Title: Fate Perfect Zero
Author: InfernalChaos
Disclaimer: This work utilizes characters, places, themes, and other such ideas from various anime, games, books, and movies. The said games, books, and movies serve as inspiration for this work of fiction. The author lays no claim on the characters, places, themes, and ideas which may be presented in this work. No money is being made in this work.
Authors Note: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you, readers. I present to you the Third Chapter of Fate Perfect Zero. Please do review to tell me if it was good or bad. This was the first fight scene I did, so I don't know if it is any good. Once more, please review so I may know what to improve on. Hopefully this Chapter satisfies you readers.
-Chapter 03: Deceptive Immortality-
-The Church-
A heavy atmosphere hung over the Church.
An hour had passed since Father Kotomine Risei had sent up a summoning signal to call all the Masters in the Holy Grail War. None of them came. In their place, five familiars had gathered. Apart from Casters delinquent Master, who could not see the signal, and the "retired" Kotomine Kirei, all the Masters had representatives.
Risei determined three familiars to be the representatives of the Tohsaka, Einzbern, and Matou. One was undoubtedly belonging to Lord El-Melloi, and the last to a foreign Magus who had not registered with the Church.
Father Risei faced the congregation of familiars and spoke.
"The War of the Holy Grail is currently in great crisis. Ignoring the obligation of the Holy Grail, one Master and a Heroic Spirit have misused the power granted to them. We have determined that Lancer and his Master are behind the serial killings recently happening in Fuyuki City. This is a severe violation of the act of secrecy of the Grail War. Therefore, I use my authority as supervisor to change the rules of the Grail War temporarily."
As he said this, Father Risei pulled up his right sleeve, revealing his arm.
It was covered with what appeared to be tattoos, but the participants of the War knew it for what it truly was.
"These are the Command Seals leftover from the previous War. With my authority, I can transfer these seals to anyone. Therefore, I order all Masters to stop their hostilities. Everyone should seek to eliminate Lancer immediately. The Master who manages to do so will receive from me an extra Command Seal."
The sound of familiars hurriedly leaving to report to their Masters was soon heard. The Church was now free of any watchers.
-Lancer-
Underneath Fuyuki City, there ran a large sewage system. Unknown to most people, however, beside the sewers there was a large, empty, cavernous space. Unused, isolated, unknown, it served as a perfect hiding spot.
Yet should someone come down to this place, they would no doubt be horrified at the renovation it had undergone.
Piled on the floor were bodies. If one were to look closer upon these bodies, one would see they had been mutilated in the worst possible ways. One little girl had her organs displayed, spilling out onto the floor. A young boy lay in a seal of blood drawn into the floor, as if he were sacrificed in some sacrilegious ritual. On and on the atrocities continued, each mutilation more horrible than the last. The floor ran red with blood, silent screams of unadulterated horror was etched forevermore on the faces of these unfortunate individuals.
In the middle of this carnage, two men were present. Their faces were unperturbed, so one might call them monsters. For truly, only monsters would not be moved at this much death.
One man, a silver haired man clad in black robes, was kneeling on a seal drawn with blood. In his hands he clutched a pendant, the symbol of an inverted triangle inside a circle. His lips moved back and forth, he seemed for all intents and purposes to be praying.
Another man, dressed in remarkably ordinary clothes, stood by a long table. Being careful so as not to disrupt the other man, he was intently studying several pieces of red, raw, bloodied meat.
This thing he was studying was human intestines.
The man, named Uryu Ryunosuke, picked up a tuning fork. Whilst staring intently at the intestines before him, he struck the fork hard on the table. Before the clear sound emitted by the fork faded away, Ryunosuke poked the intestines with his other hand.
A sound, agonizing, came from the intestines. No, rather not from the intestines, but from the owner of the intestines. A young girl, sobbing incessantly, was tied up on the long table. A cut on her abdomen laid bare the organs now being fondled with by Ryunosuke.
"Ah, so this here is 'Mi'.
So saying, he marked the intestines with a pin. Several other marks, denoting musical notes, were stuck on the quivering organs.
