Saber had never hated herself this much before—hated her own powerlessness and weakness.
When the opportunity for a fair and honorable battle with Lancer finally arrived, she had been elated.
She had looked forward to it with joy.
But that joy had been completely and utterly torn to shreds in an instant—by none other than her own Master.
Emiya Kiritsugu.
Her Master.
What level of madness had this man descended to?!
How foolish of me, she thought. Was there ever any need to hesitate about something like this?
A near-maniacal smile crept across Saber's face as she raised her invisible holy sword and drove it straight into Emiya Kiritsugu's back.
"Wha—?!"
Kiritsugu froze. Even Maiya Hisau, standing nearby, was caught completely off guard.
Until now, Kiritsugu had fully trusted Saber.
His blatant recklessness had stemmed from his firm belief that Saber would never betray him.
Because of her unwavering adherence to chivalry—because of her noble ideals—Kiritsugu believed this perfect king would never stab him in the back.
After all, King Arthur despised betrayal more than anything.
Even if she truly wanted to sever ties with him, she would have declared it openly and honorably.
But… why this?
Why had she ambushed him?
Kiritsugu couldn't understand.
He turned his head painfully.
The strike hadn't pierced his heart—Saber had clearly held back.
"This strike is on Lancer's behalf.
So? How does it feel to be betrayed?"
That was what Kiritsugu heard when he looked back, confused, only to meet Saber's cold eyes.
Her lips curled into an eerie smile as she stared down at him.
For once, Kiritsugu was speechless.
It was true—someone like the ideal King of Knights would never stab an ally from behind.
But under Kiritsugu's relentless pressure, Saber had finally snapped.
She had cast aside her so-called honor, abandoned her so-called chivalry.
She was now becoming the most vile kind of Heroic Spirit—the very sort of Servant that Kiritsugu had always wanted.
Bitter emotions surged within him.
Just as Saber had asked: How does it feel to be betrayed?
The answer was—miserable.
Saber slowly withdrew her blade, her expression flat as she stared down at Kiritsugu, now kneeling on the ground.
"I won't kill you.
That would sully my sword.
You're not worthy to die by Excalibur."
"Our contract is void.
Of course, feel free to use the Command Spells however you like.
But I believe, with my magic resistance, I'll be able to kill you before you can even give the order."
With that bold, barefaced threat, Saber vanished into spirit form.
Kiritsugu now understood—he had completely, irrevocably lost his Servant.
His strongest weapon was gone.
Though he had never liked Saber, and had never wanted to fight alongside her, there was no denying her strength.
Even if she didn't act offensively, her mere presence at his side had been a powerful deterrent.
Now, that deterrent was gone.
Losing a Servant didn't mean the Holy Grail War was over for him—but it did mean he was now at an overwhelming disadvantage.
Still… Kiritsugu wasn't the type to give up easily.
It wasn't over.
His Holy Grail War was only just beginning.
While Kiritsugu was eliminating Lancer and his Master, Yoru had originally planned to take Flandre and confront Rider.
However, just as he was preparing to leave, something unexpected happened.
"Irisviel?"
All day, Irisviel had been acting strangely—her gaze vacant and unfocused, her face pale, sweat cascading down her forehead like a waterfall...
Yoru could clearly see that she was forcing herself to stay conscious.
No matter how he asked, she wouldn't explain.
And when dusk fell and he tried to take her with him to confront Rider, her body finally gave out—
She collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut.
Panicking, Yoru caught his wife in his arms.
Her slender body radiated an unusual heat—he could tell right away that something was seriously wrong.
But why?
Just recently, Irisviel had been in perfect health.
How had things deteriorated so suddenly?
Yoru couldn't understand.
Once again, he was overwhelmed by his own helplessness.
As he looked at his unconscious wife, he realized—there was absolutely nothing he could do.
All he could determine was that something inside her body was wildly rampaging—a powerful force tearing through her life energy from within.
"What the hell is going on?!
Fran, do you know what's happening to her?!"
Standing beside him, Flandre wore a grave expression as well.
But just like Yoru, all she could detect was the massive magical energy raging within Irisviel.
"I'm sorry, Master… I don't know either.
But for now, let me suppress that energy inside her."
As she said that, Flandre took hold of Irisviel's wrist and began channeling her own power to calm the turmoil inside her.
Yoru nodded, rising to his feet to prepare a magic circle for power suppression.
He had learned many useful techniques during his time in this world.
But just as he turned to begin the preparations, thunder rumbled outside.
A certain impatient Servant had apparently grown tired of waiting and launched a direct assault on their home.
"Hiding indoors and refusing to fight—how unbefitting of a warrior.
So you plan to face me here?
If I can't hold back and end up smashing this house to pieces, I'll apologize later!"
Amid loud, arrogant laughter—and a distant scream from some poor soul—Rider the Conqueror had arrived, charging the manor in his chariot pulled by bulls.
Yoru scowled deeply.
Of all the times… why now?
"Master, what should we do?!"
Flandre called out in panic.
She was doing her best to keep Irisviel stable, but she couldn't spare any focus for anything else.
"You stay with Iri.
Leave Rider to me."
With unwavering resolve, Yoru turned and left the room—stepping outside to face the battle alone.
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