Using the car's chassis as a makeshift shield, Saber advanced, knowing she had to get close as quickly as possible; this temporary shield wouldn't last long!
'Now!' When only a few meters from Berserker, Saber threw the car wreckage at him, but Berserker shattered it with a single punch!
However, this was not Saber's attack method. Seizing the moment when Berserker's old strength waned and new strength hadn't emerged, Saber's Holy Sword cleaved straight towards him.
But the next moment's outcome astonished Saber; Berserker, defying all logic, caught the Holy Sword with both hands under circumstances where exerting force should have been impossible!
'This... no, Berserker seems to have regained his reason??' This thought startled Saber, as such masterful use of combat techniques was something a berserk, irrational Berserker should not be capable of!
Berserker, unrelenting, fought Saber bare-handed. Even with the peerless and sharp Holy Sword, Saber found herself unable to defeat him!
The opponent seemed to know everything about Saber's weapons and martial arts, quickly putting her on the defensive. Suddenly, Saber remembered the Black Knight's ability, that terrifying power to seize others' Noble Phantasms. This sudden sense of danger sent a shiver down Saber's spine, and she immediately delivered a kick to create distance.
Everything about her was known to the opponent, from the deception of the Invisible Air, the length and width of her sword to even the martial arts she had honed over years on the battlefield. It was clear that the Black Knight must recognize her!
Moreover, that obsession didn't seem like a Master's command; it was more like the Servant's own will!
But Berserker was surrounded by an eerie black mist, making his true appearance impossible to discern.
"From your skill, you cannot be an unknown. I ask you, since you recognize me as Artoria Pendragon, King of Britain, you should, out of knightly honor, state your identity. A challenge with a hidden identity is akin to an ambush!" Saber shouted.
"...I know that you are different now; you must possess your own will! Then, for the honor of a Heroic Spirit and a knight, what do you have to hide?!"
"Hehehehehe..." A deep, terrifying laugh emanated from the black mist. As Saber spoke, the dense black mist finally began to dissipate.
At this moment, Saber's intuition told her that allowing this knight to reveal his true identity might be a mistake, but now, it was too late to regret!
It was armor that was neither vulgar nor ostentatious, yet its intricate complexity revealed the craftsman's ingenuity. The countless scars were like medals of valor, making Berserker appear exceptionally valiant. It was a perfect suit of knight's armor!
Saber, of course, recognized the owner of that armor. It belonged to the knight who had once ridden alongside her on the battlefield, who had sworn allegiance to her, and who had shone brighter and been more outstanding than anyone else at the Round Table!
"You are... how is this possible...?" Saber said in disbelief.
How she wished she had been mistaken, how she wished she hadn't asked that question, but now it was too late. That black figure no longer possessed endless glory; all that remained was the pitch-black of a curse!
The Black Knight remained silent, slowly drawing the Noble Phantasm he had never used before, his true Noble Phantasm.
As the knight moved, Saber's eyes naturally fell upon the sword.
Yes, it was identical to her own sword, both forged by non-humans, inscribed with elven script, and flowing like lake water under the moonlight... It was the weapon befitting him, the perfect knight, the strongest Knight of the Round Table under King Arthur—Arondight, the Unfading Light of the Lake!
"Arthur..." The voice was low and hoarse.
Berserker actively removed his mask. Beneath it was not the beauty Saber remembered, envied by countless people, but a gaunt, haggard, deathly pale face. When summoned as Berserker, Lancelot had already lost everything he possessed due to the curse.
"...Ah, wha... wha..." Stumbling back a step, Saber was speechless, her body weak, as if she might collapse at any moment... She didn't hold on for long and finally knelt in despair... Had that man truly lost the most basic honor of a hero...? "You, how did you...?" Gazing at the figure who had accompanied her for countless years, Saber's tears finally flowed uncontrollably, but she still bit her lip and demanded, "Do you hate me that much?! My friend, do you hate me so much that you would even become a demon? Answer me, Knight of the Lake!"
