Chapter 10
Le Mannequin
The two Servants clashed, sparks from their blades flying. The pair was quite evenly matched in the way of the sword. Though Lancer was the swifter of the two, Rider had an advantage in power and could effectively deflect the blows of the blonde haired Servant.
"A Lancer who fights with a sword?" Rider asked between the cacophony of metal against metal. "What are you hiding from your superiors, peon?" Rider dodged a downwards vertical slash and follow-through thrust with his Khopesh, forcing Lancer to jump back out the way. The pair of Servants proceeded to trade blows, never giving the other an inch. By this point, Da Rocha was sick of watching his Servant fight. He had a grudge to settle, after all.
"I can't stand this any longer!" shouted Da Rocha, his calm façade shattering. His entire life, he was told he was to be the successor of the Da Rocha family, and with that position, he had the duty of destroying the Roux family. He could not contain his excitement and lust for Roux's destruction now that she was within his grasp. Breno da Rocha circled the fighting Servants and got a clearer view of his prey.
Lancer noticed straight away, knocking aside a blow from Rider. "Can you take him?" she yelled to her Master. With one swift movement, Roux pulled off her coat from the shoulder and prepared to fight.
"Yes," she said, keeping her eyes on the Spaniard at all times. With that simple one-word answer, Roux's Servant could now concentrate fully on Rider, continuing her battle.
"Confident, aren't we?" Da Rocha hissed, further circling around the Servant's fight, keeping his distance from his target. He may have supreme confidence in his abilities to win, but he was not enough of a fool to think he had already won. He had very little knowledge of the powers the Magus before him wielded.
"Of course," replied Roux, turning to face the Spaniard as he circled her. Luckily for her, the Da Rocha art of flame manipulation and martial arts was well known within the Magi community. Contrary to the usual secrecy ideal of most Magi, the Da Rocha family prided itself in making its power known. Josephine Roux was well versed in what this Da Rocha family heir could wield.
Da Rocha continued circling Roux until his opponent had her back the still raging fight between Rider and Lancer. He stopped for a split second, looking at his still ignited hands, and then lunged forward at Roux. He reached full speed quickly, his arms held out at his side and streaming fire behind him. Roux held her ground and stood still, taking no defensive action. With a power bolstering shout, Da Rocha reached his target and let fly a straight at the female Master. Josephine Roux now saw fit to make her move.
With a smooth jerk of her upper body, Roux dodged the straight, millimetres before the flames licked her face. She dodged to the inside of the punch, so she was directly in front of her attacker, and gazing directly into his dumbstruck face which was almost touching her own. It was then that the young woman brought up her right arm, hand in a fist, and connected sharply with Da Rocha's chin. He staggered backwards, vision blurred, only to receive a kick to the stomach that knocked him down on his back.
Roux remained still and did not follow her opponent to the ground, instead letting him roll backwards and get up in a delirium. She would finish him with the skills she had formed and honed during her years in the United States. They need to be tested in a combat situation. This was her chance to prove those years of training were worth it.
As Da Rocha steadied himself and regained balance, he witnessed Roux still standing motionless. However, she had her eyes wide open, her left beginning to emit a faint yellow glow that was rapidly intensifying by the second, the colour saturating and become more vivid.
"Don't tell me…" hissed Da Rocha, just about ready to launch an attack to interrupt the Art she was weaving. "Mystic Eyes?" It was then, that the world dissolved into chaos.
"Greetings!" boomed a male voice from across the park. Neither Roux nor Da Rocha noticed the figure approaching their fight. He was already within two hundred metres of both fighting pairs and accompanied by a gargantuan human figure. Neither was clear in the faint light of the moon, but the large one was over six foot at least, with the other of even height with Lancer.
Roux and Da Rocha turned to face this new threat. As much as Da Rocha wanted Roux's head on a silver platter, all obstacles before that goal had to be annihilated first. What he failed to notice, that conversely Roux instantly picked up on, was that this new figure was a harbinger of doom.
"Now, now," spoke the figure again, still walking towards the pair of Masters. "Don't stop your display on my account. I assure you, I wish to do nothing but observe your little struggle." The larger figure followed the source of the voice, staying completely silent.
"Who are you?" yelled Da Rocha, perturbed he had to deal with an interloper to his fight. Roux looked at the Servants that were still fighting. Their fight, however, had frozen. Both Servant's blades locked and observing the new menace that had revealed himself.
"I am known as Takeo Kinjou," boomed the voice once again. It was deep and guttural. "Since you seem more interested in my presence, how about one of you tries me?" He snapped his fingers as he was walking forward, still at a leisurely pace. At the sound of his fingers the large figure burst forward into a sprint towards the two Masters, pummelling the ground with massive strides of powerful feet. As the figured sprinted forward, a large wooden shield and massive spear formed in its hands. The spear was so immense it was incredible that the figure even held it up at all.
"Roux!" screamed Lancer, exerting an adrenaline surge fuelled burst of strength, dislodging Rider and turning to protect her Master. She ran full speed to her Master, as Da Rocha watched in sheer horror at the figure blasting forward at them. His vendetta addled brain, however, recognised just what the giant racing at them was.
"Rider, protect me!" Da Rocha screamed, using a second Command Spell in one night, effectively enacting a space warping teleport on Rider. Rider appeared in front his Master in a flash of blinding light, covering the large distant between them in an instant. The Servant could now protect his Master.
