Chapter 26: Battle of the Warehouse

My name is Alaya. I am watching the battle at the warehouse.

179:22:35

It was not only Rider who noticed Lancer’s undisguised presence. In fact, ever since Lancer and his Master stepped out of the Hyatt Hotel, they had been under the surveillance of the Assassin. The personnel responsible for the watch had even been swapped twice, though for Kirei Kotomine, who maintained a state of shared consciousness with all the Assassins, this made little difference.

At this moment, a small, hunched Assassin was inside a shipping container near the meeting point of the Rider and Lancer camps. Because the two parties shared a master-disciple relationship, their conversation was likely to reveal useful intelligence. Thus, Kirei had forbidden the use of spirit form to reconnoiter at closer range, as that would make it impossible to overhear their dialogue, leaving him unable to formulate a corresponding strategy.

Consequently, the Assassin who had tunneled into the container poked at the surrounding construction materials in boredom, pressing his ear against the corrugated metal wall to listen intently to the movements outside.

——

On the wide driveway of the container yard, Lancer, wielding his yellow and red spears, stood over twenty meters away from Rider. Neither seemed inclined to make the first move, as Waver was currently crossing the edge of the battlefield between them.

Only after confirming that his small Master had reached Kayneth and Sola safely did Iskandar turn his attention toward Diarmuid.

"I say, Lancer, while I would never refuse a challenge, you seem to be at an overwhelming disadvantage."

Rider stood on his lightning chariot, clutching a short sword, and gazed at the wary Lancer. He tapped the chariot's railing, and the two bulls at the front snorted in agreement.

Although it is said that in close-quarters combat, an extra inch of length means an extra inch of power, once Rider’s Via Expugnatio entered combat mode, it would be enveloped in violent lightning. Combined with the sheer momentum of the chariot itself, it would be extremely difficult for a warrior on foot like Lancer to merely dodge, let alone counterattack.

"Is declaring victory before the battle even begins a hobby of the King of Conquerors?" Lancer had already shed his modern attire, now clad in a dark green, one-piece skin-tight leather suit that highlighted his lithe, well-defined physique and explosive musculature. "If you underestimate my two companions, you will suffer for it. When I challenged you, I naturally took that chariot into account."

"Is that so? Then I shall not hold back either." Rider pulled the reins and hoisted his thick-bladed short sword high. "Trample them!"

Dazzling electricity surged simultaneously over the chariot and the sacred bulls. Then, with astonishing speed, they charged toward Lancer. The transition from absolute stillness to absolute motion was instantaneous; there was no discernible acceleration as they crossed the twenty-meter gap between them. Under such circumstances, Lancer should have had no time to anticipate or react.

However, Lancer did not need to predict the move.

Before the chariot even started, the Lancer had leapt high into the air, evading the trampling hooves and the crackling lightning. He spread his arms like a bird of prey diving for its meal, swooping toward the driver’s seat. The red and yellow demonic spears in his hands struck out like the sharp talons of a raptor, and the lightning that sought to block him dissipated before the crimson spearhead like melting snow beneath a scorching sun.

Mind's Eye—a personal skill of Lancer’s, born from rigorous training and tempering—allowed for the accurate prediction of an opponent’s actions and provided keen insight to break through dangerous situations. When Rider raised his short sword, Lancer had already foreseen the inevitable rapid assault and jumped in advance. His descent, given Rider’s charge, felt more like a predatory dive.

Because this was Rider’s active offensive, he had almost no room to feint or evade. He could only choose to parry either the Gáe Dearg or the Gáe Buidhe, leaving the other spear with a near-guaranteed hit. Yet, this too was within Lancer’s plan: if Rider parried the red spear, he would thrust the yellow one into an unarmored spot like an arm or throat; if he parried the yellow one, the red spear would strike his chest, and the armor, crafted from magical energy, would surely crumble upon contact.

*Clang!*

The first exchange between the two heroic spirits was over. They appeared to have simply swapped positions, and neither had sustained a wound.

"Lancer, are you holding back against me?" The chariot, no longer crackling with lightning, slowly turned around. Rider’s rugged voice held a note of confusion.

"Because I do not wish to kill an ally just yet!" Lancer turned, his handsome face betraying clear irritation. "Why would you use that kind of tactic?!"

During their brief contact, Rider had employed a third tactic that Lancer had not anticipated: he had completely ignored the two demonic spears, swinging his thick-bladed sword in a horizontal sweep. Had he been stabbed, the sheer force and velocity of the chariot would have nonetheless left Diarmuid severely wounded.

Left with no choice, Lancer had been forced to change his approach on the fly, parrying the sword and using its momentum to perform a backflip and land.

"Isn't it obvious? When an enemy's attack poses no threat to one's own defenses, abandoning caution to launch an active offense is the correct choice," Rider said, patting the metal armor on his chest as if to emphasize. "Those two slender spears of yours cannot penetrate it."

