Merry Christmas or happy holidays everybody!

Disclaimer: first chapter

Chapter 2: Echoes of Steel

Archer, the man in red, drew his weapons. From what the newly minted Master could tell, they weren't the ones he used in the fight with the spearman. A pair of western longswords, the typical cross-like image simulated by the placement of the guard, shimmered into his empty hands. Without fail, his eyes scanned the weapon seemingly mass-produced from thin air.

They were mundane weapons unlike the ones he saw before. Ordinary. Made with no meaning behind them other than fulfilling the purpose they were meant for: battle. They didn't ascend to what the young Master's father referred to as Noble Phantasms. The "Crystallized mysteries", powerful armaments relying on the belief of man, that Servants equipped themselves with.

A Servant had no use for the mundane. Not when they had their own weapons immortalized in legend, and as such reaped the benefits of any deviation or embezzlement it received that became truth in the hearts of men. And while the previous pair of swords lacked purpose as well, they were exquisitely made. He wanted them.

But he could not get the complete blueprint. He had its concept of creation. The basic structure, composition material, and the skill of its making were processed. Imitating the skill of its making was another in the checklist to clear. Steps five through seven weren't completed when Lancer chased him down.

A silent curse racked inside his brain. He needed to be faster in completing the blueprints. A single gaze should be enough to grasp it. Compression of the information as well as finely interpreting the later steps quickly is a must to reach the next stage of his Magecraft.

"You look like you've got something to say, enemy Master." Archer spoke gruffly while dropping his stance.

The young Master, broken out of his thoughts, answered with a question, "What happened to your other swords?"

Shirou caught the slight frown on the man's face. "Funny how you say those are mine… these hands will never hold anything." The redhead caught on to the bitterness in the man's voice. It sent chills down the young man's spine. His Circuits flickered open, ready to fire on command upon hearing his words. "But… those swords are ready and waiting at my beck and call, if you must know. No true warrior is without a backup weapon." Both Masters were enlightened by the response. Archer had more armaments hidden away, and willing gave that information away like charity.

"Master! Now is not the time for conversation. We waste the hours of Morpheus' influence with the blather of that vagabond." Saber chided Shirou while protectively standing before his Master. The false blade reforged in Saber's hands bared its gleaming edges.

Swords raised in both hands, Archer returned to his stance. The bowman was impressed if the smug look was anything to go by. But there was an undeniable tension in the stance he deployed. Aside from the obvious openings, Shirou found a bit of rigidity in the posture. At least that's what it felt to him, looking at that man, who clearly searched for a route to engage in combat.

In response, Saber was inched towards the direction of Archer's gaze. The false blade in hand prepared to spill blood upon its maker's home. The swordsman's Master drew his own. And while he was hesitant in using them, he needed to judge for himself how incomplete his creation was.

"Trace… On!" In his hands, Archer's exquisite pair of the Chinese Dao he saw earlier tonight were remade. They were complete only in appearance, but if he wanted to get anything done, he needed to innovate a little. Saber quickly glanced over to look at his foolish Master. But Shirou could only focus on the silhouette blotting the night sky. With Reinforcement deployed into his limbs, he leaped towards the descending Archer with blades drawn.

The dual wielders clashed. Steel crashed into another. They scraped their opponents, sending sparks and screeches into the silent night. But unfortunately for the redhead, the Servant easily overpowered him. Shirou's blades cracked upon impact, giving Archer's pair a resting place to slice into. The young Master immediately lowered his head once he understood the arc of the Servant's swing against his pitiful creations meant that he'd lack a head.

Driving his head down sent him diving to the ground. Without a waste of energy or movement, he rolled as he landed, as one would expect from one trained by an assassin. "Saber! I'll leave Archer in your care." He said before making space away from him and the so-called bowman.

Said bowman threw one of his swords at the redhead with speed and accuracy befitting the class. Fortunately for Shirou, his Servant was prepared to defend him in time. A quick berating came from the Heroic Spirit, but Shirou could hardly pay attention to his wisdom in this situation. With their backs to each other, Shirou and Saber stared at their respective opponents.

Shirou observed the mage, Rin Tohsaka, in front of him. She neither erected a battle stance, nor scanned the area for an escape. She just stood there with confidence. As a mage typically did against an inferior opponent.

That only eased the young Master's mind. His training taught him that tactics trumped over the arrogance of one's own raw power. That complacency or hubris in their strength would be their downfall should they underestimate him. Quickly, he formulated a plan in his head.

Frame: Consecutive projections.

Placement variations: Vanguard, Suspension, Eruption, or Flank

Exterior factors: Night, Clear skies, Opponent offensive capabilities halved, Unknown opponent fighting style

Interior factors: Blunt force trauma to abdomen - regional bruising, Personal offensive capabilities halved, Feasible application of Frame amount: 2 at max when utilizing a max of six consecutive projections

Equipment selecti-

Rin charged without warning. Imbued with reinforced limbs, she closed the large gap between her and her opponent in the blink of an eye. Shirou had to commend the lady's straightforward approach. He hardly expected immediate devolution into close-combat. Last he heard of magi, a rise in martial-arts classes were under implementation at the infamous Clock Tower; however, ranged combat was still favorable.

And the form she adopted was of a rigid and distinguishable eastern make. With a quick analysis courtesy of the knowledge imparted by his late father, he deduced. 'Style deployed: Baji Quan. Move selected: Lunging type, Shang Bu Zhuang Quan. Right fist approaching-'

At that moment, the pacifist named Shirou Emiya regressed into the deep recesses of his own mind. Experience, honed over the years, triggered the mind to release all the downloaded experiences of both personal and imported memories for the sake of preserving the individual.