Roux stood perfectly still, completely frozen in her terror. It was a new sensation to her, and it completely overwhelmed her mind. It overrode the urge to run, to call on her Command Spells and to even protect herself. She knew what this behemoth was and her fear stole away all over brilliance, leaving only weakness and frailty behind.
"I should mention," said the smaller interloper, still walking towards the ensuing chaos. "That I am the Master of…"
It was exactly at that moment that Lancer reached her Master, with the behemoth soon following. Lancer could not prepare herself for what was coming next. The figure was in clear view but moved far too quickly to get a good view. It let loose with a gigantic swipe of the spear in its hand. The swipe was so wide it could hit both pairs of Master and Servants. Rider, being prepared thanks to the Command Spell, pushed himself and his Master out of the way entirely. Lancer took the blow with her buckler, unable to push her Master out of the way in time. It knocked Lancer off her feet to block the blow, and only served to slow it down partially.
Roux, in that split second before the spear continued on its path to connect with her abdomen, had one word fly through her mind.
"Berserker."
Berserker.
The swing was made so close to Roux that only the shaft of the spear hit her. That, however, did not prevent the violent collision that was assured. Her head jerked as the spear lifted her from the ground, flinging her like a ragdoll through the air. She flew a full ten metres before landing and rolling violently across the grassy field. She was out cold before even hitting the ground, limp like a rag doll as she flew through the air.
Lancer saw everything in slow motion: The spear connecting with her buckler, only to continue past her body as she fell and connecting with her Master. She gazed at her unconscious Master for what seemed like hours, dread encroaching upon her mind. She slowly raised herself from the ground, oblivious to all but herself and her fallen Master. Lancer's mind screamed at her, replaying what just happened repeatedly only serving to torture her.
Master… Master… Roux! I've failed. Roux. No. How? What? Dead? Why? My fault…
It was then that an emotion that Lancer had not felt in a very long time took hold of her. It twisted her insides, shredded her mind and stole away all logical thought that she could muster to combat it. It was pure and total rage.
"You will pay!" screamed Lancer at the top of her lungs, turning to face the behemoth that had dared touch her Master. Time still felt slowed and sluggish as she gazed upon the giant before her. It was a woman with long red hair that reached her feet and was completely untamed. She wore a large plain dress, and a golden and ornate torque around her neck. Her face was blank. There was no feeling or emotion that could be detected from her features. She was like a doll remained perfectly silent.
Lancer raised her blade and struck at Berserker, only to have the blow blocked by the behemoth's shield. Lancer had lost all rational thought by this point, succumbing to the despair and rage that was now focused into destroying Berserker. Her face was so contorted in rage that her beauty was marred completely as she started launch blow after blow with her sword at Berserker.
The red haired behemoth absorbed each blow well with the wooden shield, waiting for a chance to strike between Lancer's rough and ungraceful blows. It was unnaturally easy thanks to Lancer's blinding rage to find said opening. Berserker launched a thrust with her mighty spear at her opponent's head, only to have Lancer jump up out of the way. Landing gracefully along the spear's shaft, Lancer balanced on her toes within her steel armour boots and lunged at Berserker's head. Berserker blocked with her shield and Lancer flipped over the behemoth landing behind the red-haired beast.
Lancer's impatience in landing a clean blow gave way to a frenzied idea. She clenched her fist hard around her sword, and charged at the turning Berserker. The red-haired Servant turned fast enough to block a vertical strike with her shield. At that moment, the Lancer poured as much prana as she could into her blade.
"Gram: Broken Phantasm!"
Lancer's blade, Gram, started to shine bright and within less than a second, cracks formed on its surface. Light poured out of the fissures until, suddenly, the sword exploded in a burst of heat and light. Lancer was blown off her feet at the activation of her own Broken Phantasm and landed in a heap, the Master of Berserker striding past her collapsed form, stopping just beyond her feet. His eyes never even strayed to the Servant that lay near him. Instead, they stayed fixed on Berserker who was shrouded in thick smoke from the cataclysmic destruction of Gram.
Lancer tried to get a look at the dissected Berserker but, as the smoke cleared, she was met with a horrifying vision. Berserker's shield was burnt and its wooden structure partially splintered, but it had endured the explosion. Berserker stood straight and observed the damage done to her shield, emotionless. She then looked at her Master, who gave her a nod. Berserker lumbered forward, towards the floored Lancer.
It's… over… I'm so sorry Roux…
Lancer turned her head to look at her collapsed Master, one last time. It was then that she saw another pair of people. Far in the distance, just within the entrance of the park, the pair was charging at full speed towards the chaos that had unfolded, but the downed Servant could not recognise who they were. They would reach Roux first.
Tears filled Lancer's eyes as all hope was lost to her.
"I'm so very sorry… Forgive me," Lancer whispered, closing her eyes in preparation for the end.
It was about 1:27am when Torsten Amsel heard a cacophony of noise and screaming from the Parc de la Tete d'Or. He had been scouring the city in the hopes of finding Josephine Roux and had made no progress. Despite his lack of success, he was determined to find her. He was a mere hundred metres away from the park entrance when he heard the commotion. He broke into a run, and thanks to the empty streets, Saber materialised mid-run beside him.
"This time, we need a plan," said Saber, having to slow down a bit to not overshoot his Master. "We cannae run in blindly, especially since we're crashing someone else's party." Torsten knew his Servant was right. They'd have to get into a position where they could tell what was going on and strike from there.
"Ok," said Torsten between ragged breaths. "We get to the entrance and make sure it's not booby trapped. Then we can see what is happening. Sound good to you?" He turned and smiled at Saber.
