Ragnar identified a fleeting gap in the armour's formation and seized his chance. He launched himself into the Oslo twilight, a warrior dancing a breathtaking arc in the sky. A standing long jump of sorts, he propelled himself skyward, drawing his dull steel axe from the guitar case mid-flight.
Raw power coursed through his massive frame. Every ounce of his being, from the muscles on his back to his biceps and fingertips, pulsed with lethal intent.
Twenty metres vanished beneath him in a heartbeat, the axe poised for a devastating blow, a violent echo of the one that had cleaved the shadow apparition in two! A single, devastating swing—enough to cripple even a Heroic Spirit… if it landed.

The warrior's swing of the axe, however, met a resounding clang against the knight's gleaming spear!
"Well struck."
"Gh!"
A moment later, a shockwave rippled outward. Yet, Lancer and his knightly spear stood firm, as if rooted to the rooftop. Even Memel, a few metres behind the knight, remained unscathed.

Fate/Lost Einherjar, Chapter 1