The streets of Fuyuki were silent at this hour, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, but that peace was deceptive. If one looked closely—if one had the capable eyes to see through the illusion of normalcy—they would witness something truly impossible.
Two figures dashed through the streets, moving at speeds no human should be capable of. The first was a man, clad in an archaic red coat that flared dramatically as he sprinted forward. His silver-white hair barely moved despite his speed, and his eyes—sharp and unreadable—were locked ahead, scanning for an escape route. The second figure, just a step behind him, looked like something out of a legend: a young woman dressed in royal blue battle attire, silver armor gleaming in the dim light, her golden hair streaming behind her. She gripped a sword—an invisible blade that flickered against the night air, its presence felt rather than seen.
And behind them—
A monster.
A hulking, pitch-black figure tore through the cityscape like a force of nature. His massive frame was barely human, his skin burned with some eerie, otherworldly energy, and his blood-red eyes burned with a single, unwavering intent—kill.
The asphalt cracked beneath his sheer weight as he moved. Every step he took left deep imprints in the ground, and the very air around him distorted with sheer pressure.
Berserker was relentless.
And unstoppable.
Buildings trembled as he crashed into the streets, his sheer momentum sending shockwaves through the city. He didn't dodge obstacles—he destroyed them. Cars, streetlights, even chunks of sidewalk—all were obliterated in his path. The once-pristine road was now a jagged ruin, torn apart as if a meteor had been dragged through it.
And yet—
Despite the sheer calamity behind them, nobody saw a thing.
To the average citizen, the streets were empty, silent. The destruction, the battle, the forces at play here—none of it registered to ordinary human eyes.
That was the nature of the Holy Grail War.
Invisible battles, fought by legendary warriors, unseen by the world they threatened to destroy.
Archer shot a glance at Shirō as they ran. "So. Got a brilliant plan yet?"
Shirō, panting as she tried to keep up, glared at him. "You told me we should run! So I'm running!"
Archer clicked his tongue. "I meant an actual plan, not just 'run until we collapse.'"
Shirō ducked just in time as a street sign was ripped from the ground and hurled past her head—Berserker had ripped it out with his bare hands.
"Holy—"
She leaped over a destroyed car, Excalibur flashing in her grip, before turning to Archer. "I don't have a plan, okay?! What do you suggest?!"
Archer didn't answer immediately. He was calculating, scanning the surroundings, looking for something—anything—that could give them even a sliver of an advantage.
Then—
His eyes narrowed.
"The bridge," he said.
Shirō blinked. "What?"
Archer pointed ahead. "There. If we make it across, we can use the terrain. Force him into a tighter space."
Shirō followed his gaze. In the distance, spanning across the river, was the Fuyuki Bridge.
Wide. Long. Stable.
And, most importantly—
There were no civilians.
"…That's actually smart," Shirō admitted.
Archer smirked. "I do that sometimes."
They both ran faster.
Berserker, of course, did not care about their strategies. His only strategy was destruction. And right now, that meant catching and pulverizing the two figures before him.
He roared, the sound shattering nearby windows, his massive frame crashing forward with impossible speed.
Illya's voice rang out behind them, mocking.
"Running again, Big Sister?!"
Shirō gritted her teeth.
Illya giggled. "Berserker~ don't let them escape!"
The bridge was close. So close. Just a few more steps—
A shadow fell over Shirō.
Her instincts screamed.
She turned—
Berserker was above her.
The monster had leaped—LEAPED—from the street below, clearing a massive distance in an instant, his massive body hurtling toward her like a falling meteor.
"MOVE!" Archer's voice snapped her out of it.
Shirō barely threw herself to the side before—
BOOM.
Berserker crashed into the bridge with enough force to shake the entire structure. The ground beneath them buckled—massive cracks spread outward from the impact point, chunks of stone exploding into the air.
Shirō rolled, barely managing to stay on her feet. "Okay!" she gasped. "New plan—"
Archer moved.
In an instant, twin swords appeared in his hands—Kanshou and Bakuya—black and white, curved like fangs, their edges glinting in the moonlight.
"We fight."
Shirō blinked. "Wait, what?!"
Archer didn't wait. He launched himself forward, blades whipping through the air in a storm of steel.
Berserker swung—a massive, brutal, inhuman strike. The sheer force of it could've split a building in two.
But Archer twisted—dodging with inhuman precision, sliding under Berserker's attack and countering in a single, fluid motion.
His blades struck—sparks exploding off Berserker's skin.
And did absolutely nothing.
Shirō cursed.
This wasn't just any Servant. This was Hercules. The strongest warrior in history, blessed with madness and an ability that made him effectively unkillable.
Shirō tightened her grip on Excalibur. "Alright then," she muttered. "Guess we are doing this."
She charged.
Her sword clashed against Berserker's arm, a shockwave bursting from the impact.
It barely scratched him.
But she didn't stop. She couldn't.
Berserker turned, red eyes burning.
His fist came down—
Shirō barely managed to dodge—but the impact alone sent her flying across the bridge.
She landed, rolled, forced herself up—
Her body burned.
She couldn't keep this up.
Archer, dodging another blow, called out to her. "Shirō! Think!"
Think.
Think.
Think—
Then it hit her.
Mana Burst.
A flash of a memory—
Not hers, but Saber's.
The energy. The power.
She focused.
And—
A sudden rush of energy erupted from her body.
It wasn't huge. It wasn't even that powerful. But it was there.
And when she swung Excalibur again—
The impact actually pushed Berserker back.
Not much. But enough.
Archer raised an eyebrow. "Huh."
Shirō panted. "What?"
Archer smirked. "Pathetic. But an improvement."
Berserker growled.
Illya giggled.
"Now, now, Big Sister—just because you learned a new trick doesn't mean you can win."
Shirō wiped the sweat from her brow.
Yeah.
She knew.
But she wasn't done yet.