She tore through the walls like they were tissue paper, preparing to pursue the Lancer that had dodged her blow by the slimmest of margins. Every narrow escape by the man only enraged her further, she swung with wild abandon as she tried to halt her momentum and move towards Lancer once again. Yet something intercepted her, something with enough strength to take her blows and roar in return. This knight's armor was different, but just as Saber could smell the beast within Berserker, she could feel the presence he gave off. The presence of a king, of one who slew monsters like herself while being a monster in turn. The one who united Britain, the King of Knights, that thing could only be...



She was sent flying back by the force of his Noble Phantasm, crashing onto the street as the hotel crumbled around him. He stood upon the hill of swords with blade in hand, this would be the moment, she would prove herself worthy to her father and then kill him, she would become king. Even with her Madness Enhancement active, no, especially because her Madness Enhancement was active, her emotions shone through in front of the one she loves^hates most. Her mask began to crack and fracture, her holy sword crackling with crimson lightning, a symbol of her love^hate for her father. She would channel all her feelings into her next swing, she would show that she was worthy as she demolished the country she sought to rule. She would become the king of-



W̝̤̤͙͖h̼̼͈̫̖͕͠a̗ţ̙̬?͇̭̲̼̕ ̲͈̯͚͖W̻̪̩h̡̭̩͓̦͕̰̖y͖̹̲͚͓͓ ̮̙̬͚̮̤w̨͈o̠̫͚̩ͅu͎l̞d̷̫̻̦̩̻̣ ̤̩̳̭̻͎̣y̩̯̳o̞͓͓̫̞̦u c̙̱͔̮a̟͙̹͘ͅḻ̣̪l ̷̪͉̺m͈̣͖̙̯̩̲e̗̗̲ ͕́b̩ac̰̥͎͙̠͙̀k͡ ̼n̶̙̦͙͉̭o͏̳w̞͇͡ ̸̬̺m̯͓̭̻o҉̥̯͕̺̜͓͉t̗̠͖͎͎͈h͇͍e̺̗̮̬̪͜r͙̲͉̤̰̬͙? ̛͍͕W̶͈͎̰̹̰̘h͎ý̞͙͖͖̪̠͙,̺̮̘͎͟ ̷͔̞w͚͎͓̼̫̤͠h̥̪̝̬̮̺e̺̣n̴̰̺ ̰I̧̥̗̘̳̺̘ ̼̯̟̰̹a̴m̱̣̤̣ ̣͙̳͔̫̘̕b̰u̶ţ̺̤͙͚͍͍ ̺̙̺̜͖̩͠a̭̝ ̰̼͈͎͕̻̺m̵̱e̱̯̝̝͕r̠͍̮͢ȩ̞̩͍̦̣ ́s̥͚̠͕̮̺͞t̖̠e̥̳̮̭͝p̪̲͓͕͈ ͇͓̩̗͉̥͖͘a̷͖̰̟͔w̧a̧̫̝̱̺y̺ͅ f͚̫͇̩̼̜ro̬͟ͅm̼̖͈̫͡ ̕t͏̞̝̩̜̯h͏͚͈͍̘ͅȩ̱͖̱̦̺̞ ̼͎͙̬̮͍͚v̫̗͉̼̬i̜̜̗̩ͅc̜̙̘̮̜̳t̲̼̯o̯̬̬͚͟r̥͡y̸̱̮̯ ̯̙̳͕̟͘ͅy̝͍͠o̫͕͎̹̰̗u̶̫͖͕̫ ͎͓̼͎̪͎͎s̜̥̱o͈͓͕̗̥ ̰͈̪d̴͖͉͙͇̮̼̱es͍͖͕̠̩̪͠p̵͍̥̗͎̹e̘̺͞r̸̮͍̱͇̪̱a̛t̺͠ͅe̥̙͈̞͡l̤y ̴̤̞̫̺s̝͕̣̕ẹ͈e͍̪͢k҉͕͇?̭̰͍͔͔̻ ̬̜̤̲̮A̰̮̫̘̳̼͙h̙̫̭͇̹̭̺,͈͝ ̰̺̻̤̼i͓t͈͖ ̯is҉ ̢b̠̣̱̥e̻̣̝c̨̘̼̺͓͙͎̯a҉̙u̙̺͕͠s̮̗ͅe̟ ̧̭͕̺̺̫͚̤o̷͇̱̳̯͔̣f͔̮̜̻ ̫̣̠͉t͔͓̬͙̲̝h̕at͉̮̳͖̟̫ͅ ͔̞͕̺͔͡i̦͜n̸̟͇͓̥s̥̺̪͔e̷c̷͚̼͍̞t̡ ͇͓̮̱̩͔̀į̰͈̯̠̘͈ş̭̙͚̬̬͍n͇̯̪̬͔̹'̤̮̯̠̦͎͞t̶͓̹̩̫̹̰ ̗̜͖̟͔͘it̻̲͈͍͚?͚̬͍̯̤ͅ ̙H͔̩̹̲e̫̥̪̪̮͎͡ ͕̬̫̮̙͎w̜a̬̫̞n͏̙̖̩̻̪t͉͞ś ̯̖͇͎͇t͉͕o ̳̠̞͕͝i̡̤̣ͅn̴t̳̬͈͉̟̹̕ͅe̯r̠͕͙f͞e̘̬̬r͈̟̪̭͉ḛ,̱̤̟̟͝ͅ ̷i͙͜n̠̺̣̘̗͎ ͕̙̫̳a͖̯͚ ̷̹̼͖͎͖̥d͈̠ṷ̰͉̰̺̪è̜̼͎͈̫͍l ̢̰̞̠̝͍͖̝b̝̱͉e̷t̞̼̼̺̱w͓͘e̹̹̥̭̼͡e͏̠̞n҉ͅ ̡͔͕̻̲̪͔ṱ̮̠͝w̞͖͇͔͙̫ò͚̗͉̭̩̙ ̠̝̪k҉̯̜̩͔͓̮n̡͎͔i̺̳̯͕ͅg̹͝ḥ̴̥͇ͅt͎̩̩s͚̭̠̰ͅ. ͎̠͙͕͚H͍̭̬͍͎ͅo̵̳͚w̦͕̺͈̗ͅ ͍̖͕̙̥̜ḏ̢̪e̪̖͝s̳̱͚̬̥̲̀p̴̗̞͎͚̣i̹̰͇͇̳ͅc͉̻͍̥a̵͕̯̖̜̜͇͇b͇͠l͇͓͓̞͉ͅe̖.̜̣͔ ̡͖̲̻̲̪V̥̝͓eͅr͝ý ̢͇̟̹͎͙͙͔w̛e̬̜̤̮͓̬̙l͈̬̼̣̪͙l̬̗̜͈͓ͅ ͚̮̳͕̤t͙͕̦͔̦͠ͅḫe͝n͔̖̖,̴̯͍ ̵̝̤̬̲͖̟͈I̖̘̺͟ ̞̘̪̮̯̻͡s͚̠̺̮h̩̘̫̲̲͝a͠l͙͙̗̤̙̠͘ͅl͡ ͏̞͚c҉̱̦̥͉̥o̡͈̝͚̪m̱̳͉̜͓̬̭e̘̝̺ ҉̜̙̠̮̤͈b̠̞͓a̬̪̪͕̼c̶̖̲̮̙̙ͅḵ̛͖̳ t̰̦̝o̳̻̙ ̘̰̥̱̭̺̪́y͍̞̭̙̼̯̖o̸͚̟͕̮͙̺u̘̼̲̖̮̗͜ͅ.̨̲̮

