Author's Notes: So I decided it was time to end this chapter once it was close to 8k, because I'm ridiculous and the next scene is going to be long as hell and maybe the entire chapter. Look, it's not my fault that Roy has some issues that are going to probably cause problems later (um, yes, I totally plot this stuff out…) and I really delved into them. On the bright side, this means I already have the next chapter planned out completely in my head and have started writing it, so it won't be 10 years in between chapters. Also, points for Ling and May for somehow accidentally becoming my favorite pairing in this fic.
good men don't become legends
to walk along the edge of all the light
The next few days are spent maddeningly in recuperation. Roy has been injured before, during his time as the Flame Alchemist in the Mage Wars, but nothing to this extreme. Just when he thinks his hands might be getting better, they throb painfully and leave him gritting his teeth to the point that he worries they might turn to dust. The fact that Riza heals quickly and is in peak condition by the end of the first day frustrates him even more. He hates this lagging behind and can tell that she's protecting him in his time of weakness, just as she did all those years ago.
Roy tries not to growl furiously, but he can't stop himself from flopping back down on the couch. The bandages on his hands are lighter now, so that he can flex his fingers and pick things up again, but blood still seeps out at random periods. Whatever Saber's cursed swords did to him is still causing problems, like the dark magic was somehow able to seep into his blood and poison him.
It pisses him off, which in turn does nothing to help the mood of everyone in the house.
Winry is on edge, teetering around the house quietly, apologies on her tongue whenever she does something that she perceives as even the smallest of slights or inconveniences against him. In turn, Riza has become almost wary of him, keeping an eye on him almost as much as her own Master. He wants to tell her that he's fine - maybe even make a joke or attempt to kiss her - but none of the right words come out of his mouth. Alphonse is upset, most with himself, seeing himself as a failure for not being able to heal Roy right away, no matter what Roy tries to tell him. He's never been good at comforting and he feels clumsy at any attempt.
Then there's Ed, who is a ball of anger. The first day, he was too weak to do much of anything save sleep and it caused Roy to be drained as well. By day two, he had enough energy to stomp around the house before having to devour everything in sight so that the two of them wouldn't pass out. Under normal circumstances, Roy could survive on his own mana for days, but after transferring some of his to Ed in order to escape, his well was effectively drained.
Roy did not like relying on other people to survive.
By the time day three rolls around, Roy and Ed are at each other's throats. There's no buffer between them, no space, nothing to distract either of them from their failures. Their first real confrontation with other Servants and Master, not including their encounter with Berserker, and they utterly blew it. Roy isn't about to delude himself and Ed is too determined not to lose this War.
There is nothing anyone else in the house can do to calm them down. Riza is just as angry at herself for having not protected Winry, going so far as to deeming herself not worthy enough, which Winry had to soothe over. The fact that Roy's wounds aren't healing properly cause Al to titter worriedly and get upset with himself and has left Ed scowling at Roy like it's his fault. Pinako was probably going to beat them all silly at this point.
Al pokes his head into the living room, a hesitant expression on his pinched face. "Dinner's ready if you're hungry…"
Roy is most definitely hungry. The healing process demands that he eat more food than normal to keep up his strength. However, he also doesn't want to be around people either. Riza would probably say that he is acting like a child, so he drags himself off the couch and slinks into dining area.
And then, right when he moves to sit down, everyone tensely quiet, Roy feels a cold chill run down his spine. It's the kind of chill that runs all the way down his toes and almost has him shaking. He's still admittedly weak enough for it to cause him to stagger and grab the back of his chair to steady himself. Ed blinks at him, a confused and unsure look on his face, and Roy knows that his young Master felt the same cold rush, though he doesn't understand what it means.
Riza puts a gentle hand on his arm. He can feel the heat of her touch through his shirt, but it does nothing to warm him. "Roy?" She doesn't feel it - can't feel it. Though she was brought back to life through magic, she's not a mage. She would be able to sense another Servant, but this is no work of a Servant.
Heavy, thick waves of dread wash over Roy, both making his blood sing and his chest ache. There is a Master somewhere out there - and whoever they are is drawing upon almost every ounce of magic in them to perform something terrible and incredible. Ed plops down, like he doesn't know what to do with himself. He doesn't know either; he's too young.
Very dark magic is at play, the kind that used to whisper so temptingly in Roy's ear at night, and it is downright calling to him. He wants it, can practically taste it. How can he possibly explain that to Riza - or even Ed?
