Crimson Crescent

The battlefield was falling apart.

Not in the way of destruction, but in the way of unraveling.

The sky above was a shattered void, darkness folding over itself, stretching endlessly like a wound in reality. The ground was barely recognizable—pulsing, breathing, shifting underfoot as if it rejected the very notion of solidity.

And at the center of this dying world, Foreigner stood before her monolith—unmoved, unshaken.

She watched them.

Not with anger. Not with malice.

But with cold, suffocating indifference.

Lancer—Black Gold Saw—narrowed her eyes. The air itself felt wrong against her skin, thick and warped as if pressing against her like an invisible tide.

Foreigner's monolith had already endured their strongest attacks.

But that didn't mean it was invincible.

She just had to hit it harder.

Lancer smirked. "Guess I'll just have to carve through reality itself, then."

Her grip on her sword tightened.

This was it.

The final push.

---

Lucian felt sweat drip down his brow. His pulse pounded against his skull, his body screaming at him to run.

But he wasn't going anywhere.

Lancer still stood.

And that meant they still had a chance.

"Lancer! Now!" he roared, his voice nearly lost in the storm of abyssal energy surrounding them.

She heard him.

And she smiled.

"Yeah. Time to end this."

Lancer took a deep breath—

And then she moved.

Faster than before.

Faster than anyone had seen her move.

The air behind her exploded as she shot forward, crimson energy bleeding from her form. Her massive blade glowed with a deep, hellish red—a violent, pulsing radiance that threatened to burn through existence itself.

And as she raised her sword, the battlefield itself seemed to react.

The sky trembled.

The ground screamed.

Reality twisted.

Her Noble Phantasm was activating.

---

"—Devour the sky, CRIMSON CRESCENT!"

Lancer swung her sword.

And the world split apart.

A colossal red arc—shaped like a crescent moon—erupted from her blade, expanding outward with unstoppable force.

The sheer power of the attack broke through the battlefield itself, shattering abyssal tendrils, ripping apart the void, erasing the corruption in its path.

It was not simply an attack.

It was a force of nature.

A crimson blade meant to carve through the heavens themselves.

Lucian barely had time to react before the shockwave hit.

The sheer heat of it burned against his skin, the sheer force of it knocking the very air from his lungs.

And at the center of it all—

The Crimson Crescent bore down on Foreigner's monolith.

---

For the first time—

Foreigner moved.

Her gaze lifted toward the incoming crimson arc, her eyes unreadable.

Then, slowly—deliberately—she raised her hand.

And the monolith reacted.

The cracks across its surface sealed instantly.

A pulse of eldritch energy erupted outward, distorting the space around it.

Then—

A barrier of abyss expanded before her.

It was not simply a shield.

It was a break in existence itself.

A layer of reality folding in on itself, consuming everything that touched it.

And the Crimson Crescent collided with it.

For an instant—

The battlefield was swallowed in blinding light.

Then—

The crescent began to collapse.

Lucian's breath caught in his throat.

No way.

The attack that had carved through the heavens—was being devoured.

Lancer's red arc shrank, its energy unraveling as if it were being rewritten—erased from existence.

Foreigner stood untouched.

Her monolith still stood.

And as the last embers of Lancer's Noble Phantasm disappeared, Foreigner lowered her hand.

"You fail to understand," she murmured.

Her voice was not mocking.

It was not cruel.

It was simply a statement of fact.

"You do not fight me. You fight what lies beyond."

Lancer stared at her sword, her expression unreadable.

Then—

She spat to the side.

"Tch. Figures. You'd pull some bullshit like that."

---

A low hum filled the air.

The monolith pulsed violently—and this time, the cracks spread outward.

Not just through the battlefield.

But through the entire world.

Lucian felt it—something was breaking.

Not just space.

Not just time.

But reality itself.

And it was taking them with it.

Saber's grip tightened around her sword. "Lancer. MOVE."

Lancer barely had time to react before—

The world beneath her vanished.

The battlefield had ceased to exist.

The ground, the sky, the very air itself—everything was gone.

For one horrifying moment—

There was only void.

A depthless nothingness.

Lucian felt it closing in.

Not just around them.

Inside them.

It was consuming them.

He forced himself to move.

He reached out—

And Lancer grabbed his arm.

With a powerful swing, she pulled him back into existence.

The battlefield reformed, the abyss pulling away just as suddenly as it had swallowed them.

But the damage had been done.

Lucian gasped for breath, his body trembling from the sheer wrongness of what had just happened.

They had been erased for a moment.

A fraction of a second.

And it had felt like an eternity.

Lancer exhaled, shaking her head.

"Alright. Yeah. That was new."

Foreigner lowered her gaze to them once more.

"You see now," she murmured.

"This is not your war."

Lucian clenched his fists.

No.

That wasn't true.

This was their war.

And they were going to win it.

---

Saber stepped forward, her blue flames flaring.

Alter grinned, spinning her pistols.

Berserker cracked her knuckles.

Archer raised her bow.

Lancer wiped blood from her lips, her eyes burning with determination.

And Lucian took a breath, feeling the weight of his Command Seals pulse against his skin.

Foreigner had stopped Lancer's Noble Phantasm.

But she had not won yet.

Because this fight wasn't over.

Not even close.

"One more time," Lucian said.

And the war continued.

---

To Be Continued…