"Sounds grand, Master," agreed Saber, as they arrived at the park entrance. Torsten took the opportunity to check for any obvious Boundaries or traps. The park may have been a set up position for whatever was going on in there. It was while Torsten was checking the concrete threshold of the park when he was blinded and deafened.
A burst of light and sound came from the park and took Torsten by complete surprise. The light faded quickly, but the ringing in the young Master's ears would not cease right away. Saber helped his Master up from the ground.
"This is bad," the Scottish Servant said, materialising his sword. "We may have tae drop the whole 'plan' thing, lad." Saber stared right into the park, dread spreading across his face. Torsten followed his Servant's gaze, but his eyesight was not good enough to see that far in the park accurately. He could see multiple figures, but no detail in any of them.
"What? What is it?" asked Torsten. He had an idea what was going on, and was hoping Saber could tell him he was wrong. Saber's eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of something in particular in the park. The Scottish Servant closed his eyes tight for a moment then turned to his Master.
"Must ye see Roux? Yes or no?" Saber asked quickly. He had the most serious expression that Torsten had ever seen. He knew what was happening now. Roux was being beaten. Badly.
"Yes,"
"Then, ye want us tae save her? An opponent? A woman who threatened tae kill you?"
"Yes,"
"As you wish, Master," acknowledged Saber, closing his eyes and smiling for a split second. Torsten was puzzled, but as Saber took off into the park, the young Master had no choice but to follow.
Da Rocha looked on in utter disbelief as Lancer was catapulted from Berserker after destroying her own Noble Phantasm. The Spaniard never expected to see a Broken Phantasm in this War, nor did he expect Berserker to be so powerful. His prize had just been stolen from him to make things worse.
It was when Berserker emerged from the clearing smoke of the Broken Phantasm that Da Rocha truly understood how much danger he was in. A Broken Phantasm would upgrade the power of a Servant's Noble Phantasm for a single strike at the cost of the Noble Phantasm itself. It was a risky move, and one made by pure blind rage on Lancer's behalf. Regardless, it didn't work even using the mighty Gram as the sacrificial Noble Phantasm.
Berserker started to walk towards the floored Lancer. It was then that Da Rocha, facing towards the entrance f the park, noticed two figures charging into the field of the park with increasing speed.
"Them!" shouted Rider. "It's Saber and his pathetic Master!" Da Rocha looked at the oncoming two, studying the two figures as they closed in on the scene of chaos.
Torsten ran as fast as humanly could, running faster than he though he ever could. He started to see the scene in the park clearly, noticing the body lying nearest Saber and him. He also recognised the Golden Servant he had seen earlier and what appeared to be his Master. What really shocked him was the lumbering giant closing on the collapsed Lancer and the man standing at her feet.
His view switched from each one over and over until he realised who the body was closest to him.
Roux… NO!
"Saber, take care of the others," he said while pumping his legs as hard as he could. "I have to take care of Roux." Saber gave Torsten a concerned look. He doubted they could escape this situation without being put at a disadvantage. The large figure was clearly Berserker or Lancer, the Golden Servant was present and Roux looked almost dead. Not to mention they were saving an enemy.
"Aye, Master," the Scottish Servant said. "You dae what ye have tae dae! One question though. I'll have tae go all out. That's ok, right?" Torsten understood the reason for such a question. Saber using his full powers could be a massive risk identity-wise. He could be compromised immediately.
"Do whatever you have to," Torsten said. "Just... Don't let them get me. And try and not mess with Roux's Servant if you can." He didn't need to aggravate a possibly dying Servant, not to mention a Servant with which they have no grudge.
They were metres from Roux now. As they passed her, Saber sped up to inhuman levels to reach Berserker while Torsten stopped to tend to Roux. The young Master checked Roux's pulse. She was alive, thankfully, but completely unconscious. There was a red stain of blood on her white shirt. He'd have to check it later. Right now, they needed to escape.
Saber dashed at the lumbering giant. It reached Roux's Servant just as Saber reached it, the man near the floored Servant smiling inanely, simply observing the chaos transpiring before him. The giant seemed to ignore Saber's approach, lifting its spear high to skewer the downed Servant. Saber made it just in time to collide into the giant, knocking it off balance.
"Wonderful!" laughed the man. "Who knew Berserker could actually get dislodged like that? I need to work on that with her, it seems." He simply stood by Roux's Servant laughing as Saber reached him. The Scottish Servant looked down at Roux's Servant. She was breathing, tear streaks running down her face. She was alive.
Now… Is that a good thing or not? Saber asked himself. Now that Berserker had been put off balance, Saber took advantage of the enemy Masters and Servants all being to his front. A small gap of about five metres split the two groups of Masters and Servants. It was enough for Saber.
"I cannae believe I'm doin' this," he muttered to himself before flipping his sword in his hands, and plunging it into the ground. He laid both hands on top of the hilt and recited the incantation that would allow for their escape.
"Árd Stirling Drochaid!"
In brilliant flash, the normally casually clothed Saber was resplendent in a full set of Medieval armour. Part chainmail with a full breastplate, it was armour worthy of a General on the battlefield. The Master of Berserker let out a whistle in amazement, while Berserker herself turned to face her new foe.