The Berserker stopped, lowering her blade as she stared at Saber with barely contained bloodlust. The lightning on her blade faded, dying out until all that was left was that flawless steel. No words were spoken, but the intent behind her gaze was clear to even the lowest of dullards. The next time they met, she would have his head. She would become the King of Britain, that land that she destroyed in her childish rage. Berserker leapt away towards the museum, satisfied with the knowledge that her father was here.

Northern Latin District, No Man's Land

---

This was not a totally unfamiliar situation. Saber was out in the open, exposed to the wrath of the enemy who lay a great distance away. Of course, in this case the enemy was a single Archer rather than an army, but the Knight of Lamentation was worth an army by himself, so the difference was negligible. Saber's expression held a sort of serene concentration as he ran. His warrior's instincts and senses, honed over a lifetime longer than mortality should allow, focused to predict when and how Archer's assault would come. He squinted, trying to get a good look at the bowman's fingers.

"Damn. I won't get to finish my drink."

When he felt the volley approaching, he voiced a lamentation of his own.

Saber crushed the bottle he was holding in his hand, flinging it forward at the same time, sending a shower of finely ground glass and liquor before him. Just as the attack came in the blink of an eye, this debris would hang in the air for the same fraction of a second. When trying to track "something" flying through the air, it was best to have a field of vision obstructed by "nothing". However, in the case of projectiles with the appearance of "nothing", it would be best to have "something" in his line of sight, or at least that was the conclusion Saber had come to since the start of the battle a few moments ago. Indeed, as sure as the sun rose, he saw grains of glass dust and flecks of beer annihilated in midair by the strange vacuums launched from Failnaught. He had given visual representation to the unseen shots, and thus he could track them.

The sheathed Courtain twirled and swatted in its wielder's hand towards each "note" that was played in his direction. He would likely have been unable to match the shots if it had been necessary to strike and parry each one from the air, but Courtain's ability meant that simply grazing a shot with the edge of the scabbard or hilt was enough to disperse the tension of the vacuum and remove all the force with which it flew towards Saber, converting the shots into harmless, stationary air. Ywain's shielding ring had withstood many shots, but in last night's battle it had nonetheless taken the impact of the attacks, pushing the Lion Knight backwards and away from Tristan with each hit. Courtain was a different story, however. All force it met was nullified and absorbed, so running while blocking attacks with it was the same as running through air.

That being the case, each sweep of the scabbard would nullify four or five shots, as Saber moved his weapon with a looseness that should have allowed it to be knocked from his hand the moment it met with a blow, although of course that was impossible. Courtain was able to twirl and move rapidly like a fencing sword parrying light blows, because every blow was infinitely light against the Sword of Mercy.

A rain of glass and booze fell in the spot behind him as he moved on from the attack, not having lost even the slightest bit of momentum. In his low stance with his scabbard forward, the traps ahead, although he was not aware of them, would very likely collide with Courtain before him, being neutralized just like the active shots. If once or twice he felt some invisible force biting into his skin, he would tap the offending area with Courtain without delay. In any case, though, he was no longer running on the path he had been when the traps had been placed. Whether they extended across multiple streets or Tristan had predicted his movements was another matter, but since the redhead knight was no longer directly in front of him, Saber turned diagonally, running over buildings and through courtyards on a path almost parallel with Tristan's, though still one that slowly leaned towards the Seine.