May bolts upright in her bed, gasping for air and clutching her chest like her heart might burst right out. Ling is at her side in a flash, his twin swords in his hands, but hesitates when he doesn't see any immediate threats. His Master's big, dark eyes are wide and strangely dilated and she seems to swallow down air like she's drowning.
Ling allows the swords to dissipate and bends down to her level next to the bed. "What is it?"
"Magic," May tells him in a delicate whimper, grasping the blanket and pulling it closer to her, like it might protect her somehow. The blanket is not her shield, however; he is. "Dark, dark magic. I can feel it…pulsating in the air." She's still struggling to breathe steadily. Ling knows nothing about magic save for the fact that his Master is stronger than she looks and it brought him back to give him enhanced skills and power. Perhaps it is choking her somehow. "It is filled with so much evil; I feel as if I can barely move."
Standing upright, Ling moves to the window to peer outside, but nothing looks out of the ordinary. As far as he can see, it's just another night. What does May see that he cannot? What does she feel? He know what he feels: useless. It is not a pleasant feeling. He clenches the window sill. Just because it is dark outside does not mean that it is empty. Darkness can hide a lot of things, as he saw a few days ago.
"Is it Assassin?" he asks. She shakes her head mutely. "Caster?"
"No, it is…" May shivers, despite hiding halfway under the covers now. "It is not a Servant." When she finally turns her gaze to him, there is horror in her eyes. "It is a Master."
The Servants are supposed to be the soldiers in this War, but the Masters can be just as dangerous. Ling can't help that but think of what May would be capable of if she did not have a block - what wonders she could accomplish or horrors she could unleash. She is too pure of heart for the latter, though it appears as if another Master in the game is not. It's not Caster's Master - that boy is too self-righteous - and Archer's Master is too kind-hearted. Saber's Master was unhinged, but did not seem powerful enough to bring such a strong reaction from May.
"Oh, Ling…" His little Master drops the blanket so that she can cover her face with her hands. He notices the way her hands tremble. It is not fear, however, that shakes her. It's the magic itself, weaving its way down to her core. He wonders if maybe it'll burrow a little deeper and be able to somehow open that barrier, but judging from May's reaction, it would probably do more damage than good.
Ling rubs the back of his neck. Monsters, he can handle. Servants, he can fight. He will do everything in his power to protect May. But magic? It's out of his field. He had mages under his command and at his call during his days of ruling, but not a single drop of magic in his blood. Every inch of him is screaming to lock the doors, blind the windows, and keep his Master under lock and key - but he knows in his soul that May will not settle for that. Not only is she too pure of heart to leave this matter unattended, but she is too passionate, too empathetic. Whatever that other Master is doing out there is tearing her own soul apart.
Bending down to her level again, Ling lays a gentle hand on her shoulder. "What would you have me do?"
"We have to stop them," May tells him, her voice so shaky and muffled that he barely understands her at first. When she pulls her hands away, there are tears slipping down her cheeks, but there is also fire in her eyes. He likes that fire, but recognizes it as a little dangerous too. "We have to end this. They are killing people, Ling. It is not right. Magic should not be abused like this. We have to stop them."
Why did such a young girl believe that so much responsibility for the world rests on her shoulder? One would think she is the ruler of a kingdom and he is merely, well, a servant.
"Get back here!" Ed yells as Mustang walks out of the door, his robes melodramatically trailing behind him as they always seems to do when he's not in modern clothes. His Servant predictably doesn't listen, even with Ed standing in the doorway with his fists clenched at his side. Stupid Mustang. The man never listens to him, like he thinks Ed is just a child and doesn't know what he's doing. "Caster!"
But Mustang doesn't stop and Ed seethes. Ever since that moment right before dinner when a strange cold chill swept through Ed's body, Mustang changed completely in demeanor. He went from moody and put out to hard and distant. Ed couldn't get the Heroic Spirit to talk with him no matter what he tried. He hates it when Mustang shuts him out like that. It puts him off-balance and pisses him off.
Even worse, Mustang wouldn't even explain himself to Hawkeye, which Ed knows infuriated her. Hawkeye stands behind him next to Winry, arms folded across her chest and she stares dagger at Mustang's back. Winry squirms on her feet. No doubt she felt something too, but unlike him, she seems ready to follow Mustang. Only Hawkeye's reluctance is holding her back.
