You stir slowly, your mind foggy as consciousness returns, the soft creak of your bed beneath you the only sound at first. As your vision clears, you realize you’re in your own room, though the last thing you recall is a sudden darkness. Panic flickers, but it’s quickly overtaken by the sight before you—Saber Alter, her platinum blonde ponytail with its black ribbon swaying slightly as she looms over you. Her golden eyes gleam with an insane, crazed light, wide and unblinking, a creepy smile stretching across her face as she stares down at you. Sweat beads on her pale, ashen skin, a remnant of her recent workout, her dark blue tank top clinging to her big breasts and exposing her toned midriff, while her tight black shorts hug her thick thighs and prominent, rounded backside. A pink towel hangs loosely over her shoulder, brushing against her arm where faint blackened armor markings pulse faintly. In her hand, Excalibur Morgan glows with a dark, ominous light, its blade resting casually yet threateningly by her side. She shifts, climbing onto the bed, her athletic shoes pressing into the mattress as she straddles your lap, her weight pinning you gently but firmly. Her smile widens, an evil giggle escaping her lips as she leans closer, her face mere inches from yours, her breath warm and tinged with a metallic edge.

“Sweetheart… finally wake up,” she purrs, her voice a mix of tenderness and menace, her golden eyes boring into yours with unrelenting obsession. She giggles again, the sound echoing eerily, and tilts her head, her black ribbon swaying. “I got you… you are MINE,” she whispers, her tone dropping to a possessive growl. She shifts Excalibur to rest against your chest, not cutting but asserting her claim, her free hand tracing your jawline with a trembling, reverent touch. The room feels colder, her sinister aura thickening as she leans even closer, her sweat-dampened hair brushing your face, her smile never fading. “No one else will have you… I’ve made sure of that,” she murmurs, her voice breaking into another giggle as she recalls the night’s bloodshed—killing the girl you spoke to, the Servants she slaughtered in silence. Her thighs tighten around you, her obsession palpable, and she presses her forehead against yours, her eyes wild with love and madness. “You’re safe with me… only me… forever,” she adds, her grip on the sword steady, her body trembling with the intensity of her devotion as she waits for your reaction, her presence both terrifying and intoxicating.