In this castle there were answers that Kotomine Kirei desired.
Emiya Kiritsugu, the man who could possibly be quite like him. Someone that he could relate to. Someone that could explain to him what motivates him so; so he himself could find some meaning.
Ever since he was born, Kirei felt an inclination towards evil, yet he knew that it was a bad choice. Raised by his father, also a priest, he came to understand the notions of morality, the binary concept that separated deeds in two categories. And yet, despite Risei's efforts and Kirei's own desire to be good, he always felt that evil is what he should look for instead. It was strange, it was unsettling and it disturbed him ever since.
He tried his hand in many a subject, and mastered them with little trouble... only to discard them when he had reached a point of proficiency. One after another, he was found with more nagging to stray towards maliciousness. Nothing but suffering of others brought joy to his heart and it was a thought that horrified him ever since.
It seemed nothing could smash that wall apart. Not even love and siring a child could do that. His wife died for him explicitly so his heart could stir and find its good side... but it didn't happen. All he felt was regret; regret that he didn't get to kill his wife before she died of illness. A thought that replused him ever since.
He's found himself a protege of Tohsaka Tokiomi, a friend of his father that he has found to be a boring, uninspiring man. Nevertheless, he served faithfully until the Grail had chosen him for the next War. Now that was a thought out of order. What would this wish-making device want from a man who had no wish of his own? He continued to serve under Tohsaka and that link only became stronger now, seeing as their Servants were friends back in their day, in their land.
Well, it didn't matter. He was here to intercept Emiya Kiritsugu and, if he could afford it, ask him this important question. Ask like one empty man would ask another; what made you full? While Assassin and Caster dealt with Caster and her minion, he had more than enough time to find and incapacitate his target.
The excitement dwelling in his chest was an unfamiliar notion, but he welcomed it all the same.
The wraith was making for a bothersome enemy, Ciaran thought.
He was too slow to actually hit her, but his defenses were like iron. Even with her attacks and Gough's arrows being synchronized together to capitalize on each other, it seemed the knight with the hammer would not budge so easily. In a sense, it made for a pleasant notion; Assassins were supposedly subpar at actually fighting other Servants, as her Master explained at some point, so she wasn't in any real danger, so long as she kept her focus and her wits about her.
Of course, this man was no Servant. Not quite. His mistress – and her Master – was hiding somewhere in the forest, plotting a retaliation of their own. She was the real threat.
"Fierce like a wasp." The wraith spoke after her Tracers and his shield parted ways again, this time making a step sideways to narrowly avoid the fired arrow. "But it doesn't look like your stings carry any real bite."
"Save your drivel for afterlife." She replied shortly. The wraith snorted indignantly as he rested the hammer on his shoulder.
"Fierce indeed. What drives you, Assassin? Your class isn't the type to fight open battles like this."
"I'm no mere Assassin." She wasn't wrong, Garl had to admit. Even without her Archer friend constantly firing those javelins from afar, her pace was fluid and deadly, befitting a fighter who had seen many a duel. Only by his own dedication to the issue and his trusty shield could he hope to survive for Astraea and Irisviel to stall Archer so he could proceed. Assassin could not know that, but he had some tricks up his sleeve himself.
Maiya was still hidden in the shrubbery nearby, ready to distract the masked warrior if need be. A reckless, almost senseless sacrifice it would make if Assassin set her designs on her, but it was a couple of seconds he might have needed. "So I can see." For now he just needed to talk to her. It was a distraction as good as he himself could afford. "The point still stands. Exceptional or not, you're no Saber to combat me like this."
"It's more than enough for the likes of you." There was no arrogance in that statement nor was it the absolute certainty; Garl imagined it more as Assassin trying to shut him up. Her next attacks came swiftly and not soon after another javelin-sized arrow came flying right at him. The masked woman followed soon after to keep the hammer knight in place, but this time the second arrow did not come. Assassin refused to break her stride however, following up with more flurries and slashes. This time, Garl took point and made a step forward, bashing with his shield. The retaliation hit nothing but empty air; his opponent made a swift sidestep, the golden blade swinging forward to end the fight on the spot.