The girls organs, marked with pins, was a twisted mockery meant to resemble musical instruments.
"One more time, 'Do Re Mi'.
Disappointingly, the sounds made were different from the marked notes.
Ryunosuke sighed unhappily, disappointed that his work of art did not go as planned.
"Hm, what a failure."
So saying, he threw away the silver tuning fork. It emitted loud, ringing noises as it clattered onto the blood-stained floor.
"Tch. Stop your damn whining already!"
It seemed the silver haired man had finished with his prayer, and had chosen that time to speak up.
"But I can't help it; my experiments just don't go as I want it to. Can't you teach me how to do those cool things like you, huh, Mister Lancer?"
Ryunosuke asked the man, now identified as Lancer. His tone was like that of a young child speaking to his teacher.
"Heh! So, you wanna learn the ways of god, is that right?"
Lancer asked the young man in a confident tone.
"The…ways of…god?"
Ryunosuke's reply was far from confident, however. To hear that this man, his idol in the art of murder, worshipped god was a big surprise to Ryunosuke.
"I didn't take you as the religious type, Mister Lancer. But, isn't god just like an author in some novel? He might love his creations, sure, but I don't think he would be the type to interfere with them. He loves what they do, that's why things like sorrow, and murder, and bloodshed exist, because even if it might sadden him, this god loves things like that too. If god was the interfering type, then those things wouldn't exist!"
Upon hearing the words of his Master, Lancer was troubled a great deal. He had believed Ryunosuke to already possess a rudimentary understanding of his god, so it was troubling to him to hear such heathen views sprout from him.
"So kid, lemme' just get this straight. You think that god is saddened by bloodshed, but he loves it too. What a fucking laugh! That is bullshit! You describe a heathen god! For my Jashin-Sama, I will teach you the way! Better be fucking grateful kid!"
So saying, Lancer rebuked the philosophy that Ryunosuke had just given him.
"So, what are you saying then, Mister Lancer?"
"There is only one god, and that is Jashin-Sama! Jashin is another level of existence, and to reach him, we, his followers, must rouse him from his sleep. To do this, we pile corpses upon corpses, till the sacrifices awaken Jashin! It is our fucking duty to spread this word! Anything less than utter destruction, than obliteration, than pure slaughter, is a sin in the eyes of Jashin-Sama!"
Lancer gave his speech with such passion that Ryunosuke was moved at his words.
"So, you're saying that to worship this Jashin, we need to sacrifice corpses?"
"Yes! You're good at this, kid. But we must also sacrifice our own blood. If one sacrifices enough, he is rewarded with the honour of being an Acolyte of Jashin-Sama, and might receive the gift I myself received!"
The solemnity and passion in Lancers speech moved Ryunosuke to depths previously unknown to his soul. His soul stirred at this new religion Lancer was presenting to him.
"So, you mean to say that if we kill enough people, Jashin rewards us?"
"That's right, brat!"
"But then, what about all those people who were called serial killers? Why weren't they rewarded?"
"To be rewarded by Jashin, one must understand Jashin! All your killings must be done in the name of Jashin, or else he won't give two shits about it!"
At this moment, Ryunosuke was beginning to understand his companion's fascination with Jashin. To think, such a splendid religion could exist in this world! He must spread word of this new religion to everyone! With this, he could take his art into whole new levels!
At that moment, an explosion occurred. A blast of such power, that it shook the subterranean cavern upon which the two men, no, two monsters, were situated. At that moment, an atmosphere so dark engulfed the air. An evil more twisted than the ones present seemed to be advancing upon them.
"Heh, a Servant set off my trap! And that bastard is coming here now, huh. Hey kid, get the fuck outta here, and stay the fuck outta my way, got it!? Take the other exit, now."
The Servant Lancer addressed the young man that was his Master. While he was a priest of Jashin, this man was also a Servant. His combat abilities were nothing to be scoffed at, and he was a master in the art of killing. Thus, he could sense when something was strong enough to prove a threat to him.
"Huh? I dunno' what's goin' on, but sure, I guess."
