"Therefore, if we want our unit to make a proper debut, what we need first and foremost is a truly dazzling name!"
Dracula tossed the last of the spotlights into his personal storage space, then turned around and began enthusiastically addressing Nero and Elizabeth.
"The stage? Any place will do, as long as there's lighting and special effects! Just find some high-traffic elevated location. But the name—that's where the real soul lies!"
"Hmm… you've got a point," Nero murmured, idly twirling a microphone in her hand—an item Dracula had fished out just moments ago.
Since Dragon Girl Elizabeth already had her Noble Phantasm spear that doubled as a microphone and could generate thunderous dragon roars, Dracula had thoughtfully given Nero this mic so her voice wouldn't be completely drowned out.
Nero rubbed the mic's handle thoughtfully.
"I love gold, roses, and of course—Rome. Our group's name must include at least one of these things."
"I mean, both I and Little Piglet here have deep ties to blood and dragons," said Elizabeth, hands on hips. "So how about something like Bloody Rome? Or Bloody Rose? Bloody Gold? Hmm, maybe Dragon's Gold? Dragon's Rose? Dragon of Rome?"
"Why not just go with Golden Dragon then," Dracula offered casually.
"Exactly! Coming up with something like Bloody Rome—what were you even thinking?" Nero chimed in, clearly offended.
The three of them strolled side by side down the quiet night streets.
Suddenly, Dracula caught sight of a familiar figure sitting at a roadside oden stall.
Long golden hair cascaded like a river of sunlight, and a face so divine it rivaled the stars themselves—there, with one leg crossed over the other, sat the King of Heroes, Gilgamesh.
She was watching the stall owner busily working behind the counter, expression unreadable.
"Yo, Sparkles. Fancy seeing you here." Dracula greeted her like an old friend.
"Tch. Dracula, huh? And what's with that ridiculous nickname? Sparkles? Call me that again and I'll have you torn limb from limb, you damn fool!"
Gilgamesh glanced over, eyes narrowing.
Dracula ignored her threats.
"I just never thought someone like you would be into roadside food stands. Figured your kind only dined in five-star venues."
"Hmph. Only the most luxurious feasts are worthy of my palate, of course," Gilgamesh said proudly, tilting her chin upward.
"But occasionally slumming it among the commoners has its own sort of twisted charm, wouldn't you agree?"
She crossed her arms and eyed Dracula.
"And what about you? Roaming the streets with two Servants at this hour—don't tell me you're out on a leisurely stroll?"
Naturally, Dracula wasn't going to admit they'd been kicked out of the mansion for disturbing the peace with their midnight jam session.
So he held up the electric guitar in his hands and replied matter-of-factly,
"You see this? The three of us are scouting for a proper stage where we can sing our hearts out."
Gilgamesh clearly didn't buy it. She took the oden bundle handed to her by the shopkeeper and tossed him a literal gold bar in return.
Then she turned back to Dracula, her smile laced with provocation.
"A battle seems to be unfolding at the port. Want to come along and watch the fireworks?"
Dracula paused, then asked,
"You think that place has a good elevated vantage point? Somewhere nice and wide?"
"There are shipping containers."
"Perfect." Dracula snapped his fingers.
"Let's roll."
---
Elsewhere, deep within a shadowy sewer system, Bluebeard was staring at a crystal ball, watching the battle unfolding at the port.
Suddenly, he fell silent.
His companion, Ryunosuke Uryuu, had been in the middle of another long-winded, frenzied rant—but now paused, puzzled.
The two of them had forged their peculiar bond in a twisted fate already altered by a certain meddlesome Miss Elder God. Though she disrupted their first encounter, she had also used her powers to tweak their memories, ensuring their 'friendship' progressed just as it had in the original timeline.
So, like in the 'original script', the two shared a deeply deranged revolutionary camaraderie.
After Ryunosuke finished speaking, Bluebeard suddenly broke into joyful, shuddering laughter.
Tears of madness streamed down his face as he whispered,
"Ah… Ryunosuke, my long-cherished wish has finally been granted by the omnipotent Cauldron…"
He gazed lovingly at the image of Saber on the crystal ball, murmuring,
"At last… I've laid eyes upon you again, my dear holy maiden…"
Saber, meanwhile, was clutching her left hand.
Blood trickled from her wrist—the wound wasn't deep, but it had severed the tendon controlling her thumb, rendering it temporarily useless.
For a knight reliant on a two-handed sword, this was a serious injury.
Earlier, during their exchange, Lancer had taken a hit in the same spot.
But while his wound had already been healed by his Master, Saber's remained untouched, unaffected even by Irisviel's healing spells.
"That yellow spear… it carries a curse that prevents wounds from healing, doesn't it?"
Saber murmured. Lancer nodded gravely.
"Indeed. Casting aside your armor was a rash move. Had you kept it on, you might've been able to block Gáe Buidhe—'The Yellow Rose of Mortality'…"
Lancer's voice was calm and composed.
"Diarmuid of the Fianna, First Spear of the Order… I never imagined the Holy Grail would honor you with the title of Servant."
Saber stared at the handsome warrior before her, dual spears in hand, a captivating mole beneath one eye.
"And I never thought I'd get the chance to cross blades with the legendary King of Knights," Lancer replied with a smile brimming with battlelust.
"I've still got a score to settle from that first strike. I'm not backing down."
The two warriors squared off again, their spirits high—
—but the tides were clearly turning against Saber.
From a distant rooftop, Kiritsugu Emiya exhaled a long breath of smoke.
He and his assistant had infiltrated the area from the beginning, observing the battle from the shadows.
"What a naïve little girl," he muttered. "The so-called King of Knights… has no idea how to actually fight. If it weren't for her Round Table buddies, I doubt she'd have ever managed to unify Britain."
To shift the momentum, he activated one of his Command Spells and contacted another Servant stationed farther out.
"Arash, can you hear me?"
On top of a skyscraper nearly two kilometers away, a cheerful, bronze-skinned archer drew a crimson bow and narrowed his eyes.
"Of course, Master. I can see everything happening over there as clear as day."
"Can you spot Lancer's Master? Can you take him out?"
"Naturally…"
Arash aimed his arrow at a certain lemon-haired figure perched on a shipping container near the docks.
But then, he noticed someone else—another Servant standing quietly beside him.
"Hmm… sorry, Master. No go. Lancer's Master isn't alone anymore."
"Is that so? Well, forget it. I had a feeling this might happen. Keep monitoring them."
"Yes, Master. Also, a Servant is descending from the sky—surrounded by lightning—and heading straight for Lady Irisviel and Miss Saber. Please warn them to prepare for combat."
"I understand."
With a curt reply, Kiritsugu activated his magecraft and contacted his wife, Irisviel.
"Iri. Step back—now."
"Huh?"
Irisviel blinked in surprise, but her trust in her husband ran deep. Without hesitation, she obeyed.
In the very next instant, a bolt of lightning tore through the sky, slamming down between Saber and Lancer just as their blades were about to clash.
A chariot pulled by mighty bulls roared onto the scene, skidding to a halt between the two Servants. Atop it stood a towering man, a red cloak billowing behind him.
He raised both arms and bellowed:
"Lay down your weapons, both of you! You stand before a king!!"