Saber would cross the next bridge he came to and continue taking the most direct route towards Tristan, though it was hard to say if he was catching up. Like him, the Knight of Lamentation wore armour designed for mobility. In any case, the Hero of Patience would keep up a steady pace- not overworking himself to hastily catch his target, but calmly running through the streets, relying on Ywain to close in alongside him for the kill.

---

^@KoL@SSW

---

Twenty-four dead on the first night.

Fifty-five dead on the second night.

Unforgivable. Utterly unforgivable.

The warning had already been doled out, and yet they had not listened. The innocents had cried out, and yet they had not listened.

As he approached the structure, following the return of the Berserker, an armored hand swung through the air haphazardly.

"'The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds.' Amen."


Something 'other' appeared, lurking beyond the thin glass of the world. A nightmarish weight pressed down upon the surroundings with its arrival. An eyeless gaze was cast upon the structure. There was disgust in its gaze. There was enmity in its gaze. There was love in its gaze.

And the Bounded Field which surrounded the building...no, not merely that, but every ensorcelled effect upon the premises-

Shattered. Came apart. Fell away. Bounded Fields were broken. Magic foundations became inaccessible. Rogue spirits were sublimated. Karakuri familiars and Mirai's own limbs shut down, refusing to move. Even the foremost Caster of the East and the draconic Berserker felt it, their spiritual foundations shaking under that oppressive weight.

The shape that could not be seen looked on in sorrow.

He, however, never once stopped moving. A blade appeared in his right hand. Hidden eyes glinted, a hunter before prey. When he finally came to a halt outside of the building, his voice tore through the air. The upright pride of a man of faith. The bestial growl of a man of war.

"Mirai Kurojishi, Madhisi, in the name of God, come forth and be judged for the men and women slain by your hands. Failure to comply will be considered a declaration of war."

Such was the declaration of the war's true overseer.

Such was the first appearance of the Servant, Ruler.

“Looks like the enemy’s leaving. Good thing they never noticed us, wouldn’t want to go up against that. Um, over. Diana muttered into her handheld radio from a rooftop position, watching the other Servants move away at a dizzying pace. She’d barely had any time to even see the Archer’s shots, nor learn anything from them. Plucking at the strings of her own bow, it was hard not to feel inadequate.

Well, the threat was gone now, at least for the time being.

She looked down to the street as Venus emerged from the hotel with their Servant. She didn’t really enjoy camping out on rooftops, but it was a good tactical position, at least.

Venus hooked an arm around the Servant. “Ah, it really is too noisy over in that direction. Let’s go this way~” She said, as sweetly as possible. It was fortunate that this Servant was so easily manipulated. Though d’Artagnan listened to all four of them, it was Venus whose personality was predisposed to taking advantage of that. Looking at it that way, didn’t she almost have more power over the Servant than the actual Master? It was an encouraging thought.

Smiling and hugging d’Artagnan’s arm close, she began to walk in the direction of the Residential District, away from the signs of fighting and disaster. to the west.

Perhaps hiding away the Master was an advantageous strategy. It had worked for the Master of the Servant they’d encountered last night, after all. Sure, the homunculi didn’t have the advantage of sensing the presence of an enemy Master, but it should be easy enough for someone like Diana to find them.

As Homunculus and Servant walked casually down the street, another presence accompanied them, travelling atop the roofs of buildings and watching over the area.



@Froppy



Ywain continued to move towards his foe, even as Tristan retreated. Neither standing his ground, nor continuing his assault. Even if it was purely a retreat, he would likely have covered his tracks. Ywain manifested his spear, holding it out in front of him to cover as much space as possible. It would slow his movement a little, but any trap he ran into would hit the weapon first. So long as he let go of it, he could avoid being harmed.

But, as Tristan changed course, Ywain adjusted his own bearings, following in the wake of his ally knight, only a street away. A route that passed only briefly near where Tristan had fired from; he would cross the river later.

As Ywain moved, he began to wonder. Tristan’s actions were strange, even to someone like Ywain who had not known the man very well. Thinking back to the events of the other night… Was it possible that Tristan was in league with the thief, the Assassin who had stolen his Master’s property? Leading him away from Noon so that the thief could strike, perhaps?

“I’m pursuing. Stay safe.” He sent the words to Noon, reminding his partner of the thief, the assassin who could still be nearby.



@Danchou @KoL @King Cosmos @ManyThings

What did that girl say earlier? Yojimbo? I don't know anyone like that. It's probably a fake name and this guy doesn't look like anyone I can remember.

Nobunaga responded with a cheeky smile, one so wide that she laughed as soon as she tried to stretch it out, eyes closed and hands on her hips.



A boisterous laugh, something that can be taken as rejection or just a sign of praise for an Unknown to just up and try to invite her to drinks, probably on the house.

She would have accepted had she actually killed a Servant yesterday but all she did was trash a Workshop and turned it into ash, she even turned those ashes to ash, if that's even possible.

"Normally I'd be the one inviting people to a celebration but I must decline. I didn't do anything worthy of victory. Let's hold that off another ti-

Squishy, squishy, squish.

