“I guess that could not have gone better, huh?”

I ask her, but I am only answered by a fist to the wall. The energy in her fist is so dense, I bet she could easily punch through normal solid walls right now. Too bad she can’t punch through this one.

I touch the wall of the barrier with the palm of my hand. Just like he said it kind of sticks to my hand. The barrier actually drains the energy from any physical attack it receives to feed its own store of magical energy, basically using them as its fuel. As long as she is trying to punch herself free, the barrier will actually grow stronger. So, before she starts trying different tactics, I have to do something.

“Goodbye.” I simply say as I walk to the side of the bridge, the magical cube drifting beside me, stuck to my hand. I swing my hand and the whole cube, along with the prisoner inside, flies like it weighs only as much as a pebble. It soars into air, and falls into the water some thirty meters away from the bridge. It sinks below the water level with the prisoner inside.

I look after her contentedly and smile. This could have gone a lot worse.

[Interlude]

“Damn.”

Heracles waits, as if saying Lancer is no threat even when he gets time to prepare.

“Damn.”

Lancer already used his noble phantasm, actually two of them even if it was the same spear, and neither even put a scratch on him. Why, Lancer does not know. He remembers their previous fight. In that one, they fought for some time without either gaining any definitive advantage, and as morning got closer, they decided to put it on hold and retreat. In that fight, neither used any noble phantasm, but Lancer remembers both suffering scratches. Both Lancer and Heracles. So why doesn’t even his noble phantasms hurt him now?

Despite this tough situation, Lancer grins.

“Hah! The last enemy standing is a worthy one. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He pulls his spear out of the ground and points it at his enemy. Heracles merely points toward a nearby tree.

“I’m not the last one.”

“What?”

King Jason is sitting on the ground, his back to a tree. He has covered himself in a large, yellow, shiny fur as if he was cold.

“I, uhh…”

“You are still around? How are you alive?”

“No reason. I just, uhh… I’m just watching. Don’t mind me. Assume I’m not here. I’ll just be here, sitting, resting, not interrupting any fights. You continue.”

“Is that… Ahh, of course, the Golden Fleece. No wonder you look fine already. But why are you not dead?”

“I… got lucky?”

“Lucky.”

“…yeah. Besides, there is one other! Over there!”

Lancer turns toward a different tree. There is another familiar figure behind it.

“You can’t be serious.”

Sten comes out from behind the tree, scratching his head.

“Oops, busted. And I’m very disappointed in you, tree. You failed me twice today.”

“And, how did YOU survive? You know what, never mind.”

Lancer looks at everyone one by one. Sten keeps scratching his head. Jason tries not to make eye contact. Heracles simply watches, though a sparkle of excitement is in his eyes, Illya is smiling from ear to ear. Lancer’s lips slowly make way for a grin. Then he throws his head back and laughs.

“Hahahahaha! Great! This is great! To think all of you would survive! Hahaha! This is how it should be!”

Sten walks closer to him, his eyes on Heracles.

“Don’t take this the wrong way Lancer. But you lack a hand, while he looks just fine. Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all. My enemy is your enemy. Make yourself at home.”

Sten stands beside Lancer. His head slightly turns toward Jason, who is now on his feet, still wrapped by the fleece.

“What about you? Will you help?”

“What? Help against Heracles? Are you kidding? I also want to take him down, but I can’t even scratch him. If I were to attack anyone at this point, that would be anyone that is not Heracles. So I’ll just watch, okay? You go on ahead.”

“You’ll just wait at the side lines?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Ready to attack anyone that is not Heracles?”

“Yeah…”

“That means me or Lancer.”

“Wait, no.”

“So you are basically waiting for the right chance to join Heracles.”

“Join him? No. That’s not what I-“

“Then what do you mean?”

“I mean… It does come down to that, right?”

“New plan, Lancer. I’ll be joining you shortly.”

“Sure. Don’t take long.”

Jason knits his brows. With a single movement, the golden fleece falls from his shoulders. It vanishes into thin air just before touching the ground.

“Now, even I can’t let that one go. You plan to face me, and you’ll be joining him shortly. I wasn’t planning on fighting you, but that has now changed. Heracles, one has to be mad to face him alone. Lancer, he is mad, but has the strength and speed to back it up. I’d rather not fight either of them. But you? I can’t let you claim you’ll be taking care of me shortly.”