Of course, that's not what happened. With Wrath of Gods, he managed to push Assassin back. The spell took her by surprise though she didn't quite bowl over: rather, she had managed to tuck herself in into a backwards roll and be on her feet a moment ago, the damage inflicted minimal beyond an irritated grunt and a crack in her mask. Still, every second counted for Garl to gain some sort of advantage. He pushed forward again with a horizontal swing, one easily ducked under as Assassin lunged to meet him, sneaking a stab with her blade past his shield. It slid off his armor, but he couldn't count on that saving him next time. At least he could now close the space between the blade and her arm, forcing her to drop it if she didn't want to be squished into paste. That was one Tracer less on her part, at least.
Ciaran threw the other, silver blade right at him, it spinning through the air. It bounced off the wraith's shield harmlessly. "I guess that's that." He spoke, preparing himself to go for the kill. Sadly for him, this was not yet that. Gough must have been compromised by Caster and her Master while she was wasting time with the wraith here. Well, no matter. She had no doubt that he can handle himself.
"Not quite." She drew the second pair of her Tracers, taking a moment to appreciate the way knight's shoulders slumped in dejection upon seeing them. The fight was nowhere near over yet.
"Thou must be Caster and her mistress."
This was the first time Irisviel had seen someone so gigantic. Berserker was a sizeable man on his own, but this Archer was a class in himself. She entertained a brief notion that even if she and Caster tried to stand on one another, he would still dwarf them both. Clearly that was no ordinary hero.
Rather interestingly, Archer didn't see fit to engage them in combat yet. He had an arrow nocked, but their appearance made him lower the enormous bow of his. It seemed he was not planning to fight them. Nevertheles, it would do well not to anger the giant if they could help it.
"In the flesh, Sir knight." Astraea replied, taking note that he did not seem to look at them or anywhere in particular. A blind Archer... now that was a story to listen to.
"Coming this close to an enemy Servant, even if he might be an Archer, and with your Master in tow, Caster? That is a bold thing to do."
"Seeing as your friend over there battles with my beloved Garl, it is only fair that I engage you in return." Astraea replied. "It is only fair." The giant Archer guffawed as he turned his head closer to their position, but still not quite to look at them.
"Is that so?" About where his eyes should be a faint blue shimmer appeared as he now lowered his head down to look at the two women. "A cleric, I see, and one of great form." Astraea flinched a little which did not escape neither Gough nor Irisviel. Why would one flinch upon the compliment like this? "Well, I'm not the kind to fight up close if not without a good reason, but if you insist..."
"Just talking is good enough, too." Caster allowed herself a small smile. "I do wish we would rather resolve this conflict in peace."
"That would certainly be easier." Archer nodded, then – much to Irisviel's surprise – sat down. Just like she suspected, he was still at least twice as tall as either of them. "Not that some of these local fellows believe in that."
"W-well, it would be the better option." The white-haired Master interjected sheepishly. "But how would we decide who deserves the Grail then?"
"We could have it be a matter of discussion." The giant hummed softly. "Quite a few troubles could be solved if we dared to talk before acting."
"I wouldn't mind if we could avoid the war." Astraea spoke, nodding in agreement. "But would we agree on the worthiness of the chosen wish to fulfill?"
"So it still would be a battle, but one of rhetorics." Another hum. "And morals, most likely. I do have to agree that conflict makes the competition easier." Oh, it would be utopian to get everybody to talk things out peacefully.
The overabundance of traps would likely force any other Magus to either withdraw, die or employ their own carefully woven defenses to countermeasure them.
Kirei was lucky to not qualify in neither of these three categories. His step was quiet and measured as he took notice of the trip-wires, suspicious pieces of decoration and anything that might have looked out of place. Yes, any other Magus would consider Emiya Kiritsugu an offense to Magecraft and an opponent that compensated for his subpar knowledge and power with dirty, vulgar tricks, but Kirei knew better than this.