Once more, Lancer was reminded of the fact that his Master was not a proper Magus. While the Uryu family had magic in its blood, Uryu Ryunosuke had not received any sort of training as a Magus. He was therefore, ignorant to the nature of the Holy Grail War.
When Lancer had ensured his Master had safely gotten away, he began to make preparations for the upcoming battle. He summoned to his side his lance, and knelt down on the floor. Clutching the pendant to his forehead, he began to mutter a quick prayer.
"Jashin-Sama, allow me to offer you the soul of this coming heathen as a sacrifice…"
-Matou Kariya-
Illuminated by the pale moonlight, there stood a man seemingly out of a horror movie. His hair white, half of his face frozen in a caricature of perfect despair, was the representative Master of the Matou's, Matou Kariya.
Accompanying this spectre of death was a ghost a hundred times deadlier. Outlined in the crimson coat he wore, he was darkness, darker than darkness itself; that was the Servant of Madness, Berserker.
"Wait here Master, and I shall destroy this Servant for you."
The Servant spoke in a deceivingly smooth voice.
"Go…and kill…Berserker."
In complete opposite of this being that radiated strength, the Matou Master spoke, his voice broken.
"Gladly, Master!"
Once the Servant of Madness had left, Kariya allowed himself to lean against the wall for support. He knew that if he showed an ounce of weakness against this Servant, he would be dead. Therefore it was necessary for him to put on a show of strength in front of this one.
'Yes, with the power of this Servant, I can rescue Sakura! All I need to do…is hold on…till the end."
Such thoughts were what occupied the mind of Matou Kariya.
Then, not even five minutes after Berserker's entry into the enemy territory, pain wracked Kariya's body. His artificial Magic Circuits, the Crest Worms, throbbed and writhed about. He fell to the ground, coughing up worms all the while.
"Damn…that Berserker! He used his…Noble Phantasm already!? Is the…opponent that powerful!?"
The pain in Kariya's body was becoming more intense, as Berserker used up more of his Prana to supply his Noble Phantasm.
If Kariya had not been wracked in pain that moment, he might have noticed the emergence of a figure from the enemy's base. Had he noticed, said person might not have been able to take him by surprise and stab him in the stomach.
His version blurred, as he saw the image of a knife stuck in his chest. He followed it to the hilt, then to the hand that held it. There! Command Seals, glowing brightly on the hand that held the knife. Deducing it was the Master of Lancer; Kariya shot his hand up and prepared to execute the Matou magecraft that he despised.
Swarms of flying worms shot out from Kariya. His Circuits throbbed even more violently, pulsing at overuse. The pain threatened to drown him out. Through his hazed vision, he could see the enemy Magus jump back from the swarm of worms.
To Kariya's immense surprise, the enemy did not utter any spells, nor utilize any mysteries. He merely brought his hands up in a vain attempt to defend himself, slashing at his familiars with a knife on his person. To see this man, not even a Magus, participate in the Holy Grail War, this enraged Kariya.
Why!? He had sacrificed so much, for the sake of entering this competition and obtaining the Grail! And this man in front of him, not even a Magus, was given the same honour! For Kariya, it served as a mockery of the pain he had gone through, of the sacrifices he made. Most of all, for him, it served as a mockery to the pain Sakura had gone through. How could this man have beaten him!?
Truly, if Matou Kariya and Uryu Ryunosuke were to go in a frontal battle, Matou Kariya would win. But, there was one difference between Kariya and Ryunosuke. One was a Magus, the other a killer. The killer was infinitely superior to the Magus in the art of killing.
Kariya's bugs seemed to die down, as the last of his Prana dwindled away. The pain of his Crest Worms had faded to a dull throb in the background, as his vision faded. He collapsed to the floor.
In front of him crouched Lancer's Master, Uryu Ryunosuke. His face was covered in scratches and stings, due to Kariya's earlier attack on him. He then spoke to Kariya.
"Hey, you know, that thing you did with the insects was kinda' cool! Name's Uryu Ryunosuke, by the way. No hard feelings man, but…"
At that point, he held up his right hand, containing the Command Seals.
"Well, Mister Lancer told me if I see anyone with marks like this, I should kill them. Then I have to cut off their hand, and give it to Mister Lancer. Well, that's that then."