"Form ranks! Gaedas Mùr!" shouted the armoured Saber, pulling his sword from the ground with a single hand and picking up Lancer with the other in a single quick movement. He then turned his back on Berserker and the others and proceeded to return to his Master's side. As he walked away, Berserker attempted to follow, only to be confronted with a forming wall of spears that were materialising behind Saber, starting with the vicious spear points. The wall finished its creation, forming an army of unthinking, unmoveable soldiers holding pikes in a huge barrier; an impassable creation of a great general.
"Stirling Bridge… A pike wall… All in Gaelic," Da Rocha said to himself. Rider just looked on, enraged at his interrupted fight and the lack of attention directed at him.
Berserker's Master just smiled a snide smile, taking in the scene before him. Berserker however, tried to walk down the line of pikemen to get around the solider that composed it, only to find that it just grew larger and larger no matter what direction you went in. You could move faster than sound and the wall would block you from going around.
"Nice move, Guardian of the Kingdom of Scotland," said Berserker's Master, clicking his fingers. Berserker immediately returned to his side, and they turned to face Breno da Rocha and his Servant, Rider.
Torsten watched on in amazement at Saber's Noble Phantasm. It was an awesome sight to behold. The wall of soldiers was totally unmoving, and Saber's armour was amazing in and of itself. 'Árd Stirling Drochaid' is what Saber said. Torsten quickly realised just who was the Servant he had summoned in the Holy Grail War. He was William Wallace, a hero of Scotland who was given the title 'Guardian of the Kingdom of Scotland' as Berserker's Master had worked out.
I summoned him? was all Torsten's nerve wracked brain could muster. He was torn between amazement at his own Servant and his growing concerns for Roux. She needed to be moved somewhere safe as quickly as possible. She was alive, but Torsten was worried she could be hurt far more than it appeared. It was then that Saber arrived next to the young Master, Roux's Servant barely conscious in his arms.
"We have to move quickly, Master," Saber said, trying to bring the Servant in his arms to her sense with a gentle shaking. "Is she alive?" Saber gestured to Roux, still lying on the ground.
"She is but, I'm not sure what to do." He looked at Roux's Servant who was starting to stir, her eyelids fluttering open. Upon laying eyes on the one who held her, she lashed out and tried to escape Saber's grasp.
"Let go of me!" she yelled, smacking Saber square in the face with her fist. Saber dropped her and she landed cat-like on the ground. She was about to deliver a bone shattering kick to Torsten, to eliminate him from Roux's side, when Saber wrapped an arm around her and spoke directly into her ear.
"We're on your side!" he said, trying to calm her and restrain the urge to yell. "Let us try and get your Master out o' here, alright?" Roux's Servant tried to wrestle free for a second or two more until Saber's words sunk in, her thrashing coming to a stop.
"You're really here to help?" she asked, Saber letting go since she stopped wrestling with him. She turned to Saber for an answer.
"Yes," Torsten said, forcing her to turn back to him. "I would never hurt Roux." He stared into the piercing blue eyes of Roux's Servant. IF the truth couldn't be conveyed in words, Torsten could use his eyes. The Servant seemed to understand, loosening within Saber's grip. The Scottish Servant released her.
"My name is Lancer. You hurt her, and you can consider yourself a corpse." She vanished completely, spiritualising. Saber looked a little annoyed at the threat, but carefully picked up the unconscious Roux. Both Torsten and his Servant took off, making their way to the entrance of the park.
"Time to go, Master," Saber said. "You think we'll make it back tae the house without being seen? I don't think it'll matter anyway. A young man and a fully armoured, beastly looking guy carrying an injured girl down the streets of Lyon at 2am? Hah, not odd at all." Saber let out a laugh, and Torsten joined him. They reached the entrance of the park and kept going. It wasn't until they were a full block away that Saber's armour vanished, along with the still standing wall in the Parc de la Tete d'Or.
Da Rocha knew he was in trouble. He was trapped with Berserker and her Master behind an impenetrable wall of pikes. With Berserker and her Master nearest the wall the Spaniard wasn't at a total disadvantage. However, boiling within the Master of Rider was hatred, pure and raw. Josephine Roux had escaped his grasp.
They will pay, they will pay dearly.
"Well, that was intriguing indeed," said the Master of Berserker suddenly. "I didn't mean to break up that little tete-a-tete there. For that, I apologise. However, you really should have just ignored me and continued your fight." Da Rocha and Rider got a good look at Takeo Kinjou now that he had restrained his beast of a Servant. He was dressed in a long black coat that was fastened from the collar down to just above the waist, allowing the hilt of a sword poke through. The blade was clearly of Japanese origin, with a wrapped grip and ornate tsuba. His face was hard, weathered and he was clearly of Asian appearance. Judging from his name, Da Rocha surmised Takeo Kinjou was most likely Japanese.
"Why did you interrupt our fight?" asked the Spaniard, the waver in his voice in direct contradiction to the anger fuelling his words. "I had her… I had her! She was right there and you had to ruin everything!" Da Rocha lost his cool and started shouting, the fear in his voice dissipating only to be replaced with raw fury. Rider, knowing his Master couldn't lose it now, tried to calm him.
"Calm down!" the Golden Servant yelled over his shoulder to his Master. "We can find that bitch again; right now I need you to think straight, fool! If you don't, I could get killed." Da Rocha placed a hand on Rider's shoulder and clenched tightly.
"Rider," began the Spaniard softly, as if comforting his Servant ."SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Rider's face filled with malice as he looked over his shoulder at his Master. Da Rocha looked crazed and confused, the loss of Roux taking its toll on his psyche.
This man's obsession could lead to my death, Rider thought, his own anger growing. Why do I have to be paired with such a pathetic peon such as him?
