He launched forward, twin swords flashing, a whirlwind of steel. Shirō met him head-on. Sparks erupted with each clash of steel, the sound echoing across the desolate landscape. Every strike he threw, she countered. Every gap he aimed for, she covered. He poured mana into his movements, pushing himself to his limits, his bones aching with the strain—
And still.
Nothing.
She was faster. Stronger. More precise. Her movements were flawless, her defenses impenetrable.
Lancer, watching from a short distance with a growing sense of dread, clicked his tongue. "Tch. Damn. If this keeps up, we're screwed. We're gonna burn through our mana and get taken out one by one."
Archer's blades ground against Excalibur, both locked in a deadlock of sheer force. He gritted his teeth, a bead of sweat tracing a line through the grime on his face as he leaned in, forcing all his weight forward. "Oi, Lancer. You do have that thing of yours, right? The one-shot kill?"
Lancer's grip on his spear tightened, his expression turning grim and resolute. "Sure do. But if I use it here, with this witch's curse on her, she won't be the only one going down. It's a guaranteed kill for anything in the vicinity, including you."
Archer's eyes flickered, briefly considering the risk. It was a hell of a gamble, but they were out of options. His Reality Marble was holding, but for how long? Caster's power was immense. It might be their only shot.
Lancer sighed, a deep, weary sound, as he lowered into a stance, his body coiled and ready to spring. "You better not whine if you get caught up in this, Archer. I'm not holding back."
His spear, Gáe Bolg, began to glow, a malevolent crimson light spilling from its tip.
Lancer's spear gleamed with a lethal, crimson light, the sheer pressure of his mana surging through the air like a coming storm. His stance was low, predatory, the very air around him vibrating with the killing intent of a cursed weapon. Archer, standing opposite him, pulled back the string of a newly-projected bow, its crimson arrow crackling with overwhelming magical energy. The two warriors locked eyes briefly—a silent, desperate pact. No words needed.
They had to take her down.
Saber—Shirō—stood in the middle of this maelstrom of death, unwavering. Excalibur, golden and pure, shone brilliantly in her hands, a stark contrast to the dark forces gathering around her. There was no hesitation in her stance, no fear, only an eerily calm expression that sent a shiver of cold dread down Archer's spine.
Lancer grinned, a tight, humorless smile. "No hard feelings, princess."
Then he vanished.
A single blur of movement, and his spear was already thrusting toward her heart. It was a strike that defied cause and effect, an attack that had already hit its target before it even left his hand.
At the exact same time—
TWANG!
Archer's crimson arrow, imbued with enough power to level a small building, was released, splitting the sky as it hurtled toward her like divine judgment itself. The combined force of their attacks—a paradoxical blow that struck from the past and a single projectile of devastating power—should have overwhelmed her, should have broken her, body and soul—
But Shirō didn't falter.
She held.
Excalibur clashed against Gáe Bolg, golden light pushing against crimson death. The sheer force of the impact cracked the very ground beneath them, a spiderweb of fissures spreading across the metallic wasteland. The shockwave sent dust and debris flying in all directions, obscuring the view for a moment. Archer's arrow struck as well, colliding with the force of their weapons, creating an explosion of magical energy that should have obliterated anything caught in its center.
And yet—
She was still standing.
Unmoving. Unyielding. A perfect knight, an unbroken doll, the center of a storm of destruction.
Archer clenched his jaw, his eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and horror. This can't be happening. We used everything. Everything…
Lancer clicked his tongue, a curse forming on his lips. "Tch. You gotta be shittin' me. Even after all that?"