Nobunaga's chest was touched without her permission. She wouldn't dare leave this person alive if it had been a man but since these were the hands of a woman. She found herself at an awkward situation.

Nobunaga, the great Demon King of the Sixth Heaven, was violated by a shrine maiden in semi-public.



"Bold of you Shrine Maiden." Nobunaga said in a compliment before she huffed. When the shrine maiden apologized about touching her B Cups and mistaking her for Nobukara (since they obviously look alike). Nobunaga decided to pass it off, had she not apologized maybe the Conqueror of the Warring States would conquer her in a private room and anyone that disturbs them would be shot painfully by the rotating matchlock rifles that would twist and turn around said private room. "I'll accept your apology for now, however... the next time you do this. There will be no remorse and I will have to do a different kind of conquering.

She leaned in, whispered in her ear in a seductive tone. "If you catch my drift."

Perhaps she'd gone soft or perhaps she wouldn't want to ruin the friendship of her Master's acquaintance.

@Reflection @GreenGoat @floodtalon

[i]"How sad is it that you would not accept the olive branch offered to you. But this is your choice," Tristan thought as he noticed that the two knights didn't decide to call this vain pursuit out.

He wasn't aware whether or not they had been hit by anything of his previous attacks, but in this situation it was unlikely that at least Ywain's ally wouldn't. Not when Tristan didn't stop attacking him at all during his retreat, fifteen "shots" each time he took a leap backwards and fifteen more while he was in the air, all of the coming from behind cover since Tristan was still way too far away from them and gaining terrain with each moment this extended pursuit that played to his complete advantage continued.

Sometimes there would be a longer pause between the volleys of "arrows", usually right as Tristan had to make sharp turns without losing any speed. However, other than that, their pursuit would play the same more or less with Tristan never allowing them to get any closer than the initial distance of their encounter without the need to overexert himself since he was the one dictating the rhythm this time.

---

---

@ManyThings@Danchou@King Cosmos@SSW

"..."

This wasn't something Madhisi was expecting to happen.

On one hand she was relieved that, whatever, or whoever is it that called for them caused most of the pain she was feeling to go be dulled as soon as all the enchantments in the area were dispelled.

On the other, if the Overseer was this powerful and she failed to follow his words, despite trying her best to, the only thing that could wait for her at this point is death. It wouldn't be undeserved, but it wouldn't also be anything like what Madhisi sought.

"In the end, it seems that Justice really doesn't exist in this world, does it?" Madhisi thought out loud as she followed the commands of the armored figure outside of Mirai's workshop, coming as close to him as she felt he was right before stopping.

"Are you the Overseer? If so, I understand why you must be here," she asked in as much of a composed tone as she could muster, despite the fact that she was still wracked all over thanks to the after effects of Berserker's fight.

---

---

@Froppy@Player 2@Floodtalon@Unoedipal

It took him awhile, and at least a dozen or so more chopped down trees to find exactly what he had been looking for. It was a magnificent oak tree, that for the most part looked nearly identical to the others. But to Roland it was perfect! The perfect example of a tree, in bloom with it's green leaves. So, with the delicate care of somebody that wasn't him, he cut it down. A single strike of Durandal tore through the base, leaving a clean stump behind. The tree tilted, and fell, but didn't hit the ground. As Berserker picked it easily out of the air mid-fall, and tossed it over his shoulder. The tree was his brand new prize, and he carried it with the delicate grace it needed.

And so, with his trophy in hand, he began to run home. He tore his way through the forest, crushing the odd tree he had cut down earlier beneath his feet. The crunch and splinter of wood might leave people confused when morning came, wondering just what monster had left such impressive footprints in the fallen trees, but the answer was probably best off not learned. They wouldn't get it. It was for love, and love is really complicated.

Roland bounded and ran through the park, and eventually that gave way to the Residential district. Then, a minute later he could smell the Seine. The river air that made the hole district smell... Well like a river. He was a Berserker after all, nice language wasn't too high on his train of thought. But as the bank of the river approached, he bent his knees, and leapt. Clearing it in one go, landing on the far bank with a plum of sand. The bridge was probably too slow to even be an option.

The trip home would take a bit, but with his prize he was sure to make an impression. Also he was still singing... But like, a bit less loud than before.
"LALALALALA! FEEDLE DEEDLE DEE! I AM IN LOVE FOR ALL TO SEE!"

___________________________________________________________________________________
Bois de Vincennes ---> Residential District ---> Foreign District

Core District, Outside his Master's Workshop

(Temporary Player Change)

---

The golden spear was stopped, avoided, and deflected numerous times. Despite all his guile, it seemed he had been seen through by this Rider who fought without a weapon. Even as the two went at it, clashing spearmanship with martial arts twenty or thirty times in a few instants, both their expressions remained fairly pleasant, and the words they exchanged continued to be honest compliments and friendly provocations. It surely would have made for a mystifying scene if an observer did not know that both men were refraining from releasing powerful crystallized mysteries that would have made their current attacks seem painfully inadequate.

"Ahaha, even if you flatter this old geezer, I'm not going to let you in."

Lancer couldn't be sure exactly how Rider was reacting so easily to each of his moves, but the gist of it seemed to be something like 'future sight'. In that case, his favoured trickery and single-combat moves honed in battle would ultimately be guaranteed to fail, would they not?