"Oooo," taunted Takeo Kinjou, deciding to interrupt the spat between Master and Servant. "It seems I've found a pair with severe issues, huh? A shame. Not a good indication of good teamwork or skills. I see this fight will be as dry and boring as the fight with those goons." He let out a snide laugh and that was the last straw for Da Rocha.
"Rider, destroy that beast of a Servant," the Spaniard hissed, igniting his hands. "I'll take care of the Master." Takeo Kinjou smirked at the remark and clicked his fingers. Berserker suddenly snapped out of her neutral state and charged at Rider, gigantic spear and shield at the ready. Rider dodged to the left and Da Rocha to the right. Berserker kept her sights on Rider at all times. It seemed she was only targeting the Servant at the behest of her Master. Rider ran deeper into the field of the park, trying to create some space to fight effectively while Berserker pursued him.
Da Rocha immediately charged at Takeo Kinjou, stopping two metres short of being within direct contact range and launched both fists out at once, flames blasting forward directly at the Master of Berserker. With a smug smile he narrowly dodged the blasts of flame, rolling forward underneath them and drawing his sword as he stood. The flames were about to hit the wall of pikemen when the wall itself started to evaporate and vanish, letting the flames continue on their path and ebb away before landing. Saber's Noble Phantasm had run it's course.
Kinjou lunged at Da Rocha, sword drawn, ready to satiate his primal lust for battle.
Berserker chased after the Golden Servant as he ran deeper into the park. No thoughts swirled within the mind of Berserker as she chased her prey. She barely thought on what she was actually doing, in fact. She was mindless, like a puppet, and her Master was the one pulling the strings. She had only uttered a single word since she was summoned, and she said it only once.
Master.
Rider's mind, on the other, was filled with many thoughts. There was anger at both his Master and his opponent and his usual supreme confidence. However, there was another little thing floating around in his head, gnawing at his mind. It was a feeling he hadn't felt for a very long time, just like Lancer. It was the feeling of fear.
Rider stopped dead and spun around. He was now on the other side of the large field within the Parc de la Tete d'Or and Berserker was close behind him. As much as he had seen her strength only moments ago, he needed some firsthand experience to really gauge an appropriate strategy. Berserker picked up in speed at the sight of her halted prey, jumping into the air when within ten metres of the Golden Servant.
"What the-"
Rider rolled out the way as the huge spear of Berserker slammed into the ground, a burst of Earth erupting where it fell. The cloud of dust enveloped Berserker and hid her from Rider's eyes. Suddenly, the behemoth's spear burst through the veil of debris directly at the Golden Servant's head. He barely avoided the spear, the edge of its roughly bladed point grazing his cheek as he stumbled to the side. It was then that the Golden Servant saw within the thinning dust cloud just how powerful Berserker was. Where Rider had stood only a few seconds before was a large crater where the spear of Berserker had connected with the Earth. If Rider had tried to guard, he may not have lived. "Monster…"
"…"
Berserker was completely silent as the dust cleared. In fact, she had stayed silent for the entire time she was present. While it's not unusual that a Berserker cannot speak rationally, it is unusual that they make no sound at all. Berserker had not even grunted, and her facial expression had barely moved from its neutral state either. She slowed turned to face the unsettled Rider and waited for the Golden Servant to make a move.
"Hah," Rider scoffed, raising his sword in the air above his head with the blade pointed down. "I can't believe a pathetic animal like you requires my Noble Phantasm to finish." He threw his blade into the ground, jumping backwards at the same time. The regal Chariot of Khadesh formed once again in all its glory, Rider quickly taking the reigns as Berserker watched on blankly.
"Chariot of Khadesh!" the Golden Servant bellowed, forming his bow in one hand and gazing down upon his foe like she was an ant that had crossed his path. Berserker stared at the great vehicle from history before her, before raising her spear and shield above her head and smashing them together. It created a cacophony that seemed to sound like more than just one person bashing shield and spear. As if, there was an entire army behind the behemoth, clashing shields and spears with their general on the battlefield.
Rider watched on in horror as the noise gave way to Berserker's true power. The Earth below Berserker suddenly shuddered and launched upwards, taking the behemoth with it. A huge block of Earth now stood before Rider and his Chariot, with Berserker perched on top and towering over the Golden Servant. The block of dirt began to crumble, revealing a large grey wooden structure. It soon became apparent to Rider just what it was as the Earth directly beneath Berserker collapse and she fell into the seat of her own weapon of war.
"No…" said Rider, his face filling with dread. "This is… How?" Rider was dumbstruck at the sight before him. Berserker had summoned her own vehicle with which to match Rider. Berserker had summoned a Chariot.
The gash on Da Rocha's side was deep. He'd gotten struck by the first swing of Takeo Kinjou's blade, barely moving enough to avoid a fatal blow. He'd been able to avoid the rest of the swings of Kinjou's blade, but he capacity to counterattack was diminished.
I need to get on the offensive! His mind screamed.
"What an intriguing use of flames," remarked Takeo Kinjou, his smug smile destroying the complimentary value of his own statement. He held his blade in a single hand. This was not particularly common for Japanese sword styles, but it had been proving effective. He would juggle the sword between hands as a form of distraction, allowing for an opportunity strike. "You need to get more aggressive though. Come on! Those flames were made to inflict pain, correct? Let them do what they were formed to do. Give me pain boy, give me pain!" He raised his sword to his face and licked it up the blade. The very sight sickened the Spaniard, but he fought the urge to wince. He couldn't show weakness to a madman's tics.