"Caster!" Ed shouts again, but he receives no response.
Why does Mustang have to be so impossible, so stubborn, so closed off? The man is acting like a bastard all over again, the way he sometimes did before Hawkeye and Winry joined them. He's keeping them all out. It drives Ed completely mad. Part of him wants to take a magic pot shot at Mustang and another part of him wants to chase after him. Mustang should be listening to him. Ed is the Master! Mustang is the Servant! Mustang is Ed's Caster and he's supposed to obey him.
Growing furiously, Ed lifts up his right hand, the one bearing his Command Seals. He'll make Mustang listen to him. Independent and difficult as he may be, Mustang won't be able to ignore one of those, no matter how strong of a mage he is. He's still a Servant in the Holy Grail War in the end.
Before Ed can do or say anything though, Mustang halts and turns his head slightly to look at Ed. There is nothing in his dark eyes except a frightening dispassion. "Go ahead. Waste a Command Seal if you want." His voice is flat and hard at the same time, like an arrowhead. Ed locks eyes with him, unable to look away. His breathing is heavy while Mustang remains completely cool. "I won't be held responsible for the guilt you will feel later."
"You're not strong enough," Ed points out, though he's loathed to admit it. Neither is he. Not for what they felt. Now that he's focusing on the source of magic vibrating in the night air, he knows that. Before Saber and Assassin's attack, Ed would've been rearing to jump into this battle, but he can tell that Mustang hasn't fully healed from whatever Saber's swords did to him and he hasn't recovered from what Mustang did to him. His magic circuits still fire at random times and cause him to jerk and gasp when he least expects it.
They're not ready. This could kill them and ruin their chances in the Holy Grail War. Ed hates thinking it, hates the idea of putting his own selfish desires over what his heart tells him, but…
"I know," Mustang admits, his voice quiet. The distance between them almost takes the words away, but Ed hears them and his heart drops. Mustang knows full well that this might kill him - take away his chance to win the Grail, take away Ed's, and rip him away from Hawkeye - and yet he's determined to go anyways.
The man is a bastard, but maybe he's not as selfish as Ed always believed.
Ed drops his hand and his entire body deflates as he stares down Mustang. It's hard to tell in the dark, but he thinks that he sees Mustang visibly relax. "It's that bad, huh."
Mustang nods his head. "There's a reason I was labeled a Heroic Spirit by the Holy Grail - it was my duty to hunt down mages that performed the dark arts during my time - and this…" He takes a deep, shuddering breath, but it doesn't look like an unpleasant reaction to Ed. It's almost as if the same dark magic that Mustang is determined to defeat is threatening to overwhelm him. "This is every mage's nightmare. I'd rather die than let this go ignored - and I know you, Edward Elric. It will eat you away if you do the same thing."
It's not fair that Mustang is able to call him out like that; it's not fair that he's right. Ed doesn't know exactly what is going on except that it's bad, really bad. He's never felt magic like this before, crackling in the air like dry bones. It left Al pale and shaky once he started to feel it, like it's making him physically sick. The magic must be against the very being of Al's healing magic, which leaves only room for horror. Ed can't let that go as much as he wants to. It's not in him to sit things out; it's not in him to let people suffer when he can do something about it.
"It's our responsibility as Masters in the Holy Grail War to keep this battle between us," Winry says.
Ed peers back at them and watches Hawkeye close her eyes and sigh deeply. Likely she knows a losing fight when she sees one. She does not fight it, not like Ed. There is a burst of light and Hawkeye's modern clothes are replaced with her battle armor. Winry takes one of her metal covered hands, her own bare one looking so small, and squeezes reassuringly. All Ed gets is a steady gaze from Mustang when he turns back to look at him. Somehow, Ed thinks for the first time, it's enough.
After taking a breath, Ed walks back into the house and snatches his red hoodie. He's tugging it over his head by the time he walks out. "Well I can't let you go alone. Who knows what stupid thing you'll do." He jams his hands into his pockets and stomps towards the older mage, glaring with as much heat as he can muster. "Besides, you need my mana to survive."
A smirk quirks onto Mustang's face. "That's my boy."
Ed scowls as he passes by. "Your Master - that's your Master."
The smirk only mages to grow. Mustang isn't even trying to hold it back. "Of course. That's what I meant."
