—It was overwhelming.
"...As I thought."
"Kuh...!"
Speaking with a dispassionate voice, Lancer of Red was cornering Lancer of Black. His precision, which didn't show the slightest bit of mercy, was truly cold-hearted, suitable for a great hero.
However, the hero Vlad III, who had equally fought against him just a little bit earlier, was greatly inferior to him.
Lancer of Black himself could also sense that abnormality. He had become weaker. If his earlier self was rated 10, his current self was at best a 6.
Stakes were being created from Lancer of Black's own body. But their force and sharpness were not as great as before. Even without covering himself in flames, Lancer of Red was able to repel all of them with just his spear and armor.
"These Hanging Gardens are the domain ruled by our camp's Assassin. It's not your territory. In other words—as long as you are within these gardens, you aren't the great patriotic hero who saved his country."
Assassin of Red's Noble Phantasm, Hanging Gardens of Babylon, was a fortress Noble Phantasm that ruled a defined domain. To put it another way, that place wasn't Romania where Vlad III was revered as a hero. Accordingly, the level of his fame became equal to zero.
Naturally, Lancer of Red, Karna, also had close to zero fame here. But there was a difference in basic power between Karna and Vlad III.
Even if his fame was equal to zero, as long as his legend existed somewhere in the world, Karna was unmistakably a great hero. On the other hand, outside of Romania, Vlad III was only known as a blood-sucking vampire.
Having been summoned with the characteristics of a hero, Lancer of Black's fame didn't give him any power. Rather, it inhibited his ability to display his original specs.
As he faced against Lancer of Red who wielded a spear, Lancer of Black had lost the refinement, splendor and even sternness that he had always maintained. Only the fact that he had pride and dignity as a hero supported him.
That alone gave him the power to fight.
But it was far from enough to cut off the head of Lancer of Red.
If the fighting spirit that Lancer of Black had due to his pride as a hero weakened even slightly, the battle would end with the force and speed of an avalanche.
The two Lancers understood that very well. In that case, Lancer of Black should just retreat, turn back and run away. Though, if he could do that, he wouldn't have become a Heroic Spirit in the first place.
—I'm going to die.
That thought, dyed with certainty, suddenly welled up inside Lancer of Black. His defeat would naturally mean the defeat of the entire Black camp. But it couldn't be helped. He had been unable to win and had chased the enemy too far. Most of all, he had never imagined that the Greater Grail would be stolen.
If only Saber of Black was alive. He had such thoughts as well. Shame, despair and regret threw his heart out of order like an overflowing river.
But—
It really couldn't be helped.
The moment he thought that, was certain of it, and resolved himself to it, the Master who had contracted with him appeared there as if through magic and whispered to him like a devil.
"No, we can still win. —If you release that Noble Phantasm, that is."
All the Servants present there stopped moving. The one standing there was a single Master, the head of Yggdmillennia, Darnic.