Instinctively, Shirou parried the strike to his right. The sound reminiscent of a firearm discharge exploded by his ear as the air displaced by his opponent's strike pounded against his eardrums. But the pain was a momentary inconvenience for his counterstrike. The maneuver exposed the girl's back. A quick projection of a simple butterfly knife appeared in his right hand. Rising in an upward arc to reach overhead, the projected knife aimed to drive into his opponent's right hamstrings.

The Tohsaka could barely register the counter to her strike; he could see the bewilderment well on her face. Though, it lasted not long. Her confusion was replaced by clarity. By a mind that knew of her situation at that very moment. That her opponent was no mere nobody in this unnatural Holy Grail War. In that brief exchange, she followed through with the motion and fully capitalized on her repositioning. Her form lowered, she swung her left leg back, skimming the ground with her shoes. Reinforced, the extended limb arced in the direction of Shirou's ankles.

The redhead dropped his projection, and instinctively flipped over the low attack. His hand free to do anything reached for the maiden's shoulders. With a viselike grip and momentum on his side, he threw her to the wall. She skidded a few times to slow herself; however, she rolled in the dirt for she was unable to recover.

With distance reestablished, he refined his battle plans whilst projecting a pair of butterfly knives yet again. Cost effective, they truly were, and it was with these knives' experiences that he could even move in for a debilitating strike. He wanted Rin Tohsaka to live, even if it meant she was wounded enough to be out of commission for the duration of the war. A few muscle groups, a tendon, and or other means could be used to keep her out of the fight.

She'd be saved from the aberrant force inside that blackened Grail.

But she didn't see it that way. Her hand aimed for his head. She saw the boon in the gap he made now that her surprise close-quarters attack utterly failed. Shirou effectively knew that the upcoming attack was a ranged one. He couldn't ignore the Prana that flowed to her hand. If he were to dumb it down, she was in the middle of reloading a nonexistent gun.

And fire! Black orbs streaked towards him. He calmly readied several blueprints as he ducked and weaved under magical fire.

"When under enemy fire, if you feel confident enough, you can easily avoid the incoming shots. Just remember-"

'Never let yourself stare directly at where they point.' The redhead completed the sentence once said by his father. With each seamless evasion that even professional boxers would be challenged to perform, he closed the gap little by little in hopes of reaching her.

Meanwhile, behind him, Saber fended Archer off. Any approach past the knight was walled off by steel with great fervor. A drizzle of sparks and the cacophony of colliding metal did nothing to degrade his focus. With ease, he deflected Archer's flurry of strikes meant to to tear down his defenses while simultaneously probing for his weaknesses.

"For someone of your skill to wield a blade that's not a Noble Phantasm is a strange sight to behold to say the least." Archer remarked in between his clashes with Saber.

"Aye. Doth the discovery irk thee?" Saber questioned casually as his firm voice pierced through the battering metal.

"It's of imperfect make." Archer responded. "That blade is an combination of blueprint and composition substitution. A fake of a fake." Sparks flew high. Chipped metal ejected into unknown trajectories. "Yet…"

"Yet this weapon is persistent." Saber supplied. "I myself know not why the unique yet mundane sword stays. Neither doth I care enough to distract myself from our bout to investigate this anomaly, Archer." He prompted the end of the conversation with a hammering blow against Archer's guard.

Steel collapsed in Archer's hands. Immediately, Archer made space between them as an Archer should. The remains disintegrated into motes of light, leaving behind a disarmed fraud of a swordsman. Yet as Saber observed, the bowman refused to equip his bow. Rather, the man insisted on holding on to something. His empty palms gripped intangible handles. Each finger flexed as if something was there to be held.

In a brilliant flash of gold, the very same blades shattered seconds ago reformed and fitted into the grip Archer kept. The man sneered.

"I can do this all day, Saber."

The Servant of the sword scoffed. "Thou shall exhaust thine resources eventually." The manufactured weapon in his hand pointed straight at Archer.

"Don't make me laugh, Saber." Archer responded. His form straightened, while his arms slacked. He breathed deeply, and raised his arms. The right one hefted the longsword laterally in the direction of the Servant of the Sword. In a way, it allowed him to parry an attack easily. The other hung over his head, and its point dipped slightly to guard himself from overhead attacks. "To think you can reduce the spoils I've collected is the height of hubris!"

Saber gleaned his opponent's form. Suspicious. In the back of his mind, Saber took counsel with the experts. The posture was fine. Balance -acceptable. Appropriate? Not in the least. That stance was favorable with shorter blades. The length deployed meant more time to defend. And the bowman left exploitable opening by persisting with blades unfit for the stance.

Archer lunged forward. He thrusted the sword as it were a mere rapier.

Saber battered it to the man's right side before he slid low into unfavorable range. The other sword pierced the air where his heart should be. 'As expected… Thou would strike even in an unfavorable position.' Their exchanges during their dialogue showed his opponent's tendencies well enough. Archer, as Saber saw, would swing with the sword that could reach in time.

The man would slash thrice in the same angle and force like an incompetent child at times. Judging voices found Archer's amateurish swings comical in some way. Especially when Archer used two longswords where both hand no business being wielded in such a way.

That brutish mindset.

That unprofessional swordplay…

Would no doubt falter under the skill of an Arthurian Knight.

As seen by the swift parry that ultimately destabilized the dual-wielder. With sword in right hand, Saber swung it diagonally to cut from left rib to right shoulder.

Yet Saber only found steel violently crashing against steel. Several voices disapproved of the bowman's technique.

The bowman, who followed the motion of his parried right sword, influenced the motion of his left to reach an angle that could not harm himself as he effortlessly reversed his grip on the longsword. The mere act of it guided Saber's killing blow over his head in an arc. With a firm grip and a steady right foot, he anchored himself as his left sword drove into Saber's left thigh.

The idea of harming the proper knight perished as Archer's blade shattered on impact against the descending, opposing arc. Saber's sword trained its point at Archer's exposed chest. Like an illusion, it's form blurred from the speed it achieved.

