His words were a meaningless drone. His voice, surprisingly steady and carrying further than expected, held no sway over her. Voice, words, throat—everything would be silenced.
In a flash, she leapt high into the air. Unfurling the mythril lance from its shrunken form, she spun, gaining centrifugal force. A sideways slash, her entire body behind it, met the Viking head-on!
"...!"
He blocked it with ease. Not only that, but his left hand also clamped down on the shaft of the lance. No escape now.

Fate/Lost Einherjar, Prologue