Shirō wiped the sweat from her brow, gripping Excalibur tightly. Her muscles ached, her breath came in ragged gasps, and the mountain air was thick with dust and the scent of destruction. Across from her, Berserker stood like an unshakable force, his crimson eyes burning with rage, his monstrous frame tensed and ready to tear her apart at a moment's notice.
Illya, lounging on a rock with the smuggest expression Shirō had ever seen, clapped her hands. "Oh wow, Big Sister! You're getting better! Now you can almost dodge without looking completely pathetic."
Shirō gritted her teeth. She knew sarcasm when she heard it.
Behind her, Archer stood with his arms crossed, analyzing the battle with his usual detached expression. "We need a plan," he finally said. "If we keep fighting like this, we're going to lose."
"No shit." Shirō wiped more sweat from her forehead.
Archer ignored her. "I'll attack from a distance. You keep him busy."
Shirō blinked at him. "Oh, great plan. Let me just casually distract the walking apocalypse while you do whatever the hell it is you do. That sounds totally fair."
Archer rolled his eyes. "It's not like you have a better idea."
She wanted to argue, but—yeah, she really didn't have a better idea.
"Fine," she muttered. "Just… don't take too long."
Archer gave her a look. "You think I want to be here any longer than necessary?"
Shirō sighed, turning back to Berserker. The giant stood there, waiting. Not because he was merciful—no, Berserker didn't do mercy—but because Illya hadn't given the order to crush her yet.
Illya pouted. "Are you two done strategizing? It won't matter, you know." She tilted her head playfully. "Berserker is invincible. You can run all you want, but you can't hide forever. He will catch you."
Shirō didn't respond. Instead, she lunged forward, Excalibur flashing in the dim light.
She didn't need to win. She just needed to keep him occupied.
Berserker moved.
Faster than any monster of his size should move. His fist came crashing down, and Shirō barely dodged, the impact shaking the ground beneath her. She rolled, kicking off the dirt, and slashed at his side—only for the blade to bounce off his skin harmlessly.
Damn it.
Berserker retaliated instantly. His foot came swinging toward her, and she jumped just in time to avoid being flattened.
Illya giggled. "Come on, Big Sister! You can do better than that!"
Shirō gritted her teeth, adjusting her grip on Excalibur. She focused on dodging, weaving around Berserker's attacks as best as she could. And, honestly—
She was improving.
Kind of.
She could almost dodge his blows now. Almost.
A massive fist grazed her shoulder, sending her tumbling across the dirt.
…Yeah, she still sucked.
Meanwhile, Archer had vanished, presumably preparing whatever ridiculous attack he had in mind.
She really hoped he wasn't just ditching her.
"You better not be running away, you coward!" Shirō yelled.
There was no response.
She barely had time to react before Berserker came at her again. He swung wildly, his sheer force making the air itself feel like it was cracking.
Shirō rolled, jumping backward, trying to buy Archer more time.
Then—
The sky changed.
A red glow bathed the battlefield. The air became thick with something unnatural, something immense. Shirō's instincts screamed at her to move.
And then—
The sky exploded.
A single arrow of pure destruction descended from above.
It wasn't just an attack. It wasn't just a projectile.
It was a statement.
A declaration that the laws of nature did not apply to this battlefield.
Shirō's eyes widened. "Oh shit—"
She ran. Fast.
And Berserker?
He didn't move.
Illya's expression twisted in confusion. "Berserker, dodge—"
The arrow hit.
The world erupted.
A shockwave tore through the mountain, the sheer force of the blast ripping trees from their roots, shattering boulders into dust, and carving a crater into the earth itself. The sound alone was deafening, a thunderous roar that echoed through the valley.
For a few seconds, there was nothing.
No sound. No movement. Just the remnants of destruction settling.
Shirō panted, gripping Excalibur tightly as she looked toward the impact site.
The dust cleared.
And then—
"Berserker!" Illya's scream cut through the silence.
Where Berserker once stood, there was now—
A hole.
A massive, gaping wound in his torso, glowing with residual energy from the attack.
For the first time, Berserker had actually taken damage.
Shirō blinked, then grinned, barely believing what she was seeing. "Holy crap, we got him—"
A familiar voice cut in beside her. "Don't get too excited."
She turned to see Archer standing next to her, arms crossed, as calm as ever.
Shirō raised an eyebrow. "That was insane. What was that?"
Archer didn't answer immediately. Instead, he simply nodded toward Berserker.
Shirō followed his gaze—
And her stomach dropped.
The wound—
It was healing.
Fast.
Too fast.
The gaping hole in Berserker's torso was already closing, his skin regenerating at an impossible rate. The damage Archer had dealt—the wound that should have killed a normal servant—
It was gone.
Shirō felt the blood drain from her face. "…Oh."
Archer sighed. "You forgot, didn't you?"
Shirō swallowed. "I was hoping it wouldn't be true."
Berserker growled. His body tensed. His red eyes burned brighter.
Illya grinned. "That was a nice trick! But it's not enough!"
Archer clicked his tongue. "He still has eleven lives left."
Shirō exhaled sharply. "Right. Right. Eleven more."
She really hated this guy.
Berserker moved.
And Shirō knew there was no way she was dodging this next attack.
"…Let's get out of here, Shirō."
"No kidding."
Without hesitation, they ran.