Once more, steel unexpectedly clashed. A burst of effort on Archer's part achieved a moment of survivability. Saber's forged blade was redirected skywards. The knight's very form, exposed and defenseless yet again could not hope to counter lest the man wanted to sacrifice his empty left for a costly victory.

The cross burned in Saber's mind. Brought forth into reality once more, the shield that staved off Lancer's killing blow anchored itself in front of Saber. What was another lethal strike merely bounced off of its sturdy surface. Saber grabbed the handle, and shoved the weight of his body against it to bash Archer into the latter's favorable distance.

If the bowman would take his bow!

Saber moved the shield off to the left, and stared at Archer with restrained fury.

'Am I incapable to win this fight?'

'Perish the thought. Thou art merely unaccustomed to that fraud's movements.'

'So many would have fallen to that strange parry. Only the most skilled or the ones with impeccable intuition could live through a ploy like that.'

'Hmph! Aye, many would. Yet this vessel still stands through thine effort. If thou art unsatisfied by thy performance, shall I step forth to redeem this vessel?'

'…Nay, Ser. I shall stay. I already bore the shield for all to see, and in my foolishness, revealed that this vessel was of Arthurian legend. Let my mistake be washed away with the success of defending our Master.'

'Go forth, Galahad. Make that bowman bend the knee.'

Archer scanned the shield. A frown set upon his face for a moment before it became smug and snarky. "…I'm honored. A knight such a you brings forth his all to fight me."

"Twice, thy soul should have returned to the Throne." Saber spoke firmly. "Twice, that outcome could have befallen on me as well." The firm grip of the shield tightened. "Thou art a man with many victories to complement thy swordsmanship. I can see that now."

"I merely take the shortest path to victory." Archer responded. "Nothing matters in the end so long as I achieved it."

"Even if your pride is thrown away?" Saber questioned. The disapproval evident in his tone.

"Will pride affect the victories I've done? Me, who fought alone and…" Archer shook his head. He refused to say anymore than the slip he allowed. "I doubt it, Saber. In the end all I saw was the hell of my own making."

Saber closed his eyes as he muttered, "A bowman with two blades at his side, whom fought countless men by his lonesome? And a thieving one to boot." A quick pondering of the revealed information bore no fruit. "While I'm sure, there are stories like those, I know you not." Saber spoke in disappointment. "Certainly, thou art not the man of Sherwood Forest. He shouldn't be as exotic as thou appears."

"Him? I've heard from an old friend of mine that green doesn't suit me." Archer swiftly replied while he observed the shield bearer once more. He adjusted his stance to accommodate for the extra equipment. "But as for your other statement, pray I don't discover who you are."

The two charged at each other in a blur. Blades met the swordsman's wall. The shield bearer shoved his elbow against his shield, and raised his arm like an uppercut. Unconventional and wasteful parry aside, the swordsman's eyes glinted at the opening he carved out.

A quick rain of swords halted Saber's thoughts on capitalizing on the opening. Steel harmlessly bounced and scattered over the area, but the intensity and accuracy were befitting of the Archer class. As the sparks drizzled above Saber, he observed his position.

The bowman's hands were empty. Yet, that very air that took the space once held onto by blades disappeared to allow for new residence. In his left hand, a black longbow fizzled into existence. His right grasped the handle of an insignificant sword. Archer assumed the firing position as he altered the sword into an arrow. The string creaked while the bow's frame bent.

But his eyes. Saber deep down knew those eyes were staring at him. Those orbs of steel looked past his frame.

"That bastard!"

"Stay thy blade, Gawain."

"Hoh, I quite like this fake swordsman. Well? What thou shall do, Shieldy?"

Archer's gaze steeled at the moment. However, Saber could see the man no longer looked beyond him. The bowman's stare shifted slightly to the left and released his hold on the arrow. It clashed against something, and not a moment later, Saber caught the broken frame of a knife.

"Master?!"

Saber twirled his shield as the revelation spurned him into action. He could no longer hear the rain of steel, but that didn't mean it was safe. Cradled in front of him, Saber charged to block any and all arrows that were aimed at his Master.

"—Freeze out!" Swords -the same swords littered about the grounds- flew overhead. Arrows in turn flew to intercept. Upon collision, Shirou's constructs dispelled.

The swordsman screeched to a halt. He watched his Master, skillfully engaged in close combat with but a pair of knives. And equipped with the gaze not of a warrior, but of a survivor. Shirou's magically procured weapons bested the projectiles and fists and kicks before him with ease and practiced skill no normal individual of this day and age should have. Saber could tell each deflect, parry, block, or evade was deliberate and professional -the boy's snap movements said much.

Saber's instincts warned of an incoming attack. He turned around just in time to avoid an arrow meant for his head. Not quick enough to reply with a quip, Saber kept on the defensive. Hammered into the ground, the shield brushed off the flurry of arrows Archer fired. Saber pulled his shield from the top to kick up the dirt. Amidst the eruption of earth, Saber changed the position of his grip from the center to the handle adorned at the edge of the shield's circular handle. He twirled his body to swing the slab of steel like a sword.

Archer evaded low. Saber's attack brought forth a small gust of wind and earth above his head. There was little point in blocking or parrying all that weight. He dematerialized his bow to reach out to another sword. That swing, while impressive in power, lacked a sense of control. With a simple katana in hand, he lunged at Saber's exposed left side. With the elegance and swiftness of Samurai of old, Archer swung.

Katana crashed into shield. The latter smashed into the ground in an angle as if driving it down like a right fist.

'Where's the sword?' Archer questioned. The moon sparkled upon the surface of steel that arced from the left of the shield. 'Left hand switch?!' The bowman prepared his guard appropriately. The long end of the cross-shaped wall toppled down in the same intensity as earlier to reveal Saber's lunged form and outstretched right arm with spinning blade in tow. Archer gritted his teeth.