If that was the case, he would just put his focus elsewhere. If victory could not be reached through skill, then Hector would turn to his physical superiority to solve the problem at hand. Thus, the possible 'gaps' and 'lapses' Sylvester was searching for would one-by-one begin to shrink and vanish. Hector was a Lancer. The fastest class. As such, Rider's predictions would still inform him of attacks, but now certain difficult decisions would be presented. The gaps in time between the forecasted blows were only getting smaller as the Trojan prince accelerated- if ten strikes are set to land in the same instant, which ones will receive priority from the defender? This was the question posed to Sylvester by Hector's actions.

Then, of course, came the result of clashing one's body with an ancient and unbreakable weapon. Even if Sylvester's guard and perception were invincible, his body was not. When a collision happened, Hector would lean greater force into the spear, in an effort to push his enemy back.

"I haven't pushed my body this hard in a long while. Forgetting about tricks and just lashing out like a brute is kinda relaxing, y'know?"

---

^{@Phonic@Unoedipal}

Yoshitsune hummed a soft tune she heard the winds whispered to her, as she bounced this ball -- the nice men who let her have it called it a “basketball” -- on the streets of Paris. She took her time walking, leisurely strolling through back alleys and side streets, ensuring that she wouldn’t be out in the wide open. She didn’t spend the entire day… ah, let’s call it “reconnaissance,” so she saw the news. A McDonalds, vaporized. Dozens dead and wounded.

Without a doubt, that was a result of a Servant fight. And although she cared little for the lives of humans not “hers,” such a commotion would surely attract the attention of the mysterious Overseers. Therefore, she made sure to work her way around the city in areas where few civilians would be at this late at night. Furthermore, as her Master was safely inside her base within the honeycomb of tunnels beneath Paris, where few would search for and fewer still would reach, and Mantras still capable of calling for her in a mere moment, she had little fear of having to hold back.

She steered clear of… whatever that energy was in the “Latin District,” but she made her way to the center of Paris, the Core of it. While she was at unease with the presence of that oppressive, judging weight in the Latin area, the wind carried to her sounds of blades clashing, of explosions, of combat.

Of war, and oh, she was so at home with war.

And so it went, Minamoto-no-Yoshitsune strolled to the Core District, tune upon her lips and dribbling a basketball.

@1Charak2

Tenryuu Gensai
Core, The Ritz Hotel

---

"Huh, Sab-" She was flung unceremoniously backwards, as Chii moved quickly, catching and slowing down her momentum enough to leave her unharmed but with her breath knocked out.

"Mistress, hold on tightly." A moment later, Chii strengthened her legs, jumping out of the broken hotel in one bound, moving fast enough that it seemed to take only another moment to land on the asphalt. By then the flames from Diet has already died down, and Mordred, it seems, was retreating swiftly. Odd... Tenryuu had already caught a glimpse of it, and it did not seem like the type to withdraw suddenly from battle, even in a 2 versus 1 situation.

"What was that?" The battle seemed over before it began. The second taste of battle, and it ended so quickly. She was both glad and frustrated. Glad because it was over, frustrated because it wasn't on her terms again. Glory wouldn't be attained so quickly it seems.

@SSW@ManyThings @Danchou @Sunglass @Cu Chulainn @Crusader Lord @King Cosmos

---

To make a long story short, Da Vinci had spent every single minute of her manifestation working on the production of Mystic codes for use with her master, and yet none of them were working as intended due to a lack of material. They could certainly have some output. But nothing that would protect her master from a servant just yet and that was simple a frustrating matter. It wasn't a matter of design or god forbid could Da Vinci ever be limited in intellect, it was only a matter of supply.

And so, when they were approached by this person, given Da Vinci's personality and handling of others and the fact that this person hadn't really killed anyone. Of course, the idea of getting the supplies she so desperately needed quickly seemed interesting to her but her main curiosity was of course in the master himself.

"So you have an artificial body?" Caster said looking at him with curiosity, not making her final words on the matter just yet but was very open to the concept due to wanting to study the man before her. Certainly he had impressed her with his body but... yes her master always had the final say on choices.

"Master? What is your input on this." She would ask with that characteristic smile of hers. The kind that she reserved for only when she knew the solution to the problem almost immediately. And well, what she got back was a confirmation from them. An agreement that it was probably best to ally with Assassin and their master rather then with Noon and his... questionable goals.

"Ah, So we are taking the underdog position huh?~" Da Vinci said that flourish in her voice. "Alright then." She leant in and whispered. "If you can find us a spot without us getting followed I can set up a temporary mask to hide us for our conversation to take place. I assume you've scouted better then my master and I because of the servant you have right?" She grinning that spectacular smile.

Along the Seine, Towards the Core

---

The chase continued, seemingly with little progress made on either side. The invisible shots came again and again as Saber crossed the river and began leaping from rooftop to rooftop in more or less a straight line towards Archer. Given there was less 'commitment' to the volleys than there had been in the first set of projectiles charged with killing intent, Courtain continued to be an effective 'shield', both deflecting the attacks that came towards him, and remaining in a guarded position that allowed it to passively come between its wielder and the traps that perhaps littered the landscape.

