Shirō wasted no time. In an instant, her nightclothes shimmered away, replaced by her battle attire—a deep blue dress, silver-plated armor, and gauntlets that gleamed under the moonlight. Excalibur materialized in her grip, its golden brilliance a stark contrast to the destruction around her.
Illya's eyes sparkled with twisted amusement. "Oh? You have a sword?" She tilted her head, her voice dripping with mock pity. "That's cute, but it won't be enough against Berserker!"
With a snap of her fingers, the towering monster roared, his presence alone shaking the foundation of what remained of Shirō's house.
Oh, hell.
Shirō barely had time to brace herself before Berserker lunged. He moved impossibly fast for his size—one second, he was at the hole in the wall, and the next, he was right there, his massive fist coming down like a falling meteor.
She kicked off the ground, rolling to the side as the impact obliterated her tatami floor, sending wooden splinters and debris flying in all directions.
Archer had already moved, taking position on what remained of the rooftop. "You idiot, why did you summon your sword here?!" he snapped, loosing a flurry of arrows.
"Excuse me for not wanting to die in my pajamas!" Shirō shot back, deflecting a stray piece of wood with her gauntlet.
Berserker barely acknowledged the arrows piercing his flesh. If anything, they only seemed to anger him more. With another guttural growl, he turned toward Archer and jumped.
Archer barely had time to move before Berserker crashed into the rooftop, completely demolishing what remained of it. He leaped away just in time, but the shockwave sent him flying, forcing him to roll midair to regain his footing.
Shirō saw this as her chance. I need to get him away from the house!
With a burst of mana, she sprinted toward the mountain path behind her home.
Berserker, like the unstoppable force he was, immediately gave chase.
The ground quaked beneath her as she ran, each step of Berserker's pursuit sending tremors through the earth. Trees snapped like twigs in his wake, the sheer weight of his presence causing nature itself to bow in submission.
Illya followed behind leisurely, giggling as if this were nothing more than a fun little game.
Shirō gritted her teeth. Damn it, she's just playing with us.
She reached a clearing at the foot of the mountain and skidded to a stop. If she ran any further, she'd just endanger more people. This ends here.
Berserker landed a few feet away, his monstrous form towering over her. His breath was heavy, his red eyes glowing like embers in the night.
Illya smirked. "What's wrong, Big Sister? Tired already?"
Shirō pointed Excalibur at her. "Call me that one more time, and I swear—"
She didn't get to finish.
Berserker was already attacking.
A massive fist came hurtling toward her. Shirō barely had time to react—she raised Excalibur just in time to block, but the sheer force sent her flying backward. She crashed against a tree, the impact knocking the breath out of her lungs.
Before she could recover, Berserker was on her again.
He doesn't stop. He doesn't slow down.
Shirō rolled as another punch shattered the tree where she had been, then pushed off the ground, launching herself into the air. With a battle cry, she brought Excalibur down in a golden arc.
Her blade met Berserker's arm—
—and bounced off.
Her heart nearly stopped.
She hadn't even scratched him.
Illya cackled. "Oh, did I forget to mention? Berserker's got twelve lives! You'll have to kill him twelve times before he actually dies!"
"Twelve?!" Shirō spat, flipping away as Berserker tried to grab her.
Archer landed beside her, looking thoroughly unimpressed. "So, what's the plan? Keep swinging at him until he gets bored?"
Shirō glared at him. "You got a better idea?!"
Archer clicked his tongue, then summoned two swords—Kanshou and Bakuya. "Try not to die."
Before she could retort, he was already moving.
Archer dashed in, his dual blades moving in a blur. He aimed for Berserker's joints, slicing at the tendons behind his knees, slashing at his exposed sides. It was fast, precise—calculated.
But Berserker didn't care.
The giant roared and swung, his arm moving in a brutal arc. Archer barely ducked in time, the sheer force of the swing ripping through the ground, sending dirt and debris flying.
Shirō saw her opening.
If Excalibur can't cut through his body, then—
She flipped Excalibur in her grip, pouring mana into the blade. Golden light radiated from the sword, illuminating the battlefield.
Illya's eyes narrowed. "Oh?"
Shirō dashed forward, her grip tightening. She didn't need to cut through him. She just needed force.
With a roar, she swung.
Excalibur's golden light collided with Berserker's chest, sending a shockwave through the air.