The swift rotations stopped. Point aimed for his heart. A thrust from a knight who could heft such a shield with ease is nothing to ignore. But Saber wasted time; had he wanted to end it, he should have pressured far more instead of opting into a setup as this.

The practicality of this one maneuver being implemented in a fight like this… is not one he'd expect from one of hers.

Forged steel slid against forged steel. Archer managed to redirect Saber's thrust mere inches away from the side of his throat. Both swordsmen participated in a mutual blade lock. There was resistance on both sides, their weapons shuddered under the conflicting forces behind them. It was momentary, the lock. All it entailed was a small time to think. Reposition. Strategize.

Talking was not a free action to be had. Neither would allow it. Not anymore.

A split second plan; that was all they had. And to engage their own individual maneuvers…

They mutually broke the lock. Similarly. By weakening their pressure against the other -no weight behind their swords- their blades could aim freely in this enclosed space. But like a mirror, the two warriors lunged as they aimed for their nearest exploitable target.

Upper arm, collarbone, windpipe, temple, diaphragm, rib, testicles, and thigh. Archer aimed for these eight targets in order. Each time, his strikes were impeded by Saber's own. The bowman didn't know if this was just Saber's Instinct activated or pure skill. Archer knew his order was quite specific, so after the first clash, Saber should have attacked in completely a random direction soon after. Yet the Servant of the Sword countered his targets in a directly opposing arc.

All the while, never breaking eye contact as the swordsman's weapon degraded with each impact against Archer's own.

At the final clash, Archer's own forgery broke in sync with Saber's. 'Well… if there was any doubt, then they've been soundly defeated.' However, Archer continued to wonder. 'Sir Galahad… son of Lancelot. Peerless warrior said to herald the next generation of the Round… Why do you look so much like her? Why does your history depict you otherwise as a young man clad in black armor and purple cloth?'

Before he could think any deeper, Archer's sight was overwhelmed by the silhouette of the giant cross shield.

Shirou calculated his slashes and thrusts for maximum incapacitation. He aimed for her biceps to prevent her from putting up a guard. He tried severing the ligaments that connected the flexor muscle groups of the arms so she could not form a fist. Her deltoids were a target as well so as to let her arms perpetually drag to earth. He even attempted to debilitate by parting the hip flexors such as Rectus femoris, Iliopsoas, and Satorius to name a few.

But as knowledgable as he was in the human anatomy… and the ways to systematically break them, his opponent knew just as well what he planned for her.

"I… I finally understand this pragmatism. I thought it to be coincidence that the name bears resemblance. But now I see… To think the infamous Magus Killer adopted a child." Rin remarked in the midst of avoiding a particularly crippling strike for the umpteenth time.

Shirou never bothered to pause his assault. Talking was a luxury in battle. But since there was something of interest, he couldn't help but speak. "Hm? What of it?"

"You… want this to end." Rin revealed her observation. "In a way that leaves me alive, but unable to continue the fight."

Shirou smiled. "As expected of that Tohsaka mind. You understood my intentions." His attacks became faster and deadlier. Rin deflected and avoided the blades' edges as best she could. "Won't you please yield, Tohsaka? I don't want this night to end in a fatality."

Rin threw out a punch that struck Shirou's solar plexus. The efficient anatomic strike sent the redhead a few meters away with his feet dragging along the ground. Hunched over, the young man strove to get his bearings back. "Hah?! You're joking. You have to be. How unlike of the son to follow after the father. You know of this war, Emiya, then you should at least know what the two winning conditions are!" Prana flowed through her legs as she launched forwards.

As she neared, she felt her instincts warn her. That this charge was foolish. That what came next would end in fatality. But she could not stop. Her body flowed through the motions. The fist she formed with the intent to batter the defenseless Shirou black and blue flew with purpose.

How wrong was she to assume she had a free hit. Hands free, Shirou stepped to the side as he grabbed the offending arm, and twisted it inwardly. Bent at the elbow and sent behind her back, Rin's combat capability was reduced by a fourth. A kick behind her knees knocked her down. Three fourths incapable to retaliate. Swords hovered at her hamstrings and her shoulders.

"I know all too well the lengths a Master may partake in winning a battle, Tohsaka." His grip on her arm tightened. "He turned me away from that line of thinking." He reinforced his head at the maximum he could, and bashed his head against the Tohsaka's dome. Her form slumped and crumpled to the ground. He gazed at his blades, dematerializing from view.

'Be glad that I'm not my father.' He thought as he gazed at the unconscious maiden. 'You would have died against the first move.' Bitterness clouded his mind. His plea tossed aside; moreover, treated as nonsensical babble of a skilled pacifist, as far as he could tell.

A century's worth of special forces' close combat expertise were stored in his mind. And that's not adding to the memories of other weapons in his armory. He easily could have followed down his father's dark path. But he chose the harder way to save her.

Admittedly, keeping her out of the fight was on a short limit. He needed to help Saber eliminate Archer. As soon as possible to boot. So that she would not be part of this farce any longer. To save everyone, the Masters and the innocent civilians, who weren't knowledgable of the Moonlit world, he needed to beat all of the enemy Servants as soon as possible to bring forth the Grail at its most vulnerable state.

A state that might bring out a repeat performance of a tragedy a decade ago.

His eyes, glassy and unfocused, watched as phantom flames burned in his mind. But he shook his head promptly before losing himself to his brain impulse. 'No… It won't happen again. As soon as it manifests! I'm going to smash that cup to oblivion. Nothing will spill over that artifact's edge…'

The sound of battle pierced his mind. Thus, it quickly reminded him of his priorities. He needed to help Saber, who from observation wielded a defensive equipment in an offensive manner. Odd sight for sure, but could not judge. He himself was an oddball of a fighter as he reached out for the married blades, still unfinished and still fragile to be of proper use. Shirou could not help but mentally fill the gaps with previous knowledge of other constructs, the same method used to create the previous blade never or rather yet to be. Externally, the craftsmanship was the same —exquisite as he found it. Internally, he was ashamed. Complete bastardization. A fake of a fake. Shirou wasn't prideful in the least, but crafting the copies of weapons were one of the few things he was enamored with to perfect as close as possible.