Often, a bottle of beer would shatter into the air, serving the same purpose as before. When the remaining six beers had been used up, Saber threw the box itself over his shoulder to detect attacks curving around behind him, and occasionally made use of things like flower pots from windowsills that would function similarly to the bottles. However, the use of these things became less frequent over time. Even at this distance, with the only communication between them being projectiles, it seemed the Paladin was getting a feel for the Knight of Lamentation's personality. He now understood that Archer's opening move had been a strong one because his attacks thrived on their 'shock value', and just as it had been against Lancer the night before, Saber showed that he was a warrior who never remained mystified by a foe's capabilities. In other words, he was learning and adapting in a way that allowed him to block more and more attacks without a visual aide. If he ended up taking a few scratches for the sake of improving his understanding, then that was just how things would be.

Just as he failed to shorten the distance between himself and Tristan, so too did Tristan fail to lengthen it. If Ywain made no maneuvers to take advantage of Saber's linear run, it would certainly be a drawn-out pursuit. Not that the Hero of Patience would mind such a thing.

---

^@KoL@SSW

The Servant unmasked with a flourish, revealing himself to be a tall and lanky man with very lackluster presence. She shouldn't judge of course, but she expected other legendary heroes to be much more... serious, than this man was. Her hand gripped her kunai tightly as he approached, her grip growing tighter as he just started trying to flirt with the two of them. Nobunaga in particular, which was more than enough to annoy her as she moved closer to her honorable ancestor. While she did not say anything, knowing it was not her place to fight Lord Nobunaga's battles for her, she still gave off an intimidating presence as she glared at the servant identified only as Yojimbo.

"NOBUKARA! Is that you!?" Nobukara opened her mouth to respond, only to be cut off as Chieko immediately moved up to Lord Nobunaga and began rambling. "WOW! It is you? It's really been a while. And to think last time I saw you I thought you were gonna be a hopeless A cup forever. And here you are, with least a B-cup. Wow, I guess dreams really do come true, huh!?" Her face flushed red, she had not been expecting Chieko to act quite like this considering her attitude the last time they had met. And then she groped Lord Nobunaga's breasts. "Wow, and they're really comfy!"

Nobukara sputtered as she tried to form words, her brain fried as she watched her friend(?) squeeze Lord Nobunaga's bountiful bosom with both hands, her fingers overflowing with... with... "C-Chieko-san... you're squeezing... onee-sama's..." Her nose bled as forbidden thoughts flashed through her mind, each one lewder than the last as she desperately tried to regain control of the situation.

"But what's with your servant? I thought you were related to some big shot warlord who was really cool? Why didn't you like cut a finger and use your bloodline as a catalyst to summon them? And what's with the limp? Did she get hurt already? I know Saber may look like a boarish man with terrible taste, but he knows how to dress a splint." A moment passed before comprehension finally dawned on Chieko's face, followed shortly after by horror as she realized what she had done. Profuse apologies followed, accompanied by a bow hard enough to slightly blow her hair back as Nobukara stared at the idiot in front of her. Perhaps this was a bad idea in the end.

"Chieko-san, why are you here? I'm sure you're aware, but this is a Holy Grail War. There is a very good chance you could die should you misstep. As a shinobi I walk with death every day, but you... you don't have to be here you know." Nobukara stared at Chieko very seriously, attempting to probe her and find out just how serious she was about this Holy Grail War. She didn't expect an answer right away, so she quickly moved on to her next topic. "Regardless of your reasons, it's rather fortunate we've met once again. As you can ascertain from my limp, I made an unfortunate mistake last night that led to my injury. Originally I had believed onee-sama and I to be strong enough by ourselves to win this war, but I'm afraid my injury has made things much harder." She crossed her arms behind her back as she looked at Yojimbo, then Chieko once more. "I don't know what you're fighting for here, but it would be in our common interests to ally. Two is better than one and four is most certainly better than two."

Then Lord Nobunaga chimed in once again, finally having recovered from that... experience. "Bold of you Shrine Maiden." Nobukara paled as she slowly turned towards her, face contorted in a strange mix of horror and something else as she stared at her not so honorable ancestor. "I'll accept your apology for now, however... the next time you do this. There will be no remorse and I will have to do a different kind of conquering. Her face went from pale to red as a tomato, her soul almost visibly escaping her body as Nobunaga struck the finishing blow.

"If you catch my drift."

'Why can't that be me?'

---

Isidore was immediately interested in the Caster once she had noticed the nature of his own cybernetic body, given the nature of it. Given her matter of dress as well as the weapons she was seen wielding last night, Isidore could only assume that this Caster in particular was some sort of inventor, or perhaps even a "fellow" alchemist. If this were the case, then it opened up more potential avenues of where this partnership could lead. It could very well be possible that this Caster may be able to help the alchemist perfect his weapon of choice... or even allow him to accomplish that.

"Yes, locating a discrete location could easily be arranged. I've got a perfect meeting place set up, though I hope you're fine traveling through the Paris Underground. It's a method of travel I've found useful in order to avoid any unwanted encounters... and it seems we may indeed run into one if we continued overland from what I've seen. As for scouting..."

Isidore opened his gym bag, revealing three more of the same type of drone he was utilizing to scout out Caster's workshop. Turning them on and throwing them in the air, Isidore pushed a few buttons on the ocular device attached to the side of his head, allowing them to fly using motorized propellers. He sent each of them to a specific district; one to the Foreign, another to the Latin, and a third to the Canal districts.