The young woman could no longer withstand this most severe blow... No matter how sharp Rider's words, no matter how much his Noble Phantasm made her hesitate, none of it was as shocking as this scene before her. Lancelot's living presence finally plunged Saber into despair... The woman wept, her beauty captivating, her tears heartbreaking, yet no one pitied her. There was only scorn, the unfaithful wife who abandoned her husband, the traitorous sinner, condemned by the ignorant masses whose eyes were blinded by King Arthur's achievements. But they would never know that her husband, their King, was not a man!
Lancelot fell in love with her, and she fell in love with Lancelot. This was the root of all evil, and the beginning of the legend's end... When she gave up everything for this country, marrying a king who was also a woman, when her sacrifice was necessary, he still wanted to save her... Even if it was considered an act of rebellion and treason by the world, he could do it without hesitation. What if he had to fight against the whole world? But he couldn't do it. As the most important companion of a perfect king, a man with the title of the perfect knight, he couldn't do this seemingly simple thing... The king he served was so perfect; she saved countless people from suffering, she was noble and pure, she was selfless. How could he, a perfect knight, betray her?
But the ultimate outcome was so dramatic; the final result, driven by those with ulterior motives, spiraled into tragedy. He and the King could only meet on the battlefield, but he knew that his King had never blamed him. Even when they clashed, even when his title was stripped away, Lancelot knew that these were all the King's helpless actions. Even if he committed the greatest sin, the King still faced him with the noblest friendship.
Precisely because of this, he couldn't harbor resentment. He could only silently endure the pain alone, unable to vent, because he had no reason, no one to vent to... Summoned into the world as a Berserker, he lost everything, only to avoid getting entangled in that painful emotion. Since having a will caused him pain, then he was willing to become an irrational, insane beast... Moving according to his instincts, everything was so wonderful, but until he met that man, everything changed... That seemingly young boy actually returned his sanity, making him face his King in this appearance, which filled him with grief and indignation. But, perhaps, as that young boy said, by letting go and venting completely, he could find salvation? Could he truly achieve his ideal ending? Could he truly overcome his guilt? He didn't know, but he had no other path. He would listen to the boy's words and follow his will... If so, then let me vent, vent with my own will, face all of this with my own will!
Do you truly hate me so much? Knight of the Lake!
Ah. Yes, if I were not a knight, if I were merely a man, if I were not a loyal subject, if I merely hated as a person, perhaps I could have saved that woman!
But why does something deep within me tell me that this is not the case?
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Saber was once again struck down. How could she, without fighting spirit, be a match for Lancelot?
Arondight, the Unfading Light of the Lake, that sword paired with Excalibur, each swing made Saber's Holy Sword groan, as if facing the betrayal of a sibling born of the same root... Saber hung her head, her response to Lancelot's attacks not even qualifying as resistance; it was merely a one-sided torment.
Watching that sacred sword fall into a pitch-black demonic blade, Saber's heart ached.
That knight, admired by all, the idol and goal of countless knights, had transformed into this terrifying beast, yet his unparalleled martial arts remained undiminished.
My friend, are you cursing? Cursing this country that brought you despair, this King that brought you despair? Have our dreams become meaningless?
"Salvation cannot lead a nation!" The Conqueror King's words still echoed in her ears. She, who instinctively wanted to refute, now truly had no reason left... Lancelot, I have no other wish, only your understanding, because you are the most perfect knight. I ask for nothing else, only your approval, but now, even you, have you finally abandoned me?
"Please... stop..." Having lost everything, Saber now looked less like a King and more like someone who had completely lost her pride as a hero, sobbing uncontrollably, pleading in a low voice.
She collapsed softly to the ground, panting heavily, her sacred armor soiled by the dust. The Holy Sword in her hand could barely support her fading consciousness... She couldn't resist, nor did she want to resist... 'Perhaps, it would be good to leave this way, by Lancelot's hand...' The confusion in Saber's eyes made her forget everything, her past vows, her past promises... 'Was everything my fault...? Were all my convictions wrong?' The uncertainty about the future and her path had already caused her to lose her way.
Lancelot walked over and delivered a heavy kick to Saber, who lay sprawled on the ground, causing her to retch. Without mercy, Lancelot kicked her again, sending Saber tumbling across the ground... This abuse, however, brought no pleasure to Lancelot's eyes; only deep sorrow. The King in his heart was not this pitiful sight; the King in his heart was majestic, her very existence symbolizing victory!
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