Saber had never hated herself so much—her own powerlessness and weakness.
She'd been overjoyed, elated, at the prospect of finally fighting Lancer fairly. But her Master had shattered that joy in an instant.
Kiritsugu Emiya, her Master—how utterly deranged was this man?!
How foolish of me; why did I hesitate?!
Saber thought, a near-maniacal smile on her face. She raised her invisible sword, plunging it straight into Kiritsugu's back.
"Wh-what?!"
Kiritsugu was stunned; Kuzuki Mai was startled as well.
Until then, Kiritsugu had trusted Saber implicitly. His recklessness stemmed from his certainty that Saber wouldn't betray him.
Because of her unwavering chivalry, her noble ideals, Kiritsugu believed this perfect King wouldn't betray him.
After all, Arthur loathed betrayal, didn't she? Even if she wanted to break with him, she would do so openly.
But… why? Why would she attack him from behind?!
Kiritsugu couldn't understand. He turned with difficulty. The sword hadn't pierced his heart; Saber had shown mercy.
"This strike is for Lancer. How does it feel to be betrayed?"
Kiritsugu heard Saber's words as he turned.
The Servant, with a strange smile, watched him, leaving Kiritsugu speechless. The perfect King wouldn't resort to such underhanded tactics, but clearly, Saber had snapped under his relentless pressure.
She'd discarded so-called propriety and honor, abandoned her knightly code; Saber would become the vile Servant Kiritsugu had desired.
Bitterness filled Kiritsugu's heart; as Saber had asked, betrayal was far from pleasant.
Slowly withdrawing her sword, Saber stared impassively at the kneeling Kiritsugu.
"I won't kill you; it would defile my sword. You don't deserve to die by the Sword of Promised Victory."
"Our contract is null and void; use the Command Seals as you see fit. Given my magical resistance, killing you before you can use them should be simple enough."
With this blatant threat, Saber dissolved into spirit form.
Kiritsugu understood he'd truly and completely lost this Servant, his strongest asset.
Though he disliked Saber and didn't want to work with her, she was undoubtedly a powerful Servant. Even without actively engaging, her presence was a powerful deterrent.
But now, that deterrent was gone.
Losing a Servant didn't end the Grail War, but it undoubtedly put them at a severe disadvantage.
But… Kiritsugu wouldn't give up easily.
This wasn't over; Kiritsugu Emiya's Grail War had only just begun.
While Kiritsugu dealt with Lancer and his Master, Arthas had planned to confront Rider with Flandre.
But before he could leave, something unexpected happened.
"Illya?"
Illya had been acting strangely all day—vacant eyes, pale complexion, sweat pouring down her forehead…
Arthas could see she was forcing herself to remain strong; his questions went unanswered. As he was about to take Illya out that evening, she collapsed, falling like a broken doll.
Arthas caught his wife in alarm; her slender body was burning hot, indicating her condition was critical.
But why? Illya had been perfectly fine earlier; why had she suddenly deteriorated so drastically?
Arthas didn't understand; he felt his own weakness and helplessness. Facing his unconscious wife, he felt utterly powerless.
All he knew was that Illya was in grave danger; an immensely powerful force seemed to be rampaging within her, destroying her life force.
"What… what's happening?! Flandre, do you know what's wrong with Illya?"
Flandre, standing beside him, looked equally grave; but like Arthas, she could only sense the powerful magical energy, unable to do anything else.
"I'm sorry, Master, I don't know what to do, but let's try to suppress the power within Illya's body for now."
Flandre said, taking Illya's wrist, using her power to suppress the rampaging energy.
Arthas nodded, rising to prepare a magical array to suppress the magic. He'd learned many useful things during his time in this world.
But as he was about to prepare, thunder echoed outside; an impatient Servant was attacking the mansion.
"Hiding isn't for warriors! Want to fight here? If I lose control and damage the house, I apologize in advance."
With a boastful laugh and someone's scream, Rider, the King of Conquerors, arrived in his chariot.
Arthas frowned; this was the worst possible time…
"Master, what should we do?!"
Flandre asked anxiously; she was struggling to suppress the power within Illya and couldn't spare any attention.
"You take care of Illya; I'll handle Rider."
Arthas said resolutely, leaving the room alone and heading outside.
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