“...What are you trying to say?”
“Of course, hate boils up to match, too.”
Then, turning her attention to the swirls of magical energy she could sense from the direction of the ravine, she ecstatically recalled what she had seen the previous evening.
“It’s true that his class is Archer, but his essence has totally changed. I guess it’d make sense to say he’s about half Avenger now.”
“...’Avenger’?”
The chief had heard from Faldeus that the Einzberns had summoned a Heroic Spirit of that special class in the third Holy Grail War. Apparently it had not been very strong, for a Heroic Spirit, and had been swiftly eliminated. He remembered, however, that Faldeus — who had read the data an actual participant had left in his own puppet — had told him, with a grave expression:
“I have no definite proof... but if that Heroic Spirit had won through, the world itself might have
ended. Anyway, it was a weird one.”
If an entity with the same nature as that Heroic Spirit had appeared, surely that made it unbelievably dangerous?
The chief scowled. Francesca shrugged her shoulders, and told him about the bowman — Avenger. Told him cheerfully, delightedly, as if she cherished the very vengeful grudge of that Heroic Spirit.

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