[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/PfFmfJW.png[/img]
[b]Franz Burine Plaza[/b][/center]

The [i]twing[/i] of released arrows was fairly simple. But it was the excitement of watching them pierce the flesh of Berserker that made the impact feel real. Watching the arrows sink in, despite the lack of damage done. Must be a skill, or some noble phantasm. Probably a skill. Noble phantasms were usually more grand. Like those clubs Berserker was swinging around. The pelting of arrows went on for a few more seconds, with Caster's eyes noticing the diminishing returns. The time to keep firing arrows was over. Time to bring on the sun. 

[color=7bcdc8]"Inti."[/color] It was a command word. A word that passed Caster's lips, and echoed down to the silver arrows. They were mystic codes, and for a moment their identity and purpose would become obvious to Rider. The tips of the arrows ignited, and so began to sunlight. Beneath Berserker's skin, the flames erupted, consuming his insides. Flames spurting out from the wounds, and even from a distance Caster could see the glow of flames underneath Berserker's skin. The orange glow that consumed his body from the inside, searing away at his insides. It was clear that Berserker's pure survivable skills were being put to the test, as fire erupted from his mouth. The flames in his bicep exploded outward, and that arm fell off, the flesh that connected it to the body was consumed, leaving him without a left arm to stand on. 

[color=7bcdc8]"I'm impressed he survived."[/color] Manco said, eyes turning to the native closest to him. [color=7bcdc8]"We should have aimed at least one or two at the head. But I doubt we'll get that chance now."[/color] He said, silently cursing. He had overestimated the enemy servant's survivability. He must certainly be a savage of some renown in his homeland if he could survive the fire burning through his insides. 

The roar then echoed through the air, and Caster's eyes snapped up to the sky, feeling the surge of mana that covered the area. Obviously this was the Berserker's noble phantasm. [color=7bcdc8]"Archers, aim high!"[/color] Manco shouted, raising his bow as the first projectiles began to fall. He began to fire, the silver arrows knocking the first few weapons right from the air. All five archers did the same, quickly catching on to the random nature of the projectiles. They were safest standing still, as by that method they would be able to focus on the projectiles in front of them. The sound of a scream pierced his ears, but Manco didn't look away. He knew that one of his soldiers had just died, and a second and third scream echoed out. They were replaceable. That was what he knew, but holding his ground wasn't working. He leapt back, hand raised. 

[color=7bcdc8]"Ikaro!"[/color] A word, a musical melody of sorts. Harnessed by the shamans of his people, and whipping up a sudden wind. Knocking swords, shields, and spears away from him. The wave of energy acting as a shield, protecting Caster from the rush of projectiles until it finally died down. By then, he knew Berserker's true identity. The one soldier still alive looked to him, and Manco looked back. [color=7bcdc8]"Go! Keep an eye on Berserker if he tries to retreat."[/color] No berserker would fight back at this moment. The master would force him to retreat. They would need to keep an eye on Berserker, get him on a different time. 

[color=7bcdc8]"Berserker... No... The great hero of your homeland. Your pyre burns even now. I shall send you back to that pyre."[/color]