After he had finished, the man took Kariya's limp right hand. He held the knife and prepared to cut off the hand.
"You, young boy, stop meddling in affairs that do not concern you."
That voice…Kariya…knew the owner of that voice.
The man in front of him, Uryu Ryunosuke, looked towards the dense patch of trees nearby.
"Who are you?"
"Hmph. Pathetic, Kariya. To be taken out by one who is not even a Magus…I expected more from the Matou house. Have we truly fallen this low?"
It seemed the newcomer was not addressing Ryunosuke, but Kariya. Kariya fought through the haze in his head, fighting to recognize that voice. It was so familiar, yet the haze of pain obstructed his thoughts.
Buzzing.
Screaming.
That was…
The Matou Magic. Someone had used it, and the man, Uryu Ryunosuke, was now dead.
Only one person could use that Magecraft…
Said person walked into Kariya's line of view. Smirking, the old man, for that was what he was, an old man, talked down to Kariya.
"Such a powerful Servant was wasted on a weak Magus like you Kariya. The Matou's might have won with such a powerful Servant, if only you were not the Master. Oh well. You had better call back your dog, before you die from Prana exhaustion."
The old man then walked away.
Kariya's head was now clear. The haze was gone, replaced by burning hatred. That voice, he knew it, the voice of…
"Zouken…you BASTARD!"
Mustering his mental strength, Kariya focused on survival. His Servant was using too much power. He focused on the Command Seal…
'By this Command Seal, come to me, Berserker!'
Space distorted, and the Servant of Madness stood by his side. Kariya's vision was fading. He spoke, in a weak voice.
"Get me...away...from here..."
And Kariya knew no more.
-Berserker-
Berserker had barely gotten his Master away from the trap that Lancer had set up. Upon their entry to Fuyuki's sewage system, around two dozen paper tags of all things blew up in their face. To say the least, Berserker was very eager to tear into the Servant before him.
He had ensured that his Master had stayed at the entrance of the sewers, not daring to bring him into the battle. Making sure his Master was hidden, he proceeded to advance through the dark, damp, waterways.
As the Servant of Madness neared his destination, a familiar scent wafted into his nose.
"He…he he…HEHEHEHEHEHE! This scent, so close I can almost taste it. It is unmistakably, that of BLOOD!"
Upon scenting the life-giving liquid, Berserker had given in to his vampiric impulses. To meet in battle an opponent who could spill this much blood, the prospect was exciting. Turning into mist, he rushed forward to reach his opponent.
In the middle of the cavern in which he and his Master had made their studio for their art, the Servant of the Lance stood. In his hand, he held a large, three-bladed scythe. Under his feet was engraved in blood the symbol of Jashin. Without a doubt, this Servant was prepared to meet his opponent.
There, at the entrance, the Servant of Madness made himself known. Clad in a charcoal suit, draped over it a red coat, he stood imposingly. He wore a red hat and glasses, through which his eyes glowed a deep crimson hue. On his hands he wore white gloves, drawn upon it a seal, a five-pointed star.
This monster, he suddenly smiled.
"So then, you are Lancer."
It was not a question. Rather, he was affirming this fact.
From within his coat, Berserker drew forth a weapon. It was gun. Seemingly impossible, it was a gun that had ascended to the level of being a conceptual weapon.
It was one of a pair the Servant had used in his life, or rather, his un-life. The Casull. Its bullets were crafted from blessed mercury, made to tackle monsters, more specifically, vampires. It weighed much more than what a normal gun should be. In short, this long silver pistol was tailor-made for Berserker himself.
Lips turning upward into a cruel smile, Berserker pulled the trigger.
The bullets were fast. Yet, impossibly, Lancer seemed to be even faster. Though his weapon seemed cumbersome and heavy, he swung the scythe around with speed that betrayed his weapons looks.
Lancer deflected all the bullets, then, swinging the scythe high above his head, he threw it at Berserker.
Undeterred, Berserker merely aimed and shot. He shot it with unerring accuracy at the weapon that was flying straight at him. The force of the bullet was so strong it managed to repel the scythe.
