them.
In every Holy Grail War, Berserkers were always the Servants other Masters least wanted to provoke—because they were complete madmen. Picking a fight with them brought nothing but disaster.
While the war was nominally a clash of seven Masters, forming alliances and collaborating to take down stronger opponents was a common strategy. But Berserkers were unpredictable variables—no one wanted to team up with one when you might get stabbed in the back at any moment.
And the moment Flandre loudly declared herself a Berserker, the smile on her face twisted. She raised one hand high toward Rider—and suddenly clenched her fingers tight.
In mid-run, Rider's body stiffened violently. A massive mouthful of blood burst from his lips as he staggered and nearly collapsed. Only by using his sword to support himself did he manage to remain standing.
"Hah… haha… How disgraceful. For a king like me to show such weakness… Thank the gods my soldiers didn't see that, or I'd be the laughingstock."
Even in this state, Rider still spoke in a teasing tone. That, in itself, was enough to earn respect.
Meanwhile, Yoru cradled the blood-soaked Saber in his arms. The girl had apparently lost consciousness from exhaustion and now lay limp against his chest.
The blood and wounds covering her body made his heart ache, and filled Yoru with guilt and sorrow.
By now, all of his doubts and suspicions had completely vanished. He could feel it without question—this girl had fought for his sake. She had battled as a maiden in love… as Artoria.
"Flandre… don't hold back. End it tonight. Let Rider retire from the stage."
Holding Saber close, Yoru raised his head and stared at Rider with a blank expression, saying almost the exact same words Rider had spoken earlier—but now the target was Rider himself.
"As you command… my Master."
With a seductive smile tugging at her lips, Flandre raised her hand once more toward Rider. That slender little hand, like a messenger of death itself, sent shivers down Rider's spine.
He had no idea what her fighting style was. She didn't even move—just raised her hand—and yet he had already suffered wounds this severe.
First, she had almost torn off his entire arm. Then she had crushed his heart. And all she had done was stand there and flex her fingers. It left Rider feeling completely helpless.
A Berserker was supposed to overpower opponents with sheer brute force… yet this girl fought with what seemed like magic. Her methods were utterly unfathomable.
"Ahh… this is totally unfair. At least tell me what kind of ability you're using! I can't even begin to understand it right now!"
Rider grumbled in frustration, but Flandre had no intention of answering him.
Instead, she once again clenched her outstretched hand toward him. Sensing danger, Rider leapt to the side midair in an attempt to dodge.
But it was futile.
While his body was still airborne, a jet of blood burst from his chest. The massive man crashed violently to the ground—never to rise again.
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