Illya stared at Rowan like she was looking at something that shouldn't exist.
"Who is he?" she demanded. "He stopped Heracles barehanded. He isn't even a Servant!"
From the moment they met, she had already noticed that Saber's Master was no longer Shirou.
That didn't matter.
Shirou was her target.
What shattered her expectations was this unknown man who reacted faster than a Heroic Spirit and intercepted Heracles without a weapon.
Illya snapped her fingers.
"Again."
Heracles roared and surged forward.
The first strike had barely been serious. Illya had absolute faith in her Servant.
Heracles was the son of Zeus.
A monster among monsters.
She also possessed enormous magical reserves of her own.
If these people wanted to protect Shirou, then fine.
She would erase them all.
That was how the Grail War worked.
Artoria stepped in without hesitation, Invisible Air colliding with Heracles' axe in a deafening crash.
"Let us settle this one-on-one," she declared.
Rowan glanced at her.
Then nodded.
"Go ahead."
If he intervened, the fight would end instantly.
But letting Artoria handle it served two purposes.
He could observe Heracles' abilities.
And he could finally see Excalibur's true power when unleashed.
"This place isn't suitable," Rowan added. "I'll give you a better stage."
He tapped the ground lightly with his foot.
Concrete liquefied into something reflective, like liquid glass.
The world inverted.
Up became down.
Left became right.
Tombstones reversed their inscriptions.
No one had moved.
Yet everything felt wrong.
"You're inside a mirror space," Rowan said. "Break the city if you want. Nothing here touches the real world."
With another casual gesture, a plush sofa appeared behind him.
Two small tables followed.
Tea.
Snacks.
Fruit.
Rowan dropped onto the couch.
"Come on. Sit. Watching is more comfortable than standing."
Rin, Shirou, and Illya all stared.
Rowan waved at them.
"You too, kid. This won't be over quickly."
Shirou scratched his head, uneasy.
"Isn't this… kind of inappropriate? Saber is fighting for her life out there."
"You'd just get in the way," Rin said flatly, pushing him down onto the sofa.
She sat beside him.
Behind her, Archer vanished in a blur.
She trusted Artoria.
She trusted Rowan.
But insurance was insurance.
If Saber faltered, Archer would provide support immediately.
Fair fights were for knights.
Rin wasn't one.
Illya tried several spells.
None pierced the mirror space.
After a moment, she walked over and sat down as well.
Her logic was simple.
If Heracles won, she would kill everyone.
If Heracles lost, she would seize the strange mage beside her and force him to release the spell.
Either way, staying close was optimal.
There was also another reason.
The word "sister" had ignited her fury.
But after cooling down, something else lingered.
Curiosity.
She wanted to see what kind of person Shirou Emiya was.
The boy her father chose.
So the strangest viewing party imaginable formed.
Rowan.
Rin.
Shirou.
Illya.
All seated in a row.
Watching gods collide.
The battlefield shook.
Both combatants were at their peaks.
Artoria, restored by Rowan.
Heracles, empowered by Illya's vast reserves.
In raw strength, Artoria was inferior.
Heracles was a demigod.
But Artoria reinforced her body and blade with mana, possessed razor-sharp instincts, and wielded supreme swordsmanship.
They met head-on.
And neither yielded.
Sword and axe clashed again and again.
Shockwaves ripped craters into the ground.
"This isn't right!" Rin slammed the table.
"Berserkers aren't supposed to fight like that!"
Berserker-class Servants were normally mindless.
Powerful.
Simple.
Most lost access to refined techniques.
Yet Heracles moved with terrifying precision.
Artoria feinted.
Heracles dropped his axe mid-swing and leaned back, dodging a decapitation strike by a hair's breadth.
Illya sipped her tea smugly.
"He's the strongest Heroic Spirit."
"Even madness can't erase battle instinct."
She didn't name him.
She didn't need to.
Let them feel the pressure.
Artoria exhaled slowly.
Pure swordplay wouldn't be enough.
"Invisible Air."
The wind coiling around her blade shifted.
Instead of hiding the sword, the compressed air surged forward with the thrust.
A massive invisible impact slammed into Heracles' chest.
The demigod flew backward, tearing a trench through the ground.
Artoria was already moving.
She closed the distance.
Blade rising.
"One strike," she whispered.
