“Golden king, mightiest of kings, who the kings of my acquaintance cannot even hope to equal, we shall meet again. Next time, I shall trample the divine power that slumbers in your innermost depths beneath my feet.”
He had barely finished speaking when the muddy magical energy that oozed from him enveloped him completely. It bored an empty hole in the forest’s snow-covered floor. An instant later, even the mud was gone, and the bowman had vanished as completely as if he had never existed at all.

Fate/Strange Fake: Volume 3, Chapter 7 ("Day 1, Afternoon")