Berserker was a terrifying monster.
The mont Assassin laid eyes on him, he knew it.
He wore half-body leather armor that seed to steam with black mist, and his bare chest was covered in crimson runes. Around his neck was a shawl as bright red as blood-soaked thorns, and beneath it was a cape inscribed with dark red runes. Sharp, thorn-like protrusions jutted from his wrists, like organs specifically evolved for slaughter, unique to beasts of legend.
And behind him, a massive tail that should never have been on a human swayed back and forth. The crimson, sharp spike extending from its tip was like a spearhead, a truly lethal weapon in human form.
The re sight of him sent a terrifying, suffocatingly bloody aura washing over you.
This was clearly not a character he could handle on his own.
Assassin, whose own paraters were completely crushed by Berserker's, chose to retreat the instant he heard Emiya Kiritsugu's command, fleeing without a second glance. On their side, the only one who could face Berserker was Lancer, the son of the Sun God.
But sotis, running away was not an easy task.
With his Agility at rank C, his escape speed was a bit too slow for Berserker's A rank.
"Heh heh, you dare to provoke , yet you won't fight . You even want to avoid battle by running away."
"You in red, don't you think you're being a little too optimistic?"
A voice reeking of blood, like the grinding of rusted iron plates, ca from the distance, grating on Assassin's nerves.
And then ca the terrifying sound of the very atmosphere being torn asunder.
The man with a savage, beast-like grin channeled power into the torture instrunt-like spear in his hand and threw it. It was not the causality-reversing demonic spear, but simply a thrown weapon imbued with imnse force, launched without even much magical enhancent.
It was plain and simple.
If you ignored its speed and the strength of the arm that threw it.
But the speed of this thrown spear and the power of its master's arm were clearly not things that could be ignored.
The demonic spear, enhanced by imnse force, was like the deadliest of vipers. It accurately and venomously struck the abdon of the Assassin who was attempting to flee the battlefield.
The dull thud of flesh being torn echoed in the air. Assassin's leaping body was like a swallow shot in the gut by a shotgun. The piercing attack, like the Impaling Prince's Noble Phantasm, Kazikli Bey, struck him from below as he soared through the air, knocking him directly out of the sky.
Afterward, the crimson demonic spear, as if it had a life of its own, returned to Berserker's hand.
"You bastard..."
The red-clothed youth clutched his pierced abdon, struggling to adjust his posture in mid-air, barely managing a stable landing. Profuse blood seeped from between his fingers, soaking the dark red Holy Shroud.
In the ti it took him to land, the man who had retrieved his spear had closed the distance of several kiloters, appearing less than five hundred ters from Assassin as silently as a predator in a jungle or forest.
Assassin could even sll the faint scent of blood on him.
This man was nothing like a hero; he was more like a ferocious beast lurking in the jungle or the desert. A bloodthirsty beast that ground its teeth and sucked blood, killing without a second thought.
Assassin was certain of this. Although he didn't know who Berserker was, he was sure this was the berserk state of so great hero.
He gave a bitter smile and asked his adoptive father via telepathy.
"What are Berserker's weak stats?"
Because his class was Assassin, his already not-so-high stats had taken a hit. Fortunately, Assassin had made his na with a bootleg Gate of Babylon. As long as the stat reduction wasn't too severe, the impact wasn't that great. As long as he targeted the enemy's weakness, projected a countering Noble Phantasm to stall for ti, and fought while retreating, it wouldn't be difficult to find a chance to escape.
But in the next mont, Emiya Kiritsugu's voice made his expression freeze.
"Run! That's not an opponent you can deal with through brute force! If you fight him, you will absolutely die!!"
"Don't even think about running... you fool. If you don't die, you'll ruin my perfect victory record."
The terrifyingly ferocious beast gripped its demonic spear and slowly closed in on Assassin.
In the next mont, the muscles in Berserker's spear-wielding arm suddenly bulged, and the demonic spear "Gáe Bolg" transford into a streak of red light.
Assassin instinctively leaped to the side, barely dodging the unannounced surprise attack, his posture ragged.