Another foul beast, Da Rocha thought to himself. But he's actually right. I need to get aggressive.
"Very well," Da Rocha said, igniting his arms up the elbow. Throwing flames was not a good idea as the Master of Berserker was swift enough to dodge them. Close quarters combat seemed like the only option.
The Spaniard charged the swordsman, arms out at his sides, trailing fire behind him. Kinjou dodged to the side, avoiding a flaming straight. He brought up his sword to strike at Da Rocha's outstretched arm as the Spaniard's other hand flew at his face. Kinjou was forced to jump back. He flicked his sword out for good measure, nicking the palm of Da Rocha's hand. The Spaniard withdrew it with a flinch of pain and turned to attack his opponent once again.
Kinjou let out a derisive 'tsk, tsk' as Da Rocha quickly closed in on the swordsman. He dodged a left hook with a quick ducking motion. The swordsman made no effort to fight back, avoiding blows and moving backwards.
"Your form is rather… sloppy," Kinjou taunted, backpedalling as if dodging Da Rocha's blows were a simple matter. The Spaniard's rage was beginning to seriously affect his fighting prowess. The goading was empowering the already serious anger burning within him at losing Roux, and he was throwing wilder and wilder punches to release his frustrations instead of to dispatch his foe. "Perhaps…" Takeo halted as he spoke, opening himself to a hook from the left. Da Rocha didn't hesitate to deal the blow.
Da Rocha felt the feeling of impact against his fist. When he focused on Takeo's face, however, there was no flaming fist buried into it. Instead, there was only a confident smirk. The Spaniard slowly followed his arm from his shoulder to hand with his eyes, his heart tightening in his chest. He finally reached his fist only to find that the large hand of Kinjou was wrapped around it, his flesh burning as the flames flickered and danced around the clamped hands.
"Oh, I see," Kinjou remarked casually. "You're pissed that girl got away, huh? That's it, right? Well, to be honest, it looked more like she had you rather then you had her when I got there… Maybe you should be angrier with, I don't know, yourself?" Kinjou smiled wide, his teeth were yellow and repulsive. Da Rocha snapped and was about to land a blow when a flash of steel caught his eye.
SCHLUCK.
Da Rocha heard a sickeningly putrid sound. It was moist and thick. It was after the sound that he felt the warmth run down his chest, saw the red stain blossom on his shirt and observed the glistening steel blade that had pierced his right lung.
Berserker's Chariot was a stark contrast to the beautifully ornate Chariot that Rider summoned. It was a rough wooden design and of an ashen gray colouring with harsh lines that gave it a sharp and deadly appearance. It was larger than Rider's Chariot, both in width and length, and the wheels were fitted with vicious spikes in the centre that sprouted from the axel. The spikes were rusted and twisted looking, adding to the terrifying appearance of this weapon of War. However, her Chariot was still without horses to pull it.
The red haired behemoth had fallen from her place on top of the Earth that formed her Chariot straight into the carriage, her spear and shield vanishing. They were replaced with a large bundle of smaller javelin like spears in her left hand. With her right hand, Berserker grabbed reigns that joined to no horse. Suddenly, two black and powerful looking steeds formed as if responding to Berserker's hold of the reigns. Her face still blank, she stood in her Chariot, seemingly waiting for Rider to make his move.
How dare this monster try to upstage me! Thought Rider, gritting his teeth.
"Do you intend to stand there like the pathetic doll you are?" taunted Rider, unsure if the behemoth before him even understood his speech. "Or, do I have to start us off?" Just as the Golden Servant finished his question something flew past his head, piercing his right ear. He let out a cry out pain and grabbed at the place where his ear would normally be, now replaced with a bloody and ragged lump of flesh. Berserker had thrown the spear with her left hand, the bundle of spears, it seems, stashed somewhere within her carriage.
"Pathetic monster!" screeched Rider, his horses taking off, riding straight at Berserker's Chariot. He drew back his bow as Berserker's own Chariot burst from a standing position in the direction of Rider. Just as the two war machines would crash, both moved to the side just enough to pass without touching. Everything seemed to go in slow-motion as they passed each other.
Rider aimed his bow at Berserker, and Berserker had a spear in her hand and was pulling back for a clean throw. Rider fired, the arrow blasting past the behemoth's head and cutting a swathe through her billowing red hair that flowed behind her. Berserker let loose her small spear and it hurtled straight for Rider's chest, forcing him to duck. This lapse in control of his Chariot, even just on a mental scale, made the Golden Servant keep riding straight for too long, letting Berserker turn swiftly and come from behind Rider.
"Shit!" yelled Rider as he looked back on his foe, now in the perfect position to chase him. "I'll have to lead this beast through the streets!" He turned sharply, Berserker following, and headed for the park entrance. It wasn't long before he burst over the threshold into the streets of Lyon. Berserker started to throw spear after spear at her prey, trying to skewer Rider as he galloped ahead of her. She had no benefit of mental control of her war machine, relying instead on the strength of her left arm and natural warrior talent to command her Chariot.
The thunderous sound of hooves and wheels echoed down the night time streets as the death race progressed further from the park. Rider, using pure concentration to control his Chariot turned and readied his bow, aiming directly at Berserker.
