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"This is bad..."
Rider, watching the battle from the Fuyuki Bridge, saw Diarmuid reach for the large sword on his back and shot to his feet.
"Wh-what's wrong?" Waver, startled by Rider's sudden change in deanor—the first ti he'd seen the usually unflappable King display such concern—asked anxiously.
"Diarmuid's about to use his trump card. I can see it in his eyes—that look of absolute certainty."
Rider drew his sword, and with a swing, tore open a rift in the air.
A chariot, pulled by powerful, muscular oxen, materialized—Rider's [Noble Phantasm]—the [Gordius Wheel].
The oxen snorted, their hooves sparking with purple lightning as the chariot settled beside Rider.
Waver, terrified by the sudden appearance of the divine oxen, nearly lost his grip on the bridge's arch.
He clung on, his voice filled with confusion. "Stop them? Weren't we supposed to wait until they were exhausted and then pounce?"
"Boy, do you really think that's my plan?" Rider looked down at Waver, his brow furrowed as if he'd just heard a terrible joke.
"I was waiting because there were only two Servants present. I wanted them all to gather, so I could fight them all at once and end this war quickly."
"...." Waver stared at him, dumbfounded.
He was only now realizing the discrepancy in their thinking. "Gather them all—fight them all at once, end the war quickly...? Are you kidding ?" he thought.
"I'm perfectly serious, boy! An opportunity like this to clash with heroes from different eras—is rare. I wouldn't forgive myself if I missed a chance to test my strength against them." Rider's voice bood, a lion's roar, yet his eyes held a spark of joy.
Waver stared at Rider's—almost happy expression, speechless.
"Those two Servants, filled with the spirit of true warriors, are about to fight to the death. I respect that. It would be a sha to let them die without—a proper challenge," Rider said as he stepped onto the Gordius Wheel.
"A sha to let them die? But—this is the Holy Grail War! They're supposed to kill each other!" Waver's voice rose in a near-hysterical cry.
"True conquest isn't about destroying one's opponents. It's about earning their respect, even in defeat." Rider's voice was firm, resolute, his words like a sacred oath.
Waver stared at Rider's back, a sudden surge of admiration filling him. He was beginning to understand why this man was called Conqueror.
"Well, the observation period is over. Ti to join the fray, boy!" Rider laughed, extending his hand towards Waver.
"Why—why did I have to summon you..." Waver grumbled, but he took Rider's hand.
"It's about to get real!" Rider pulled Waver onto the chariot, snapping the reins, and the oxen shot forward, the chariot racing across the sky, thunder echoing in their wake.
Waver, his head slamming against the chariot's floor, his legs dangling over the side, felt the rush of wind against his skin and a sharp pain in his skull.
"I shouldn't have co..." he moaned.
The divine oxen galloped through the air, their hooves sparking with lightning. Seeing Diarmuid's blade approaching Saber's neck, Rider roared,
"Hold!!! ...Huh?"
....
Diarmuid's face paled, veins bulging on his arm as he pushed against the blade, trying to force it forward.
But it wouldn't budge. Two fingers—a thumb and forefinger held his sword firm, stopping its advance. And that wasn't what terrified him.
The crimson marks on the back of the hand, the Command Spells that was the source of his fear.
The one who'd stopped his attack, who could withstand the full force of his blow with just two fingers—was a Master.
'If this Master were to attack his own Master, Kayneth, while he was fighting Saber...' The thought sent a shiver down Diarmuid's spine.
The spatial rift widened, and Haru stepped through.
"I saw the Command Spells, but a human? A human in this era, with such power?" Rider's voice bood from the sky above, a mixture of shock and excitent in his tone.
Waver, rubbing his head, climbed out of the chariot. He stared at Haru, his face paling. 'Since when were humans this powerful? Stopping a Servant's attack with their bare hands...'
Then, he saw the still-open spatial rift behind Haru and gasped. "The Second Magic?! You're a True Magic user!!!"
"Wizard Marshal!!!" A panicked scream—Kayneth's voice echoed from the warehouse rooftop.
....
"No way..."
Tokiomi Tohsaka, hearing Kirei Kotomine's report, his face drained of color, the wine glass slipping from his grasp and shattering on the floor.
"Are you certain, Kirei?!" He abandoned all pretense of composure, his voice a desperate cry.
"Affirmative. The silver-haired youth tore open space and stopped Diarmuid's attack with his bare hand. And Kayneth—he called him Wizard Marshal," Kirei's voice, cold and impassive, ca through the gramophone.
Tokiomi slumped onto the sofa, his eyes vacant. "My ancestor—even he is competing for the Grail? Then what chance do I have...?"
He knew the power of Zelretch, the Second Magic user, from whom the Tohsaka's magic descended. How could he, with his limited knowledge, his half-baked magecraft, compete against the originator?
Despair washed over him.
Then, a sudden thought—a spark of hope ignited within him. "No! He's an imposter! Or perhaps he's using so kind of Reality Marble."
He rembered Zelretch's appearance, his aged face—nothing like the silver-haired youth Kirei had described.
'It couldn't be Zelretch. It couldn't!'
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. His voice hardened. "Even if it is Zelretch—he won't stop from reaching the Root. Kirei, focus all your attention on this man. I need to know everything about him."
"Yes, Master."
....
"A True Magic user? Intriguing individual..." Rider murmured, a thrill of excitent in his voice, as he listened to Waver and Kayneth's cries of alarm.
Haru looked up at Rider, hovering above.
Rider, his expression turning serious, was about to speak...
When Haru interrupted him. "Interested in joining my team, Servant? The pay is negotiable." He grinned, his voice laced with playful malice.
Rider stared at him, his expression a mix of confusion and interest.
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