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[Chat]: "Daisy! I'm very disappointed in you!"
[Comparison]: "Look at The Professor over there! That's the confidence of an OG gamer! Now look at you!"
[Pervert]: "Wait, maybe Daisy is trying to give us some fan service? I haven't seen Elizabeth's 'Battle Damaged' skin yet. I'm definitely taking screenshots this time."
[Freeloader]: "Hold on, this game is free to play? They're really spoiling you guys."
[Strategist]: "Why even fight? Wouldn't it be smarter if everyone just scattered in four different directions? Whoever dies, dies. Why willingly fight a Raid Boss like Lu Bu?"
[Realist]: "Well said, genius. But what happens if Lu Bu decides you're his new Master?"
[Theorist]: "Just imagine—Lu Bu is already this strong. If he had a competent Master backing him up, he'd win 100% of the time. No question."
[Gambler]: "Professor! Stay strong! I put thirty million on you to win this! If you lose, you owe me!"
[Debtor]: "Owe you? I'll owe you an egg!"
[Comedian]: "Just kidding. I won't even give you the egg."
Amidst the absolute chaos erupting in the chat, Nero successfully deployed her Golden Theater.
CLANG!
The sound echoed across the battlefield like a church bell announcing judgment day.
The burning city of Rome manifested directly over the modern cityscape, ancient marble columns and golden architecture overlaying the contemporary buildings in an impossible fusion of past and present. The oppressive weight crushing down on the allied team lifted instantly, replaced by something almost... breathable.
Inside the theater's boundaries, Nero's stats received a significant boost—her Strength climbing even higher, her speed increasing, her magical energy reserves replenishing. Meanwhile, Lu Bu found himself under the effect of multiple debuffs, his overwhelming parameters being dragged down toward something closer to mortal limits.
However.
However.
The debuff was limited at best. Lu Bu's halberd was still utterly terrifying, his movements still faster than most Servants could track, his raw power still capable of pulverizing concrete and steel with casual swings.
The only reason Nero and Elizabeth were still breathing—still functional—was because Darius III was there to face-tank the heaviest hits. The giant Persian king absorbed blow after devastating blow, his massive frame serving as the meat shield that kept the squishier damage dealers alive.
Without Darius? Nero and Elizabeth would have been turned into paste within the first three minutes of this fight.
Seeing the golden arena fully form around them, Elizabeth whipped around to face Daisy, her idol costume torn and bloodied, her expression desperate.
"Little Piggy!" Elizabeth shouted, her voice cracking. "Hurry up! We need more firepower!"
"Okay!" Daisy nodded frantically, raising her hand as the Command Spell markings began to glow with brilliant red light. "By the authority of the Command Spell! Release your Noble Phantasm, Lancer! Give it everything you've got!"
"Finally!" Elizabeth struck a dramatic pose despite her injuries, her microphone-spear crackling with dark energy. "This is a prison city soaked in innocent blood! A dungeon of absolute despair from which there is no escape! Witness the horror of Báthory Erzsébet!"
A massive, gothic castle slammed down onto the golden theater like a guillotine blade, dark stone walls erupting from the ground and piercing through the Roman architecture. Where Nero's theater was all gold and grandeur, Elizabeth's prison was iron bars and blood-stained stone.
If Nero's Golden Theater was a buff/debuff combo—enhancing allies while weakening enemies—then adding Elizabeth's Prison City on top of it created a double-stack effect that amplified both aspects exponentially.
It wasn't just 2+2.
It was more like 2 squared.
Under this massive double-layer debuff, Lu Bu's godlike speed finally slowed down to something approaching merely superhuman rather than literally impossible. His overwhelming aura dimmed just slightly. His movements, while still deadly, became at least trackable to the other Servants.
Nero and the others could finally breathe a little easier.
But only a little.
Because here's the thing about Lu Bu: he didn't rely on "Mystery." He didn't rely on "Magic" or conceptual advantages or legendary gimmicks.
He relied on pure, unadulterated, refined-to-perfection violence.
Even with three Heroic Spirits going all-out, pushing their Noble Phantasms to the limit, using every trick in their arsenal... the battle raging in the streets below was still a 70-30 split.
You might ask: "Wait, why is the win rate only 70%?"
Oh, no. You misunderstand.
Lu Bu has the 70%.
The allied team's remaining 30% chance of victory depends entirely on Lu Bu's mood.
While the titans clashed below in a cacophony of steel and magic, The Professor quietly raised his gun.
He aimed it directly at the back of Edison's lion head.
"Professor!" Daisy gasped, her eyes going wide. "What are you doing?!"
"Professor?" The man blinked, as if suddenly remembering his new identity. "Oh, right. I'm The Professor now." He adjusted his grip on the weapon, his expression eerily calm. "I'm just... negotiating. That's all."
"Professor, calm down!" Wayne waved his hands frantically, his face pale. "It's me! Wayne! This is my Servant! We're allies here! Don't start a civil war!"
"I am calm," The Professor said, his voice steady as stone. "I don't intend to shoot. I just intend to renegotiate our contract with Mr. Edison here."
See, before—when the situation had been critical and their backs were against the wall—Edison had leveraged their desperation to extort them. The Professor had swallowed his pride, accepted the terms, and played along.
But now?
Now the tables had turned.
Edison was the one with the highest aggro rating. He and Wayne were Lu Bu's prime targets—the ones who'd tried to exploit his Master as a weakness. The leverage had completely shifted from one side to the other.
