Campione: Strongest Godslayer!

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The Fuyuki City Bridge, spanning the mouth of the Mion River where it met the sea, was an imposing structure—665 meters long, its arch rising over fifty meters high.

A constant, powerful wind swept across the bridge, strong enough to knock an ordinary person off their feet.

But two figures stood firm against the gale.

Waver Velvet, his face pale with fear, crouched low on the bridge's arch, the wind roaring in his ears.

Beside him, Rider, his expression serious, sat with regal composure.

"Rider, let's go down—please…" Waver's voice trembled, his body shaking despite the magical reinforcement keeping him anchored to the bridge. The wind's howl was terrifying.

"Why? This is the perfect vantage point. And the view is—surprisingly pleasant." Rider took a swig from his flask, his gaze fixed on the container yard on the western shore.

A fierce, martial aura radiated from that location.

"It's too obvious. A trap, most likely. I doubt I'm the only one who's noticed. The other Masters are probably watching as well. If we're patient, someone will get impatient. And that—is when we strike."

Waver nodded quickly, like a pecking chicken. He agreed with Rider's strategy. "Play the waiting game. Let someone else do the dirty work."

But…

He glanced at Rider, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. This boisterous, seemingly straightforward man—he had a surprisingly tactical mind.

A sudden gust of wind, stronger than before, sent Waver scrambling, his arms wrapping around the bridge's arch, his voice a panicked cry. "I'm—falling! Let me down! Please! There are safer places to—observe…"

"Relax, boy. This height—it's nothing to a Magician. Honestly, you need to work on your courage." Rider took another swig from his flask, seemingly oblivious to Waver's distress.

Waver's eyes filled with tears. He regretted summoning this Servant. He had no authority whatsoever.

"I'm afraid of heights!" he wailed.

He looked at Rider, who continued to ignore him, his gaze distant, and murmured, "I want to go home—back to England…"

"I told you to be patient. Look. Something's happening." Rider pointed towards the container yard, his voice serious.

"Huh?" Waver looked, but he saw nothing unusual.

"Another Servant has responded to the challenge. They're approaching each other. It seems—we're about to have a fight." A predatory glint appeared in Rider's eyes.

Waver gulped, looking at the container yard. 'This was the perfect opportunity to gather intel.' But his fear of heights kept him rooted to the spot. All he wanted was to get down, back to solid ground. He'd do anything.

..

..

The container yard, illuminated by the dim lights of unmanned cranes, stood silent and still, a Bounded Field isolating it from the rest of the city.

Saber and Illyasviel walked along the wide road, their steps measured and confident, like knights preparing for a duel.

Their opponent, having sensed Saber's challenge, stood waiting in the center of the road.

The two Servants stopped ten meters apart, facing each other.

This was Saber's first encounter with another Servant in this war, a battle where their very existence was at stake.

Cautiously, she studied her opponent. He was strikingly handsome, with short, neatly styled hair and a single, elegant lock falling across his forehead. But what caught Saber's attention were his weapons.

Five weapons, wrapped in cloth—a two-meter spear in his left hand, a meter-long sword in his right, a short sword strapped to his thigh, a broadsword on his back, and a sixty-centimeter short spear.

"Five weapons…" Saber murmured, her emerald eyes narrowing. To carry so many weapons meant he was confident in his ability to use them all.

She looked at the man, sensing his powerful aura, and her heart sank. A formidable opponent. And her first battle was against someone of this caliber? But she had to win the Grail.

The man's eyes lit up as he saw Saber. Her noble bearing, her elegant white dress, the perfect blend of strength and grace—she was breathtaking.

"I never expected such a beautiful woman to answer my challenge. The Grail is truly—generous."

Saber's face flushed at his compliment, and she glared at Illyasviel, who simply smiled back. She channeled her magical energy.

Her body was enveloped in blue and silver armor, a battle dress that shimmered with power. She gripped her invisible sword, its blade concealed by the wind.

"Though this is a knightly duel, I cannot reveal my True Name. And for my Master's sake, I must defeat you."

The man smiled ruefully, placing his spear on the ground, sheathing his sword, and drawing the short sword and short spear.

Despite the rueful smile, his face, with its sharp, angular features and gentle, melancholic eyes, radiated a captivating charm. And the tear-shaped mole beneath his left eye only added to his allure.

Illyasviel, standing behind Saber, raised an eyebrow.

"…Charm magic? How inappropriate—especially against a married woman, unknown Servant."

The man simply shrugged.

"My apologies. I've been—cursed with this charm since birth. Blame my bloodline, or perhaps—your gender."

"It's not his fault, Illyasviel. And he's not exactly 'unknown.' Five weapons, a charming tear-shaped mole, a knightly demeanor—Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, the first warrior of the Fianna, known as 'Diarmuid of the Love Spot'. Am I right? And those weapons—the short spear in your left hand, that's Gáe Buidhe, the 'Yellow Rose of Mortality'. And the short sword in your right, that's Gáe Dearg, the 'Crimson Rose of Exorcism'. Your signature weapons."

"I see. There's no hiding it, then," Diarmuid sighed, shrugging his shoulders.

His Master, Kayneth, had wanted him to conceal his identity, but his weapons and his—unique appearance made that impossible.

"Tch! Did she see through you? Then kill her, Diarmuid!" A voice, filled with frustration—Kayneth's voice—echoed from the shadows.

"As you command, Master!" Diarmuid replied, his voice filled with a knight's unwavering loyalty.

Saber tightened her grip on her invisible sword.

Clang!

Steel met steel as the two Servants clashed.

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