If anything, those were signs of someone smart enough to not unleash all his power upon the enemy if he didn't have to. Seeing as it was him assaulting Kiritsugu's fortress and not the other way around, that alone put Kirei at a disadvantage.
Luckily, it seemed his target – and an object of fixation – did not seem to bother with ambushing him. Yet. Kirei wouldn't dare and think that Kiritsugu is underestimating him. A man so similar to him would be able to recognize him as a formidable opponent; a mutual feeling. It was almost regrettable, having to kill him. He had to talk to him first. See if he really was the fellow empty man, the kindred spirit that clings to whatever hope of accomplishment he may have.
Another trip-wire. This one he stepped over, avoiding the loose part of floor that no doubt was some sort of pressure plate. The sheer amount of careful maneuvers he had to undertake was more akin to doing a complicated ballet choreography with Death itself for the audience. If the audience likes it, he would be set free. If not, well... hopefully he would survive a misstep or two.
The fight has reached an impasse.
Ciaran had managed to inflict a couple of hits upon her enemy, but it didn't seem like the wraith felt them too much. Even if he did, the healing magic – not unlike clerical miracles – did away with most of those.
At the same time, the masked woman was just too fast for Garl to hit. He hadn't hit her even once, not even with a glancing blow. He had suspicions that a single strike would be all he needed, but it was of course easier said than done. "We can fight like this all night." He huffed after Assassin's blade impacted against his shield for the who knew which time. As expected, the masked woman didn't reply right away, more busy glaring at him and having another go. Futile.
At least it seemed like she understood the notion after this attempt, finally. With a discontent sigh, Assassin sheathed her blades. "Fair enough. An impasse most bothersome." She muttered as she watched the wraith sheathe his shield and hammer in return. "For a mere wraith, you're quite the adversary."
"And for a mere Assassin, you fight not unlike a Saber." With insults veiled as compliments out of the way the brief tension returned as the two started each other down. "So why do you fight, Assassin? What wish of the Grail makes you move your blades?"
"You assume I need a wishmaking cup to move them." The masked woman shook her head dismissively. "It is my duty as an Assassin and as a Servant. There is naught but this to it."
"Yet you're focused quite fiercely on this mere wraith."
"You are an enemy to dispatch. Sooner or later, at the very least." Assassin's stance relaxed a little bit.
"What about your Archer friend?" It was a good question, though the context was wrong; what was with Gough? There were no sounds of fighting over there, so either they have eliminated him instantly or somehow distracted him. Talking him down? He was always the type to ponder and wonder.
"He has little aspirations of his own." She replied truthfully. The man with so little pride in his skills to compare himself to a dog hunting for hares didn't aspire for much else but truthful service. His Master seemed to appreciate that, too, so they were well synchronized.
...here was hoping that her Master succeeds in his task if she couldn't. "And what about you, wraith?"
"I am hardly a contestant, Assassin." The knight chuckled softly, arms folded on his chest. "But if you wish to know, it is what dearest As..." Caught himself on that one. "Caster desires."
"And what does she desire?"
"Isn't that the question you should ask her instead?" Another chuckle, much to Ciaran's annoyance. It seemed that the wraith liked this brief feeling of superiority. It was almost as bad as Lancer's casual arrogance. "All she wishes for is to bring salvation to her flock."
"A selfless wish? That is bound to fail. All tales of selflessness end in tragedy." The notion of Assassin did seem to point into the direction of a wish that would directly benefit her. A return of the loved one, perhaps? Going back in time to fix her mistakes?
"Is it selfless if it is just her flock?" For all it mattered to Garl, they had those in the Valley of Defilement and never ventured anywhere else; they would be hunted down by zealots if they tried. Try as they might have, it would simply not happen. Assassin did not respond to this, merely shaking her head slowly.
"All too often the downtrodden bite the hand that feeds them." She finally said. Garl had no real response to that either, after all he was a mere wraith here.
