Although he was known for wielding twin spears, Diarmuid was by no means limited to a single fighting style.
In life, he had possessed four weapons in total—not just the red and yellow spears, but also a red sword and a yellow sword.
When he deemed the battlefield particularly perilous, he would often enter battle with just the red spear and red sword.
As a Servant summoned under the Lancer class, Diarmuid could no longer wield the dual-sword Noble Phantasms, but that didn't stop him from fighting effectively with only his red spear.
Morgan's spear technique was exceptional—so much so that Diarmuid couldn't help but be drawn into the thrill of the duel before him.
More than that, there was something in her movements—an unmistakable trace of Celtic warrior style.
Diarmuid didn't know Morgan's true name, but if she had been a Servant with ties to the Celts, he would've recognized her. That left only one possibility: her Master, Tenkei Shiomi, must have deep connections to the Celtic tradition.
After all, even the ancient "Ford of the Forked Branch" formation was within his knowledge.
Clearing his mind of all distractions, Diarmuid's spearwork grew even sharper. Not only was he able to fend off Morgan's assault, he gradually forced an opening in her technique.
Finally, he caught the critical gap. With a deft upward flick, he knocked Morgan's magic spear aside.
"No mercy under my spear!"
Diarmuid shouted as he drove the red spear forward, piercing Morgan's chest. Blood sprayed from the wound.
"…A Lancer, indeed. If we're talking pure technique, I was never first-rate," Morgan said as her spear slipped from her hand and clattered heavily to the floor.
"Not at all. Your spearwork was magnificent. It reminded me of tales I heard in my youth," Diarmuid replied sincerely.
As fellow Servants, he could feel it—Morgan's Spirit Origin was dissipating.
It left a tinge of regret in his heart. He wondered if she had held back on using Magecraft out of concern for the power of Gáe Dearg: Crimson Rose of Exorcism and his innate Magic Resistance.
That possibility made the battle feel somewhat unfair to him.
In the dim hall of the 31st floor, Berserker's body began to fade into transparency, then disappeared altogether.
The sensation of his red spear embedded in her flesh faded along with it. Diarmuid remained where he was, gripping his spear in one hand, preparing to retrieve the yellow spear he had discarded earlier and return to his Master's side—to help Kayneth repel Tenkei Shiomi.
Now that their Servant was gone, a Master alone was no real threat.
Or so he thought—until, before he could shift into spirit form, he felt a chill of murderous intent strike him from behind.
A warrior's instinct honed through countless battles moved his body faster than thought. He spun and raised his spear to parry the attack.
"Who goes there! Attacking from behind is a coward's—wait…"
Lancer's shout faltered into silence.
What he saw stunned him.
It was Berserker.
The very same Berserker whose Spirit Origin had just dissipated was now standing before him, calmly retracting her magic spear.
"How… is this possible…" Lancer muttered, too shocked to fully form the words.
It wasn't an illusion. It wasn't a trick of the light.
That last strike—was undeniably hers.
Just as vicious, just as precise, aiming straight for a fatal blow.
"Lancer, you didn't really think beating one of me was enough to rest easy… did you?"
The voice was unmistakably Morgan's—but it came from behind him again.
Diarmuid turned.
From the shadows emerged another Morgan.
And then another. And another.
Identical forms stepped out from the darkness at all angles—same clothing, same face, same deadly magic spear in hand.
"Berserker... There's more than one?" Diarmuid's voice trembled slightly.
The hollow stillness of battle had vanished, replaced by confusion over the current situation.
"What's so strange about that, Lancer? I may have manifested under the Berserker class, but I'm also a Magus." Morgan's voice carried a mocking smile, laced with sarcasm. "And as a Magus, things like 'clones equal to myself' are entirely within reach."
Facing the sight of five Berserkers, Diarmuid flicked his toes and picked up the yellow spear he had discarded.
The tide had turned once again. He could no longer calculate whether he had any hope of surviving against five Berserkers.
All he could do now was fight with everything he had, upholding the name of a knight.
"Then, fight to your heart's content, Lancer."
Morgan, the only one standing empty-handed, spoke lightly before turning away and vanishing. Lancer had no way to pursue her.
That had to be the real one.
And that real one was now heading upstairs.
Lancer could only hope that his Master would grasp the situation and summon him with a Command Spell.
Morgan ignored Lancer entirely, leaving the sounds of clashing weapons on the 31st floor sealed behind the fire door.
She surveyed the chaos on the 32nd-floor corridor and confirmed that Shiomi was still safe.
After all, the mana link between them remained completely unbroken.
With that reassurance, the Fairy Queen walked unhurriedly through the wreckage.
The magic used to create clones was exceptionally mana-intensive to activate and maintain. A Magus typically had limited mana, so Morgan's ability to use such a spell so effortlessly spoke volumes about the exceptional caliber of her Master.
His Magic Circuit quality was rated A-, with a composition marked as "abnormal," and the quantity ranked at an EX level.
Even that wasn't the most remarkable thing. What truly set Tenkei Shiomi apart was his ability to draw mana directly from the Greater Source—far beyond the capabilities of modern Magi.
Taking it all into account, the mana fueling Morgan's actions essentially came from the ambient mana of the world itself.
The Master named Kayneth had brought a Magical Energy Reactor to compensate for his own limitations.
But to Shiomi, mana was like air—freely available. Like breathing in oxygen, with every breath he took, he claimed the mana of the Greater Source as his own.
In a sense, the Greater Source was Shiomi's Magical Energy Reactor.
Soon, Morgan spotted Shiomi standing in the hall on that floor, the red spear in his hand slowly fading away.
As if the sight of the weapon stung her eyes, Morgan frowned in displeasure.
"If you needed a weapon, you could've just asked me."
"You need one too, don't you?" Shiomi replied with a resigned look. "Besides, I have my own. Last time, I just didn't want to disrespect your kindness."
As he spoke, Morgan had already walked up to him. "Since you're my husband, at least take my advice. Someone like you shouldn't rely too much on that spear."
"Rely, huh..."
Shiomi thought she was being a bit dramatic.
To him, the spear was simply effective for taking out familiars.
"Anyway, I'll handle things from here. Just stand back and enjoy the show."
"That was my plan from the start."
With that, Morgan changed back into her regular attire and adjusted her glasses.
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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