The crisp night air was cool against Shirou's skin as he walked through the empty streets of Fuyuki City. Saber walked a step behind him, her presence both reassuring and unnerving. Despite her stoic demeanor, Shirou could feel the tension radiating off her.
"You're unusually quiet," Shirou said, glancing over his shoulder.
Saber's green eyes locked onto his, her expression unreadable. "It is unwise to speak when danger lingers," she said simply.
Shirou frowned. "You think something's coming?"
"I know it is," Saber replied.
Her certainty sent a chill down Shirou's spine, and he tightened his grip on the wooden practice sword he still carried.
The faint sound of footsteps echoed from somewhere behind them. Saber stopped abruptly, her hand moving to the hilt of her invisible sword.
"Master, stay behind me," she said sharply, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Shirou opened his mouth to protest, but the look in Saber's eyes silenced him. He stepped back, his heart pounding as the footsteps grew louder.
From the shadows, two figures emerged. The first was a man clad in a long, flowing coat, his face obscured by the brim of a wide hat. He carried a staff-like weapon tipped with jagged metal, its surface glowing faintly with a sickly green light.
Beside him was a Servant, their towering figure wrapped in heavy, spiked armor. A massive mace rested on their shoulder, its head encrusted with dark runes that pulsed like a heartbeat.
The man in the coat smirked, his eyes glinting beneath the shadow of his hat. "Well, well," he drawled. "Looks like we found ourselves a couple of strays."
Saber's blade materialized in her hand with a flash of golden light, its presence radiating a quiet but undeniable power. "Identify yourselves," she commanded, her voice calm but firm.
The man chuckled, tipping his hat slightly. "No need to be so formal, missy. We're just out for a stroll, same as you."
"Do not insult me with lies," Saber said coldly. "State your purpose, or prepare to fight."
The armored Servant shifted slightly, their mace lowering as they stepped forward. The ground trembled faintly beneath their massive frame.
"Fine, fine," the man said, raising his free hand in mock surrender. "If you insist. Name's Zayd. Master of Berserker."
Saber's eyes narrowed, her grip on her sword tightening.
"And you must be Saber," Zayd continued, his smirk widening. "Figures. You've got that whole 'knight in shining armor' thing going on."
"Your words mean nothing to me," Saber said. "If you intend to fight, then do so. Otherwise, leave."
Zayd tilted his head, his smirk never fading. "Oh, we'll fight, all right. I just wanted to see if the kid back there had anything to say first."
Shirou stiffened as Zayd's gaze shifted to him.
"What's your deal, kid?" Zayd asked, his tone mocking. "You don't look like much, but you managed to snag yourself a Saber. Got any tricks up your sleeve, or are you just here for the ride?"
Shirou's fists clenched at his sides, but before he could respond, Saber stepped in front of him, her blade raised.
"You will not speak to my Master that way," she said sharply. "Prepare yourself, Berserker."
The armored Servant let out a low, guttural growl, their mace slamming into the ground with enough force to crack the pavement.
"Well, there you have it," Zayd said, stepping back. "Berserker, show them what you're made of."
Berserker charged, their massive frame moving with surprising speed. Saber met them head-on, her blade flashing in a blur of silver light.
The clash of steel and stone echoed through the street as their weapons collided. Sparks flew with each strike, the sheer force of their attacks sending shockwaves rippling through the air.
Shirou watched in awe and terror as Saber and Berserker traded blows. Each swing of Berserker's mace shattered the ground, their raw power overwhelming, but Saber's precision and speed kept her just ahead of their attacks.
"Saber's fast," Shirou muttered to himself, his hands trembling as he gripped the wooden sword. "But can she keep this up?"
Zayd watched the fight with a relaxed air, leaning casually against his staff. "Your Saber's good," he said, glancing at Shirou. "But she won't last forever. Berserker's got stamina for days, and one wrong move is all it'll take."
Shirou's jaw tightened. He knew Zayd was right. Saber was holding her own, but Berserker's relentless assault was beginning to take its toll.
"What's the matter, kid?" Zayd said, his tone mocking. "Aren't you gonna help her out?"
Shirou froze, his mind racing. He didn't know how to fight, and his magic was limited at best. What could he possibly do?
Before Shirou could respond, Berserker's mace came crashing down, the force of the blow sending Saber skidding backward. She landed on one knee, her breathing heavy as she raised her blade defensively.
"Master," Saber said, her voice strained. "I cannot hold them off alone. You must—"
She was cut off as Berserker charged again, their weapon swinging in a wide arc.
Shirou's body moved before he could think. He stepped forward, the wooden sword in his hands feeling impossibly light as he swung it upward.
The wooden blade met the mace with a sharp crack, the impact sending a jolt up Shirou's arms.
Zayd's smirk faltered as he straightened, his eyes narrowing. "Well, now," he muttered. "That's interesting."
Shirou didn't notice Zayd's reaction. His focus was entirely on Berserker, their towering form looming over him. His body moved instinctively, his feet shifting into a defensive stance as he raised the wooden sword again.
Berserker swung their mace in a diagonal strike, the weapon moving with crushing force. Shirou sidestepped, his movements smooth and precise, and brought the wooden sword down on Berserker's arm.
The blow didn't harm them, but it forced them to step back, their balance momentarily disrupted.
Saber took the opportunity to press the attack. She lunged forward, her blade slicing through the air in a brilliant arc that forced Berserker onto the defensive.
"Master," Saber called, her voice sharp. "Focus your magic into a projection. Now!"
Shirou hesitated, his mind racing. "A projection? What do you mean?"
Saber deflected another strike, her gaze snapping to Shirou. "Imagine the weapon you need," she said. "And make it real."
Shirou's heart pounded as he closed his eyes, the sound of the battle fading into the background. He thought of the sword from his dreams—the blade that had felt so natural in his grip.
His hands tingled as the wooden sword in his grip began to change, its surface shimmering faintly.
Shirou opened his eyes just as the wooden sword transformed, its crude shape replaced by a gleaming blade of steel.
Berserker roared, their mace raised high as they charged again. Shirou raised his new weapon, his resolve hardening.
For the first time, he felt the rhythm of the battle fully align with his movements.
And for the first time, he felt ready to fight.