Brandished weapons sliced air as their wielder ran to aid. The white sword flew swift, thrown none other by the young Master; its form slithered in the air before it dove under Saber's massive swing. Archer, beset above so as below, could not help but block the lesser of the two oncoming attacks. The white sword crashed into steel and broke before its shard drove themselves onto soil.

"Trace…" Shirou muttered. His circuits fired off, and flowed into his forgery. "Overedge!" With a mix of Reinforcement and Alteration, he further bastardized the weapon in his hands. Gone was the Chinese Dao sword in favor of a single-edged broadsword that mimicked the image of a raven's plumage.

The arthurian knight overheard the small mantra. "Stay away, Master!" Saber shouted without leaving his eyes off of the red bowman. "Archer is a dangerous combatant for you to get close to!" The knight seamlessly controlled the heavy slab of metal into the next attack one after another.

Shirou nonetheless charged. He reinforced the entirety of his body. In that short time, he made his body stronger. His eyes sharper and quick to attain detail. And finally his mind to analyze and react quickly. Within that small timeframe, he leaped into the air.

The evasive bowman quickly reacted to his presence, and took into account Saber's own attacks in conjunction with the foolhardy attack coming towards him. He clicked his tongue. Gone were his swords made to combat against Saber. In replacement, a large broadsword appeared. Archer evaded Saber's assault and moved towards the simpleton of a Master and readied himself to retaliate.

"We'll take him together, Saber!" Shirou persisted as he watched Archer charge. As he did so, the body swung the mutated black sword over his shoulder, and trailed feathers of steel.

Archer easily moved away from the one-dimensional swing. The time's nigh to counter. Steel swung for the redhead's neck.

"Edge Shatter." Archer overheard.

Archer glanced at the longsword. He knew the entire process at a glance. An overcharge of reinforcement at a focal point. In addition, this blade was given specific weak points upon its transformation. Points that allowed for stress cracks to reach towards. Branching off from those points, the cracks grew in number and further destabilized the structure. This instability came with an explosive reaction. The same featherlike shards that failed to cling onto the body flew outwards. Only the handle was left intact while the entirety of the mutated broadsword shattered into a million flying knives.

Archer willed forth a wall of steel. A waste of Prana, sure, but astral form, his immediate solution to an explosive attack at such short range, could not be a solution. For that way would still harm his spiritual body. The wall of swords took the brunt of the attack. Pierced, but not broken, the wall held on. When the last of the shards either embedded onto the still or bounced off, the bowman recalled the constructs.

Master and Servant reequipped themselves with a pair of nameless mass-produced swords. The Servant of the Bow did the same. However, instead of a blade in hand, Archer retrieved his bow. "Very few times… have I seen a pair like you two." Archer remarked. "Your synergy is quite impressive. So much so that I must end it before you two grow into a solid team."

"Finally resorting to what thou art best at?" Saber questioned with shield standing before him. "Come then!" He beckoned.

Archer smirked. "My skills with a bow are as much a forgery as my swordsmanship, Saber. But I'll humor you anyways." Steel rained above the pair. Quickly, the Master hid under the Servant's heavy umbrella. He pulled a sword. Simple in appearance, the gray steel of a double-edged sword materialized into the real world. However, on closer inspection, the intricacies of its design revealed themselves upon moonlight's shine. Arching steel wove themselves together like a braid. As such, their construction left behind four holes. One at the handle's edge. Another a tad above the guard, and two others going down the length of the blade.

Archer altered its shape immediately. To make it aerodynamic, he made the core thin. The excess, he twisted around it.

"Sword barrel, freeze out!" Knives upon knives flew. None were swords. Archer surmised that the boy reached for the last bit of mana available to overturn this position. To be honest, he was surprised that the young Master could even perform two salvos after Saber used a Noble Phantasm against Lancer.

At least that's what had to have happened in order for the pair to survive the ordeal.

"Saber, approach!" Shirou commanded. "We can't let him fire! No matter what!" The boy feared that arrow. His blood chilled the moment Archer drew it. Still stuck at step five, Shirou did his best to expedite the process.

All the while, in the back of his mind, he thought of ways to end the battle with no loss of life supernatural or otherwise.

"Understood!" Saber twirled the shield, deflecting any leftover rain of steel. Quickly, he caught a blade from the air, and claimed it for himself. Shield front and center, Saber charged swiftly with his Master's minimal fire support barely leading the way.

Archer leaped backwards to the wall of the residence. Young Emiya aimed those knives to cut off escape from the sides and above. While not an overt threat to normal eyes… Archer knew what the young forger did to them. And dead center, the wall of steel chugged forward like an unstoppable train. While Saber's speed was impressive, it wouldn't close the gap in time.

Imperceptibly, he locked his eyes at the supportive Master behind Saber. The skills he'd displayed so far were beyond what most others had gone through. It was nauseating to see the youth at the cusp of grasping his one true ability so early without Archer himself being a catalyst to impart knowledge of the craft. Add that with Kiritsugu's pragmatism…

Target chosen, he poured more prone into the arrow just as Saber's shield shone.

"Hrunting!" Archer let loose the twisted blade. A red comet illuminated the residence as it streaked towards the charging wall. Noble Phantasm struck Noble Phantasm with a brilliant light and deafening impact. Archer's comet rose to the skies while Saber's shield was pushed to the side, where the swordsman's grip nearly faltered.