Lancer reeled in his scythe using a rope that had been attached to the handle. The short skirmish had taken no less than five seconds.
At that moment, Berserkers mouth split open in a savage grin.
"HAHA! Such reflexes, Lancer! Truly, you're status as a Heroic Spirit was well earned! Now, show me more!"
So saying, Berserker released a torrent of bullets at the other Servant.
"Ah, fuck!"
Lancer swore, as he saw the barrage of fire coming straight at him. He wielded his scythe with such uncanny grace, managing to deflect or dodge most of the gunfire.
Realizing he was bound to lose should he continue on the defensive, Lancer batted away the next few bullets, then ran straight at Berserker.
He used his large scythe as a shield, blocking most of the projectiles. A few managed to lodge themselves in Lancer's limbs, yet he continued on unerringly.
In a span of less than five seconds, Lancer had crossed the distance between him and Berserker, and impaled the other Servant through the chest.
A torrent of blood flowed from Berserker. Lancer watched with glee, and a little bit of disappointment, as the battle ended so quickly.
"Heh serves you right for fucking with me. Now, accept this sacrifice Jash – what the fuck!?"
Lancer exclaimed as a surprisingly not dead Berserker grabbed the scythe, which was still impaled into his stomach. Pushing himself forward, he aimed his pistol at Lancers head, and laughed.
"HAHAHA! To think, you managed to kill me so quickly! But the fun for you ends here!"
Berserker pulled the trigger and unleashed three rounds of blessed mercury point blank at Lancers face.
His grip on the scythe went slack, and he fell onto the ground.
"Here I thought you were going to be a challenge to me…oh well, I guess dogs can't help being dogs."
Berserker pulled the scythe out from his chest, and casually tossed on top of his opponent's downed body. Amazingly, his wounds instantaneously healed; to the degree that even his clothes were fixed. It was as if the wound had never existed.
As he prepared to leave, an unexpected voice called out.
"Hey, bastard, unloading a gun at my face like that, don't you know it fucking hurts!?"
He turned around to the sight of Lancer standing up, in a fighting position, despite the headshot that by all means should've killed him. The hole in his head was still there, but it acted as no deterrent to the Servant.
"Ohohohoho, so then, I am not the only one who is unkillable here it seems. HAHAHAHA! Finally, a worthy opponent. Time to get serious, then."
The Mad Servant then brought up his hands to cover his face, concealing everything but an eye. In an ominous voice, he began to chant.
"Releasing Control Art Restriction Systems Levels Three…Two…One. Approval of Situation A recognized. Commencing Cromwell Invocation. Ability restrictions lifted for limited use until the enemy has been rendered silent."
Lancer was suffocated. The darkness, already thick around this Servant, was now getting even thicker. From the darkness emerged…something. It was shaped like that of a man, but it could not be a man. Clad in a black straightjacket, the distinctive white gloves still on him, there was the monster that had caused this.
All over this monster, there could be seen the form of numerous eyes.
"What the fuck is this!?"
Tightening his grip on his scythe, Lancer could only watch as the darkness took the form of a human.
'Fast!' That was the only word ran through Lancer's mind, as the darkness attacked him. If he had any doubt before as to the identity of the Servant, this wild, reckless, style of attack now confirmed it. This style of attacking with reckless abandon could only mean that he was the Servant Berserker.
Lancer barely had enough time to track his opponent's movements. Berserker truly fought like his class suggested. There was no style, no tactics involved. It was just one blow after another.
In theory, a formless style like this would be defeated by Lancers superior style. Yet he was getting overwhelmed due to the sheer speed of power of this mad darkness.
Up, down, right, left. Berserker's attacks came from all directions, simultaneously hitting Lancer.
"Ah, fuck this!"
Enraged, Lancer sliced Berserker in half, uncaring at the opening left by his offense.
He quickly jumped back to regain some energy as Berserker healed himself.
It was a mistake.
Lancer should never have jumped back. If he had not, he would not have gazed upon the monstrosity that was the Servant Berserker.