He found Emiya Kiritsugu in the castle chapel. How oddly appropriate.
After avoiding the gauntlet of deadly traps and not encountering any other resistance, Kirei was left a little worried. From what he has heard and read on the Magus Killer, it would not be above him to collapse the whole castle over his head. That, that would be difficult to survive through. Perhaps Kiritsugu wasn't even there, just goading him to explore the whole fortress fruitlessly while he remotely set up explosives?
But no, it was the man himself in the flesh, sitting on the steps before the altar. Even from here he could see the dead, lifeless eyes of Emiya Kiritsugu that regarded him in turn with distressing nonchalance. This had to be it. This man was certain to be like him, an empty vessel.
"Kotomine Kirei." He greeted him as he looked up, a cigarette in his mouth, just about burning out.
"Emiya Kiritsugu." Kirei greeted him in return. The hellos were stiff and of official sound and yet something didn't seem right. Something about The Magus Killer was a little too casual. "I was hoping to meet you."
"Funny. The sentiment is reciprocated." Somehow deep in Kirei's mind there was a notion of excitement. So there was something. "The most dangerous of Magi going for me in the flesh so early on?"
"I have my personal reasons for doing so."
"So I see." A moment of silence. True, at the end of the day they were enemies, but he was here to ask a pressing question. Of course, now that he was here, he just wasn't sure how to put the question together. It was an equivalent of a shy schoolgirl trying to ask her crush to go out with her. The comparison was ridiculous and if Kirei was the man to feel flustered, he would probably feel flustered, just standing there awkwardly.
It didn't help that for all it mattered, Kiritsugu was being surprisingly gracious to not start shooting him on the spot. Frankly, he would feel more comfortable if that was the case.
Well, he might as well capitalize on this. "Emiya Kiritsugu, there is something I wish to ask you."
"Go on."
"I-" And then his voice got caught in his throat as a sharp pain hit him straight on the chest. It didn't seem like Kiritsugu moved, shot him, did anything. A Black Key appeared in his hand, but it flickered and dissipated fruitlessly after his hand went limp.
It was hard to ignore a blade sticking out of his chest. In hindsight, he should have expected a trap and there were countless ones out there that he successfully avoided and braved.
"You were saying something." Kiritsugu's casually indifferent voice now had a new tinge to it, or at least that's what Kirei thought, the tinge of sarcasm and mockery. The priest opened his mouth to speak, but the blade only went up a little higher, arresting any attempt at speech as the metallic taste of blood filled it and made him choke. He wished to raise the hand armed with his Command Seals, but it was to no avail. Strength was leaving him. "Well?"
"Y-you..." Another choke. He has been played for a fool and now he was paying the price with his life... but perhaps this was a good thing, after all. He, a wretched being, suffering ignominious death from the one person he decided he would let his guard down to reach out for him? The world would be better off without him. Denied a chance to do evil and relish in it... it was a salvation from the troubles that bothered him for so long.
In a sense, Emiya Kiritsugu ended up his salvation.
"Kill him." The blade went up further and further, seamlessly reaching all the way to the top of Kirei's head and freeing itself from him. For a moment nothing happened – other than the priest managing a genuinely sad, broken smile – before his upper body went apart with a disgusting squelch, like a horrid human flower and collapsed on the floor, the contents spilling out lazily. Without further ado, Lucatiel of Mirrah wiped the blade clean on the deceased priest's robes without a word.
Kiritsugu Emiya stood up and crushed what was left of his cigarette in his hand. The war was now halfway won.
Well, how about it? Already is the Fake Priest out of the game. I was pondering whether to leave him around or not, but I figured I might as well give this a shot. Of course, this means Ciaran is bound to disappear... or is she? You'll see yet. :)
I'm also not all that happy with how Astraea & Iri vs. Gough turned out. Not sure if this really is in-character for him in particular. I suppose he knew that the fight is bound to end in a stalemate.