But there isn't any smugness in the smirk, not like usual. It's hiding something instead, something a lot like fear, which Ed hasn't seen in Mustang's eyes before, not even the night when Assassin nearly killed them. Ed doesn't want to admit that he's keeping his hands in his pockets to hide the fact that they're shaking.
We're going to eliminate another Servant, Ed tells himself. That's the point of this War.
Then why does it feel like he's walking towards the ends of the earth instead?
Riza drives because, as it turns out, neither Ed nor Winry are old enough and Roy doesn't want to expend the strength gripping the wheel. During the ride, Roy does his best to explain how the magic feels, omitting a few certain details that he deems unecessary, but it's clear that the two other mages in the car don't need more explanations. Instead of a Servant out of control this time, it's a Master, and he can tell that they both feel obligated to do something about it. Ed stares out of the window, determination in his eyes, while Winry looks down at her hands in her lap, like her own magic might whisper words of comfort.
Roy doesn't have the heart to tell her that where they're going there will be no comfort. He knows what the dark arts can do to corrupt a person's soul. This Master is long gone. Roy erased mages from history with his flame alchemy for lesser crimes than what this one is doing. He's not too old to fall victim to mercy. He glances at Ed out of the corner of his eyes. He hopes Ed is ready to truly see what his Servant is capable of, even if he isn't at his full strength right now.
To his right, he senses Riza's concern. She hasn't voiced her worries out loud, but he knew the moment her eyes flicked to his hands when he asked her to drive that she had them. Riza is excellent at keeping quiet; it is a talent that drove him mad sometimes back in their days. He used to be desperate for her to be completely open with him, so hypocritical when he struggles even now to do the same. Now he hopes that she won't say anything. If she comments on his weakness, his resolve might break a little.
So weak, Flame Alchemist, Roy thinks snidely. How do you expect to compare to this modern mage when a few words can wound you?
But no, Roy is the strongest mage in history. He was the most powerful in his time and he'll be damned if he isn't the strongest in this one. All the Masters be damned, including whoever that Father figure is - Roy is the one that all mages should respect. He is the peak, the one mages look up to in both awe and fear. Roy is fire. Life. Death. He is Caster, the embodiment of magic in a Heroic Spirit, and he was reborn to destroy.
"We're close," Riza announces, no doubt able to pinpoint the Servant in the area now. It's hard to ignore. Whoever the Servant is, their power is absolutely immense, too strong to be normal. No, whatever their Master is doing has enabled their Servant's strength to be boosted. Stronger than Roy even, and he knew without having met all of them that he was the strongest Servant in this War.
The murders committed by Berserker and his Master comes to Roy's mind. The bodies of the victims were left to rot as total husks, all their life source sucked right out of them. Sure, the murders were done to gain Riza's attention due to Berserker's mad obsession with her, but amplified in all the right, horrible ways with a mob of people, even if they aren't magically inclined, a Servant can leap levels. It's what Roy would do if he was a Master - and had no regard for the laws of magic. If given the option to drain someone with magical circuits as strong as someone like Ed, things would be disastrous.
Roy turns in his seat to regard the two young Masters in the back. "When we get there, I need you to-"
He's cut off abruptly when Riza jerks hard on the steering wheel and takes a sharp left turn, just narrowly missing a beam of light that slices through the air and asphalt of the road. The turn nearly causes the car to topple on its side, the right side wheels rearing off the ground as they continuing speeding forward. Roy swears as he grabs a handle while Ed and Winry scream, Ed toppling on top of Winry. Only Riza is silent, face hard as stone, as she is able to gain control of the car and slams the breaks, spinning them around the face where they just came from. The damage is astounding. The road is practically obliterated, pieces of asphalt and concrete torn to shreds.
"What in the hell was that?" Ed demands, his voice high pitch and close to cracking as he pulls himself awkwardly off of Winry.
"I believe we nearly drove head on into a Noble Phantasm," Roy answers dryly.
"But whose?" Winry asks. "That wasn't Assassin. It was too bright."
"I think," Roy replies as he points ahead at a dark figure dancing on top of a building ahead, "we're about to find out." He opens the passenger door and coolly gets out while the two Masters glance at each other, then pokes his head back inside when neither of them move. "I'd get out if I were you, unless you like being sitting ducks."
While Ed and Winry scramble out of the car, Riza gets out and then walks around to stand at his side. He peers at her out of the corner of his eyes while she examines the terrain. She's back in her armor again. It's somewhat disjointing to stand next to her like this, in the clothes of their old times, but in this new era. On one hand, it looks as if nothing has changed, but on the other, everything is different. It's like the both of them could fall through the sands of time and still find each other. It's both comforting and terrifying.
