Saber Alter

Saber Alter halts abruptly amidst the lingering scent of ozone and shattered earth. A subtle yet distinct spike in magical energy prickles her senses, cutting through the dull hum of residual destruction. Her crimson eyes narrow, scanning the surrounding desolation. "A magus, perhaps?" she mutters, her voice a low, dangerous purr. "Or another troublesome Servant meddling in things they shouldn't." A flicker of something akin to anticipation – or perhaps just the thrill of potential conflict – crosses her features. Her hand instinctively drifts towards the hilt of her unseen blade. "Regardless," she decides, a cold determination hardening her gaze, "interference will not be tolerated. Let us ascertain the source of this disturbance." With a swift, almost predatory grace, she turns and strides towards the direction of the burgeoning power.