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According to some theories, the word Berserker itself was related to the name Beowulf, perhaps even derived from it.

In other words, Beowulf's correspondence to the Berserker class was, in fact, absolute.

Like many heroes of his time, and especially for his people, Beowulf had won his fame for his strength in battle and for his character. Never a stranger to battle, but on the contrary, eager to encounter any fight he could, with a dignity unique to his character. Such was his nature.

If you meet a strong hero, fight him. No matter who was the victor or the loser, no matter how the fight with another Servant ended, Beowulf would accept both victory and defeat with dignity. And, if conditions permitted, would invite his recent foe to a great celebration in honor of their great battle.

Against monsters, however, things were not so simple.

No, Beowulf would have been more than happy to test his strength against some monster, dragons, giants, or even manticores, he doesn't care.

But against them, he could not, would not, accept defeat. There would not be any after-fight feasts either. Against a monster, only one of them would walk away alive.

Simply because that was his personality. As a Berserker he had lost some of the traits inherent in rational people, but he had not lost his instincts, the ability to distinguish 'man' from 'monster'.

On the contrary, his personality, sharpened by his battle rage and instincts, was able to determine this difference even better than that of other 'rational' people.

No beasts could hide from his gaze, no matter how beautiful or benign their exterior might be.

And so, Beowulf understood that the enemy before him was not human. In this case, her height or horns were only minor features, the same features would not have made him perceive Asterios as a monster. No, within Beowulf stood a clear understanding, on the level of his instincts as a Servant, a Berserker, a Monster Killer.

What stood before him was a monster.

Of the same cohort as Grendel, or his mother, or even the dragon he had killed at the end of his life - but…

Incommensurably more powerful.

Beowulf knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the monster in front of him was far beyond anything he had ever faced before.

His smile literally couldn't get any wider, the hole in his torso from one swipe from the creature not even a passing thought. His skill, Battle Continuation, allowed him to fight despite any injuries and any damage sustained, until his body was pulverized.

Did such a thing guarantee his survival? No. In fact, Beowulf was already dead. Whatever the outcome of this battle might be, he could only delay the moment of his death, not undo it.

But all that mattered was that his skill gave him the most important thing in the current situation: time.

"Hrunting, Naegling," Beowulf did not play games, instantly evoking the names of his swords, his Noble Phantasms. He did not have the time for it.

Hrunting, his twisted blade, capable of always striking the most perfect blow, growing stronger with every drop of blood spilled by the enemy that is drunk by the blade. Naegling, his second blade, resembling an enormous club, the blade designed solely to inflict damage.

A moment later, Beowulf lunged at his opponent, whereupon one of his blades instantly found the most ideal position for dealing the most damage. Automatically taking into account every possible action, every possible attempt to defend and counterattack. The second blade, on the other hand, delivered a sweeping blow from the side, not as gracefully, but all the more forceful.

One blade to pierce through any defense, and the other to cleave the enemy in twain. A deadly trap, like the jaws of a beast closing in on a helpless victim.

Angrboda did not bother moving from her spot, or put up any defensive posture, only continuing to stare at the approaching figure of Beowulf.

She did not put out her arms to protect her body or dodge, simply allowing Beowulf to strike at her with all his might.

With a loud cacophony, Hrunting slammed into Angrboda's body on one side, while Nagling on the other. Nagling's blow was such that it seemed as if a large explosive had detonated directly on Angrboda's side, a cloud of debris blinding Beowulf to Angrboda's figure.

A savage smile bloomed on Beowulf's face at the satisfying blow.

The smile soon died, replaced the next moment by confusion.

As the cloud dispersed, Beowulf could see that Angrboda was unharmed, not even a hair out of place. Both of Beowulf's blades had slammed smack dab into Angrboda's body, but never mind hurting her, she hadn't even been moved from her spot!

Both blades slammed into her body, unable to even move out of her place and seemingly doing no damage at all. Even the maddened Servant could not comprehend the sight in front of him.

A moment later, Angrboda slowly raised her arms, which was enough to cause Beowulf to leap away, wary of any attack."Did you really think that would be enough?"

Angrboda's eyes showed nothing but wicked intent.

The Brahmastra in Karna's legend was a weapon bestowed upon him by the Brahman Parashurama, and should Karna have been summoned as an Archer, would have become his bow and arrow.