Frustrated that he chose Saber as a target at that moment, decided that he could make use of this. Hrunting was still in play.

Exposed, Saber quickly pulled his shield back to his side to protect the majority of his body for the inevitable followup attack. Two blades, one black while the other white, cleaved through the air to reach Saber's neck. Saber barely managed to block the thrown weapons, and sent them skywards behind him quite a distance away. Quickly, the very same weapons thrown at him were remade in Archer's hands.

Spirit and technique

Archer muttered as he ran at the shield bearer. The arrow, once a sword said to make the most optimal slash with the simplest of swings, forever pursues the target after fired. As it was risky to systematically tear down Saber's defenses with charged shots, it was inevitable that he resorted to using this maneuver.

With the two blocked projectiles sent quite a distance away, Archer needed to keep Saber busy. To buy himself time for the killing blow. Moonlit steel danced beautifully against the serene and unmoving shield. Yet the din that originated with each brute collision clashed in opposition to the imagery.

Flawless and firm

He swung Kanshou and Bakuya from below. The married blades caught the shield's corner and pulled it up. Both knight class Servants gritted their teeth; one for the effort needed to lift while the other was amazed by the opponent's tenacity.

Our strength rips the mountains

Our swords split the water

With a pried open guard out of Archer's way, he proceeded to initiate his disengaging maneuver. He threw his weapons behind him without any hesitation. The red bowman could see the swordsman's shock as stepped to Saber's left. He reinforced his left leg, and smashed it against Saber's armored legs. The low blow sent Saber to the ground as Archer ran to Rin's unconscious side.

"Coward! Face me in proper battle!" Saber roared as he stood to his feet.

Our names reach the imperial villa

Shirou, who watched the soaring twin blades return, completed the blueprint. He quickly accessed the weapons' unique ability. Once deciphered and truly understood, he called to his Servant as he rushed in to help. With the tiny amount he had left, the young Master drew out the a pair of Archer's mundane swords.

The swordsman didn't berate the Master when the latter stood behind him. The pair's backs faced another protectively covering the other's weakness. Yet Saber couldn't understand. Archer stepped away from the battle and repositioned himself so far away with no bow equipped onto himself. All the while Saber's instincts shouted at him to evade. But what? What could send his senses spiraling out of control?

"We have to move! Archer's declared this a dead zone!" Shirou spoke seriously.

"Thou could not have told me from the safety of thine own position?!" Saber grilled into the young Master. "Foolishness, I say. If thou calls the ground I stand on a target, then thou art in more danger than I!"

"Wha-" Saber's shield slammed into his Master with the force of a battering ram. The act was for the safety of his Master; he had no qualms with it. That, and it served to hopefully give a jumpstart to the boy's instinct of self-preservation.

Saber glared at Archer, who looked back with an impassive stare. But Saber knew better. Behind that look, Saber could see the smugness hidden away. 'Do not think the battle has been won, Archer.' Once more, Saber's instincts roused him back into focus. 'Danger asserts themselves from the left and right due to a hidden attraction I am not aware of. I can easily evade that much for it is an incomplete birdcage of death. But thou hath compensated with a peculiar arrow.'

"Very well. I challenge this cage of thine making!" Saber hollered to the bowman. "What will win, thine killing blow, or mine own defensive skill?"

The two pairs of married blades screeched. The red comet above bellowed and announced its thunderous presence. The deadly cage closed in with each passing third of a second.

'I can see the method to this technique. Simply effective, I must say.'

'Systematically breaking down a guard? Many hath tried to do so, but this is nothing to fear.'

'Aye! Shieldy can handle this situation without a problem.'

'Quite. Ser Galahad, show that jester your resilience.'

Saber planted his shield into the ground behind him, and held a firm grip on the handle. There was no point defending an omni-directional attack. Not unless one had a way out of the cage. The swordsman had one. Just not a literal way out. His body and shield glowed a soft gold. Motes of the pale golden light emerged from his form. Slowly, the battlefield was illuminated by the swordsman's glow. Unbothered by the display, nor even acknowledging the otherworldly sight, Saber continued to glare at Archer.

He waited. And waited. And waited. The unpleasant noise pouring against his ears increased exponentially. But it was not yet time. Too early, and he would be caught at the last sec-

The luminance Saber's form presented shone an even brighter intensity. A brief flash of sunlight bathed the Emiya residence before the sound of thunder and the obscuring eruption of soil and debris hid the swordsman away from sight.

'That glow…' A brief image of a blond woman engulfed by a pillar of light invaded his mind.

Archer called his bow out in the open, and readied a salvo of arrows. He couldn't be more cautious than at this moment. Arthurian knights were renowned in their own way. While King Arthur was the most famous, the Knights of the Round were nothing to scoff at. Of the few he could mention, Gawain was nigh invincible in the sun's presence. Lancelot was peerless with any weapon and a better fighter than even Arthur. Tristan's bow was said to be able to make arrows of wind that sliced rather than pierce.

But those were knights well known for their martial prowess. This… Arthurian knight, while certainly far better skilled than he, was far more of a defensive Servant. He could feel that Servant's mana, and it wasn't far off to say that letting loose such an amount would have made the swordsman that much harder to kill.

Wind twisted as it was repelled at the epicenter. Soil and sediment, carried by the small breeze, did little to bother Archer's eyesight. He trained his bow where Saber too and watched with vested interest on whether or not the swordsman survived. And to the surprise of nobody, Saber stood confidently in that same pose moments before imminent death.

"Quite impressive, Archer." Saber shook his head to rid himself of lingering dust on his form. A small smile graced his face. It was one not unlike the Saber Archer expected to see for this Grail War.

"It was an improv." Archer admitted casually. "You drew Hrunting onto yourself. It almost felt like a compulsion to aim at you."