"Cannot penetrate?" Lancer’s tone was laced with annoyance as he looked toward Kayneth. "My Lord?"

"The Tohsaka family should already be aware of your true name, and since Saber is resting within the Einzbern castle after being attacked by Archer, there is no need to bother with concealment," Kayneth replied coldly, his attention focused on Waver, who was having his ears tugged by Sola as part of a lesson.

"This red spear, named Gáe Dearg, can sever any magical energy it strikes. And this shorter yellow spear, Gáe Buidhe, ensures that any wound it inflicts will never heal." Diarmuid spun his spears into a magnificent display of martial skill before settling into a stance like an eagle spreading its wings. "Therefore, had I just now shattered that armor of magical energy and left a permanent, unhealable wound upon your heart, you would have already returned to the Throne of Heroes, Rider!"

"Oh, oh," Iskandar observed the two spears with the gaze of someone eyeing a prize he intended to claim. "Excellent. They are quite useful."

"Do you truly grasp what I mean?" Lancer felt helpless at Rider’s devil-may-care attitude. "If you, King of Conquerors, use a 'wounds for wounds' strategy when facing an attack whose nature you don't understand, then the command—"

"If you had thrust your spear just now, the outcome would have already been decided," the King of Conquerors interrupted with a wave of his hand. "It is not about whether your spear could pierce my armor; it is a 'certain' fact."

"It is called the [Sword of Cypriot], though it is not a Noble Phantasm." Seeing Lancer’s attentive expression, Rider held his short sword out level. "It is the very blade that severed the Gordian Knot. Thus, when I use it in battle, I act in the 'most suitable' manner, ignoring whether intelligence is sufficient or not. Well, though it is better suited for the command of large armies."

"Similar to Instinct or Mind's Eye..." Lancer twirled his two spears. "This characteristic is indeed much like that unreasonable act of splitting the knot..."

"Also, I must correct your guess," the King of Conquerors said, clanking his heavy golden breastplate. "Perhaps the way it appeared caused a misunderstanding. While this armor can be spiritualized, it is the real deal, approaching the level of a Noble Phantasm. Thus, the premise of 'piercing it' simply does not hold."

Kayneth, watching from the sidelines, spoke up. "As an aside, Diarmuid, like myself, has no wish to entrust to the Holy Grail. What about you, King of Conquerors? What is the wish you hope to realize through the Grail?"

"Hmm... it seems you really are that brat's teacher. He didn't have any concrete wishes either, just wanted to gain the recognition of others by winning." Rider looked at his own palm. "However, my wish can only be realized through the Grail. It is the foundation for conquering the world."

"Though you say that, in extreme cases, one cannot rule out the possibility that 'mutual destruction' or a 'desperate charge' might be the optimal choice," Lancer said, his spear-tip lowered to point at the ground. "This is not a battle to the death; 'going all out' does not mean risking one's life recklessly."

"In that case, I shall change my tactics," Rider replied. He struck the chariot's rail forcefully and pointed his sword at Lancer. "The enemy is Diarmuid, the chief warrior of Ireland’s peerless Fianna Knights, flawless in physique, character, appearance, and martial arts. Those willing to face him, step forward!"

As Rider spoke, a dry, gravel-laden whirlwind swirled around the lightning chariot. Five figures appeared within the gale. They wore armor similar in style to Rider’s, possessing powerful frames and a valiant aura. Judging by their equipment, one could identify a sword-and-shield warrior guarding the chariot, two spearmen clearing the path ahead, and an archer providing cover from the rear.

"Are they all Heroic Spirits?!" Waver, who looked somewhat wilted after being reprimanded by Sola, widened his eyes in shock.

"No classes... and they don't seem to have Noble Phantasms or special abilities either." Kayneth squinted, carefully observing the Heroic Spirits who would likely become his own assistants later.

"Brat, did you really think the title of [King of Conquerors] was earned through individual martial prowess alone?" Rider laughed heartily as he spoke to Waver. "When you speak of me, Iskandar, you can never leave out my peerless army!"

*Ionioi Hetairoi*, a powerful Noble Phantasm that was more than just a Noble Phantasm. It was the assembly of all the warriors who had served under this King throughout his road of conquest. While calling his true name would summon them all, in situations where such a massive display was unnecessary, he could manifest individual warriors as Heroic Spirits without classes or Noble Phantasms.

"Though a few of these fellows are stronger than me, it seems they haven't come out," Rider noted, identifying the soldiers around him one by one. He nodded in satisfaction and pointed his sword at Lancer. "For this round, let us make the condition for victory the ability to land a solid strike on me while I am under the protection of my guard. If you feel you cannot do that, how about you admit defeat and surrender the command?"

"Ha. The stronger you are, the more urgent my desire becomes to offer the command to my Lord." Diarmuid raised the *Gáe Dearg* toward the newly manifested spirits. "Come, Rider!"

*Something is wrong*, thought Waver, who was watching from the sidelines. *How did this battle turn into a trial for Lancer by the King of Conquerors?*