"Did I make it in time?"
Caules sighed in relief, collapsing into his chair. The Red faction's Berserker, Spartacus, was an extreme case of madness—his mind was obsessed with nothing but oppressors and the oppressed. Whoever became his Master was in for a rough time; showing even a hint of being an oppressor, and Spartacus would smash them without hesitation. His overwhelming Berserk status meant he barely followed any orders, and even Command Spells only worked temporarily. After that, he'd go right back to charging into battle.
Given his Noble Phantasm, everyone knew Spartacus was a walking bomb—unpredictable, yet potentially game-changing. But when the Black Faction captured him, they faced a unique problem.
Celenike had no interest in any Servants except Astolfo, and Spartacus's unsettling smile made her avoid him entirely. Gordes, preoccupied with Sieg, had no intention of handling such a troublemaker. Roche only cared about his homunculi, and Fiore was just as reluctant as Celenike, finding the hulking Spartacus off-putting.
So when Vlad III decided to assign Spartacus to Caules, it surprised no one that there were no objections. After all, everyone saw Spartacus as an uncontrollable bomb, so who cared who held the fuse? But for Caules, this was a problem. He already struggled with using homunculi as mana sources, but with his limited talent, even supporting Frankenstein was difficult. Adding Spartacus to the mix left him with no choice but to go down this path.
Wanting to at least try to communicate with his new Servant, Caules didn't walk away after forming the contract like the others did. Instead, he stood before the restrained Spartacus.
"Um… Spartacus, what is your wish?" Caules asked, nervously looking up at the towering figure.
"To crush all the oppressors in this Holy Grail War who seek the Grail!"
So straightforward… how dangerous.
Caules couldn't help but grimace.
"Rrrr…!" Frankenstein snarled, brandishing her Noble Phantasm, Maiden's Chastity, at Spartacus.
"Do you feel oppressed? Don't worry, I'll crush anyone who oppresses you!" Spartacus responded with that same enigmatic smile, completely unfazed by Frankenstein's menacing display.
It feels impossible to connect with his mindset…
Caules scratched his head. He realized he didn't have the best synergy with Berserkers. Frankenstein, despite her inability to speak, didn't seem like a Berserker at all, while Spartacus was so far gone that, although he could talk, there was no getting through to him.
"Uh… so, during the battle, you'll probably be unleashed. Would you start by taking out the Red Faction?" Caules asked hesitantly.
"There are oppressors on that side too."
Alright, I think I get it.
"And after that, I'll crush the oppressors here!"
Let's just pretend I didn't hear that…
Caules sighed. "One more thing—please avoid attacking the Ruler, especially the white-haired one carrying a box."
His biggest fear was Spartacus going berserk and accidentally harming Jeanne.
"He is an ally of the oppressed," Spartacus replied, closing his eyes.
Good, at least Spartacus won't attack Jeanne. That's some relief!
Though he wasn't sure why Spartacus saw Jeanne as an ally, at least it confirmed she was safe from him.
Caules clenched his fists as the flashback ended. "I'm counting on you!"
"Hahaha! Oppressors, take this!" Spartacus roared, charging at Shirou Kotomine like a wild beast.
"Ah, who would have thought former comrades would cross swords like this?" Shirou sidestepped, his katana effortlessly slicing into Spartacus's waist. "The gladiator who led a slave revolt… Spartacus, I thought we could understand each other. But there's still time to change your mind."
This wasn't a lie.
"Hahaha! Your eyes… they're the eyes of a true oppressor!" Spartacus laughed, swinging his sword despite the gaping wound that was already healing at an alarming rate.
"That unwavering gaze!"
"There's no doubt! You're an oppressor!"
"Master, who knew you were such an oppressor? Looks like you're in for it," Shakespeare, still in spirit form, snickered, thoroughly enjoying the chaos.
"And whose fault is that?" Shirou responded with a genuine, exasperated laugh. "But Spartacus, you were right about one thing."
Shirou took a deep breath, gripping four Black Keys in his left hand and his katana in his right. "I am unwavering. Anyone who tries to stop me will be dealt with!"
"Oppressor!" Spartacus bellowed, lunging at Shirou.
He's full of openings!
Shirou leaped onto a nearby tree, launching himself into the air. The Black Keys in his hand became streaks of light as they pierced Spartacus's neck.
"Ha!"
Spartacus ignored the blades in his neck, swinging his sword at the airborne Shirou.
Shirou twisted his body midair, striking Spartacus's sword with his katana, and landed beside him, quickly sheathing his blade.
Iaijutsu!
Shirou exhaled, his eyes flashing coldly as he shot past Spartacus like a streak of light.
Blood gushed from Spartacus's abdomen, spraying into the air like a fountain.
"Beautiful," Shakespeare clapped his hands in mock applause.
"I'm joking—we should get out of here," Shirou said, sheathing his katana and turning to flee without hesitation.
"You've got to be kidding, Master," Shakespeare was dumbfounded. "Wait, Master, you're going the wrong way!"
The wound that nearly cleaved Spartacus in two healed in mere breaths, with excess flesh warping his body into a more grotesque form. His size began to increase as well.
The Roar of the Defiant Beast—a Noble Phantasm that converts damage into mana, storing it within Spartacus's body. Combined with the passive Noble Phantasm Badge of Honor, which speeds up his healing at a fraction of the usual mana cost, these abilities made Spartacus a terrifying adversary. The more damage he took, the more dangerous he became. And if his stored mana reached its limit or he was on the verge of death, it would all be unleashed in one massive explosion.
Shirou knew he didn't have the power to kill Spartacus in one strike. Prolonging the fight would only give Spartacus more mana, and with Frankenstein close to recovering from Shakespeare's mental interference, staying here meant certain death.
"Caster, retreat!"
His plan to take out Frankenstein had failed. If this battle continued, even with Karna as his trump card, he might not win.
He'd have to take a gamble—a gamble on the obsession of a certain Servant.