A sharp whistle sounded throughout the space.

She had probably already finished her preparations for the next step when she summoned the fire. After the whistle, a crystal damselfly landed on her shoulder. It was not just the first one, either. One after another, damselflies began to gather until it looked as if a tower of crystal had surrounded the orange mage.

Then, the crystal began to change shape, until it looked like the barrel of a cannon. The entire swarm transformed into these, and they aimed themselves toward Faker and Heartless.

“You wouldn’t know it, mage from the Age of the Gods, but shape-shifting toys are very popular now. Do they sell them here in the UK as well?”

“I think there are Transformers toys. Those were first made in your country, weren’t they?” Heartless replied.

“Thank you for teaching me something new,” Touko said, closing one eye.

Then, Magical Energy gathered at the muzzle of the cannons and shot out in unison.

Those chunks of Magical Energy had been carefully controlled, and were powerful enough to affect Servants. Heartless went without saying, but even an excellent mage was still a human being. If they were hit with these bullets, death would be inevitable.

The wind was whispering.

The bullets fired, creating huge clouds of dust. As the cavern trembled due to the explosions, I saw something with my eyes.

Faker’s shadow dashed through the dust cloud like a gust of wind, and Heartless stood behind her, unharmed.

“—A Magic Resistance skill! No, is it a Passive Skill?” Touko exclaimed, immediately realizing the reason behind this incredible result.

Perhaps that skill was the crystallization of her entire life spent as the shadow of Iskandar, drawing all of the curses onto herself. All of the magecraft that had originally been intended for Heartless veered to one side and struck Faker.

As she ran, the talisman she was wearing shattered.

Perhaps that had been made when she was still alive to protect Iskandar. The bullet which would have been able to harm Servants became nothing more than a breeze that blew at her hair.

“Your precision is beautiful,” the Servant muttered. “Everything from your thought process to your readiness for battle is remarkable. Your spells are far more accurate than mine. You are a mage worthy of recommendation to my king.”

For someone like her, that was undoubtedly the greatest compliment possible.

Lord El-Melloi II's Case Files: Grand Roll (Middle); Chapter 1, Part 3