"My Servant is not with us at the moment, but hopefully he will rendezvous with us on the way there. I had him scout out specifically for your... other allies. It would be ashamed if they decided to seek us out, after all."

Of course, this was merely a bluff, as Assassin was not too far off.

Stay a good distance near Caster's Master, Assassin. Somewhere close enough to break the distance in case they make any moves on us, but far enough to where they don't suspect a thing. Don't make any sudden moves yet... we still want to at least try to gain their trust.

With all that established, Isidore began to head over to the nearest manhole, beckoning the two ladies to follow suit.

---

Feeling her bounded field simply vanish without warning was terrifying, but the sudden and undignified loss of her limbs was so infuriating that it entirely overrode her rational and measured fear of what may be to come. As she slumped over onto her side the only thing Mirai could think, besides that she would kill whoever did this, was a vague thankfulness that the spreading puddle of tea from her dropped cup was running away from the hem of her yukata instead of towards it.

Then the order came and she strained to look up, towards her servant, to beg him for some kind of deliverance from this situation… Only to realize that he was no better off than her. She choked back tears of indignant and impotent fury and spoke “I cannot come out, you’ve taken my legs from me. Now! Come take whatever else you intend, I’ve no time to placate the fury of small minded zealots.”

---

---

As Madhisi exited the building, the Servant's head shifted slightly. The sword in his hand raised up, tip poised a hair's breadth away from the magus's throat.

"You were warned."

They were not words of reprimand or threat, but mere statement of fact. The words were flat, empty. His gaze lifted up, looking to the building where the other Master still resided as his sword fell down.

"...however, this time, the blame is not yours. The King assumes the burden of their subjects. At the point where one takes up the seat of a ruler, at the point where one has the gall to call the city 'theirs', one assumes that weight. If you are not capable of that barest minimum, you have blemished the title of King, and with it, all those who rightfully earned its name."

He began to walk once again, moving past Madhisi as though he no longer had eyes for her. His pace was simply that of a normal human's as he moved towards the center, but in spite of that, there was a 'weight' to his movements, like a castle wall that was somehow advancing forwards.

"I will not cripple a beggar, so consider this the second warning. The next time, there will not be a chance for salvation."

These were the last words before he entered the building, treading past the preparations that the Easterners had made with rank indifference, until he came upon the immobile Master and her Servant.

He had prepared words in that short walk over. He had prepared to order the magus to confess her sins. He had prepared to evaluate the weight of her sins. Heretic and murderer though she may be, this was her first offense as a King, and while unforgivable, it was not a sentence for death. Perhaps a limb would be severed, a weakness inflicted upon the Servant, or a Command Spell confiscated.

However, that thought process ground to a screeching halt once he laid eyes upon the Servant. Ruler's presence immediately changed, any trace of regality wiped away, replaced with a wholehearted, primal bloodlust.

"A demon of the Orient. Betrayer, kinslayer, black coat among white. A better view I could not ask for."

Behind that helmet, he was certainly smiling.

The Caster looked on in silence. He could of course tell, the pressure bearing down upon this place by will of that formless shape had functionally crippled him, sealing him off from his magic foundation. It was, certainly, the 'worst possible enemy' for a being such as him. And yet...

Inexplicably, magical energy began to flow.

Ruler's bestial gait snapped back to attention, concealed eyes glinting as he processed what was occurring, as he realized that the Caster was accomplishing what, by all accounts, should have been impossible, for the purposes of striking him down.

Thoughts of mere punishment were gone. To take one who showed hostile intent lightly was a fool's errand.

-A curse, woven from a world of stars.

-A sword, gleaming like clear crystal.

It was a cataclysm that began and ended in a single breath.

"...refabricating it on the spot. The same talent as that witch."

And when it ended, its sole victor let out a murmur that danced between disgusted and impressed. He looked upon the magus as her Command Spells grew grey.

"The penalty has been handed down. You may continue, or you may retreat. The choice is yours."

The shape that could not be seen left the material world, along with its weight.

And so Ruler left.

Andrew's was awestruck by the power that Ruler displayed. He had just walked up to the enemy mage's workshop and casually upended all of their boundaries. He momentarily worried that the Ruler had removed his own boundary but was relieved when he saw it was still intact. He had watched as Ruler addressed the mage that had entered the Cite not too long ago, likely an ally of the owner of the workshop. It appeared that Ruler had taken mercy on them and headed inside to confront the true offender. He pondered for a second what a mage could have done to warrant a visit from Ruler the second night.

Probably has something to do with that ruined McDonald's. Although why come to them now? Maybe they did something else tonight...

Andrew's sighed and readied his rifle, aiming down the sights at the Madhisi, who was now out in the open. She didn't even have the protection of a nearby boundary anymore.

"Lancer, deal with the Servant."

He fires...

@KoL@King Cosmos

It seemed that this pursuit would get them nowhere despite Tristan's effort to pull away from his foes.

The more they came close to his former objective, the more he noticed that keeping this up would be detrimental. Perhaps even suicidal, considering the Servant activity in the City's Core.

It was no surprise that Tristan would request the assistance of his Master. They needed to solve this before engaging into a battle that might as well pull them out of this war.

Yazhu's aid, came in the form of a Command Spell which ordered Tristan to come back to her side at that very instant. And, just like that, he disappeared right from under Ywain and Ogier's noses, after playing one final note, disabling any remaining traps.

