[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/m4dsWXq.png[/img][color=d9869f][h2]Lucius Tiberius[/h2][/color][i][h3]Red Dragon Round Two, Einzbern Forest[/h3][/i] [@Kyuuzen] [@Cu Chulainn][/center]

[color=d9869f]"Don't presume to order me, Vassal. If I choose to strike him down, I will."[/color]

When the dragon-fire came, he felt a tint of confusion. 

Arturus was a dragon-turned-man, but he had never had that ability. Nonetheless, he treated it as though it was an attack from Arturus itself, even if it was a trifling one. While the power behind those flames was at least suitable to be of the dragon-class, the idea that something so halfhearted could truly strike someone with his speed and [b]Instincts[/b] was a laughable one at best. 

Weaving through the fire, the Saber was unhindered, his focus on his enemy all the sharper even as fire began to blossom in the forest behind him as he ran. 

...ah, wait, that could be a problem, couldn't it? 

As he ran, his will reached out, and [b]dominated[/b] the flames. It wouldn't do if the flames spread to that [i]other[/i] section of the forest before it was complete, and so the best recourse was simply to snuff them out. And then he saw [i]him[/i]. 

[color=d9869f]"Ah..."[/color]

Disappointing. That was the first thought to dawn on him. 

The stature was imposing, the spiritual foundation dripped with the nature of a great hero, the sword gleamed with a great light. That resplendent armor, that strength of the dragon, there was no doubt that this man was a hero who could stand among humanity's greatness. 

And yet, for all his excitement at facing the enemy before him, someone he could recognize just as easily as he himself was recognized, he felt a tinge of disappointment. 

[color=d9869f]"You're not Arturus, but you'll do nonetheless!"[/color]

Just as his eyes finally landed on the Rider, though, that true name was invoked and light colored his sword. He felt the blade in his hands call out in hunger, a grin tearing his face in two. [color=d9869f]"Fine, fine. Wake up, Florent."[/color]

It would have begun the second Dietrich laid eyes on Lucius. A weight, an immaterial weight that nonetheless felt more palpable than anything else, pressed down on him from all sides. For a hero of his stature, that pressure was not crippling, but it was nonetheless significant. His movements were slowed, his strikes were weakened. This was what it meant to oppose the Sword Emperor. 

...and at the same time, that almighty will of domination was imposed on the Rider's steed as well.

Lucius's mind whirred to life, taking in what he knew of the capabilities of the Servant before him as he closed the gap between them. Learn their abilities, imagine methods in which they can be used, and then devise countermeasures for each one. His mind could take the forefront, and his combat aptitude would be in charge of the execution. 

To start with, that sword was a problem. His armor alone wouldn't be sufficient to cope with its effect; with Flora's protection amplifying it, though, it could possibly handle it. Besides that, if he released the true name then the other's attacks would be meaningless, but that was something against his ideals, so it wasn't even up for consideration. If that was the case, he was best off avoiding getting hit.

The armor was only relevant if he attacked in ways other than with Florent, which could certainly occur. So long as Florent was present, though, he could essentially ignore the defensive capacity of the Noble Phantasm. Well, unless the Rider did [i]that[/i], of course.

The steed was noteworthy, but he had ways of dealing with such things.

With that decided, at the same time as his will came down like a crushing wall on Dietrich, not giving him the chance to adjust to the sensation...

-Lucius burst out at full speed.

With unlikely great speed, Lucius’s figure had caught up to him right from under his nose. This was a speed that far and away exceeded Britain's Red Dragon, a man on par with Dietrich, even when supplemented by that Bounded Field of wind. To Dietrich, who had no such benefit, and was also vulnerable to the pressure of Lucius's will, there was an 'absolute disadvantage' in terms of speed. 

Even if he had somehow managed to swing his blade before Lucius had closed the gap between them, that was no matter. A conceptual weapon of cutting only held sway if the object had a status of 'could be cut'. In the face of Florent's mystery and Lucius's own strength, deflecting such a blow was trivial at best. Of course, that didn't mean he was careless; after all, in his eyes, this opponent was a fitting stand-in for Arturus.

And then, laughing like a madman, the offensive began. 

[color=d9869f]"How many blows can you endure?!"[/color]

To ordinary people, it could’ve been seen like the sword emperor’s weapon had disappeared. As he was just carving red streaks in the air. One, two, it swelled to an uncountable number in that short pause. Without warning, Dietrich was forced to weather a storm of blows from the other's unmatched strength.

But...

There was an opening. Someone with Dietrich's Instincts could notice it almost immediately, calling it to his attention as a way to survive. Lucius's legs, in spite of his torrential offense, were largely unguarded by his offensive which focused on his sword. If Falke moved to strike there, it would likely be too slow, but for Dietrich there was a chance he could take advantage of it to strike out. If timed properly, given what could be understood about his combat style, he could take the Sword Emperor's legs out from under him, giving him at least some reprieve from that demonic speed. 

Of course, whether he would be able to do that was another matter altogether.