"Master Professor," Edison said slowly, not turning around, his voice carefully controlled. "I suggest you calm down. I am a Servant. Your bullet might not even penetrate my fur, but I promise you—my fist will take your head clean off your shoulders."
"I know," The Professor shrugged with infuriating casualness. "This gun isn't a real threat. It's just here to demonstrate my resolve. I want to renegotiate our deal."
Edison's ears twitched slightly—the only sign of his irritation. "Of course. As a businessman, I never refuse an opportunity to negotiate."
"Excellent," The Professor's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Earlier, you promised to restrain the 'big guy' if we paid you a Command Spell. You failed. Spectacularly. Instead of restraining him, you actually made things worse by provoking him into killing his Master and going completely berserk. Our Servants are now in mortal danger because of your incompetence. So now, I demand compensation. You give us one Command Spell each. Otherwise..." He paused meaningfully. "Otherwise, I'll tell our Servants to stop defending you entirely and let Lu Bu eat you first. See how long you last."
"You're extorting me!" Edison roared, his composure finally cracking.
"Yes," The Professor agreed cheerfully. "I absolutely am. So—are you paying, or not?"
Down in the chat, the viewers were eating this up.
[Cool]: Professor is an absolute SAVAGE! Holy shit!
[Suspicious]: There's no way The Professor is actually this cool. Has to be an imposter.
[Satisfying]: FINALLY! I hated that lion's smug attitude. Get his ass, Professor!
[Sympathy]: Kinda feel bad for Wayne caught in the middle though.
[Betting]: How much money did you lose betting on Wayne?
[Irony]: Using pure capitalism against the capitalist himself. Chef's kiss.
It was, in the end, a classic flaw inherent to all capitalists: they fear death far more than they fear poverty.
Seeing The Professor's "dead pig doesn't fear boiling water" attitude—that complete willingness to go down with the ship if necessary—Edison caved almost immediately.
"Fine! Fine! Don't get excited!" Edison raised both paws in surrender, his tail tucking slightly. "It's not that I don't want to pay compensation. The issue is that my Master only has one Command Spell left. So here's what I propose—I give you that one remaining spell, and the three of you share it. Split it however you want. Fair?"
It was a brilliant move, actually. A classic "Two Peaches Kill Three Warriors" scheme straight out of ancient strategy manuals. He was trying to make them fight amongst themselves over the limited reward, sowing discord and turning allies into competitors.
But Edison forgot one critical thing:
These weren't random mages thrown together by circumstance, fighting over a Holy Grail with incompatible wishes.
These were gaming buddies.
Before any argument could even start, The Professor lowered his gun entirely.
"Wayne took care of me when the server crashed during that raid," The Professor said simply, his voice carrying genuine warmth. "He had my back when I needed it. I don't need the Command Spell. Wayne, you keep it. Or give it to Daisy if you want."
"Professor!" Wayne's eyes actually welled up with tears. He lunged forward and pulled The Professor into a bear hug, his hands trying to knead his friend's belly in gratitude—though unfortunately, Emiya Kiritsugu's abs were far too rock-hard to squish properly. "You're the best, man!"
Edison blinked, his lion face scrunching up in complete confusion.
Where was the greed? Where was the backstabbing? Where was the inevitable betrayal over limited resources?
Before he could process this unexpected display of actual friendship, Maverick stepped forward as well.
"Yeah, I don't need it either," Maverick said casually, waving one hand dismissively. "Daisy, you take it. You'll make better use of it anyway."
"Really?" Daisy's eyes absolutely sparkled, her expression lighting up like Christmas morning.
"Really," Maverick grinned, and there was something almost mischievous in his expression. "Besides, I just wanted to watch the Lion squirm. That was payment enough."
"..."
Edison's silence was absolutely deafening.
His lion face cycled through several expressions—confusion, frustration, disbelief, and finally resigned acceptance.
Before Edison could try another stalling tactic or attempt to weasel out of the agreement, Wayne immediately transferred his last remaining Command Spell to Daisy without hesitation, the magical circuit flowing from his hand to hers in a brief flash of red light.
The transaction was complete.
Mission accomplished.
Only Edison was hurt in this exchange.
The lion-man squatted down on the ground, holding his head in both paws like someone who'd just watched their stock portfolio tank, and began drawing angry little circles of curses on the concrete floor with one claw.
Just as Edison wallowed in his capitalist despair, something changed.
A shadow fell over the entire group.
The flickering spotlight illuminating the stairwell suddenly dimmed, then died entirely.
A presence—heavy, oppressive, wrong—settled over them like a wet blanket.
A demon-like smile appeared in the darkness, teeth gleaming white against the shadows.
Lu Bu emerged from the stairwell, his massive frame filling the entire doorway. He was covered head to toe in blood and dust, his armor dented and scorched, his halberd still dripping with fresh crimson. But his eyes—those eyes burned with an intensity that made everyone's blood run cold.
He loomed over them like death itself given physical form.
"My mana," Lu Bu rumbled, his voice like grinding gears and distant thunder, "is running a bit low."
He took one step forward, his boots cracking the concrete beneath him.
His burning gaze swept across the four Masters standing before him—Maverick, Daisy, The Professor, Wayne—assessing each one like a predator evaluating prey.
Then that terrible smile widened.
"So tell me..." Lu Bu's voice dropped to something almost conversational, which somehow made it even more terrifying. "Which one of you... is willing to become my new Master?"
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