As a Lancer, however, Brahmastra took on a different form.

A beam of purest sunlight, part of his father's robe. Surya, the Sun God, his power even shone through his gaze, bringing destruction to his enemy as a sunbeam pierced through darkness.

In other words, it was a laser shot from his eyes. Yes, as ridiculous as it might sound, Karna possessed the ability to shoot lasers from his eyes.

The arrow from Arjuna's bow, aimed at his heart, covered in golden armor, was instantly shot down, as were the several other arrows sent behind it. The deadly laser, undeterred, struck forward, threatening to pierce through Arjuna.

Arjuna, on the other hand, darted away as soon as he had seen the golden glimmer in Karna's eyes. Though equal to his brother in prowess, he did not possess the miraculous armor that could withstand any attack. After all, Arjuna was an Archer, unlike Karna, there was absolutely no advantage in getting close to his opponent.

And so he took one more shot at Karna, the shot, barely an afterthought, nothing more than a distraction,was still aimed eeringly towards Karna's heart.

Karna had no other choice but to dash after him.

The speed of the two brothers, as well as much in other abilities, was equal, so after only a few seconds it was clear to Karna that he would not be able to catch up to Arjuna easily… if at all.

However, it was fortunate that his abilities somewhat matched those of the King of England.

A moment later, the mana ejected by Karna's body instantly turned first into a flash, then a stream of roaring fire, throwing him forward.

Though he had no X-ray vision, in addition to his invulnerability and laser beams from his eyes, the mana blast still allowed him to fly.

Schatach could wound Nobunaga, in theory that is. While her spear could ignore even Nobunaga's insurmountable immateriality, it meant little if Nobunaga could literally disappear from Schatach's reach at the last second. The bullets fired from hundreds of guns created out of nowhere in an instant also didn't help matter.

There was not much choice for the Schatach in such a case. She could continue to fight with her current methods, hoping for a lucky strike, something that the Lancer class itself was woefully suited for. Luckily, as strange as it might sound, luck was the last thing she relied on.

She could rely on luck, or she could have radically changed her tactics.

Still, even though Schatach was one of the most powerful Servants, so powerful that her very existence in the Throne of Heroes was the result of great randomness and uniqueness of the conditions, she was not 'dead' after all. Even so, she was not all-powerful, nor could she fight indefinitely.

Especially against such an opponent that required her to concentrate fully, not even allowing a moment's rest

So a moment later, after Schatach dodged yet another series of volleys from the rows of muskets that had emerged out of nowhere, she decided to shift the paradigm radically. "Gate of Skye."

There was no way for Thomas Edison to defeat Cu Chulainn Alter. As much as it galls him to admit to such a failing.

Yes, Edison possessed incredible survivability, even against close quarter fighters, for his Caster class. But being a much more durable punching bag wasn't enough to defeat one of the strongest Servants that exists in the Throne of Heroes, and arguably the strongest version of the legendary Cu Chulainn.

Thomas Alva Edison could withstand five, ten, or even fifteen blows from the Servant. But at some point his luck would run out, and a blow from Cu Chulainn Alter would surely catch up with him. Or if he was particularly unlucky, even debilitate him with a strike to the head or heart. Such a strike ending Thomas Edison's desperate attempts to survive.

Cu Chulainn Alter, however, did not care about Edison's struggle, he continued to strike and strike, and strike again, until his target stopped moving.

But Cu Chulainn's mind took no pleasure in this battle, his heart only continuing to beat mechanically.

Not that Edison was in any way better off with this fact even if he knew it. An excited or bored Cu Chulainn Alter would still spell his doom.

But even in his boredom, in Cu Chulainn's own mind, there was something very remotely resembling a system of values and aspirations.

In this case, Cu Chulainn's mind was telling him that Edison in front of him was distracting him from facing a more meaningful target. In fact, Edison was distracting him from his only function: to fight, for the battle with Edison was no real battle at all.

A moment later, the spiked red spear in Cu Chulainn Alter's hands was readied, its tip aimed towards Edison's heart.

With a bored tone of voice, Cu unleashed his Noble Phantasm."Gae Bolg."

Edison heard Cu Chulainn Alter's Noble Phantasm name, uttered like a whisper, as loud as a gunshot.

Gae Bolg that never knows a miss. A spear that always pierces the heart of its target, no matter where the spear is or where the target is.

