They'd been thrown out.
Dracula stood outside clutching his beloved electric guitar, exchanging helpless glances with Nero and Elizabeth, who had likewise been kicked out.
Just moments ago, the three of them had been unceremoniously evicted from Castlevania by Miss Kagarino Kirie, who had stormed in wearing pajamas and an expression that could freeze the underworld itself.
The reason? Simple: they'd dared to hold a live concert in Dracula's music room.
Dracula had always maintained a little ritual—every few days, he'd retreat to the music room to strum his guitar. While his music was... intense (some might say it rivaled the maddening song of the Outer Gods), the room was soundproofed, and Dracula kept the spiritual damage at manageable levels. Kirie had turned a blind eye to it for the most part.
But today, something went wrong.
Dracula's guitar solo had been overheard—first by Kiyohime, who'd been stalking Dracula, and then by Elizabeth Bathory, who'd been stalking Kiyohime.
Poor Kiyohime had immediately collapsed into a coma, but Elizabeth? She was enraptured.
"It's divine!" she cried, and begged Dracula to play backup for her.
Dracula, flattered, agreed.
Half an hour later, Nero happened to walk by the music room with Mordred.
History repeats itself—Mordred fainted on the spot, and Nero had to carry her back. But the Empress herself? She joined the band.
And so began a legendary performance—so powerful it shook the very foundations of Castlevania. It roused the sleeping Kirie from her rest and even gave Jeanne d'Arc a nightmare.
In the end, Kirie—armed with enchanted earplugs and a terrifying sense of duty to the castle's tenants—charged in like a vengeful general and drove the three of them out into the cold night.
Now, standing in the desolate wind, the trio huddled together like a gang of misfit rockers, unsure of their next move.
"Dracula, darling, this is your castle, isn't it?" Nero said with a mischievous smile. "If it were me, I'd show her who's boss—spank the naughty stewardess, and then… ahem, you get the idea."
"Exactly!" Elizabeth chimed in enthusiastically. "Kirie may be cute and all, but letting her boss you around like this? If it were my castle, I'd have her riding the wooden horse for punishment!"
"…Try saying that to her face," Dracula muttered coldly.
Both of them went silent.
Dracula thought back to Kirie's expression as she'd kicked them out. She looked like a woman ready to blow the entire castle up just to take them with her.
"…Tch. This won't do. I'm Count Dracula, damn it!" he snapped, clapping his hands.
"Right you are!" Nero and Elizabeth clapped too. "Now that's the spirit of a true lord!"
"Let's go!" Dracula declared, slinging his guitar over his back with a dramatic flair.
"Um, Dracula, the castle's that way…" Elizabeth pointed behind him.
"I am in search of a stage… a place where we three can sing freely beneath the stars," Dracula said, not even looking back. His coat flapped wildly in the night wind. "Even the Lord of Shadows has something he fears…"
Meanwhile, at the docks of Fuyuki—
With a thunderous crack, a crimson spear sliced cleanly through the metal of a shipping container behind Saber. She ducked just in time, the tip of the spear grazing her nose, clipping several golden strands of her hair.
She retaliated instantly, thrusting her invisible blade—cloaked in the Wind King's Barrier—toward her enemy's chest.
But her foe merely smiled, parrying the strike with a short golden spear held in his off-hand.
The two separated, eyeing each other warily.
"I must say… you've lasted this long without even breaking a sweat. Impressive, for a woman."
The one known as Lancer grinned, spinning his twin spears with practiced ease. His tone was light, but his killing intent was razor-sharp.
"No need for flattery, Lancer," Saber replied coolly. "Though I do not know your name, praise from a warrior as skilled as yourself… I shall accept it with gratitude."
Despite her polite words, Saber's hands gripped her sword tighter.
These two knights—perhaps the only honestly naive souls in this entire war—had found a strange mutual respect.
But then, a voice broke the moment.
"Game over, Lancer. End this now."
A gloomy voice, magically amplified, echoed from every direction. There was no telling where it came from.
"That Saber is proving troublesome. I grant you permission—use your Noble Phantasm. End this quickly."
"As you command, Master."
Lancer bowed his head in obedience. He tossed the golden spear aside and reached for the red one—still wrapped in spell-inscribed seals.
With a flick of his wrist, he tore off the bandages.
A crimson light flared from the weapon's core. An eerie aura rippled outward, oppressive and ominous.
Saber instinctively raised her guard, focusing all her senses.
Lancer growled lowly, gripping his now-unsealed spear with both hands—and charged.
Like a meteor, the crimson spear shot toward her.
Saber lifted her invisible blade to parry. The moment the weapons clashed, a violent gust exploded from the point of contact. For a split second, the wind shroud vanished—and her sword's true form was revealed.
"…I saw it."
Lancer's lips curled into a sly smile.
"I saw your sword. Its length, its form. It won't deceive me again."
He launched into a furious assault. With each strike, the Wind King's Barrier flickered and failed under the pressure.
Though still deadly with a single spear, it was clear—Lancer was meant to dual-wield.
Saber, relying on her extraordinary instincts, spotted an opening in his relentless flurry. She calculated that her armor could absorb the hit, giving her the chance to counter and deliver a serious blow.
But reality proved cruel.
His crimson spear pierced through her armor with ease, leaving a deep wound in her side.
"Saber!"
Irisviel immediately activated her summoner's magic, healing Saber's wound on the spot.
"…I see now," Saber said, her expression grim. "I've figured out your spear's secret, Lancer!"
"Then give up your armor, Saber," Lancer smirked. "Against my spear, you might as well be naked."
His taunt landed with pinpoint precision.
Effectiveness: Superb.
Saber, with all the boldness of a true warrior, dismissed her mana-forged armor in an instant, her voice calm yet edged with pride:
"If shedding my armor is all it takes to put that smug grin on your face… then I'm afraid you'll be sorely disappointed."
Now that she had uncovered the secret of Lancer's spear, there was nothing left to fear.
Victory was still anyone's game.
She gave herself a silent boost of confidence in her heart—"This is in the bag!"—and charged at Lancer, convinced that the tide was turning.
She had no idea that she had walked straight into his trap.
With a smooth flick of his foot, Lancer kicked up the yellow short spear into his grasp, and with a knowing smile, met her charge head-on.
"Sorry to disappoint you… but you've fallen for it again."