But before he could even steady himself, he suddenly felt his vision go dark, as if the light from the streetlamps had been blocked by sothing. He looked up in a daze and found that the man who had been dozens of ters away just monts ago had appeared before him without a sound.
In the next instant, the demonic spear, like a blood-soaked thorn branch, whipped violently towards Assassin's chest.
Without a doubt, if he was hit in the gut by this spear covered in spikes, he would be gravely injured.
Assassin, whose skills in magecraft were honestly not outstanding, but whose prowess in Projection Magecraft was formidable to an extre, silently recited an incantation in his mind.
In Assassin's hands, two flashes of light appeared. A pair of black and white short swords materialized and, at the last possible mont, parried the demonic spear's strike. But the blow was still too ferocious. The difference in Strength sent him sliding back over a ter, his entire arm numb.
While his arm was paralyzed, Berserker once again took a step forward and arrived in front of him.
I have to stop his next move, or I'll die!!
With this thought, Assassin suddenly projected dozens of sharp swords and hurled them viciously towards Berserker.
At this range, even the most agile Lancer of the Three Knight classes would have difficulty dodging so many attacks and would be forced to retreat to protect themselves.
But Berserker did not retreat. He simply continued forward.
To Assassin's disbelieving eyes, Berserker just casually swayed his body, and the sharp blades flying towards him, without exception, all grazed past his sides.
Protection from Arrows: A defense against projectiles. An ability Cú Chulainn possessed innately. It was said that as long as he could visually confirm the attack, he could evade any ranged attack, no matter how distant, even if it was a Noble Phantasm. Unless the opponent's thrown weapon was a wide-area type that exploded on impact, it could not harm him in the slightest.
Berserker, having easily dodged the Noble Phantasms projected by Assassin, simply clenched his fist and struck. Berserker's rapid straight punch whipped up a storm, smashing into Assassin's abdon like a battering ram.
Assassin's body tumbled across the ground, bouncing like a skipping stone, before crashing into the outer wall of a house, shattering it to pieces.
Berserker then raised the spear in his hand, pointing it at the red-clothed man who had been royally screwed by his class container, preparing to deliver the final blow.
Then, a remarkably cold voice sounded from the other side.
"My Master does not wish for Assassin to die here. So, let's end it here, Berserker."
Berserker, who was preparing to finish off Assassin, frowned slightly and then looked towards the source of the voice.
The newcor was a handso man with a cold expression and sharp eyes. His untad hair was a translucent, pure white. His gaze was as sharp as a polished blade, and the red stone embedded in his exposed chest shone in harmony, brewing a lustrous color.
But what was most striking was the golden armor that seed less to be worn and more to be one with his flesh, radiating a divine light. Every part was so beautiful, yet when combined, it gave off an endless sense of danger.
A very strong enemy.
Berserker's grin grew even more manic as he vaguely sensed an aura from the opponent that shared the sa origin as his own, yet was of a slightly higher caliber.
This was an enemy, not rely prey.
"And what if I say no?" the Berserker asked the man holding a gorgeously ornate spear taller than himself, his voice laced with clear provocation.
He did not enjoy battle, nor did he enjoy slaughter, but he relished the victory of crushing a strong enemy. That was the aning of his existence.
"Then I will crush you," the son of the Sun God, possessing a dual class, said to the warrior who shared a similar divinity but was far more frenzied.
Crush ?
"If you can do it, then try!!"
Hearing these words, the crimson in Berserker's eyes grew deeper, and an unprecedented madness appeared on his face. The blackish-red evil energy on the spear in his hand intensified, its murderous intent erupting without reservation.
Seeing this, the warrior who could for the ti being be called Lancer ignited his own spear with a brilliant golden light. Dazzling, brilliant, and incomparably glorious flas began to rise, the extre temperature distorting the very air around them.
"CLANG—!"
With a deafening crash, the divine spear, radiating heat, clashed with the blackened demonic spear.
Without the need for further words, the battle between the Lancer and the Berserker began.
Author's Note:
PS1: I feel like I've forgotten how to write battle scenes (gazes at the sky)
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