Shirou, who returned from the Fairy Kingdom

"rustle--"

Just then, the bushes beside him suddenly swayed, and Shirou instinctively turned his head to look, his breath freezing instantly.

To be precise, it was because I saw a figure emerging from the darkness.

Standing there was a half-naked gray giant, his body wrapped in a dense array of restraint straps.

The giant's entire body was covered in muscles like armor, and his corpse-like gray skin was etched with countless scars, telling the story of the man's tragic past and rigorous training.

A dozen stakes pierced his arms, which were as thick as a crocodile's body, and his thighs, which were as strong as an elephant's hind legs, but this did not affect his movement in the slightest.

Although the giant was only a little over two meters tall, it gave Shirou the illusion of reuniting with the Fuyuki sea monster in a foreign land for a moment; that's how strong a man's presence can be.

The giant wore a radiant, enigmatic smile that only amplified his eeriness in the darkness.

"Are you the Berserker who's been running rampant around here?"

Shirou's words caught the giant's attention.

When he turned around and looked down at the red-haired boy, the smile on his face became even brighter for some reason—

"Finally found you, oppressor?"

After saying that, the Berserker charged towards Asashiro and Astolfo like a derailed train.

The earth was shaking; it was no illusion.

The giant simply ran, and the forest itself seemed to groan in sorrow.

"Haha ...

The berserker laughed as he raised his right hand.

Shirou glanced at the short sword in his hand out of the corner of his eye.

The sword was not a Noble Phantasm; instead, it was chipped and bent from being cut. But Shirou had no doubt that this man could easily blow away a city gate with his superhuman strength.

"Accept my love! Oppressor! Embrace a joyful death in my embrace!!!"

"W-what?"

Astolfo grabbed Shirou's arm and yelled.

"...Don't get in my way!"

Just as the berserker's blade came crashing down, Shirou threw the "Black" Rider away and pulled the holy sword out of the raging wind.

Instead of blocking with brute force, Shirou used a clever angle to deflect most of the slash's force while jumping backward.

With his current Spirit Origin, if he were to use "Magic Release" at full power, he could even contend with a Berserker and launch a counterattack using his speed advantage.

But Shirou did not do that.

—An inexplicable intuition told him that he should not rashly attack Berserker.

The stakes that now pierce through the Berserker's body and limbs shouldn't be considered "decorations" that he brought with him as a Heroic Spirit, right?

Without a doubt, it was something he had left behind from his battle with the "Black" faction.

While skillfully maneuvering against the berserker, Shirou calmed down and pondered.

He survived a fatal wound... so this guy is a hero known for his endurance?

His judgment was undeniably correct.

The real name of the "Red" Berserker is Spartacus.

Thracian gladiators, a symbol of rebellion.

Spartacus was originally a gladiator slave in Rome, but one day he suddenly escaped with seventy-eight companions and repelled a pursuing force of about three thousand men, becoming a hero who spurred armed resistance among slaves in various places.

Ultimately betrayed by the pirates he was entrusted with, and though he was killed by the Roman army, he had been victorious in every battle before that. For the weak and slaves, Spartacus was a beacon of hope.

He hated all rulers and, in order to protect, sympathize with, and heal the weak, he burned with fighting spirit against all the strong.

Spartacus firmly believed that "the end of patience is the strength of mankind."

His two inherent skills are "unyielding will" and "the glory of masochism".

One is a strong will that will never yield to any kind of pain or despair, which enables one to gain both physical and mental endurance.

Another reason is that the more severe the attack he receives, the higher his fighting spirit becomes, until he unleashes all his hidden power.

In other words, he can't take things seriously unless he gets beaten up, and the more he gets beaten up, the stronger he becomes.

However—if you think Spartacus is just a tough Heroic Spirit, you're sorely mistaken.

For this gladiator who fought against tyranny—

All the accumulated suffering is for that one decisive blow to turn the tide.

"Oh! Why! Why do you run away from my embrace! You oppressor!"

The berserker roared in grief and anger.

"I'm sorry, my sexual orientation is female."

Shirou ducked to avoid the slash, and the large tree behind him was sent flying in half.

"Whether it's a two-meter-tall muscular roly-poly toy or an absolutely adorable little boy or girl, they're not within my guard range."

"……call."

Joan of Arc, hidden in the bushes, breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hahahaha! Very good, your arrogance is truly wonderful! How beautiful! How beautiful!"

The berserker's fighting spirit soared even higher, and he charged out of control like a wild boar with a body as large as a small mountain.