She brought the sword down toward his neck.Illya stared at Rowan like she was looking at something that shouldn't exist.
"Who is he?" she demanded. "He stopped Heracles barehanded. He isn't even a Servant!"
From the moment they met, she had already noticed that Saber's Master was no longer Shirou.
That didn't matter.
Shirou was her target.
What shattered her expectations was this unknown man who reacted faster than a Heroic Spirit and intercepted Heracles without a weapon.
Illya snapped her fingers.
"Again."
Heracles roared and surged forward.
The first strike had barely been serious. Illya had absolute faith in her Servant.
Heracles was the son of Zeus.
A monster among monsters.
She also possessed enormous magical reserves of her own.
If these people wanted to protect Shirou, then fine.
She would erase them all.
That was how the Grail War worked.
Artoria stepped in without hesitation, Invisible Air colliding with Heracles' axe in a deafening crash.
"Let us settle this one-on-one," she declared.
Rowan glanced at her.
Then nodded.
"Go ahead."
If he intervened, the fight would end instantly.
But letting Artoria handle it served two purposes.
He could observe Heracles' abilities.
And he could finally see Excalibur's true power when unleashed.
"This place isn't suitable," Rowan added. "I'll give you a better stage."
He tapped the ground lightly with his foot.
Concrete liquefied into something reflective, like liquid glass.
The world inverted.
Up became down.
Left became right.
Tombstones reversed their inscriptions.
No one had moved.
Yet everything felt wrong.
"You're inside a mirror space," Rowan said. "Break the city if you want. Nothing here touches the real world."
With another casual gesture, a plush sofa appeared behind him.
Two small tables followed.
Tea.
Snacks.
Fruit.
Rowan dropped onto the couch.
"Come on. Sit. Watching is more comfortable than standing."
Rin, Shirou, and Illya all stared.
Rowan waved at them.
"You too, kid. This won't be over quickly."
Shirou scratched his head, uneasy.
"Isn't this… kind of inappropriate? Saber is fighting for her life out there."
"You'd just get in the way," Rin said flatly, pushing him down onto the sofa.
She sat beside him.
Behind her, Archer vanished in a blur.
She trusted Artoria.
She trusted Rowan.
But insurance was insurance.
If Saber faltered, Archer would provide support immediately.
Fair fights were for knights.
Rin wasn't one.
Illya tried several spells.
None pierced the mirror space.
After a moment, she walked over and sat down as well.
Her logic was simple.
If Heracles won, she would kill everyone.
If Heracles lost, she would seize the strange mage beside her and force him to release the spell.
Either way, staying close was optimal.
There was also another reason.
The word "sister" had ignited her fury.
But after cooling down, something else lingered.
Curiosity.
She wanted to see what kind of person Shirou Emiya was.
The boy her father chose.
So the strangest viewing party imaginable formed.
Rowan.
Rin.
Shirou.
Illya.
All seated in a row.
Watching gods collide.
The battlefield shook.
Both combatants were at their peaks.
Artoria, restored by Rowan.
Heracles, empowered by Illya's vast reserves.
In raw strength, Artoria was inferior.
Heracles was a demigod.
But Artoria reinforced her body and blade with mana, possessed razor-sharp instincts, and wielded supreme swordsmanship.
They met head-on.
And neither yielded.
Sword and axe clashed again and again.
Shockwaves ripped craters into the ground.
"This isn't right!" Rin slammed the table.
"Berserkers aren't supposed to fight like that!"
Berserker-class Servants were normally mindless.
Powerful.
Simple.
Most lost access to refined techniques.
Yet Heracles moved with terrifying precision.
Artoria feinted.
Heracles dropped his axe mid-swing and leaned back, dodging a decapitation strike by a hair's breadth.
Illya sipped her tea smugly.
"He's the strongest Heroic Spirit."
"Even madness can't erase battle instinct."
She didn't name him.
She didn't need to.
Let them feel the pressure.
Artoria exhaled slowly.
Pure swordplay wouldn't be enough.
"Invisible Air."
The wind coiling around her blade shifted.
Instead of hiding the sword, the compressed air surged forward with the thrust.
A massive invisible impact slammed into Heracles' chest.
The demigod flew backward, tearing a trench through the ground.
Artoria was already moving.
She closed the distance.
Blade rising.
"One strike," she whispered.
She brought the sword down toward his neck.