Campione: Strongest Godslayer!

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"Maiya, do you see that silver-haired woman?" Kiritsugu's voice was low, his tone serious.

"Affirmative." On the other side of the battlefield, Maiya Hisau adjusted her rifle's scope, her eyes fixed on Illyasviel.

"In ten seconds, we fire. Take her out. Wait—what's that…?"

As Kiritsugu adjusted his aim, shifting his target from Kayneth to Illyasviel, a figure flickered across his scope. His eyes narrowed.

He quickly refocused, his gaze now fixed on Hassan-i Sabbah, perched atop a crane, silently observing the battle below. "Maiya, look at the crane…"

"…Confirmed. I see it too," Maiya replied after a moment.

So, Kirei Kotomine and Tokiomi Tohsaka were working together.

But—why were there two Hassans???

A Noble Phantasm, perhaps? But if he could create duplicates—could he create an army?

"Maiya, hold your fire. Cease all offensive actions," Kiritsugu ordered, abandoning the sniper plan.

Firing now would reveal their position, and Hassan, with his superior vantage point, would spot them instantly.

And while Hassan was considered the weakest Servant, he was still a formidable opponent, far beyond the capabilities of ordinary humans. Kiritsugu, protected by Lancelot, wasn't concerned for his own safety.

But Maiya—she'd be killed. It was only the first night of the war; he couldn't afford to lose her yet.

Should he have Lancelot eliminate Hassan, then resume the sniping? This was the perfect opportunity to take out a Master…

Kiritsugu pulled out a Crest Worm, his voice low as he spoke to Zouken Matou. "I need your worm network. Confirm the number of Assassins in the container yard."

To eliminate Hassan, he needed to know how many there were. And the only one who could provide that information quickly was Zouken Matou, with his knowledge of Fuyuki City.

Zouken's raspy voice echoed from the Crest Worm. "There's only one Assassin present. On the crane."

One Hassan—Lancelot could handle that.

"Can you eliminate him—quietly?" Kiritsugu asked, turning towards the corner of the warehouse, where Lancelot stood.

Lancelot, clad in his blue armor, watched the battle between Saber and Diarmuid, his expression unreadable.

He didn't respond.

Kiritsugu frowned. Lancelot had always obeyed his commands without question. This silence was—unusual.

"Lancelot, is something wrong?" he asked, his voice a bit sharper now.

"My King!" Lancelot's voice, muffled by his helmet, was filled with a strange mix of emotions—guilt, regret, anger.

Kiritsugu's eyes widened as he followed Lancelot's gaze towards Saber.

He understood. The only person Lancelot would address as "My King" with such—intensity—was the legendary King Arthur.

He hadn't expected Arthur to be a woman, but that wasn't the issue now. If this was Artoria without Avalon, the sheathed Excalibur that granted her near-invulnerability, they could still handle her.

But with Avalon—the undefeated King of Knights was a different story.

"I cannot eliminate the Assassin silently," Lancelot said, his voice now calm, his initial outburst of emotion suppressed.

"He's five hundred meters above us. Approaching him would alert him to my presence. I can only guarantee a swift kill."

Kiritsugu's face darkened as he considered his options.

Should he abandon the plan and order Maiya to snipe Illyasviel?

A risky move, but...

Just then, the battle shifted.

....

The container yard was a wasteland now, the concrete and steel containers within a three-hundred-meter radius gone, replaced by a muddy field, the soft earth damp from its proximity to the ocean.

Saber and Diarmuid faced each other, their expressions grim, calculating their next moves. Neither showed any sign of fatigue.

"I've revealed my True Name, even my Noble Phantasms, yet you remain shrouded in mystery," Diarmuid said, his voice laced with a hint of frustration as he wielded his spear and sword, their edges shimmering with killing intent.

"I can't quite place your fighting style. Broad, sweeping swordsmanship, befitting a knight on the battlefield—yet you're a woman—Jeanne d'Arc, perhaps? No, she was a commander, not a warrior. I can't think of any female knight who achieved such renown as to become a Heroic Spirit."

Diarmuid frowned, mentally reviewing the legends of Europe's female knights, then stopped as he heard Kayneth's voice.

"Is he holding back? Is he—attracted to her?" Kayneth, watching from the warehouse rooftop, his face dark, muttered under his breath.

He'd been suspicious of Diarmuid from the start. The Servant had claimed his only desire was to serve a worthy king, that he had no interest in the Grail itself.

'Why would a Servant without a wish answer the Grail's call?' Kayneth didn't believe him. And Sola-Ui's recent—interest in Diarmuid had only fueled his suspicions.

He raised his hand, activating a Command Spell. "Diarmuid, give it your all!"

"Yes, Master!" Diarmuid, unaware of Kayneth's true intentions, took it as encouragement, his fighting spirit surging.

He sheathed his sword, drawing the broadsword from his back, his voice serious. "Ninety-three centimeters long, twelve centimeters wide. I don't even need Gáe Dearg now. I've seen through your sword. Prepare yourself."

BOOM!

He stomped the ground, the force of the impact creating a crater, propelling him towards Saber, his speed exploding.

"His speed—it's increased by nearly thirty percent! Is it that sword?" Saber's eyes widened. Diarmuid's sudden burst of speed caught her off guard. The spear, aimed at her heart, was inches away.

"Too late…!"

She raised her invisible blade, Excalibur, deflecting the spear. She knew the power of Gáe Buidhe, She couldn't let it pierce her heart.

For now, she had to focus on the spear, ignoring Diarmuid's approaching blade.

Clang!

She parried the spear, sending it flying, then swung her sword upwards, hoping to block Diarmuid's attack.

"You fell for it!" Diarmuid roared, veins bulging on his arms and legs as his speed increased again. He gripped the broadsword with both hands.

A crescent-shaped arc of silver light flashed through the air.

She couldn't dodge.

Saber closed her eyes, bracing for the inevitable.

"Hold!" A voice, like the bellow of a bull mixed with a clap of thunder, echoed through the container yard.

But it was too late.

The blade was upon her—

When space itself began to tear...

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