A little over half an hour later, under a sparse and starry sky—
A pulse of mana flared from Fuyuki's harbor. In the blink of an eye, it spread across the entire city, sending an "invitation" to every participant in the Holy Grail War.
That level of group-taunting…
Only Kayneth and "Brushy" could manage that kind of doomed couple energy.
Standing on the cantilever of a harbor crane, Bai Ye looked down at the figure below—dual spears in hand, standing proudly beneath dim streetlights—and couldn't help feeling sentimental.
In the state of unity between heaven and man, merged with nature itself, Bai Ye could stand here in plain sight and still look so "normal" that even if someone stared through binoculars, their mind would slide right past him.
Morgan's voice came through the link from the Matou residence.
"The Servant down there—if I'm not mistaken—is Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, the foremost knight of the Fianna in Celtic legend, known as 'Radiant Countenance.'
"Which means the two spears he's carrying—one red and one yellow, one long and one short, with their shafts wrapped in spell-cloth—should be 'Gáe Dearg, the Crimson Rose of Breaking' and 'Gáe Buidhe, the Yellow Rose of Mortal Wounds,' gifts from Aengus, god of love and youth, and Manannán, god of the sea.
"The former nullifies constructs made of mana. The latter bears a curse that inflicts wounds that cannot be healed.
"If he brought both down, then he's Lancer in this war."
"And his Master?" Bai Ye asked.
"Currently positioned on the Fuyuki Bridge," Morgan replied. "In addition to Diarmuid's Master, there is another pair—both Master and Servant present. It appears they've formed an alliance…
"Which makes sense. After all, they're teacher and student."
"…"
Bai Ye's expression twitched.
That is not the kind of teacher-student relationship you think it is.
He drew his gaze back from the bridge spanning the Mion River, connecting Miyama Town in the west to the New City.
"Diarmuid's invitation has been out for a while. Any reactions from the remaining three groups?"
"The Einzbern group has accepted the invitation. You should meet them soon," Morgan said. "The remaining two… the Church has shown no movement, but Kirei Kotomine is confirmed inside the church. The Tohsaka side has only sent a familiar. They don't seem inclined to appear."
"Fine. Notify me immediately if anything changes."
Bai Ye's attention returned to the battlefield below.
Just as Morgan said, only minutes after the call ended, two figures appeared.
One wore an elegant white fur outfit, luxurious and pristine. She had silver hair that shone like snow, crimson eyes, and a face so perfectly arranged it could be called art.
Irisviel von Einzbern.
And her Servant—
"…?"
Bai Ye tilted his head as he looked at the Servant mounted on a white horse, guarding Irisviel like a knight shielding a princess.
Silver-white full plate armor. A pure white cloak. A white helmet crowned with a silver lion mask. A lance wrapped in white cloth.
…You're telling me this is right?
Bai Ye glanced at Scáthach, who was masking herself with runes, and also asked Morgan and Scáthach through the link:
"Any impressions of the newcomer?"
"A worthy opponent," Scáthach said, lifting her crimson spear. "My spear is already excited."
"Different from what I remember in some details," Morgan said, voice calm, "but it is Artoria. The horse is the very one she rode through her campaigns—Dun Stallion, the King's horse."
Bai Ye: "…."
Down at the harbor—
"Finally, someone shows up," Diarmuid said, flicking his forelock with the tip of his short yellow spear. "All day I've walked this city openly, and not one of you dared to appear. So I had no choice but to invite everyone at once… Looks like not all who answered the Grail's call are cowards."
"Lancer?" the lion-masked Servant asked, tone flat.
"For now, call me that," Diarmuid sighed. "To be unable to exchange names with an opponent before a duel to the death—what a dreary constraint… Still, I didn't expect another spear-wielding Servant to answer, given that I've already descended as Lancer. May I ask what you are called?"
"If you can withstand three strikes, you will have the right to know my name."
"…So I'm being looked down on," Diarmuid said, then smiled after a pause. "Then set your Master down, and show me whether your skill matches that confidence."
"That won't be necessary," the lion-masked Servant replied.
"…"
Diarmuid's eyelid twitched violently.
So even while protecting a Master with one arm, she thinks she can beat me with the other?
From the boy of Brú na Bóinne to the foremost knight of the Fianna, Diarmuid had never swallowed this kind of insult. He spun his twin spears and settled into a stance that could attack or defend at will.
When he was ready, the lion-masked Servant raised her lance.
Her armored white steed scraped its hooves against concrete—
and in the next instant, it launched, carrying its rider straight into Diarmuid's face.
The lance came down, heavy with the momentum of a charge.
CLANG—!!!
Metal screamed against metal. Diarmuid barely managed to cross both spears and catch the strike in time—and his face changed instantly.
CRACK!
The ground beneath him, dozens of meters wide, spiderwebbed with fractures.
This monstrous strength—how?
Even with the charge's momentum, Diarmuid was sure: this opponent had several times, perhaps dozens of times, his raw power.
His Strength was only B compared to his A+ Agility, but it was still B.
For him to be utterly unable to resist meant her strength was at least A—and the "+" beyond A was not just one.
And with the speed she'd shown even before strength—fast enough that even his A+ Agility had almost failed to react—
What kind of Master could possibly supply a Servant with Strength and Agility surpassing A+?
Diarmuid stared in disbelief at the silver-haired Master behind the lion mask—who looked not frightened at all by the lightning charge, but strangely excited.
....
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