He realized now that Berserker was able to hit him simultaneously in multiple places was because he had multiple arms. Forming out of a shadowy matter, the arms swayed in rhythm with Berserkers deranged swaying. It was like looking at some demented spider, a spider without a soul. Blood dripped from the hands that were swaying about…
Wait…
Blood…
Berserkers wounds regenerated, so why would there be blood?
Lancer looked down, and saw his body was filled with wounds. There were holes in several places, some flesh wounds, mostly fatal. He must not have noticed due to the heat of the battle.
"Ah…fuck me…"
"Hehehehehehehehehe!"
A demented laughter escaped from Berserkers lips. Lancer looked down to see him crouching on the ground.
The monsters tongue slid out.
Red skimmed over crimson, as his tongue lapped up the blood spilled by Lancer.
"What…what the fuck is this!?"
Lancer could only gaze in horror, as the monster drank the blood like a dog would drink milk.
"Mhhhhm. This taste…so delicious. It makes me wonder, Lancer. Your body is immortal, but what about your soul? Hm? Shall we find out!?"
Black and white.
That was all that filled Lancer's vision, as Berserkers right arm morphed into a twisted caricature of a dog. A dog with rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth, and innumerable white eyes upon its countenance.
The dog sprang forth.
Lancer blocked it with his scythe, but that damnable dog merely twisted and turned, once more aiming for him.
Block. Cut. Strike. Block. Cut. Strike.
The entirety of the battle seemed to compromise of these few words. Whatever he would do, the dog managed to get past his defences. If he cut if off, it would grow back. This was a battle Lancer knew he would lose.
Riiiiip!
The dog had bitten down on Lancers right arm.
Riiiiip!
The dog pulled back, the arm still in its mouth.
Drip.
Drip.
Blood poured from the hole in Lancers right side. His arm was gone. Devoured by that dog.
Lancer screamed.
Not from the pain. He had endured worse than that.
No, Lancer screamed because of the horror. The sheer wrongness of that alien being devouring his arm. It was unthinkable for him. To witness that mad monster of blood and darkness…even he had his limits.
"Don't tell me THIS is all you've got!? Where's those reflexes you showed earlier!? That immortality!? Surely you can regenerate! Come on! It's just an arm! Grow it back! The night is still young! Let's indulge in the feast of slaughter, let us drink of blood! Fight me! Fight me, fight me, fight me, fight me, FIGHT ME!"
Berserker addressed the still screaming Lancer.
"Fuck…FUCK YOU!"
Lancer screamed defiantly. Berserkers gaze changed to one of anticipation to one of disappointment.
"Hmm. I thought you would prove a challenge for me. You were a cut above other dogs, but a dog is still a dog. Now you're not even a dog. You're dog food."
Saying this, Berserkers arm prepared to devour Lancer.
The hound from hell, with multiple gleaming eyes, dove down at its prey.
And then he stopped.
A voice had, at that moment, rang out in Berserkers head.
'By this Command Seal, come to me, Berserker!"
"NO! Not now!"
Despite his struggle, a Servant could not resist the call of a Command Seal.
Therefore, the Servant Lancer was spared of his fate, as at that moment the Mad Servant was carried away.
Struggling to his feet, Lancer assessed the situation. The Prana coming from his Master had stopped, probably some time ago. He was terribly wounded, and almost out of his own Prana. Like this, the Servant of the Lance would survive only for half an hour before disappearing.
"Tch. Forgive me, Jashin-Sama, for I have sinned…"
He prepared to make peace with his god…
But he was interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and a heavy cane banging on the floor.
Lancer looked up, and saw a decrepit old man standing before him. The man looked like he was going to keel over and die any time soon, yet he sensed an aura of danger coming from him. Yes, this old man, was an accomplished Magus, and a dangerous one.
"Greetings, Servant of the Lance."
The old man then held up his right arm. Clear as day, there burned the sigil that had before been branded on his previous Master. The Command Seals. The old man's lips turned upwards into a cruel smile, as he posed a question to the Servant.
"I am a Magus, finding myself in need of a Servant. Would you like to volunteer?"
The First Battle of The Fourth War has been fought
The Fourth Night brings forth, Black and Red Monsters