"Ah. Say no more." The swordsman understood, or at least a little of Archer's restructured attack. "Speaking of…" Saber trailed off as he looked around the razed field.

"I am not Grendel's slayer." Archer admitted, knowing full well the unspoken question.

"Thou conjured a false form of Beowulf's blade?" Saber sounded surprised. "Who on earth art thou, bowman? Thou hath certainly made thyself a unique entity."

"Oh, I'm quite sure I'm a unique one." Archer replied smugly. However, that lapse of arrogance soured into bitterness. "But is a forger -rather a Faker one to be held in high regard?"

"I myself hold no prejudices, Archer." Saber answered truthfully. "Though thine fighting style leaves a lot to be desired." His grip on his shield tightened.

"Indeed. My teacher would be disappointed in my conduct." Archer said softly in amusement.

"Quite talkative, Archer." A small voice grumbled from behind.

"Hm? Oh, Master I see you're awake. Did you have a wondrous nap?"

"Having a male bonding moment?" Rin questioned as she ignored Archer's query. Quickly, she tidied herself up and stood up. "In the middle of a life or death battle?"

Archer shrugged his shoulders. "Can't help it. Saber managed to live through a finishing blow of my design. If he could manage that, then what use is wasting… my Noble Phantasm?" He watched Rin scowl as he cursed himself for thinking of that desolate realm as something to be proud of. "Besides, he reminds me of the past. Got sentimental. A little too much -maybe."

Saber narrowed his eyes. "And in what way doth I remind thou of bygone days?"

Archer opened his mouth before he promptly closed it firmly shut. Saber took note of the hesitance. Eventually, Archer replied with, "Tis not my first time seeing that heavenly glow, Saber. Though you are different, that light is quite similar. Without a doubt, you are one of the King's knights."

Saber rested a hand on his hip. "Hm? I'm facing someone whose seen His Majesty's blade?"

"Quite. It's both used against and towards me at some point in my life." Archer admitted with a shrug of his shoulders as if to say it wasn't all that significant. He had to have at some point. While he was certain that the blade itself wasn't used against him, his many other copies called forth to fight in Grail Wars might have fought against Her and that blade. "At least that is what the Second Magic would imply."

Rin stared at her Servant, "You know of-"

"It's not important Master." Archer cut off. "What's important here is whether or not this battle should be finished." Both Servants readied themselves.

"I appreciate the brief reprieve. But art thou ready for a continuation after witnessing my resilience?" Saber questioned.

"After seeing your Majesty use that scabbard?" Archer scoffed as he took mention of King Arthur's Avalon. "You're not infallible, Not-Galahad."

"'Not-Galahad?!' Archer, you've ascertai-"

"He's Not-Galahad, Master." Archer stomped on his Master's words. "As much as I want to say that the enemy in front of us is the famous Second-Generation Knight of the Round, I cannot give you a conclusive answer."

Saber stepped forward from the crater with shield in tow. "Aye. That is for me or my Noble Phantasm to answer, enemy Master."

"At… another date." Added on by another voice. All who heard turned to the young man who caressed the bump on his head. The very same young man who glanced at the maiden with a stern gaze. "You realize this will go nowhere, right Tohsaka?"

"What are you saying, Emiya?" The maiden sneered. "Sounds to me that you just want out of a fight."

Expressionless amber eyes stared at the maiden. "Are you sure you should sound so smug when it was I who was able to knock you out unscathed?" Shirou countered swiftly. A butterfly knife spawned in his empty hand, easily reminding the red-themed girl of their bout earlier. "You should be glad you still have a head connected to that body of yours. Had I been like the man the Mages Association feared, you wouldn't have a chance to make conversation right now."

The young woman saw red instantly. To be ridiculed like so stung her pride without a doubt. But as quickly as her anger rose, it was extinguished just as fast. Logic hastily took over in spite of her raging emotions. In a way, the enemy Master before her was right. If he was the second coming of the Magus Killer, she wouldn't be breathing or thinking at this moment in time.

"Now that I think about it, Jewelcraft is your family's specialty." He pulled out from his pocket a red pendant. Empty of mana, the jewel was nothing more than a dazzling accessory. "I'm grateful for what you've done, Tohsaka. And for saving my life, this is the least I can do to repay it. Go home. If you want to fight, do it another day." He threw the pendant to the girl, but it was the Servant of the Bow who caught it for her.

Archer handed over the jewel while Rin weighed the options then and there. In front of her were a dubious pair of knight and magical assassin. As farfetched as it sounded, the latter was the legacy of an infamous pragmatist with a power that only compliments the former's skillset. At least it should be one considering those projections were of considerable quality and make. As they've shown in dividing-and-conquering… they could hold their own against opponents of equal skill.

But they're not unbeatable. Shirou's battered form was not due to any sort of punches or kicks. Certainly wasn't marred by sharp, pointy objects either. Aside from the wound placed upon by the blue-clad spearman. No, he was struck by something large and blunt. Rin's gaze casually slid over to the towering cross-shaped shield. The relationship between them wasn't concrete.

But she could not conclude that from that alone. She was knocked out, and only came to at the aftermath of Archer's killing blow. Who knew what happened? With a sigh of disappointment, Rin accepted the offer. "Very well… I guess the night's conflict is over." She turned around, and started walking away. "I will see you at school, I suppose?"

Shirou nodded as he crossed his arms. "No sneak attacks, Tohsaka. Lest I do something just as devious."

A momentary truce. Loose and without impact. The two knew it very well that this unwritten agreement was exploitable. Yet on the other hand both knew school was the safest place to be. The nonaggression pact they've made hinged on the fact that there will be a witness at school. That revealing any supernatural to the realm of the mundane would need to be silenced.

Just like how Lancer attempted to eliminate him earlier.

The red pair left. After being confirmed truly gone from the immediate vicinity, the pair of men relaxed. The knight favored dismissing his shield whereas the Master collapsed onto the ground bottom first.

