Fate/Lunasa Fomhar

Chapter 2: True Berserker

FATE/LÚNASA FÓMHAR

"August Harvest"

Chapter 2: True Berserker

A thick snowstorm rolled through an unknown city during the late hours of the night. Everywhere one looked, large clumps of fluffy white powder sprinkled around them like someone was getting careless with a shaker full of icing sugar. At least four inches of snow had piled up while everyone slept, which would cause a great deal of inconvenience for those who needed to shovel it out of the way. At the moment though, the vast majority of this city's residents were fast asleep, so virtually no one was around to observe the snowstorm blanketing their home in layers of white...

Nor did anyone get to see the volley of fireballs hurtling straight for a sword-wielding warrior.

The young man valiantly swung his longsword in an arc, disintegrating the blazing projectiles with nothing but his raw strength. He grimaced and darted his eyes around in search of his opponent.

Where are you hiding this time?

He raised his sword in a defensive stance and looked around. From what he could tell, he was standing in some school courtyard, although the lawns and racing track were lost beneath the layers of snow. His metal boots crunched the snow beneath his feet, and his messy hair billowed in the steady wind. He wore black and white clothing beneath silver armor, along with a white cape that had a cerulean underside that popped into a distinct collar around his neck. He looked incredibly similar to the male version of Fujimaru Ritsuka, except that the black hair sported random streaks of white around his forehead and nape of his neck.

The swordsman narrowed his crystal blue eyes and concentrated on seeking his foe out. He had retreated from a different battlefield and lured his enemy over to the school, where he felt there was a lower likelihood of innocent civilians getting involved in this skirmish.

"... THERE!"

He let out that cry the moment he whirled around and swung his blade, intercepting a spear that was swinging downward over his head. The newcomer tossed about to the side in midair and landed several feet away from the young man. He had been experiencing difficulty with finding his enemy because she was wearing a full set of wolf-themed armor and clothing that was completely colored white, which helped her blend in with the copious amount of snow surrounding them. Not only that, she was the fastest Servant out of the seven summoned in this unknown Holy Grail War. Since the swordsman already knew she wasn't Assassin, it meant she had to be...

"That's enough, Lancer," he declared firmly. "You're hurt much too badly to continue this fight."

He said this because even though the small-statured Lancer was completely decked in pure white clothes, several open gashes on her skin dyed them with deep red splotches. Even so, Lancer got into her combat stance and said in a horribly warped voice, "I tHinK nOt. My OrdErS aRe tO eLimInATe yOu fRoM thE wAr, SaBeR... Or sHouLd I sAy, tHe KinG oF FraNKs, CharLEmaGnE?"

"I already told you that you can call me Charlie. We're the same, aren't we?"

"DoN't bE aBSuRd. We ArE fAmIliArS suMMoNeD fOr tHe sOLe puRPosE oF cOMbaT. UnLeSs oUr MaStErs wIlL iT, wE caNNoT reGArD eAcH oTheR aS aNYthInG otHeR tHaN fiErCe riVAls."

"Well I'm not going to kill you. Not until I find out your True Name, anyway," Charlemagne declared.

"YoU'rE waStIng yOUr tiME."

"We'll see about that. I've made strong connections with the other Servants, regardless if we're enemies. You're the only one I know nothing about, and that bothers me a lot. Are you distorting your voice because your Master told you to do so?"