For the first time, Berserker stumbled.
The force of the attack sent him skidding backward, his feet digging into the ground. A massive wound opened on his torso—and then immediately began to heal.
Shirō clenched her teeth. Damn it.
Illya clapped her hands. "That was a good hit! But you'll have to do that eleven more times!"
Shirō exhaled sharply. "Great. Love that."
Berserker roared, his wounds fully healed. He rushed forward, faster than before. Shirō barely dodged as his fist came down—
—only for Archer to appear above him.
"Trace, on."
In his hands was Caladbolg, twisted and deadly.
With a smirk, he fired.
The blast was deafening. A spiral of destruction engulfed Berserker, the sheer force shaking the mountainside.
For a moment, there was nothing but smoke and rubble.
Then—
A figure emerged.
Berserker.
His wounds had barely registered.
Shirō swallowed. "We are so screwed."
Archer landed beside her, not looking much happier. "Oh, really? What gave that away?"
Illya giggled. "Don't worry, Big Sister! I'll make sure Berserker kills you in a very painless way! Well… mostly painless."
Shirō groaned. "Stop calling me that!"
Berserker stepped forward again, ready for round two.
Shirō sighed. "Guess we're doing this the hard way."
Archer cracked his neck. "When is it ever easy?"
[—(/-\)—]
Berserker moved like a storm given flesh, a relentless force of destruction that neither Shirō nor Archer could contain. Before Shirō could even lift Excalibur, the giant was already upon her.
His fist crashed into her midsection with the force of a wrecking ball. The impact caved in her armor, sent her flying like a ragdoll. She smashed through two trees before hitting the ground in a violent tumble, rolling until she finally skidded to a stop. The world blurred, her lungs screamed for air, and for a moment, she couldn't tell up from down.
Archer tried to take advantage of Berserker's focus on Shirō. He dashed in from the side, twin swords flashing. Kanshou and Bakuya struck Berserker's ribs, sparks flying from the impact—
—and did absolutely nothing.
Berserker barely acknowledged the attack before backhanding Archer away like an annoying fly. The red-clad servant was launched through the air, his body breaking through thick branches before landing hard on the rocky ground below.
Shirō coughed, forcing herself to move despite the pain screaming in her ribs. Damn it, he's too strong! Even with Excalibur, even with Archer fighting alongside her, Berserker was on a completely different level.
Illya giggled in the distance, watching the carnage like a child enjoying her favorite show. "Wow! That was a good hit! Come on, Big Sister! Don't tell me that's all you've got!"
Shirō groaned, dragging herself up. Her entire torso throbbed from where Berserker had hit her, and her vision swam, but she couldn't afford to stop. She gritted her teeth, mana surging through her battered body. "I swear to God, stop calling me that!"
But Berserker wasn't interested in their banter. He charged toward her again, shaking the ground with every step.
Shirō barely managed to dodge the first strike, rolling to the side as his fist shattered the earth where she had stood. Dust and rocks exploded in all directions. She swung Excalibur, aiming for his exposed flank, pouring all her strength into the slash.
The blade connected—
—and bounced off his skin like a toy sword.
Before she could react, Berserker grabbed her by the throat.
Her feet left the ground as he lifted her effortlessly, fingers tightening around her windpipe. She gagged, struggling, her gauntlets clawing at his grip, but it was like trying to pry open an iron vise.
Then he slammed her into the ground.
Her vision whited out from the pain. The impact sent shockwaves through the clearing, cracks spreading from where her body had struck. Berserker didn't let go—he lifted her again, and slammed her down again.
And again.
And again.
Holy shit—
Somewhere in the distance, Archer was shouting her name, but she couldn't make out the words. Her body felt like it was breaking apart, the pain a constant symphony of agony ringing through her bones.
She barely had time to register when Berserker threw her, sending her crashing through another tree before her broken body skidded across the dirt. She coughed violently, trying and failing to get up.
Archer finally managed to get back into the fight, appearing on the opposite side of Berserker. His eyes narrowed, and without hesitation, he fired a barrage of arrows, each infused with mana, each aimed for Berserker's head and heart.
Berserker didn't dodge. He didn't need to.
The arrows struck true—only for him to walk through them like they were nothing.
Archer cursed. "Tch. Of course."
