To think that with just a mana boost, she could fight both him and Lancer at the same time without so much as breaking a sweat. How much power had she been suppressing this whole time, bound by the foolish, self-imposed rules of chivalry she clung to? The thought was infuriating.
Lancer, despite his usual cocky, irreverent grin, was beginning to frown, his expression tightening into a grimace of genuine concern. The carefree air around him was gone, replaced by a coiled, lethal seriousness. He spun his crimson spear, Gáe Bolg, its wicked point a blur of motion, and lunged again, his strikes quick and precise, a flurry of feints and deadly thrusts. Saber parried him effortlessly, her movements smooth, controlled—unnatural. It was like watching a pre-programmed sequence. There was no hesitation, no wasted motion, just flawless execution.
"Jeez, this ain't fun anymore," Lancer muttered, his voice a low growl of frustration as he twisted mid-air to avoid a slash that nearly took off his leg. He landed in a crouch, the tip of his spear scraping against the stone floor. "Kinda feels like I'm fighting a machine."
"She's not fighting," Archer corrected, his voice clipped and sharp, the words cutting through the din of clashing metal. He stepped back, his twin blades—Kanshou and Bakuya—reinforcing with a shimmering burst of mana. "She's just being controlled. A puppet on a witch's strings."
Saber's body moved with inhuman precision, a deadly metronome of violence. She attacked Archer, her movements fluid and relentless, then shifted seamlessly, mid-stride, to counter a lightning-fast thrust from Lancer, as if she knew exactly what they'd do before they even moved. Her golden sword, Excalibur, gleamed with a mocking light, reflecting the frantic, desperate struggle of her opponents.
"Is she even getting tired?" Lancer grumbled, his voice laced with disbelief, as he flipped back just as Excalibur carved a deep, smoking trench into the stone floor beneath him.
Archer scowled, projecting a volley of low-level blades to force Saber to momentarily disengage. No, she wasn't. Her stamina—the limited magical energy she possessed as a Servant—should have been depleting by now, a tell-tale sign of a prolonged battle. But Caster's mana supply, drawn from killing and hunting people, was likely sustaining her indefinitely. An endless battery for a perfect killing machine. At this rate, neither he nor Lancer would last long enough to break Caster's hold on her. It was a war of attrition they couldn't possibly win.
And speaking of the witch, she was still laughing. A high, tinkling sound that grated on Archer's nerves like a broken bell.
"Such a splendid sight," Caster purred from her floating platform, her voice carrying over the battlefield like a venomous whisper. She watched the chaos unfold below with amused, glittering eyes. "A knight without shackles, without foolish restraint—this is the true Saber, free of the weakness of a human heart."
"You call this free?" Rin shot back, her voice strained and ragged, a stark contrast to the witch's calm. Her crimson coat was torn, a faint wisp of smoke rising from a scorch mark near the hem.
Unlike Archer and Lancer, she wasn't faring as well in her own, separate battle against the floating sorceress. Despite throwing every trick she had at Caster—gem spells crackling with raw power, reinforcement magic enhancing her speed, elemental bursts of fire and ice—nothing was landing. Every attack she cast was either reflected or countered effortlessly by an almost invisible, shimmering barrier of mana.
And to make things worse—
"Bind!" Caster's voice echoed like a command from a deity.
Rin barely leaped away, the floor exploding in a shower of stone as glowing chains, woven from pure mana, shot up from the ground, trying to ensnare her. The spell missed by mere inches, but the raw heat of it singed her coat and sent a wave of stinging heat across her cheek. Damn it!
Caster tilted her head, a wicked smirk playing on her lips. "Oh, come now, Tohsaka. Is that really all a proud heir of the Tohsaka family can do? How disappointing."
"Shut up and die already, you witch!" Rin snapped, launching another volley of crystals imbued with potent magical energy.
Caster flicked her wrist with bored nonchalance. A barrier of swirling light formed around her, and the attack shattered harmlessly against it, the gem fragments dissolving into motes of light.
Rin's stomach sank, a cold, dread-filled weight. This was bad. This was worse than bad. She had been going all out, using everything she had, her reserves of mana dangerously low. But Caster had barely moved. The witch wasn't even trying.
She was toying with her.
And Saber—Shirō…
Rin risked a glance back, just in time to see Saber's cold, inhuman movements disarm Lancer. One clean, perfect strike, and his spear went flying, cartwheeling end-over-end through the air before embedding itself in a wall with a thud. In the same fluid motion, she twisted and slammed the hilt of her sword into Archer's stomach, a sickening thud echoing through the air as the force of the blow sent him skidding back, his feet dragging through the rubble.
Their best fighters were losing. She was losing. The entire battle was slipping away from them, one desperate moment at a time.
And if they lost—if Caster kept Shirō—
Rin clenched her fists so hard her knuckles turned white, her nails digging into her palms. No. No way in hell.
She wasn't about to let that happen. She would not lose her friend.