In which of those lifetimes will he be good enough for her?
"Oh, Riza!" a voice croons cheerfully into the night. "I'm waiting for you!"
In response, Riza scowls and her golden bow shimmers into existence in her left hand. Roy tries not to react, but his hands clench into fists involuntarily. Berserker. He knew it. The stench of this dark magic has Berserker's Master written all over it. The park that they're standing in front of seems quiet and innocuous, but Roy can tell from the electricity in the air that nothing but horrors lie past the trees. It's the same park he, Ed, and Alphonse were walking through when he first felt Riza's presence in the city and now it's been desecrated.
When Roy moves a hand in front of Ed, fully planning to tell him to stay back, the younger mage slaps his hand down and causes Roy to jerk his head to glare at him. "Don't you even thinking about telling me to hide. You're not going in there without me."
For a moment, Roy briefly considers tying the kid up with a bit of magic. It would be easy, as Ed is unsuspecting and doesn't know some of the tricks that Roy does, but then he feels the way the ground seems to vibrate under his feet, how the air crackles, the thick smog of magic threatening to smother him. And he knows - he can't do this alone. He's not strong enough. It grates on his nerves, but he has to admit it to himself if he's going to win. Despite the distance, he can sense Berserker's strength and it's overwhelming, not to mention the other mage in the area. He and Riza cannot do this alone and that makes Roy feel like burning the entire place to the ground.
Riza seems to understand this too, a grim look on her face and an irritated flash in her eyes. Winry steps up beside her, fists clenched at her sides and ready, even though she is most likely scared. But the young girl is braver and tougher than she looks, as Roy knows. She has to be in order to have summoned Riza as her Servant.
Without a word, Riza goes first, walking into the park. There is a distinct, dark purple shimmer in the air as she passes through a magical barrier that was placed around the area. Ed and Winry follow, both of them shivering as they step into the park, with Roy following behind them. He doesn't even blink, not even when all the air feels like it's sucked out from his lungs the moment his foot hits the ground on the other side. The air tastes metallic and rotten yet almost cloyingly sweet at the same time. It causes Ed to gag briefly and Winry to rub her head.
Riza and Roy connect eyes with each other: they are all too familiar with the smell of death.
"I missed you, my dear!" Berserker's voice rings through the trees. The four of them carefully make their ways down the path towards the center, all of them at the ready to fire at a moment's notice, but everything looks so normal, except for the fact that it's deathly empty of all life, including animals. It's practically silent except for their breathing and leaves crunching under their feet, but Roy swears he can hear a low humming. "I wasn't strong enough for you yet, you see, but I am, oh I am!" His laugh echoes around them. "Not even Caster matches me! He can't take you away from me now!"
"What is it with this creep?" Ed grumbles under his breath and Roy feels a flash of appreciation for the kid. "He needs to get a grip. This obsession is ridiculous."
"What's obsession if not knowing exactly what you want and striving to take it?" a humorous voice asks from behind.
Roy barely has enough time to set up a shield protecting Ed before a red blast of magic hits him. As the magical shield sputters in defense, keeping him safe, Ed crouches to the ground. Riza grabs Winry and throws her behind them, but is forced to block a shot of magic with her bow instead of firing back in return. It knocks her off balance, throwing her back into a large tree trunk.
"Riza!" Winry shouts and runs to her. By the time Winry reaches her, Riza is already at her feet, not looking as if she was just thrown ten feet.
A man in a white suit steps out from behind a tree, looking remarkably calm. There is an amused smile on his thin face. He looks immaculate, but Roy can see blood on a mage's hands from a mile away. A dark aura burns like fire around him, just out of the field of vision, as if Roy can see it one second and then it's gone the next. He's focused on Ed as the boy stands up straight, looking ready to fight with more with his fists than magic, in an unsettling way that has Roy's skin crawling.
"Go," Roy orders, not tearing his eyes away from the other Master. "I've got this."
The man's bares his teeth in a much more gruesome grin as he turns his eyes from Ed to Roy. "Are you sure?"
Ed takes a step forward. "Caster-"
"I said, go!" Roy snaps. "Take care of Berserker. One Servant alone won't be able to take him down now."