"Feel the sting of my arrow," the Golden Servant hissed under his breath. He fired, causing Berserker to dodge to the side with the entire Chariot, the spikes on her wheels breaching the edge of the street reserved for parked cars. Her Chariot soon met with a car, the twisted blades on her wheels tearing through its side and demolishing it with sickening crunches of metal and glass. It didn't slow the Chariot at all, and neither did the other three cars she tore apart. Rider kept up the attack, firing arrow after arrow at his hunter turning her into the hunted.
Berserker dodged effectively, completely avoiding all arrows fired at her. Rider grew impatient and started sacrificing aim for pure volume, firing arrows at a blindingly fast speed. Each missed arrow blasted into the pavement, struck cars and left a trail of destruction in the wake of the Chariots. The behemoth had given up firing by now, sticking with a firmer control of her war machine.
It was then Rider noticed something on her face. She usually had a neutral expression on all the time, but now her eyes were wide and almost jittery. Her eyes shook back and forth in their sockets and the Golden Servant was having a hard time telling if it was simply he was simply seeing things. However, at the next intersection, Berserker made a jarring sharp turn into the right street, leaving Rider galloping down the street alone.
What… What is this? Rider questioned in his mind, confused. The beast gave up? He had noticed a clear increase in her speed as she took off down the road too. A burst of speed that he doubted even his Chariot could match. He would never admit that, however.
As Rider considered what to do he passed the next intersection and, out of the corner of his eye, spotted a large and imposing shape approaching from the right. He turned and saw it was Berserker, both hands at the reigns and riding at lightning speed. She was moving so fast, they were about to collide. Rider moved his Chariot sharply to the left, Berserker turning sharply right, barely avoiding a collision.
"What on Earth…?" screamed Rider as he realised that Berserker was now riding right next to him down the streets of Lyon. Her massive Chariot dwarfed his sleek golden ride. He turned to face Berserker only to find her face set forward. He quickly raised his bow ready to strike. As if in response to the Golden Servant's aggression, Berserker's head snapped to face Rider's. The pair locked glances as the behemoth's Chariot started moving closer to Rider's.
"Oh… NO!" bellowed Rider at the realisation of Berserker's plan. As the monstrous Chariot edged closer to the Golden Servant's dread filled Rider's heart.
It was planned… That was why she looked crazed! What manner of beast IS she?
Finally, the vicious spikes of Berserker's war machine connected with Rider's wheels. The effect was immediate. The ornate spokes of Rider's Chariot were disintegrated violently, destroying the integrity of the wheel. An entire section catapulted off, leaving less that a whole circle of the wheel. The Chariot lurched into the sudden lack of support, stopping the wheel from turning and arresting the movement of the vehicle. Rider was catapulted off his own war machine, flying across and over the path of Berserker's own Chariot. He landed roughly on the top of a car, its top buckling under his weight and the windows blasting outwards in a shower of glass.
Rider could only let out a cry of pain as he lay on the top of the car, bent and broken. Berserker sped past for a few metres, her Chariot suddenly starting to fade into nothingness. For her part, Berserker simply landed as her carriage dissolved, skidding down the street on her rough leather footwear from sheer momentum. Rider saw it all happen from his position on the car. Saw her head turn to face him, her eyes lock with his and her first slow steps in his direction.
Rider forced himself off the car as the behemoth approached. It was sickeningly painful, with multiple broken bones and a collapsed lung hampering him. He landed in a heap next the car, scrambling to stand as Berserker came closer and closer forming her large spear only in one hand. With great pain Rider stood, drawing his Khopesh that reformed at his side per his will.
"This foul thing… will not… best me…" spluttered Rider, struggling to stand without wobbling. "I… am the Great… Ramesses II… I cannot let this… PEON DEFEAT ME!" Rider charged at Berserker, stumbling and flailing in his pain. He swung out his sword with one hand as he reached his foe.
CRACK.
The Golden Servant's arm froze as Berserker grabbed it with her free hand, her grip like iron. She had broken his wrist by simply grasping at it and proceeded to jerk his arm so furiously and swiftly that it almost tore off at the shoulder, dislocating and tearing skin. Rider flew forward, almost blind to the pain of his shoulder, and landed directly on Berserker's spear. It pierced the middle of his chest, destroying his ribs and cleaving into the side of his heart.
Rider took a sharp breath, and looked up at his killer. Berserker was just as void as ever. There was no rage, no malice, no pity, no sadness. The doll had done as ordered and removed Rider from her Master's path.
This is wrong… I am the Pharoah! I am the Pharoah, I am the Pharoah, I am the Pharoah, I am the Pharoah, I am the Pharoah, I am the Pharoah, I am the Pharoah, I am the Pharoah!
"N-No…" said Rider, defiant to the end. "I CAN'T LOSE TO THIS BEAST! PEON! MONSTER!" As he screamed with all he could muster on burst lungs and borrowed time, the behemoth twisted the spear in his chest, silencing the Golden Servant once and for all as the spear's blade tore apart his heart. His eyes remained open and blood leaked from his mouth as a whirlwind of sand spread from his feet upwards, disintegrating his body. A similar effect engulfed his Chariot, destroying it. Before it finished, Berserker unceremoniously ripped the spear from Rider's corpse, tearing a large hole is his body and letting it fall. It disappeared in a storm of sand before it hit the ground.
Berserker simply started in a walk to the park, quickly turning into a swift run, leaving the sand that enveloped Rider to float away in the wind.
