Fifteen kilotres southeast of the increasingly chaotic warehouse district, the Fuyuki Church stood under the quiet night sky. A man in a black robe sat in the basent's darkness, his eyes tightly closed.
To an outside observer, it appeared as though Kirei was ditating. However, what few would know is that his ears were hearing the howling sea wind and his eyes were watching sparks flying from the clash of steel.
At that mont, the man's state was far from good. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and his hand gripped the armrest tightly, nearly crushing the steel pipe chair.
"Kirei? Kirei! Kirei Kotomine!"
A voice urgently called from a brass horn connected to an old-fashioned phonograph.
The man groaned slightly at the external disturbance and finally opened his eyes.
"I'm fine, Master."
"Ah, that's a relief."
The voice of Tokiomi ca through the phonograph, clearly relieved.
"What happened, Kirei?"
With a troubled expression, Kirei spoke.
"Assassin has been discovered, and the one who found him is... Berserker."
"Ah..."
An eerie silence descended. Assassin, who was known for his stealth, had been found by the wild and reckless Berserker.
Kirei continued, his tone grim.
"The telepathic link... hasn't been severed."
"Ah, I see..."
Tokiomi responded with a slightly troubled tone.
"So, you are feeling Assassin's pain?"
The telepathic link—this was a technique Kirei had honed over three years. It allowed him to share sensory information with his contracted servant, enabling him to monitor his servant's movents at a distance. In the context of the Holy Grail War, this was a highly practical skill, especially if one's servant was skilled in reconnaissance like Assassin.
However, this ability had one drawback, it required the consent of the linked entity. For example, Tokiomi had been refused by Archer, who, being a proud King of Heroes, considered such a breach of privacy an insult.
Kirei, still connected to Assassin, was enduring the sa excruciating pain as his servant. While a normal human would have perished from such injuries, Assassin's servant nature prevented death. Still, the tornt beyond death's grasp was sothing even hardened agents like him could not withstand.
"Thank you, Master."
Kirei said as he ended the communication and closed his eyes again.
With the final trace of fear, pain, and despair flooding through him, Kirei's face, instead of showing sorrow, subtly lifted into a smile.
***
After the communication ended, Tokiomi rubbed his brow and sighed deeply.
At that mont, the warehouse district had beco the battlefield for six heroic spirits: Saber, Lancer, Rider, Archer, Berserker, and Assassin. This scale of engagent had never been seen in any past Holy Grail Wars.
Six heroes from different eras and backgrounds were now assembled. No one could predict how chaotic the situation might beco.
And now, if he were to send his familiars to intervene, there would be a period of information blackout. He wouldn't be able to react in ti.
What's worse, the alliance had been exposed, and Assassin had been thrown into Gilgash's path. Was Berserker's master trying to prevent Archer from acting?
But with Gilgash's personality...
***
Warehouse Street
Under the astonished gazes of everyone present, the swirling magical energy gradually solidified, forming a towering shadow. This shape could only be described as an "apparition."
The "man" was clad in full armour, covering every inch of his body with not a single gap. However, this armour was unlike the silver-plated armour of Saber or the luxurious golden attire of Archer. The black armour worn by this knight lacked any intricate decoration or polished sheen. It was as if the darkness itself had manifested, deep and bottomless. Even his face was concealed by a hardened faceplate, leaving no trace of identity.
The only thing that could be seen was a pair of blazing eyes burning like flas, peering from the narrow slits in the faceplate.
This was undoubtedly a servant, but what kind of heroic spirit could possess such an ominous appearance? All of the previously revealed spirits had their own distinct glories. Saber, Lancer, Rider, and Gilgash all carried a unique radiance—an embodint of their legends, built on admiration and respect, forming their Noble Phantasms.
But this black knight exuded none of those qualities. In fact, he seed more akin to an Assassin in his absence of glory.
The black armour around him radiated a powerful wave of "negative energy," suggesting he was sothing far more sinister.
"Hey, Rider, why don't you go invite him to join?"
Lancer asked, his voice carrying an air of teasing despite his caution. His eyes remained fixed on the black knight.
Rider frowned.
"Even if I wanted to, that guy looks like there's no room for negotiation from the start."
The malevolent aura emanating from the black knight was overwhelming. Even the magical winds swirling around seed to carry the eerie groans of despair.
Everyone instinctively knew this was Berserker. There was no need to ask. Only Berserker could possess such a terrifying aura.
And yet...
"I can't see him!"
Waver stamred, his voice filled with shock.
"No matter how much I focus, I can't make out anything about him—no stats, no information!"
It wasn't just Rider. Even Saber, Lancer, and Irisviel could feel it. No matter how intently they observed, they could never get a clear picture of Berserker's appearance.
The black armour around him seed to distort like out-of-focus imagery. Sotis, it split into two or three shadows, making it impossible to see his true form. It appeared that not only were their visual senses distorted, but even the Masters' abilities were being affected.
Berserker had to be using so kind of special ability or curse, one that could confuse enemies and hide his true nature.
"Even the Masters' abilities don't work?"
Iskandar muttered.
"A Berserker who can hide his identity... The quality of this Holy Grail War is truly sothing else."
At that mont, the black knight stood on the street, facing Gilgash, the golden king, who stood tall beneath the lamplight.
Between them lay the bloodied and battered Assassin, lying on the ground like so grotesque mixture of solid and liquid, twitching occasionally to show he was still clinging to life.
But soon, a golden spear pierced Assassin's skull, rcifully ending his suffering.
Gilgash, the one who threw the spear, didn't even look at the "ally" who had been killed. His eyes were locked solely on the pitch-black knight, his gaze burning with volcanic anger, akin to that of a serpent about to strike.
Only Gilgash knew—Berserker's terrifying gaze was fixed solely on him.
"You think I'll save him?"
Gilgash scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain.
"How foolish."
The swords and spears floating around Gilgash slowly turned, their sharp points now aid at the new primary target—Berserker.
"Die, mongrel. At least die with so dignity and entertain this king."
With those cold words, the weapons shot forward, speeding toward their intended target.
***
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