[color=#000000][b]Berserker[/b][/color]
Interacting with: [@Turboshitter]
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The touch of prana and the first words of the chant lit the magic circle, casting the room in its fluctuating glow. The hum of magic emanated from the base of the ritual, like echoes of the clarion call cast into the Throne of Heroes. The reactions intensified with each spoken word and each unit of prana poured forth.

Then, as the aria reached its apex, the summoning circle erupted into a maelstrom of energy. The swirling haze at the base of the sigil became a raging whirlwind that threatened to rend its surroundings with unmatched intensity. At the same time, arcs of raw energy rampaged across the room and the dull thrum of prana became a deafening roar. Then, in a single instant, the room was flooded by a brilliant, blinding and all-consuming radiance.

Beneath the blinding shroud, motes of light coalesced into a featureless human form, and from deep within the Throne of Heroes came a response to the summons. Then came the imprinting of mind, body and soul within the hollow container. But such a flawed construct cannot contain Heroic Spirit in their full radiance. There came the Servant's class, stripping away the branches of legend like a sculptor at work.

The featureless form took shape. First assuming the appearance of the hero, then imprinting conceptual information. Class abilities, personal skills, and Noble Phantasms were integrated through adaptation of legend. Finally, the Grail granted the necessary data on Heroic Spirits and the modern day.

Deep amidst the swirling mist stood the form of a knight, the back of a feminine silhouette scarcely illuminated by the circle's fading glow. Her mere presence radiated an almost overwhelming aura of power. In her hand, a silver blade that shone like a beacon of starlight in the haze. The knight touched a hand to the edge of the sword and seemed to inspect it before it dissolved into shards of energy. Then, with the sound of shifting steel and crunching honeycomb, she turned to the magus.

In that moment, the light of the ritual dissipated, spelling an end to the summoning. In its place, the artificial lighting flickered back to life. The summoning was complete, yet Albert's circuits experienced no respite. The steady siphoning of prana continued, but this was only natural for such a ritual. After all, anchoring a Servant to the mortal plane was no simple task, even with all the compromises put in place by the Holy Grail War system.

[color=#000000]"Servant..."[/color] she paused, raising a hand to her eye level and creating a few experimental fists. [color=#000000]"...[i]Berserker[/i]."[/color] There was clear tinge of disdain and frustration in both voice and expression as she spoke that name. [color=#000000]"Here to answer your summons."[/color] A moment passed as the warrior's gaze regarded Albert and his eclectic series of familiars. So this boy magus had called her to the modern era, did he? At first glance, she was not impressed. But she had to remind herself not to pass judgement too hastily; she was about his age when she became a paladin. [color=#000000]"In accordance with the call of the Holy Grail, your fate is my fate, and my sword is your sword. I ask of you: are you worthy to be my Master?"[/color]