Lancer was outmatched. That much could be said. The opponent standing before her was Rider; her first opponent, and in some twist of fate, her final opponent.
They didn’t see eye to eye. Figuratively, this was because they were competing to be the sole victor of the Holy Grail War. Literally, this was because Rider sat entombed with his Master within an enormous red suit of armour that towered over Lancer. Under normal circumstances, any Servant should have trembled with fear, but Lancer didn’t. She had experience with beings like this one.
Lancer waited at the peak of Mount Enzou for Saber to arrive. In addition to her Master’s written invitation, she had stated her intent to Saber by choosing to eliminate Caster instead of him—or, more drastically, as well as him. Really, he should ascend the mountain and prostrate himself before her in gratitude.
Such a sense of familiarity. That was the sensation Saber felt as he made his way through Homurahara Academy to fight the Servant that had taken up residence there. This familiarity was not for his own high school, however; if that was to be the case, he would have to be visiting one of the more modern schools situated in the Shinto district. Rather, Homurahara reminded Saber of another place he frequented in life—particularly during the years that made him who he was now—which was a school and yet wasn’t.
‘That’s not something you see every day,’ Rider said, flatly.
His Master agreed, face pale. The scene before them definitely wasn’t something one saw every day. In fact, it was likely that few people had ever seen something like this, period. Rider’s Master tried to turn away, but Rider caught his shoulder, holding him in place.
‘Don’t. We’re gonna have to fight that thing. I need you to have my back.’