"What a night…" Shirou groaned in exhaustion. He really tapped into his reservoir of Od to survive the night. Archer had quite the armory on hand, he had to admit.

"Quite. I must say I certainly did not expect to fight two battles on the eve of my summoning." Saber nodded. "Thou art an attractor of trouble, I presume."

The young man fell flat on his back as he sighed. "I'm not opposed to that assumption. I'm sure I could rank my luck as E."

"Well… E rank is considered to be human levels of rank." Saber reasoned. "I would honestly be surprised if thou did obtain something of a higher rank." A small piece of silence came and went. "Add in thine reckless behavior, and thou art pushing thine fortune."

"Well… at least I didn't die. Again." Shirou muttered as he stood up and dusted himself off. He looked to his Servant. "Anyways, back to important matters, Saber. Who are you?"

"Hm?" The knight perked up at the question. "That depends on whom thou art talking to, Master."

Shirou raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean? Could you not be so cryptic at a time like this?"

"I mean exactly as I said." Saber replied. "As I am… thou art speaking to a certain knight whose name hath been thrown about freely without repercussion." He watched the young Master's eyes go from narrowed and suspicious into wide and informed. "But that is one facet, Shirou. All will be revealed in time." Saber headed for Shirou's home. "Come. Let us rest. First light shall come sooner than thou would think."

"What about my yard?" Shirou asked incredulously.

"Hm? Art thou not a Magus? Fix it thyself." The knight replied bluntly.

The young man rose an eyebrow at the callous response. "If you must know… I'm combat-oriented, and I sure can't handle fixing all of this mess." Shirou answered with his arms wide open to exaggerate the extent of the damage.

Just then Saber's face contorted. An almost hostile scowl replaced the serene expression the knight once had. "How inept of thee, boy." The arrogant and grating tone repulsed the young Master. "Unfortunately, thou hath summoned a Saber-class Servant. If thou hath yearned for a maid to clean thy mess, a Caster is more apt to thine tastes."

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Saber?" Shirou questioned firmly. The behavior completely flipped much too fast for his liking to ever think to be normal.

"Fool. I am Saber!" Saber answered in an irate growl. "I hath already explained this to thee."

"No you're not. The Saber I know is stern and level-headed. You are crass and blunt."

The snarl on Saber's face grew instantly, but it quickly disappeared in favor of a flat and straight stare. Not quite Saber's normal expression as far as he could tell, but certainly far better than that hostile visage. "It seems thou doth not understand. The individual thou identifies as Saber is but a series of fragments in a vessel." The knight crossed his arms and muttered, "Unfortunately, the unrefined piece managed to take over for that moment."

"And you are another fragment?" Shirou questioned. A nod. The young man placed a hand on his hip while the other scratched the side of his head. "Multiple personalities? A knight? Never heard of one like that." Saber looked away with a sigh. Shirou looked down at the ground with slumped shoulders. "…I'm completely wrong aren't I?"

"This conversation is best continued inside, Master." Saber responded firmly. Metal clanking of armor suggested that the knight was on the move. "However, if thou art worried for the appearance of thine home, then I suggest placing a bounded field that wards off people from entering this area. Thou can perform that at the very least, correct?"

Shirou blinked several times in rapid succession. "That works." He admitted. "More importantly, you're a knight with knowledge of magecraft?"

"It comes with the territory, I suppose." Saber shrugged his shoulders. "After all, knights and magic come hand in hand."

Up on the shoulders of a man, a silver-haired little girl sat and observed with great interest. She, who mainly inspected the young red-haired Master, found the official first night of the War to be quite entertaining without her interference. For him to have survive three battles in one night certainly had to be a feat even if one was performed with external help.

"What do you think of Saber and Onii-chan, Berserker?"

The man growled lowly; however, the voice was warped. Oscillating and warped, she heard her Servant snarl, "Hah! Saber? That goody-goody shield-bearer? Can't wait to meet them face to face, Master. I want to have a try at their teamwork." To Illya, the response didn't sound wrathful; it emulated a form of respect, if that made any sense. Maybe her brutish warrior, despite the refined appearance her Servant displayed, respected men and women of skill. Nonetheless, she accepted the response with a small smirk.

"Yes… their partnership would be an amusing thing to witness as they try to stand against you." She leapt off her perch. "Their martial synergy is something that is rarely seen in many circumstances. Most would train for a certain amount of time before they could achieve the level those two have attained in minutes." She kicked a rock by her feet. "Sad to say that without better armaments… both will never prevail against you, Berserker." She turned around, and requested a lift.

The mad Servant growled before he grabbed his Master by the collar of her coat to place her back on his shoulder.

"You know, Master. I still hate how you wasted a Command Seal to allow you to ride on my shoulders."

Illya pouted as she playfully swung her legs against her Servant's armor. "Oh don't be like that. I know you'd be too prideful. That, and with your stature…"

"You calling me short?! I ought to-"

"Killing me won't do you any favors, Berserker." Illya interrupted.

"Well it should!" Berserker snarled in return. "I'm not a mule!" Despite the protests, the Servant did not attempt to derail the Master atop his shoulders. A sign that the command stood strong.

She looked one last time at the Emiya residence. "Rest well, Onii-chan. One of these nights, you will fall. You will suffer. And you will face my wrath."

And done. I'm very sorry for a year of drought. Got a PS4 last Christmas -led to wasting quite a bit of time. Clinical hours for my college is effectively work without pay, and takes quite a bit of my time. My summer was nothing but that essentially. And by then, I'm typing only bits and pieces of chapters per other day. I'm making excuses but what else can I say but I'm trying to get my life on track rather than focus on fanfiction. Again, apologies for the late submission.

Review, follow, favorite, I don't care.

This is Azure signing off.