After arriving in his Master's workshop, Tristan decided to rest for a moment. Not only to recover the strength he spent in the fight as well as update Yazhu about everything that happened and adjust their strategies for the future.

He would still go hunting again at this night. In fact, even from the safety of Yazhu's workshop, he noticed the faint presence of a Servant. That would be a good quarry for his next hunt.

Yet, for now, recovery came first.

---

---

@ManyThings@Danchou@King Cosmos@SSW

Berserker stood by Madhisi's side like the guardian knight she was, growling as Ruler threatened her Master and tensing up in the event that Ruler attacked. This caution was unwarranted however as Ruler moved on, blaming their ally for this indiscretion and slaying the Caster with impunity. She remained tense throughout the whole encounter, keeping her body in between Ruler and Madhisi, her Instincts working overtime she guarded her Master. A sword sliced through the air, a body hit the floor, the battle was over before it even began. The Ruler left, with not a single word to the duo as he left Mirai to mourn her loss. Berserker growled at Ruler as he passed by, making herself as threatening as possible to make sure Ruler did not renege on his word, but it was unnecessary. He left with no fuss, the night was silent once more. It was a solemn occasion to be sure, but now was no time for mourning.

Not when a certain Master saw fit to try and take advantage of the chaos, firing off a single shot at her Master. It was a simple effort to deflect the bullet even without her shroud, even more simple to determine just where the bullet had come from. Berserker roared at seemingly nothing, an empty space overlooking the museum with nobody there, but she knew their tricks. The bullet had come from there, it could only have come from there considering the angle. Berserker grabbed a nearby bench with a small grunt, flinging it at the spot where Andrew and his Servant were at supersonic speeds. Another bench soon followed, with a fire hydrant right after. Each one thrown with the same amount of force usually reserved for a tank shell being fired, needless to say they would have to move if they didn't want to be crushed.

---

Things were not looking great for Rider. His once dominant position in the fight was slowly waning as Lancer began to increase in ferocity.

Between the strength of D and the strength of B, Sylvester was at a significant disadvantage. His opponent was double his strength. The Lancer before Rider was someone of great power and speed, and even with his position before, Rider soon found himself at the other end of a spear being thrown back. Gone were the feints and passes that the Lancer had thrown into his attacks in order to edge out, in his mind at the time, an advantage, and now

He would lose.

Despite his advantage earlier, his calculations showed that there was a .02% chance that each of these attacks would end him, and when one is doing hundreds of attacks within the span of a second, this mathematics compounds and compounds, increasing from the .000001% chance he had calculated earlier, which was completely within the bounds of something that “should never occur”.

… But if Rider’s opponent was going to go “all out” in this fight, he would have to match them with equal ferocity!

His eye shuttered like a camera taking a photo what appeared to be hundreds of thousands of times a second, absorbing every amount of information he could from the battle at hand. He had to filter out what was “not needed” for calculations from his "vision" so that only what was “necessary” would be processed. A calculation of what “existed” that was the world which Rider lived in.

More information.

Rider needed more information on the battle.

The Demon he had reprogrammed with the help of a Moorish traveler was the greatest “computer” that humanity ever created! There was no way that he could lose with his wife right next to him.

A strength of D and the strength of B; Sylvester still couldn’t overcome this gap if he wanted to “win” the fight. If he continued to fight in this defensive manner, according to his calculations, he would eventually lose at around the 50 or 60 turn count, which while a large amount of time away, was still a loss on his part. That much was already a given. Lancer was leveraging this power against him.

… And if he were to fall here, he could not make his Wish come true.

Even to the man who had taken down the prince of hell, he was not a hero who murdered other heroes. He was a simple man of the cloth who had risen up the ranks after forcing the very same prince of hell to submit to his power with the power he held, but to a hero renowned for the murder of other heroes, Lancer clearly had the advantage there.

Therefore …

.... If Rider wanted to win, he would have to continue forward past this adversity with everything he had at his disposal!

His right hand resonated with him, glowing golden for the moment.

It was as if his hand was otherworldly.

It was as if his hand was inhuman.

It was as if there was “something” that wasn’t human radiating from his hand comparable to the greatest of beasts; the skill held by those of the phantasmal rank held this power within themselves. The prana burst.

… But this was the hand that was given to Sylvester. The person who would support him through his life and the person he cherished the most in the entire world. This was the culmination of their love for one another. Sylvester would use his “hand” and thus his wife would “act”.

They trusted one another, and this was that proof!

“TAKE THIS, LANCER!”

It should be impossible for a person with half the strength of an opponent to overpower an opponent. Regardless of the difference in skill, the person with the incredible strength would eventually edge out an advantage, and it was not like Rider was more skilled than Lancer in fighting against other heroes.

But there was one thing that Sylvester believed in above all else

It was a human belief, but something that he held in his heart.

...And that …

That was making an impossibility a “reality”

From his once backfooted defense, with the power of his hand, Sylvester overcame the difference in their strength. So much so that the once double advantage that Lancer was comfortable with was reversed. Rider was now ahead of his opponent, and he was edging ever so closer to victory!

And thus, Sylvester kept up the pressure.

He would win.

He had to win.

After all, it was his promise to his Master that he would win.

And more importantly, that promise he made long, long ago that he would always win.