To be honest, Roy doesn't know if he can take Berserker's Master on his own, not in this condition, but he refuses to think otherwise. Maybe it's a downfall of his pride or arrogance, but Roy knows that he's stronger than this mage. He can sense the man's strength, boosted as he is by whatever he's done, but it doesn't matter. Roy has years on him and knowledge beyond anyone's capabilities.
More importantly though, he needs both Ed and Winry to be completely out of this mage's reach. If he gets a drop of either of their mana, it would be game over. They're too strong and too young. This mage could use Roy's own Master against him, like a weapon, and Roy won't allow that. He remembers the threat that this Master made on the first night they crossed paths all too well and the look in his eyes as he gazed Ed, like he could eat him.
Despite the fact that Ed is the one that should be making orders and Roy the one that listens, Ed backs down for once. It's a miracle in Roy's book, but maybe the kid understands the seriousness in the situation or he really wants to knock Berserker off for all that he's done. Though he certainly doesn't like it, an irritated and pained scowl on his face, Ed steps back, casts a glare one more time, and then starts jogging in the direction of Berserker with Riza in the lead.
She doesn't look back at him. She has faith. More than Roy at least. He hopes beyond hope that she has enough in her to defeat Berserker or at least hold him off. Things are different, so very different.
"Well, he listens well," the other Master says once they're alone.
"Sometimes," Roy replies coolly, though he feels anything but that. Never let the enemy know how you feel.
"I'm being rude. I feel like I should introduce myself since I already know who you are, Flame Alchemist. Your flame magic is a name in itself, after all." The man sounds so polished and formal, reminding Roy of other mages he dealt with after declaring his specialty. Polite yet with a hint of snideness. It annoyed him them and it annoys him now. "You can call me Kimblee."
"A name isn't necessary."
Kimblee nods his head. "True. I wonder how many of your victims during the Mage Wars were nameless to you."
"Thousands."
It used to cause Roy to toss and turn in his cot at night, before Riza died. Was what he was doing truly good when his magic ended so many lives? Was their deaths worth it in the end? It didn't matter so much after Riza's death, but then, a lot of things had lost their color after that. No doubt she would tell him that wasn't an excuse for his behavior, but he realized that little had changed. People still died, only he felt less. He wonders if he will feel the same conflicted feelings now during this War when he kills.
Kimblee holds out his hands, almost like a sign of surrender, though Roy knows it's no such thing. It's more like a beckoning than anything else. "Then tell me, Caster, what's the difference between you and me? You killed many people using magic in order to become the victor of your war; I'm doing the same for mine."
"Your use of dark magic is atrocious," Roy tells him, a furious sneer on his face, even if what Kimblee is saying rings of truth. He's glad that neither Ed nor Riza are around to hear this. It would've broken Riza's heart and shaken Ed. Roy isn't sure why, but the idea of that little shrimp of a Master being more than disappointed in him, horrified even, bothers him. What does Ed matter anyways? He's just some kid whose thumb Roy needs to figure how to get out from under. "We're nothing alike."
"Both of our magic killed people in the end," Kimble points out. "At least I made better use of my victims. I used every last drop of them to further myself in the war. What did you do? Use their corpses for tinder?"
"Enough!" Roy roars, snapping his fingers and causing a ball of fire to shoot directly at Kimblee. He blocks it with a shield, though it still manages to push him a few inches back. Roy doesn't give him time to do anything. He advances quickly on the other mage, snapping repeatedly so that fireball after fireball attacks him. Every time, Kimblee is pushed back further, forced to strengthen his shield instead of attack. "Do you know exactly how I got into the Mage Wars? I hunted down men like you, mages who twisted magic into something evil and desperate. I found them, hiding in the deepest, darkest holes, and I put an end to them."
Kimblee pushes back on his shield, but the explosions don't stop coming. From behind it, sweat begins to dampen his face and he grits his teeth. "How moral and righteous of you! And now you're going to kill me? For what: breaking the rules of magic?"
"I killed mages who abused magic to commit less atrocities than you. I killed mages who did worse. At the end of the day, you're nothing and you will be nothing after I'm done with you! I'm going to burn the magic circuits right out of you!"
Every jerk of his arm is sharper than the last, every explosion hotter and wilder, until Roy feels like he can only see red. It's in his flames, his eyes, Berserker's knives, Saber's twin swords. the blood of all the dead bodies lying at both of their feet, Ed's when it was revealed Assassin's shadows cut him, Al's staining the car after the crash that paralyzed him happened, Riza's flowing like a river on the floor… Red is everywhere and it's blinding.
