"Archer says the situation with Saber is far too dangerous," Fiore explained, her voice tight. "He wants us to return to the fortress immediately. He suggests your Berserker continue forward to support Saber in our stead."
Technically, Caules and Berserker were the ones originally dispatched to reinforce Saber. Fiore had simply insisted on tagging along. With her Bronze Link Manipulators, she was a formidable magus, fully capable of defending herself.
But against a threat that made even the calm, calculating Chiron urge a retreat? A magus's pride meant nothing.
"I see..." Caules frowned, adjusting his glasses again. He looked at his sister. "Are we falling back, then?"
"I trust Archer's judgment," Fiore said firmly. She wouldn't risk her brother's life out of stubbornness.
Caules nodded in agreement. He turned to his Servant.
"Berserker. Proceed ahead and assist Saber. Can you do that alone?"
"Uuu!"
Fran nodded vigorously, gripping her heavy mace. She didn't hesitate. With a powerful leap, the bride in white vanished into the dark woods, heading straight for the flashes of light in the distance.
With their vanguard deployed, Caules and Fiore turned their backs on the battlefield and began their rapid retreat toward the safety of the Yggdmillennia stronghold.
Neither of them noticed the silent, black shadow that slipped fluidly through the trees just a few meters away, watching them leave before vanishing into the night.
….
"Hah... hah..."
Siegfried's hands trembled slightly. He drove the tip of his greatsword deep into the scorched earth, leaning his weight against the hilt to keep himself upright. He refused to fall to his knees, maintaining his dignified stance despite the overwhelming exhaustion threatening to crush his lungs.
In the hilt of his weapon, a large, blue jewel glowed softly in the darkness.
The ambient mana of the world flowed into the gem, filtering down into Siegfried's depleted Spirit Origin, slowly replenishing the massive reserves he had just burned. Unleashing a Noble Phantasm of that scale took a heavy toll.
He looked up, scanning the devastation.
The land before him had been wiped clean. The grass, the trees, the rocks, everything had been vaporized by Balmung's twilight wave. The air smelled of ozone and burned soil.
There was no sign of the black-cloaked figure.
Is it over?
Siegfried took a deep, steadying breath, pulling his sword from the dirt. He didn't sheathe it. His instincts, honed by a lifetime of slaying dragons and surviving betrayals, screamed at him to stay vigilant.
He replayed the clash in his mind.
Because they had fought at such close quarters, he was absolutely certain of one thing: his opponent was not a Servant. There was no ethereal signature. It was a physical, material entity.
A living being had matched the raw strength of a Heroic Spirit parry for parry.
But what disturbed him more was the nature of the fight. The enemy hadn't been fighting to win. They hadn't been fighting to kill. It was as if he had been sparring against a flawless, emotionless wall.
She wasn't defeated by Balmung, his warrior's intuition told him.
A full minute passed. The wind howled across the barren crater. Nothing moved.
Did she retreat? Even the cautious Dragon Slayer began to wonder if the enemy had used the blast as cover to escape.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, a sharp, slicing sound tore through the air directly behind his neck.
There was no battle cry. No surge of mana. Just the silent, lethal displacement of air.
Before Siegfried could even attempt to pivot his heavy sword to block, a sonic boom cracked the sky.
BOOM!
For the second time that night, an arrow from Chiron struck with impeccable timing. The supersonic projectile slammed into the exact space behind Siegfried's back, exploding with concussive force.
Archer!
Recognizing his ally's covering fire, Siegfried didn't hesitate. Instead of fighting the shockwave of the arrow's impact, he rode it, letting the blast propel him forward and away from the ambush point.
Mid-air, he twisted his body, bringing his greatsword around to face the threat he was sure the arrow had staggered.
But as the dust from the arrow's impact cleared, Siegfried's eyes widened in sheer horror.
There was no staggered enemy. There was no wounded mage.
The jagged, purple blade of Pseudo-Sandalphon was already inches from his face.
Behind the blade was the petite figure in the black cloak. She was completely, utterly unharmed. Balmung had engulfed her. A supersonic arrow had exploded at her feet. Yet, there wasn't a single tear in her cloak, nor a single speck of dust on her form.
….
Somewhere, in a place completely disconnected from the known world.
There was nothing but white. There were no walls, no ceiling, and no horizon. Looking in any direction yielded the exact same result: an endless, uniform, blindingly pure expanse of white. It was a space utterly devoid of features, lacking shadows, echoes, or the passage of time. A true, perfect void.
In the middle of this vast emptiness, a single splash of color stood out.
It was a woman with smooth, flowing green hair, dressed in a long green tunic. She lay face down on the featureless white floor. Her chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, and her eyes were closed. She looked completely undisturbed, like a sleeping beauty trapped in a dream.
A few dozen yards away, the perfect white canvas was suddenly broken.
A swirling mass of golden energy materialized out of nowhere. In less than a second, it stabilized into a glowing, rectangular doorway hovering parallel to the floor, about four meters in the air.
Then, a heavy, round object tumbled out of it.
"WAAAAAAAH!!!"
THUD!
"Guh... ssss..."
Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia hit the ground hard. Fortunately for the portly mage, his substantial layer of body fat acted as an excellent cushion. Despite falling from a height of over a dozen feet, he avoided breaking any bones. He groaned, sitting up and rubbing his bruised backside, wincing in pain.
As soon as he was expelled, the golden portal snapped shut, vanishing without a trace.
The silence rushed back in, heavy and absolute.
"Where... where am I?"
Gordes looked around, his heart hammering against his ribs. The infinite white expanse stretched out forever. There were no landmarks, no doors, no sky. The sheer emptiness of the space pressed down on him, triggering a deep, primal claustrophobia despite the lack of walls.
Panic threatened to choke him. How did he end up here?
He forced his trembling hands into his lap and tried to piece together his fractured memories. He remembered the dark highway. He remembered the cold, synthetic blade pressing against his neck. The tiny, black-cloaked girl had held him hostage, using his life as leverage.
….
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