She made up her mind. At the same time, she murmured softly. Murmured the name of the karma she bore of her own free will; the name of the power she had borrowed from the great chiefs.
“...Capricious Fleeting Shadow: Zabaniya...”
An instant later, darkness spread from the opening of the hood that concealed her features.
“...!”
The chief saw the “darkness” that stretched out from the probable Assassin coming towards him, and immediately leapt back. He escaped by a hair’s breadth.
When the “darkness” reached where he had been standing, it shredded the marble floor like cheese.
It spread throughout the lobby, with the black-robed Assassin’s head as its center. Even the officers armed with Noble Phantasms were hard pressed to do more than block or evade such an attack.
Then one of the officers at the chief’s side lost an arm to the “darkness.”
“Gwah...!”
It coiled around the man’s arm like a tentacle, trying to lift his whole body off the floor. “...”
Silently, the chief leapt, instantaneously drawing his sword. The blade gleamed bewitchingly as it sung through the air, bisecting the black tendrils that grasped at his subordinate’s arm. He felt resistance as it cut, and saw the severed “darkness” flutter gently to the ground. Hair...!?
A mystic art that caused her own hair to grow explosively, and allowed her to control it more freely than her own hands and feet.
That was the chief ’s initial assessment, but, looking at the rents in the floor, he slightly revised his ideas.
No, this isn’t hair anymore. She’s taken it into the realm of blades.
So, this is her Noble Phantasm.
“...Almost like Medusa in Greek myth.”
Still, it was manageable now that he knew the trick.

Fate/Strange Fake: Volume 2, Chapter 3 ("Day 1, Early Dawn")