[color=00aeef][b][center]SIGMUND
Spring Valley Community Park[/center][/b][/color]
[hr]
His own counter collided properly. The idiot had started shifting before it had even begun, like some sort of prescience, so he had missed a full-force counterpunch — but with his strength, Archer should have still felt it and his head should still be ringing.

For that, he was willing to pay the price of a hit. Sacrificing your body was only a natural thing to do if it propelled you to victory in the first place — the Völsungs had ascribed to that kind of philosophy.

Not to mention, more than anyone else, so long as it was a straight fistfight, Berserker was confident in his body’s capabilities. 

His eyes flicked upward, and his other fist came to meet Lancer’s foot, taking his attention away from Archer for a moment. That small bit of negligence was all the bowman required.

The next heartbeat, Berserker was already...sailing through the air?

His gaze flickered back to Archer, his brow creasing.

Was he retarded? Probably. 

But he’d have still thought that even a moron would understand that a pinned enemy was better than a thrown one. As it was, Berserker could—

Ah, wait. His gaze shifted slightly, to the side. Hm, so that is what Archer wanted — just throw him on the path of another attack. It was not fast or strong — not by the standards of a Servant, and certainly not by Berserker’s — but it carried something else.

How irritating. Still, it provided an opportunity, and revealed something else to him, as well as allowed him to do something else.

This made it three on one. 

Yeah, if it was three on one, then it was worth doing.

His hand rose into the air, and when he swung down, he was holding [i]something[/i]. The projectile, whatever it was now, was rent, torn asunder — split in twain almost contemptuously easily.

The lightshow fizzled out and died, Berserker landed safely — and, in his hand, was a sword.

It was a beautiful sword, though simple in its make.

It was a terrifying sword, though unassuming in its form.

There was no doubt that this was Berserker’s vaunted treasure as a Heroic Spirit, the proof of the legend he had left behind. There was no doubt that this was a Noble Phantasm.

There had been no time to call out its True Name, but that was fine — in the first place, what sort of magecraft would require a Noble Phantasm’s release to contend against? Certainly nothing that could be found in this wretched day and age. 

The sword was simply greater, so it cut through. That was all there was to it.

Berserker hefted the thing and let it rest on his shoulder, before looking around.

Archer and Lancer were still there. His mind worked overtime.

And he started to laugh.

[color=00aeef]“Ah, that was a good one,”[/color] He said. [color=00aeef]“Alright, I think I got what I wanted out of the night.”[/color]

He had fought them enough. He hadn’t seen their weapons, but judging everything from approach to countenance was good enough for his purposes.

So without pause or decorum — he turned on his heel and started walking away.

[color=00aeef]“Laters,”[/color] He waved carelessly. [color=00aeef]“I gotta scout out the others, after all. I wanna see if I can’t get into fights with everyone tonight.”[/color]

Then, he looked over his shoulder.

[color=00aeef]“Of course, if you wanna follow, feel free to. But from this point on, I’ll be using this thing, so only do that if you’re ready for us to start killing each other already.

“Speaking of which, I’ll be marking you down as fun ones — so do try not to die to anyone that isn’t me.”[/color]

Without waiting for further answers, Berserker left, already moving on to the next one. Restlessness sated, he wondered, which district to go for next?

Of course, there was the possibility that one or both of them would try to pursue. But that just meant he’d have to accelerate things and show he meant what he said.

...Still, wasn't this kind of anticlimactic?

[@Yukitamas] [@Seirei no hai]