Illya clapped her hands in mock delight. "That was a nice try, Archer~! But Berserker doesn't die that easily!"
Archer's expression darkened. "Yeah, I noticed."
Berserker rushed at him.
Archer teleported away in a flash of red light, appearing behind Berserker with Kanshou and Bakuya in hand. He lunged, aiming for the back of Berserker's neck—
—only for Berserker to spin around and kick him midair.
The impact was devastating. Archer was launched across the clearing, his body smashing against the mountainside with an explosion of dust and debris. He didn't move.
Shirō screamed. "Archer!"
Berserker turned back to her, his glowing red eyes boring into her.
She knew what was coming next.
But her body refused to move.
Shit, shit, shit—
Berserker grabbed a boulder the size of a car and hurled it at her.
Shirō could barely raise her sword before the rock crashed into her, the sheer weight burying her into the dirt.
Silence.
Illya giggled again, skipping toward the wreckage. "Aww, is Big Sister dead already?" She pouted. "That's so boring."
Berserker loomed over the crushed remains of Shirō's body, his monstrous presence casting a long shadow over the battlefield.
And then—
A golden glow erupted from beneath the rubble.
Shirō wasn't done yet.
Shirō's body screamed in protest as she pushed herself up from the rubble. Every inch of her hurt. Her lungs burned with every breath. Her armor was cracked, her limbs felt like lead, and her vision wavered.
But something inside her clicked.
Like a whisper at the back of her mind, a memory not her own surfaced.
Excalibur wasn't just a sword. It was a conduit. A vessel. And a weapon of pure destruction when wielded correctly.
She could feel the mana pulsing within it, begging to be used.
She clenched her fingers tighter around the hilt.
Mana Burst.
She didn't know how she knew the name. She just knew. It was instinct. Like breathing. Like swinging a blade.
She let the mana flow into her legs—
And the world blurred.
One second she was in the dirt. The next—she exploded forward with inhuman speed, her feet barely touching the ground as she rushed Berserker.
Illya barely had time to react. "Huh—?!"
Shirō closed the distance in a heartbeat, Excalibur raised high.
With a burst of golden energy, she slashed.
The blade howled as it met Berserker's flesh—
And actually pushed him back.
Not much.
Not by a long shot.
But it was something.
Berserker staggered.
It lasted for a fraction of a second, but it happened. Shirō saw it. Felt it. Her strike had done something.
Her heart pounded. Adrenaline coursed through her veins.
This was it. This was the answer.
If she could channel her mana more efficiently, enhance her strikes, reinforce every movement—
She could fight.
Illya, for once, was speechless. "Huh. That's new."
Berserker, of course, was completely unfazed. If anything, he seemed mildly annoyed.
And then he swung at her again.
Shirō had no time to dodge. The backhand caught her in the ribs and sent her flying once more, slamming into the mountainside.
The rock cracked around her. She groaned, shaking off the pain.
Archer, standing a few feet away, watched the whole thing with a neutral expression. "…Well. That was still pathetic."
Shirō growled. "I moved him."
"Barely." Archer crossed his arms. "You're still nowhere near strong enough. But… you are learning."
It was the closest thing to a compliment she was going to get. And, frankly, she'd take it.
[—(/-\)—]
Shirō wiped the sweat from her brow, gripping Excalibur tightly. Her muscles ached, her breath came in ragged gasps, and the mountain air was thick with dust and the scent of destruction. Across from her, Berserker stood like an unshakable force, his crimson eyes burning with rage, his monstrous frame tensed and ready to tear her apart at a moment's notice.
Illya, lounging on a rock with the smuggest expression Shirō had ever seen, clapped her hands. "Oh wow, Big Sister! You're getting better! Now you can almost dodge without looking completely pathetic."
Shirō gritted her teeth. She knew sarcasm when she heard it.
Behind her, Archer stood with his arms crossed, analyzing the battle with his usual detached expression. "We need a plan," he finally said. "If we keep fighting like this, we're going to lose."
"No shit." Shirō wiped more sweat from her forehead.
Archer ignored her. "I'll attack from a distance. You keep him busy."
Shirō blinked at him. "Oh, great plan. Let me just casually distract the walking apocalypse while you do whatever the hell it is you do. That sounds totally fair."
Archer rolled his eyes. "It's not like you have a better idea."
