[h2]Sir Lancelot, Knight of the Lake[/h2]

As the arena descended into violence and the shadows rolled in, Lancelot did the only thing that made sense for a knight of his stature and position: he called upon his armour and summoned Arondight to his hand, racing up the stands to fight the shadows. His King's order was unnecessary; every instinct drove him to answer the challenge as soon as it was available.

Innocent people were in danger, and nothing was to be held back.

A shadow with a katana was the first to be cut down, showing that for all these numbers, the abilities the shadows presented were a mere fragment of the abilities of the original. Another almost-familiar figure with a spear was parried, only to be bifurcated in a blaze of released energy. Weak, so weak... but numerous. Even if they could all be cut down one by one, there were simply too many and too many possible victims to work through them so methodically. The restriction on Noble Phantasms was listed, but how many of those attending had true anti-army capabilities? Arturia might, but restraint would be the problem...

Adjusting his target, Lancelot moved for the most unlucky section of the stands, those who had the least Servants on their side when this began. He hoped that his Master could keep up, could reinforce after this action... but even if it meant his dismissal, there was no other choice. His blade shone with a pale light that steadily grew, trusting the others in attendance to more than cover for the weakness...

A dagger-wielding shadow fell.

The gathered energy would only be unleashed at the most desolate portion of the stands.