"O oppressor, your arrogance has crumbled! The time has come for the pride of the strong to be shattered! Waaaaaahh ...

"—"

Shirou remained fearless, standing still and ready to face the attack.

"I'm here to help too!"

A pink-haired knight girl (?) wearing a cloak, holding a lance, charged between Shirou and the berserker.

"Wait! Don't do anything rash...!"

Shirou had already experienced firsthand how weak Astolfo was.

He'll be run over by Berserker like a speed bump.

However, that did not happen.

"Trap of Argalia—!"

Spartacus's knees suddenly disappeared, and he fell heavily forward to the ground.

Astolfo's lance was not intended to kill the enemy.

As its name, which was chosen arbitrarily, literally means, anything touched by the tip of the gun will immediately and forcibly fall over.

On the battlefield, a fallen cavalryman is tantamount to death. Even if one doesn't go to the battlefield, it's not hard to imagine how much honor one can gain simply by participating in lance duels with this gun.

If this gun is used as a Noble Phantasm on a Servant, it will achieve the effect of forcibly akinning the lower body below the knees.

No matter which part of the body it touches—even from outside the armor woven with magic—the lance will forcibly cut off the magic supply below the knees, causing the Servant to be temporarily unable to form a physical body.

"Okay! It worked!"

Astolfo happily raised his lance, turning to the red-haired boy, wanting to boast of his achievement—

"……what?"

There was no one behind the "Black" cavalry.

Shirou, who was standing there just a moment ago, has long since disappeared.

"Why are you running away!?"

"Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh! Losing my legs can't stop me!"

Berserker's roar drowned out Rider's cries.

Spartacus was an indomitable fighter.

As long as his body above the knees is intact, he'll probably try to defeat his opponent even if he has to crawl.

"Oops! Oops!"

Astolfo shouted that something was wrong.

Berserker crawled over and grabbed his slender calf, thus eliminating even his only advantage in mobility.

However, just as Astolfo was about to die—

"Well done, Rider."

A majestic voice rang out from not far away, and at the same time, countless stakes pierced through Spartacus's massive body, pinning him firmly to the ground.

The king of the "Black" faction, Lancer Vlad III, appeared riding a bronze golem horse.

Accompanying him were Master Darnic, Archer, Berserker, Caster, and his golem army.

"It's really impressive that you were able to slow down Berserker."

"..."

Astolfo was astonished: Had the boy already sensed the approach of the "Black" faction and thus retreated silently?

His admiration for Shirou deepened even further.

Originally, Spartacus got lost while fighting the Servants of the "Black" faction and happened to bump into Shirou and Astolfo.

The "Black" faction encountered the "Red" spearmen and Atalanta while pursuing the berserker. They forced them back before finally arriving.

The warlock raised a finger, and the waiting golems pounced on the struggling Spartacus.

The "Black" faction's goal is not to kill, but to capture Spartacus alive.

One after another, the giant golems were blasted into the sky dozens of meters high, but gradually, the berserker also began to run out of energy, and finally became unable to move, like a caterpillar covered by ants.

Vlad III nodded in satisfaction.

"Very well, proud rebel, I salute you."

At the same time, I will change the direction of your rebellion—from now on, we are your masters.”

With Caster's magical abilities, she could even make the "Red" side's Servants become the "Black" side's slaves.

"...!"

Spartacus's smile vanished, and he glared angrily at the "Black" spearman.

However, Vlad III lost interest in the berserkers he had successfully controlled.

He looked at the android lying to the side, frowned, and asked, "What's that?"

Caster said, “My king, this is an artificial life form that escaped from the city. I happen to be looking for its whereabouts.”

"Please wait!"

Astolfo rushed up to the homunculus and spread his arms wide.

"The reason I was able to hold off Berserker just now was entirely thanks to him! For that reason, let him live!"

Caster said coldly, "No, this android is an important resource. In the end, androids are meant to be consumed."

"No, that's not the case!"

Rider shouted, "He has the will to live! I heard his cry for help!"

“How is that possible? How could an artificial human possess the will to survive?” Caster scoffed.

Astolfo and the sorcerer were locked in a fierce battle, neither willing to yield, until finally the king made the decision.

"It's alright. Let's spare his life tonight, considering the contributions Rider has made."

This android will be in charge of logistics within the castle from now on.

"Your Majesty, is this alright?"

It was not Caster who raised the objection, but the patriarch of the Yggdrasil.

"Artificial life forms are a very important magical resource."