She wanted to argue, but—yeah, she really didn't have a better idea.
"Fine," she muttered. "Just… don't take too long."
Archer gave her a look. "You think I want to be here any longer than necessary?"
Shirō sighed, turning back to Berserker. The giant stood there, waiting. Not because he was merciful—no, Berserker didn't do mercy—but because Illya hadn't given the order to crush her yet.
Illya pouted. "Are you two done strategizing? It won't matter, you know." She tilted her head playfully. "Berserker is invincible. You can run all you want, but you can't hide forever. He will catch you."
Shirō didn't respond. Instead, she lunged forward, Excalibur flashing in the dim light.
She didn't need to win. She just needed to keep him occupied.
Berserker moved.
Faster than any monster of his size should move. His fist came crashing down, and Shirō barely dodged, the impact shaking the ground beneath her. She rolled, kicking off the dirt, and slashed at his side—only for the blade to bounce off his skin harmlessly.
Damn it.
Berserker retaliated instantly. His foot came swinging toward her, and she jumped just in time to avoid being flattened.
Illya giggled. "Come on, Big Sister! You can do better than that!"
Shirō gritted her teeth, adjusting her grip on Excalibur. She focused on dodging, weaving around Berserker's attacks as best as she could. And, honestly—
She was improving.
Kind of.
She could almost dodge his blows now. Almost.
A massive fist grazed her shoulder, sending her tumbling across the dirt.
…Yeah, she still sucked.
Meanwhile, Archer had vanished, presumably preparing whatever ridiculous attack he had in mind.
She really hoped he wasn't just ditching her.
"You better not be running away, you coward!" Shirō yelled.
There was no response.
She barely had time to react before Berserker came at her again. He swung wildly, his sheer force making the air itself feel like it was cracking.
Shirō rolled, jumping backward, trying to buy Archer more time.
Then—
The sky changed.
A red glow bathed the battlefield. The air became thick with something unnatural, something immense. Shirō's instincts screamed at her to move.
And then—
The sky exploded.
A single arrow of pure destruction descended from above.
It wasn't just an attack. It wasn't just a projectile.
It was a statement.
A declaration that the laws of nature did not apply to this battlefield.
Shirō's eyes widened. "Oh shit—"
She ran. Fast.
And Berserker?
He didn't move.
Illya's expression twisted in confusion. "Berserker, dodge—"
The arrow hit.
The world erupted.
A shockwave tore through the mountain, the sheer force of the blast ripping trees from their roots, shattering boulders into dust, and carving a crater into the earth itself. The sound alone was deafening, a thunderous roar that echoed through the valley.
For a few seconds, there was nothing.
No sound. No movement. Just the remnants of destruction settling.
Shirō panted, gripping Excalibur tightly as she looked toward the impact site.
The dust cleared.
And then—
"Berserker!" Illya's scream cut through the silence.
Where Berserker once stood, there was now—
A hole.
A massive, gaping wound in his torso, glowing with residual energy from the attack.
For the first time, Berserker had actually taken damage.
Shirō blinked, then grinned, barely believing what she was seeing. "Holy crap, we got him—"
A familiar voice cut in beside her. "Don't get too excited."
She turned to see Archer standing next to her, arms crossed, as calm as ever.
Shirō raised an eyebrow. "That was insane. What was that?"
Archer didn't answer immediately. Instead, he simply nodded toward Berserker.
Shirō followed his gaze—
And her stomach dropped.
The wound—
It was healing.
Fast.
Too fast.
The gaping hole in Berserker's torso was already closing, his skin regenerating at an impossible rate. The damage Archer had dealt—the wound that should have killed a normal servant—
It was gone.
Shirō felt the blood drain from her face. "…Oh."
Archer sighed. "You forgot, didn't you?"
Shirō swallowed. "I was hoping it wouldn't be true."
Berserker growled. His body tensed. His red eyes burned brighter.
Illya grinned. "That was a nice trick! But it's not enough!"
Archer clicked his tongue. "He still has eleven lives left."
Shirō exhaled sharply. "Right. Right. Eleven more."
She really hated this guy.
Berserker moved.
And Shirō knew there was no way she was dodging this next attack.
"…Let's get out of here, Shirō."
"No kidding."
Without hesitation, they ran.
[—(/-\)—]
TBC