This is because the very essence of this Noble Phantasm is not the spear, but the mystery in its essence as the 'spear that strikes the heart without a miss'. In other words, invoking the Noble Phantasm violated cause-and-effect, initially creating the effect 'the heart was pierced' and only then fitting the cause to it 'the spear was struck'.

Only pure luck could avert the spear's blow.

Edison didn't have even a second to think about it, and so he did the only thing he could do, not wanting to die so easily. He used his one, but oh, so powerful, trump card.

Edison used his Noble Phantasm. "World Faith Domination!"

Brahmastra was not a proper name given to a weapon, or rather, not a name given to just one weapon, but a name given to a group of weapons. Weapons that were created by Lord Brahma.

One was possessed by Karna, son of the sun god, Surya. Another, possessed by Rama.

Rama's Brahmastra was an arrow that was brought into this world with his very birth in order to destroy the demon king Ravana, but because of his summoning as a Servant this arrow was changed by the wielder's desire.

In the end, Rama and Sita wished to be reunited, whatever the price paid, a miracle ungranted as Sita could not be summoned as a Servant.

But Rama is nothing but persistent.

And so Rama sacrificed some of his powers for her, but even so, Rama's power was not infinite. All he could bestow on Sita was to develop her original, albeit small, potential as a Servant for the Archer class. With her legend of being the only other person in existence capable of lifting a legendary bow.

Even the legendary King Rama simply could not grant her enough legendary base for her to be summoned in another class.

And so Rama himself sacrificed his qualifications for that class to allow Sita to be summoned as an Archer, with himself choosing the Saber class for summoning.

So then what would happen to Brahmastra? As comical as a sight it would be for Rama to wield an arrow into battle, that would not be the case, as Rama had forged his arrow into a blade.

But even as a blade, the arrow did not lose one whit of its destructive potential as a Noble Phantasm.

His arrow, originally bestowed to Rama to destroy the demon king Ravana, who threatened all India and the world, possessed unfathomable destructive ability. The Brahmastra, a weapon created by Brahma with the power of a thunder, still brought destruction to its adversaries, even if it were in the form of a sword.

Tesla, as a man educated in a multitude of fields, certainly knew this. Just as he knew that his previous tricks with metal could not prevent this Noble Phantasm of Rama from running him through.

No, to face the full might of the legendary king of India required his full strength, and even that might not be enough."System Keranos."

A moment later, however, Edison's voice came to his ears, and Tesla grinned slightly. "It seems that even someone like you can be useful for something…"

Then, without showing hesitation, he turned his back on Rama, directing his Noble Phantasm at an entirely different target.

The flicker of magic dolls, beams, spells, spears, blades, all merging into one indistinguishable cacophony of sounds and colors, continuing to pound in Archer's ears.

Being in the middle of a battlefield, dodging all the flicker of blades and spells is something Archer never wanted to experience.

Alas reality had its own plans, which sadly didn't coincide with his perception of his own ideal pastime. And so he, in addition to his own desire, had to step aside. Grumbling wouldn't help him avoid getting shot, bladed, laser-ed, fire-ed, or a dozen other possible things from the enemy he's facing.

Still, that doesn't mean he's going to give up! Who was winning at the moment, and who was losing, he had no idea.

Archer's only understanding was that his small wrist crossbow, served for the most part solely as a distraction.

Even stopping for a second and aiming for a well-aimed shot at the tall Indian was pointless, the projectile soon deflected by the other Servant. All that he got for that effort was almost getting shot in the head as he had to stop running to aim. His hide is only saved by hiding in his invisibility-granting cloak.

Really if two on one is totally unfair, what circle is he in right now having to be the target of three all on his lonesome? And weren't they supposed to be his allies? Why are they trying to kill him?

While Archer's cloak granted him invisibility, to Blavatsky, who was standing Bunyan's shoulders just bombarding the entire area with a dozen spells, the sight of each one making Medea gnash her teeth, which was audible even in the cacophony of battle, it meant nothing. What did it matter where the invisible target was, if there was nowhere to hide?

And yet Archer was on the same side as Blavatsky! It was all some monstrous misunderstanding! But not that he could now rush to his ally, who was now his adversary, screaming, explaining the situation, Archer was too busy simply trying to save his life!

