Fate ⁄ Zero - Volume 01 - Act 4.pdf - Fate⁄Zero - RX-0

Act 4

-153:59:42

"...Damn it. This is bad."

Rider, who was standing on the arch of the Fuyuki Bridge overlooking the battle taking place in

the warehouse district, muttered softly as he stood up.

"Wha, what is?"

Seeing the giant Servant display impatience for the first time, Waver became agitated, and he

questioned Rider while clinging to the steel frame.

"Lancer brought out a decisive technique. Looks like he wants the match decided quickly."

"Wouldn't that be favorable for us?"

"Fool, what are you talking about?"

Rider stamped his heel on the steel frame he was standing on with a bang. For Waver, whose

entire body was clinging to the frame, the tremor shook him to his very bones, and another shriek

rose.

"I wanted to wait out on the battle's development before everyone arrives, but by the look of the

current situation Saber's going to have a disadvantage, and it would be too late to attack by then."

"Too late? – Didn't you want to strike when they have all become exhausted from fighting each

other?"

"...I think you have misunderstood something, boy."

Rider furrowed his brows and tilted his head downwards to look at the Master lying beside his

feet, as if disappointed at the performance of a humorless clown.

"I did hope that other Servants would take up Lancer's bait. Isn't it obvious? Rather than picking

them out one by one, it's far better to get them all together and have a great battle royale!"

"..."

Waver forgot to answer; he was shocked out of his wits in realising the differences between his

understanding and that of the brave Heroic Spirit.

"Get them all together... a great battle royale?"

"Yes. It's such a rare opportunity to cross blades with the greatest heroes across all ages. If all six

of them are here in completion, I won't let any one of them get away."

A fierce and dangerous growl as that of a lion seeped out of Rider's throat, but there was a tint of

laughter as he tilted the ends of his lips upwards. Waver realized that only this man could wear a

grin like that.

"Now then, Saber and Lancer. They both have the flaming spirit of true warriors. I admire them;

it would be a pity to let them die like this."

"What else is there apart from killing them?! Isn't that the point of the Holy Grail Waaa-!"

Waver's slightly hysterical voice was mercilessly interrupted by a smack to his forehead.

"Victory without ruin, domination without disgrace. That is true conquest!"

Rider proclaimed, holding his chest upright; then he unsheathed the sword by his waist and

sliced through the hollow sky with a swing, cleaving apart the empty space.

An enormous shining Noble Phantasm immediately appeared, accompanied by spiralling torrents

of galloping prana. Waver felt like he was about to be blown over by the sudden storm,

swallowing his screams and hugging the steel frame even tighter.

"Observation is over. We will join the battle, boy."

Before his words were finished, Rider had mounted the Noble Phantasm with a leap, his mantle

flowing.

"Idiot idiot idiot! You're acting nonsense!"

"Oh? If you don't want to go, you can stay here and look."

"I am going! Bring me along, idiot!"

"Good, that's more like my Master!"

Rider emitted clear laughter, took hold Waver's collar gently, and let Waver ride beside himself.

"Now roll on, Gordius Wheel • Wheel of Heaven's Authority!"

The Noble Phantasm answered the call of the King of Conquerors with a thunderous tremor.

※※※※※

Gales surged. A confusion of life and death.

The moment that the swordsman and the spearman slid past each other, flowers of bright crimson

blood fluttered and bloomed briefly – before fading away in the blink of an eye.

Saber, who charged past, stopped. The two of them turned at the same time.

They both still stood erect, without losing the thought of warring against each other. The two

Heroic Spirits were still intact.

Finally the battle had the slight possibility of moving away from the path of attacking each other.

At that moment Saber took in the situation and made a quick decision that prolonged their duel.

As a result, the yellow short spear that poised to pierce Saber did not land on Saber's chest, but

her left arm. At the same time the golden sword that Saber uplifted deviated just a little from

Lancer's vitals, the edge aimed at Lancer's left arm... Curious how they were injured at the same

place.

But were they damaged to the same extent?

"You still won't let me win easily... It's very good, that adamant manner of yours."

Lancer stared at Saber with a desolate smile, as if desperately trying not to pay attention to the

wound on his elbow. As expected, like a film on rewind, Lancer's injury was healed without

anyone touching it and left no trace behind. A Servant's self-healing would not manage to

recover him that quickly; it must be his hidden and observing Master who used the healing

magecraft.

Contrary to Lancer, even Saber's demure beauty could not hide her pain and anxiety.

Lancer's airborne spear and the sword clutched tightly by Saber's two hands had a definite

imbalance in power. At least, from the outside, the wound dealt by the short spear on Saber's

forearm seemed rather light compared to Lancer's injury.

"...Irisviel, heal my wound as well."

"I healed it! I did, but..."

Compared to Saber, who was injured, Irisviel's expression appeared even more flustered.

Irisviel was undoubtedly a first-rate magus. The strength and intensity of her craft goes without

saying. She is, in truth, an exception in the world of magi, possessing a body that was ‗designed'

and ‗manufactured'.

It would be impossible for her to make mistakes when using basic magecraft such as healing.

Even if an error did occur on the off chance, Irisviel would know how to deal with it herself.

And yet –

"No, the healing did work. Saber, your current state is one of full health."

"..."

Saber did not dare to keep her guard down as she kept appraising Lancer with caution, and at the

same time stared at the injury on her left arm. The wound did not bleed much and was quite

shallow, but the problem was that her sinews were severed. The most important digit on her hand,

the thumb, can not be moved; therefore Saber can not exert enough strength to grip the sword hilt.

Saber knew that there is nothing wrong with Irisviel's healing methods, but the arm was not

cured. Her left thumb felt as if it was born crippled, turning completely immobile.

Lancer paid no attention to Saber, nor did he resume his attack. Full of confidence, he bent down

and retrieved with his left hand the yellow short spear that fell to the ground.

"In front of my Noble Phantasm Gáe Dearg • Crimson Rose of Exorcism, it's good that you

realized armor is useless."

Perhaps he thought that after showing the effects of his Noble Phantasm, there was no point in

keeping up the masquerade. Lancer spoke the true name of his Noble Phantasm with no

hesitation.

"But you were rash to discard your armor. If you had not, you would have a defence against Gáe

Buidhe • Golden Rose of Mortality."

Lancer, the long red spear in his right hand, the short yellow spear in his left, began to swing

them exaggeratedly as though spreading a pair of wings, in exactly the same manner as when the

battle first began. It was not a gesture to seduce, but a unique battle style mastered after arduous

training.

"I understand now... It is a cursed spear; wounds dealt by it would never heal. I should've noticed

this earlier..."

A crimson spear that severs prana, a cursed golden spear, and a love spot below his left eye that

attracts women – it was easy to determine once all those are put together. Based on legends, the

glorious name praised by the Celtic legends of heroes was actually remotely related to King

Arthur. It was quite incredulous that this did not occur to Saber.

"The first warrior of the Knights of Fianna... Diarmuid of the Love Spot. I did not know that the

Grail granted the honor of participating in the war to you."

"That's the beauty of this war for the Holy Grail... But the honor is mine. For one that traverses

time and space to join the Throne of Heroes due to its invitation would not mistake your golden

sword for any other."

The Servant participating in the fourth Holy Grail War, Lancer... the Heroic Spirit of the Celts,

Diarmuid ua Duibhne.

Lancer, whose cover was carelessly blown off, narrowed his eyes with a refreshed feeling despite

that.

Fate ⁄ Zero - Volume 01 - Act 4.pdf

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