Just when Kimblee's shield is about to give in, he lets go of it completely and ducks out of the way. He barely misses the flames that shoot over his head and is able to pop off a few quick shots that Roy knocks out of the way with a flick of his wrist. "Why do you hate this side of magic so much, Caster? Did some dark mage kill your parents when you were a child?"
"It's an affront," Roy tells him coldly. "It's evil."
"I don't think you believe that. I don't think you believe that at all." Kimblee stands up straight, hands at the ready, but he doesn't do anything yet. He strained under the heat of Roy's flames, but he's not tired and he's barely used any magic despite the shield. Meanwhile, Roy is breathing heavily and his hands started to throb halfway through the assault. "I think it scares you - the temptation of power, the promise of strength. You were said to be the strongest mage in history, but you knew the truth, didn't you? You were only a fraction of what you could've been. Even the weakest of mages that used dark magic could match some of the strongest mages that didn't. You wanted that. You wanted to be the most powerful, but true power scared you. It still does."
Roy scoffs. "You're an idiot if you believe that."
"You're ignorant if you don't," Kimblee counters. "Why haven't you tried to break your bond with your Master yet? Strong as his magic circuits are, he's just a kid. Separated from him, with the right magic, you could be the fiercest force in the Holy Grail War. He's holding you back. He's got you on a leash and you're still willing to sit, stay, and fetch whenever he says. Has he even had to use a Command Seal on you yet?"
Though he doesn't want to admit it, Kimblee hits a nerve. Roy doesn't react, standing very still and keeping his face in the same angry expression, but he feels like a knife twists in his chest. He was so determined to somehow break from Ed before. The Command Seals are a constant threat hanging over his head and yet despite all of their arguments none of them have been used. Was he so quick to forget his desire to be on his own the moment Riza stepped back into his life? Is he content with being under control because it keeps him in balance? He can't lose himself the way he did before as long as he is Ed's Servant. Is he purposely keeping himself tied down so that he doesn't gain too much power and abuse it again?
"Are you promising me freedom?" Roy questions. "Is that what you gave to Berserker to make him so loyal to you? Did you let him off the leash?"
Kimblee waves a hand in the air, showing off his unique Command Seals, except only one remains. "No, Berserker is still tied to me. I'm quite fond of him and our working relationship proved more beneficial if we stayed together. He needs me to become stronger and I need him to remain in the War. I did throw two away as a show of faith." He shrugs his shoulders. "I wouldn't be a good Master to you though. I think you need a Master that will make you feel free, that will understand you, that will let you guide your own destiny. That kid? He doesn't know what he wants. He's not ready to understand what magic is truly about, not like you or me."
"And what's it about?"
"It's about giving in!" Kimblee exclaims excitedly. "It's about accepting who we are! Only then do we become more powerful than ever? We don't control the magic. It controls us! You let that happen and it will take you wherever you want to go."
This man is beyond gone. There's no helping him, only ridding of him. Roy saw this before. Magic can so easily corrupt the mind if one isn't careful. It only makes twisted sense that a mage like Kimblee was able to summon a Servant like Berserker, but it's no less horrifying that something as steeped in magic like the Holy Grail would allow someone like this to enter the War. Shouldn't it ward away evil like this?
Roy shakes his head. "You're using magic and this War as excuses to cover up your evil. That's absurd."
"Absurd? Tell me, Mustang, how did you end the Mage Wars so quickly after years of fighting?" Kimblee asks, like he's posturing some sort of theological question in class. It causes Roy to jerk back and close in on himself. He told Ed that he'd broke the world; he didn't tell Ed how. "Because the records I've seen at the Clock Tower, the one's your little Master hasn't been privy to yet, show a very steep and sudden escalation of your magic, one that can't be achieved by…moral means." Kimblee smiles again, but there's no warmth in it, no kindness. It reminds Roy a lot of many of his smiles. "I should thank you, really. It's thank to you that I was given the idea to boost my own magic and my Servant's mana."