Well, it was not all doom and gloom, he does have allies of his own! Maybe? The fact that right now he was being protected by what was supposed to be his opponent, a girl in knight's armor, from his ally, Sita, clearly eager to kill everyone else for a chance to get to her husband…

Yeah, the situation definitely confused Archer.

And Sita, apparently, had no intention of stopping, on the contrary, throwing away all possible restraints, she continued to shoot, with the obvious intention of burying everyone under the protection of the phantom walls of Camelot.

Love is a terrible force… Archer had never really considered how ambiguous that statement really was.

But while Archer, taking a moment to pause for breath, thought about the peculiarities that Servants in love displayed, the other Servants were not so distracted.

Medea, who was one of the few capable of analyzing the situation in real time and even in the full chaos of battle, did not allow herself to be distracted, sending out spell after spell after spell.

Mashu kept her shield up, not allowing Sita to end the battle in an instant, as she was trying to do, which is a good thing. In a battle of attrition against Ainz's mana reserves, Sita didn't stand a chance.

Saber and the two Lancers at her side continued to hold their own against Nero, Florence, and another Lancer that popped up unexpectedly... Though Medea knew of his presence before, seeing him among her opponents was still unpleasant, but expected. Slowly, however, her forces managed to push her opponent back… But not with the crushing success that Medea would have liked to see.

Besides, the constantly mumbling Archer at her side was capable of distracting the enemy Archer. And with her opposing Caster, not capable of fully matching her magic, Medea has ample room to breathe.

Not that Medea was having an easy time of it, a fact she was quickly reminded of as a blow that sent a wobble across the ground was aimed in her direction. Blavatsky, the Caster, was a headache to deal with.

Really, whose bright idea was it to have a Caster riding on top of a Berserker? Well, whoever it was, is an unmitigated genius, as the combination of Blavatsky and Bunyan had almost overwhelmed the Servants.

Thankfully, Bunyan was temporarily removed from the battle, her presence could have been disastrous, simply because of her catastrophic size. Medb and Cu Chulainn had managed to distract her for the time being…

The only problem was Blavatsky, who felt at ease on Bunyan's shoulders, sending out one spell after another.

Not that that was the thing that vexed Medea the most.

All of Blavatsky's spells were simply nonsense! Formulas that literally could not work and they were drawn up with such errors, that for them, any schoolboy just learning the basics of magical craft, would have received at least ten lashes!

But they worked, and it drove Medea crazy!

Even discounting the academic idiocy of Blavatsky's spells, by some completely monstrous mistake of nature, her magic greatly constrained the actions of the other Servants. Each one of them was forced to dance on the battlefield for fear of being hit by another batch of exploding dolls, laser beams or whatever else Blavatsky's completely undirected, but still powerful magic was capable of.

Cu Chulainn and Medb were a considerable force, but even they could not dislodge Blavatsky from Bunyan's shoulders.

Medea could have tried to do so, but then she would have had to let the other Caster on the enemy's side loose. In other words, the situation was not to Medea's advantage, whichever way she chose.

And, of course, she should not have forgotten about the Noble Phantasms. As one of the best educated Servant, she knew the names and abilities of all the Servants present. As well as the fact that each one of them could all unpleasantly tip the scales even more, making the situation even more chaotic.

Which meant that, all Medea had to do was play her few trump cards so well as to win even the most unlikeliest of events…

Huh, listening to herself, Medea only cocked one eyebrow.

Perhaps she'd been thinking of Jason too much lately.

"Archer," Medea glanced at the Archer in the green cloak beside her. "It's about time for your Noble Phantasm."

"No, what are you thinking!? If I do that then all the Servants here would be poisoned at once, even our allies!" Archer answered faster than his mind."Wait, where did you…"

"Do it," Medea only glanced at him, smirking slightly, "Robin Hood."

Robin only glanced at Medea, shocked at the fact that the Caster had figured out his identity, which was not an easy feat."Technically, I'm not exactly Robin... But who cares anymore, Yew Bow!"

With his exclamation, Robin fired from his small wrist crossbow, an equipment not at all suited to the story of the legendary archer and noble outlaw, a bolt that in a moment's flight turned into a blurry glowing light. The light ended its short flight as it crashed into Nero's blade,who had intercepted the bolt aimed at her.

"Robin of Locksley! So that's who you are!" Nero, even in the midst of the fight, and even after he had shot a deadly projectile her way, found time to throw Robin a dazzling smile."I'm sorry I didn't recognize it sooner ~ umu!"

