Berserker was nothing if not determined, driven by a single-minded purpose as he charged towards Rider and her line of cannons without fear or caution. The red glow of the magically charged artillery and the shining light of Rider crown were reflected in the mad warriors glowing eyes.

The cannons fired simultaneously once Berserker was close enough that dodging would be impossible, their gunpowder bark deafening in its intensity and its payload of ownerless Noble Phantasms deadly in its lethality. The makeshift grapeshot of sword, spears, arrows and daggers tore through the air at high speed and pierced Berserker’s hide. With the inhuman reactions of a legendary warrior and the fleeting self-preservation instincts of a deranged mind he brought the indestructible club his held in front of his body to block as many of the weapons as possible, but this didn’t stop the hail of projectiles from ripping through his body and inflicting a devastating amount of damage.

Berserker dropped to his knees in front of Rider, his club stabbed towards the ground to support his upper body the only thing preventing him from falling any further. Spears and swords protruded from his stomach, chest and left shoulder, while his right side was mostly clear of injury having been protected by the Noble Phantasm in his remaining hand. His head was also almost untouched, his burning gaze still locked on the Russian empress’s own and his jaw clenched in fury.

Blood pooled on the ground around the Servant. Blood from injuries that should have started healing by now. Blood from injuries that shouldn’t have been visible in the first place due to the nature of his skill, born from the fact that Harald was called ‘The Unwounded’ in life. It was now becoming evident that something had changed within Berserker, the effects of the shadow that had merged with the Servant and the curse it had carried with it making themselves evident by suppressing the skills that made Berserker so formidable, so unstoppable earlier.

A single, golden spear pierced Berserker chest on the left side under his ribs. The weapon had struck his heart and rent it in two. His Battle Continuation would allow him to move for a while longer still, but with his healing suppressed the injury would surely be fatal unless something could be done.

Nonetheless, until his end came there was still some life in Berserker yet. Using his club to pull himself up and forward the warrior climbed back to one knee before letting go of the weapon and lunging for Rider with his one remaining hand. The mad Viking would attempt to grab the enemy Servant by the throat with his powerful grip and squeeze the life out of them as his dying act.

[@DrowsyPangolin]