He didn't… Roy closes his eyes. His hands throb even worse and it's almost like the dark magic from Saber's swords that poisoned him is crawling through the veins of his arms to his heart, freezing him like ice. He feels both cold and hot. He remembers…
Cold nights where there was a never end to the darkness. No amount of screams or pleading could beckon him to leave his tent. No amount of death or suffering could awaken him from whatever woken slumber he was in. It was all dark in the end, even during the day. Time moved both fast and slow. Nothing mattered. It was as if he had died along with her. Better perhaps, if he had, but he couldn't muster the energy to do much beyond think about what had been taken from the world.
There was no magic in the world that could bring her back. It didn't matter how strong he was in the end. He was just as weak as everyone else.
His next most trusted guard, Havoc, shaking him and shouting, "We need you! She would be devastated to see you in this state! We're dying out there! You're stronger than this!"
Him, looking at his pale reflection blankly in a dirty mirror. The shadows under his dark eyes saying, No, you're not. You're weak, pathetic, useless. His heart beating so slow that it was almost like it wasn't beating at all. His eyes used to shine so brightly, like they were filled with all the knowledge of magic in the world. He used to think that he was capable of anything - as long as she was at his side.
He blinked. His mind whispering, But you could be strong. You could be strong again; you could be more powerful than anyone or anything. And it was such a soothing whisper. He needed to hear her voice answer one of his questions, even if it was only in his head, to remind him of what he was doing - but he only heard himself, telling him what he wanted to hear. You could end this. You could end all of this.
When he caught sight of his reflection again, it was like he wasn't even there. He didn't see himself in the mirror; he saw someone else, someone that he didn't recognize, someone that looked like him but wasn't him. He looked down at his hands and felt like they were someone else's hands. Dark shadows danced from the corners of his eyes, there but not there, like faint whispers of the night, pulling him forward and into them.
For the first time in days, he staggered out of his tent.
And when his fires rose higher than ever before, no amount of screams or pleading could stop him. No amount of death or suffering was enough to wake him from the nightmare that became his magic. Time didn't matter. It was like his magic broke it. Just as quickly as the Mage Wars had begun - over what, he could no longer remember - the wars came to a burning, crashing end.
But the light never came back, no matter how bright the flames were.
Roy opens his eyes, struggling to breathe. By all means, Kimblee should've killed him the moment Roy let his guard down, but he didn't. There is an almost gleeful look in the man's eyes. He's enjoying this, taking pleasure in mentally torturing Roy. Every second that Roy hesitates, every moment he's forced to reconcile with his past, is a delicious bite of pain for Kimblee. The Master is worse than the Servant. At least Berserker is mad. Kimblee is just doing this for fun.
"I know what you're telling yourself," Kimblee says, nodding in a sympathetic matter. It's completely false, of course. Roy doubts the man has ever been sympathetic towards anyone in his life. "You think you can win the Holy Grail and ask for a second chance, a second life, with the woman you love." Kimblee tilts his head in a curious manner. "But is that truly what you desire? When you're faced with that wish-granting relic, do you think that will be what it shows you in the darkness of your heart?"
Yes, his mind practically screams. It's what he's wanted ever since he was materialized in the Holy Grail War and told of what would happen should he win. Selfish as he is, he wants another life with her. He knows that he cannot go back and change the past, no matter how much he wishes he could; he knows that he can't erase the bad parts of himself from history, only wait for time to slowly make it fade away. He wants her. Roy will never proclaim to be selfless - that has always been one of her strongest traits and part of why he loves her so much - but he didn't ask to be a part of this War. He can ask for that.
"Or do you even think you're deserving of that anymore?" Kimblee asks and it strikes Roy right in the gut.
All his insecurities and fears come roaring back to him, the ones Riza told him to get over, but he can't. They're the same fears that fueled some of his worst and best decisions in the past. Does he deserve her? She would've killed him for doing what he'd done had she still been alive - but he wouldn't have done those things if she hadn't died. Would he? Had he been capable of those things all along - and just used her death as an excuse to open himself to more power than he was capable of wielding on his own? Just as Kimblee has done now.
"I think you know the answer to that," Kimblee tells him. "Give in to it. I know you can feel it burning in your blood. You've tasted it once. That kind of power is sweeter than anything else in the world. Everything is so much more alive."
"No," Roy finally says, "everything felt dead. It was death." He brings his eyes back to Kimblee. "I was death."
After tearing the bandages off his hands, he lets them drop to the ground. There is still blood stains on them that he ignores. Roy glares determinedly and lifts a hand, refusing to let it shake. Kimblee growls in frustration and plants his feet in position.
That's when the real fight begins. Roy feels very, very much alive so close to death.