“Your words ring hollow King Jason, considering you haven’t even seen me wield a weapon yet. But you will now, thus this won’t take long.”

Sten extends his arms forward. In his empty hands, appears the long shaft of a weapon. A smooth, round, close to two meters, ebony shaft with a wide, straight, two-edged, half a meter long, bright white blade at one end. An unbalanced pole arm, that looks like it would be hard to stab with. Sten raises it high above his head, and without saying anything further, starts turning it in circles. He starts approaching Jason.

A moment later, Jason has armed his sword and shield that has burn marks all over it.

“Ridiculous. That is the weapon of a Lancer. Shouldn’t you be… Assassin or Caster?”

“Should I? You tell me your class, and I’ll tell you mine.”

“…”

Jason does not answer. Now the distance between them is only three meters. Sten’s weapon has gotten very fast.

“Then just say yes or no to my guess. Judging from that ship, are you Rider?”

“…yes.”

“Liar.”

Taking two steps, Sten swings his weapon downwards, with all the momentum of the circular movement behind it. It is a mighty swing, but that means he is also giving an opening. Jason steps forward to get closer, and using his leg muscles more than his arm’s, he pushes up to meet the blow. His shield catches Sten’s weapon and stands its ground. His sword makes way for Sten’s undefended abdomen.

Sten’s eyes open wide momentarily as a burst of magical energy originating from where Jason targeted stops the sword. He jumps back and puts some distance between them. Blood drips down, but the wound is shallow. Sten closes his eyes for a second, and that is enough to heal it.

“Well, that was meaningless. Anyway…”

Jason points his sword right at Sten.

“This time, the goal of The-”

“That increases your luck right?”

“-King’s… What?”

“That Noble Phantasm, it increases your luck right? And-or gives you some kind of precognition ability.”

“What, this? Maybe. Ehem. This time, the goal of-”

“I bet it does both. It does both, right?

“-The… C’mon now. Will you let me finish?”

“If you answer.”

Sten flicks the blade of his weapon irritatingly.

“Yes! It does both! And it is called instinct, not precognition. Now…”

“Go ahead. Activate it…”

“Thank you. The next goal of The King’s Journey is your head. Prepare yourself!”

“…and fall in despair.”

Jason’s eyes are staring holes at Sten. They are the eyes of an irritated, but determined warrior. Then they slowly turn toward his shield, to the newest dent among the many that were made tonight. His eyes open wide as they turn to Sten. His instinct skill, enhanced to several times its normal performance by his King’s Journey noble phantasm, shows him what he must do. Thanks to it, he stood his ground against Lancer. Thanks to it, he survived against Heracles for that long, with no wound worth mentioning. Thanks to it, he pretty much foresaw all enemy attacks in all his fights. Thanks to it, he immediately rushed away and positioned his shield between him and the point of impact of Lancer’s surprise attack that wiped out his crew. His eyes can now see what he must do, what he can do.

As he looks at Sten, the only thing in his eyes is disappointment.

Sten’s weapon is radiating with magical energy.

“Finish what you have started, Perfectionist!”

Jason’s shield splits into two with a very clean cut; both pieces fall down. His forearm splits into two with a very clean cut; blood sprays out from both parts. His body is split open with a very clean cut; his agonized voice comes out of his mouth.

“Gaaaaaaaaagh!”

He falls to his knees. His shield, part of his forearm still attached, is lying next to him in two pieces. His sword is in his hand, but he has no strength to lift it. He has no strength to get up. He barely manages to look up as Sten approaches.

“I apologize King, but I am in a hurry. Farewell.”

Sten swings his weapon down. He hits only air.

“What?”

Jason is not there. Sten looks left and right, but he has vanished. He feels some remnant magical energy.

“A Command Spell! Damn it!”

He stabs the ground in anger a few times.

“I am ordered to kill a servant tonight.”

He reminds himself and turns toward the others. Lancer, not wanting to engage Heracles alone when he can do so with an ally, is just waiting and watching him. Illya, getting overjoyed whenever Heracles beats up an enemy, and even more so when he beats up two enemies at the same time, is just waiting and watching him. Heracles, having his exciting fight prematurely ended by Lancer, but now having found a new chance at excitement, is just waiting and watching him. Sten approaches Lancer, but speaks to Heracles.

“Too bad, great hero. King Jason’s master just signed your death warrant.”