The sword had pierced straight through the Spaniard. He coughed up a gout of blood from his ruptured lung, coating the hand holding the sword through his chest in crimson. Kinjou lifted a leg and kicked the Da Rocha in the chest, violently pushing the Spaniard from his blade and dropping him to the ground. Da Rocha landed hard, and immediately tried to drag himself away from his attacker, wheezing heavily. Kinjou showed little signs of trying to follow the injured Master, just smiling at his victim as he crawled away.
"So, that's it?" Kinjou asked, smile still spread across his face. "Despite all that flame, you're really more flash than substance? Pity." The Japanese Master let out a sigh, and shook his head. Da Rocha couldn't tell if it was an act or he was actually serious. Such was the ambiguity of his enigmatic smile.
I'm not done yet… Da Rocha reassured himself. He burnt his hand pretty badly with that move… I can fight with a single lung if I have to. The Spaniard got to his feet, now at least five metres from the swordsman. Kinjou clapped as his opponent stood.
"Good!" he exclaimed. "I like that fighting spirit! Don't make this last stand too boring, eh?" Kinjou then swapped his blade to his seared hand, then back. He continued this like a little game or something done as a habit, throwing it from one hand to another. Da Rocha decided not to concentrate on it.
It's a distraction, I have to keep my wits about me…
Da Rocha was breathing hard, and struggling to keep his vision steady. He felt a slight burning on the back of his hand, but it went largely unnoticed thanks to his concentration on his foe. He still believed he had to go on the offensive, but he had to play it safe and take a risk only when the cards were stacked in his favour.
The Spaniard lit both hands and tightened himself like a spring, preparing to launch a full on assault. Hopefully, the last attack he would have to initiate. Kinjou stopped his little tic and gripped his blade in his unburnt but bloodstained hand, holding it straight out with a fully stretched arm.
Now.
The Spaniard charged, moving as fast as possible with the power of one lung. He ducked below the still outstretched sword of Kinjou and deliberately hesitated. The swordsman made to pull down his sword and Da Rocha rolled swiftly to dodge, pre-empting the move. Kinjou's blade hit nothing but air as Da Rocha let fly a punch from his kneeling position straight at the swordsman's torso. Kinjou swept to the side, dodging a full contact blow, but his coat connected with the flaming fist. It ignited quickly, the fabric of his coat acting as perfect fuel.
"Smooth move," cooed Kinjou, jumping away from the now focused Da Rocha. The swordsman tore away his coat, revealing that he wore no shirt underneath. He was extremely fit, with clear and defined muscle structure. What was most defining, however, was the plethora of scars and cuts that covered his body. His arms were also coated in old wounds.
So the little fire boy has a spark of life after all, Thought Kinjou. Time to destroy that spark once and for all. Kinjou, in truth, grew tired of his opponent. He was desperate for a challenge and this man was not providing enough of one. He was toying with the Master out of boredom. His boredom had reached its event horizon.
Da Rocha wasn't scared by Kinjou's imposing figure. Regardless of how the swordsman looked, he had to win. And the Spaniard knew he could win. He sprung from his crouching position at Kinjou, both hands aflame. He would try a grapple, to cause more burns on the swordsman. No matter how resistant the man was to pain, the burns themselves can be destructive enough to put a person into shock. A grapple would lock Kinjou in a continuous burning torture that surpass any resistance to pain.
Kinjou gripped his blade tightly, ready to finish his prey when something large caught his attention in his peripheral vision. As Da Rocha was about to enter range close enough to deliver a crippling grip, Kinjou held his burnt hand out to Da Rocha's face, his index finger erect. He waved it in the Spaniard's face, and his eyes looked in the direction of what he had noticed. Da Rocha, in a moment of foolishness, followed his opponent's gaze. His eyes settled upon Berserker, standing ready.
The Spaniard's eyes widened, and he looked quickly at the hand had felt a burning sensation. Hs Command Spells were greyed out, like a ruined tattoo. Upon the defeat of Rider, the spells had lost all function.
No...
"No…" said the Spaniard in disbelief, falling to his knees. "NO!" He repeated himself, with the second time turning to a horrific wail. The fire in his hands dissipated as he grabbed his head, tearing at his own hair, shaking around violently. "IT'S NOT FAIR! I AM OF THE DA ROCHA FAMILY! I WAS TO FIGHT THE ROUX BITCH AND WIN!"
Kinjou laughed at the tragic figure before him, raising his blade. There would be no monologue, as he grew tired of this game. In fact, he was happy Berserker arrived. It made his job easier.
"I HAVE TO KILL THE BITCH!" Da Rocha kept screaming, tears forming in his eyes out of a disturbing collision of rage and despair. "IT WAS MY JOB! I HAD HER! I HAD HER RIGHT THERE AND THEN YOU SHOWED UP!" The Spaniard looked up at his enemy with pure hatred masking his face and tears running down his cheeks. That is, until he saw the blade raised ready to strike. His face fell into a state that could be called despair. "NOOOO-"
SCHLICK.
With one swift move, Takeo Kinjou swiped his sword across the neck of Breno da Rocha, silencing his final denial of his fate. After a few moments of complete stillness in the park, the head of the Spaniard peeled from the shoulders of the corpse it was once attached too, its face still contorted in fear.
With a satisfied grin, Takeo Kinjou retrieved his burnt coat, clicked his fingers and had Berserker follow him obediently. The pair left the park and the body of Breno da Rocha to the night of Lyon.
Author's Note:
Another pair bites the dust and all the Servants and Masters have been revealed!
I do hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! ^^
There could be delays on subsequent chapters thanks to real-life taking a turn for the busy, but I'm still writing.
I hope you tune in next time. :)