However the bolt that was supposed to be rendered inert, blocked by Nero's blade, showed its true power as it fell to the ground. Only a moment later, Nero's joyful smile was suddenly replaced by a bewildered grimace. "I don't feel so ~ umu…"

In that instance a multitude of roots sprouted out of the ground, obeying neither the laws of nature, nor even physics, a full tree sprouting in a matter of moments from under the ground.

It wasn't much of a problem for the Lancers, or even Florence, as the unnatural sprouts were unable to keep up with the Servants' swift movements, But Nero, who had to jump upwards to prevent herself from being entangled, had stumbled to her feet. Luckily for the other Servants, before the roots could reach them, the roots began shriveling and twisting into itself as it began to wither before their eyes at a visible rate.

It seemed as if the tree roots that struck from beneath the ground had given all their life to the earth in an instant, to grow as fast as they could, only to die just as fast.

But then again, why wouldn't it? After all, it had finished its job after all.

All the Servants all at once felt a sickening sensation in their throats and then a malaise that turned quickly to dizziness.

Robin wasn't kidding about all the Servants being poisoned. A legendary outlaw, known not for his noble jousting, but for his use of Sherwood Forest and how, with just a handful of outlaws, he managed to fight an entire army.

In other words, what Robin knew best was how to use the woods to his advantage and how to fight the enemy's army without them ever seeing him. It was no coincidence that he was buried at the roots of a yew tree.

Robin Hood wouldn't say he was well versed in biology or botany, but he could tell firsthand about the poisonous nature of the yew tree.

And so his Noble Phantasm embodied these very traits of the outlaw, the forest, and most importantly that of poisons.

But to use it without control was suicidal. Though this Noble Phantasm was originally only for individual lone targets, that did not mean he could not use it against many at once, not concentrating the poison on one target, but poisoning the very soil, and the very air along with it. But Robin had no control over the process, and so Medea's decision to use his Noble Phantasm in the thick of battle with allies in the crossfire was almost suicidal...

It would be if Medea didn't have information about the other Servants.

"POISON?!" The voice of the Berserker in the red camisole rang louder than the stomping of the gigantic Bunyan, "SICKNESS?! NOT ON MY WATCH! NIGHTINGALE'S PLEDGE!"

Who could be so obsessed with medicine but Florence Nightingale?

The pioneer of modern nursing, Florence remained an iron and unyielding lady even in her lifetime, always striving to be the perfect nurse. It was nothing unusual that after becoming a Servant she became a Berserker, a mad nurse whose only priority is saving a patient no matter the methods. Even if, paradoxically, it was worth killing the patient to do so.

After all, if she could not save body and mind, at least she could still save her patient's soul.

And her Noble Phantasm, which a moment later turned the doctor into a towering figure of a snow-white angel dressed as a doctor, reflected just that fact.

In fact, it was Florence's declaration of her intent to the world.

'This is no longer a battlefield and those who are here are no longer warriors. From now on, this area has been declared a hospital, and all who are here are only patients in my hands. There can be no fighting in the hospital, just peace and healing.'

In other words, it was the perfect Noble Phantasm of Peace.

Once it was activated, there simply could be no sickness, pain, or violence around Nightingale. Not in any form.

Anything that could explode no longer exploded. What can cut doesn't cut. What can shoot, doesn't shoot. What can hurt, no longer does.

It was not limited to weapons.

Spells designed to do harm can no longer work. Noble Phantasms can no longer wound. Tricks could no longer deceive.

It was the perfect form of pacifying the world and those fighting.

But… Medea, more than anyone else, knew that 'peace' was only an illusion.

And so even before Florence's Noble Phantasm came into force and the snow-white angel appeared behind her, a projectile slammed into the angel's body.

Medea's small, crooked blade, the Rule Breaker, capable of destroying any magic, any contract, and even Noble Phantasm as if it was only an illusion of a true miracle.

Medea's own Noble Phantasm.

And so, swaying before it had even fully formed, Florence's snow-white angel instantly collapsed, turning into snow-white shards, leaving Florence dumbfounded alone with the other Servants.

Yes, Robin's poison had already been neutralized, but Medea had managed to take out perhaps the most dangerous of her opponent's Noble Phantasms.

Which left only one question...

Who would be next?