Title: Fate/Desiderantes Affectibus
Author: Rowan Seven
Teaser: A doomed master summons an equally tragic servant in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Together, can they change fate or will their journeys once again end in sorrow? Pre-Rebellion.
Rating: PG-13.
Disclaimer: This story contains spoilers for both series. The Fate franchise belongs to Type-Moon. Puella Magi Madoka Magica belongs to Studio Shaft and Aniplex. This story is a work of fanfiction written for fun. I make no claims to either series.
Chapter Ten – Secret Superweapon Sayaka!
The horrors summoned by Prelati's Spellbook were water demons from the abyssal depths of another dimension. Invited into the world by sacrifices of flesh and blood, they could regenerate, revive, and multiply endlessly so long as they continued to receive mana from the blasphemous arcane grimoire. Saber, Lancer, and Berserker combined had slain hundreds of them the previous night and had still been on the cusp of defeat as the alien monsters respawned unremittingly, and now almost their entire number had been gathered together in one spot. They were a horrific cancer, a nightmarish blight with no right to exist in the world of men. They were legion...and they were completely outmatched.
Ionian Hetairoi's Army of the King was peerless. Tens of thousands strong, comprised of the famed warriors who had followed Iskandar across the known world during the King of Conqueror's life, recreated by their combined will in defiance of the laws that govern time and space. The soldiers were heroic spirits in their own right, legends who had conquered kingdoms, founded dynasties, and left indelible marks on human history, and yet each of them deemed these great and mighty accomplishments inferior to the precious, inestimable honor of being one of the King's companions. Having shared joys and sorrows, triumphs and tragedies, life and death, they had forged indestructible bonds of friendship with each other and with their king. Their fellowship was such that no obstacle could stand between them and Iskandar's call-to-arms, and now, reunited again in their full splendor and strength, the legendary army marched against the alien horde without fear or hesitation.
Hundreds against thousands, monsters against heroes, a nightmare against a legend. The winner of such a battle was already a foregone conclusion before the first blow was struck, but the water demons—ruled by instincts and their horrific hunger—did not know this and could do nothing except fight and listen to their summoner's frantic guidance. Those closest to Caster linked tentacles and collapsed inward, fusing together into a hideous stronghold of pulsating flesh and shrieking maws to shield the Servant of the Spell, his master, and their profane masterpiece. Those farther away arranged themselves into concentric circles with interlocking gaps to allow the water demons in the interior to fortify those in front at the first sign of a breach. To advance through them to reach Caster, Rider and his army would have to fight for every inch of ground.
The Army of the King took no issue with this. Lightning-fast cavalry units detached to encircle the enemy and cut off retreat while the infantry advanced in their famous Macedonian phalanx formations, their 15-plus foot long spears held ready. Artillery, launched by ancient siege weapons and fired by veteran archers, soared through the air high above the soldiers before falling in their parabolic arcs on top of the enemy to devastating effect. Rocks smashed and arrows perforated the front lines of the water demons' hastily constructed defensive configurations, creating openings in the massive swarm that were immediately exploited by the approaching infantry with their weapons.
Shik!-Shank!-Shik!-Shunk!-Splitch!
"Scriiiiiiisssss!"
Countless alien screams reverberated across the battlefield as spears and pikes impaled the frontmost water demons. The fetid smell and fecund sound of bubbling flesh attempting to regenerate followed almost instantly, but the recovery—even augmented by Prelati's Spellbook—wasn't nearly fast enough. Rider's army was an advancing, unstoppable wall, a juggernaut striking with unrelenting force as it proceeded systematically forward. The soldiers marching in the second rows of the armored columns pulled back on the lengthy sarissas, yanking the pierced monstrosities toward the warriors in the first rows who then hacked their inhuman foes apart with their bladed sidearms. The water demons who attempted to avoid the second wave of thrusting spears by leaping above the conquering army were pincushioned by artillery and then stabbed by the angled polearms held by the soldiers farther back as they plummeted. The butchered alien remains bubbled and frothed in regenerative fervor, but they were just as quickly cleaved, slashed, and hammered apart by each advancing soldier passing over them. The Army of the King could not destroy its opposition and did not try; instead, it pulverized the water demons until only bleeding detritus remained and then used its sheer numbers to keep them crushed underfoot as it marched forward.
Caster saw all this from within his redoubt of flesh and its walls lined with malformed, alien eyes limned with scenes of the one-sided battle, and he cursed. He watched as his layers of defense were ruthlessly peeled back one by one and step by bloody step, and he raged. He observed as his summoned horrors were slain, rose, and were slain again, and he exploded in fury.
"Damn them! Damn them all! This was supposed to be my moment! My triumph! My means of finally freeing my beloved Jeanne from the horrid shackles of her faith! They'll pay! All of them! I'll make them pay and suffer indignities the likes of which not even infernal Minos would dream up!"
Looking around frantically, the Servant of the Spell tried to find something—anything!—he could use to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, but no dark miracle presented itself. Rider's army was advancing too quickly for him to cast any of the greater rituals inscribed on the profane pages of Prelati's Spellbook, and he was cut off from the magics of his workshop while trapped inside this reality marble. There was nowhere for him to retreat and nothing he could do, and, soon, his gruesome war against God would be over. That thought—that he'd be murdered again after seizing this second chance and finally devising an atrocity so horrific it would shatter the world's faith in a just and loving heavenly father—infuriated him, and Caster screamed again. Not like this. Not like this! NOT LIKE—
A hand came down consolingly on his left shoulder, and Caster turned in surprise. Ryuunosuke gazed back at him, his face tranquil and composed.
"It's okay, Bluebeard. I understand how ya feel, but it's all okay. Sure, this isn't how I wanted things to end—There are still so many new and interesting ways to kill people I want to see!—but hey, what we did together...it was cool. No, better than that, it was the coolest! The coolest of the cool, big guy! I have no regrets, and if we've gotta die for the sake of our art...eh, at least we died doing what we love."
"Ryuunosuke..." Caster murmured softly, genuinely touched by his master's words...and then, his feverish, frantic mind latching onto them and finding diabolical inspiration, he threw his head back and laughed madly.
"Hahahaha! Brilliant, master! Absolutely brilliant! You are too insightful for this cruel, hateful world, and because of that you must survive! At all costs! I've reached my end and have only one last blasphemy to commit...but you, you can still go further and enlighten humanity through death and desecrations! I entrust the future to you!"
"What're you talking about, big gu—" Ryuunosuke's confused question was interrupted by a shroud of purple-colored magic that wrapped around him, sheathing the orange-haired young man in a protective barrier. His mouth then opened in an "O" of horrified understanding as he realized the meaning of his friend's words, but before he could plead with his servant to rethink his decision or use a command seal to compel him otherwise the second component of the shroud's magic took effect and his eyes closed in sleep. Caster looked at his shielded master one last time to ensure he was safe and then, smiling fatalistically, he turned to approach the malformed chamber's third occupant. The agonized and crazed water demon silently growled, screamed, and wailed in response, its voices still muted.
"What a fool I've been," Caster stated in an eerie tone that was both defeated and triumphal. The alien eyes surrounding him showed scene after scene of Rider's army slaughtering his minions and drawing ever closer, but the Servant of the Spell paid the visions no heed. He had only another minute before they reached this fortress of flesh and then only another or less before they breached the walls and were upon him, but that was plenty of time for what he had in mind. Still speaking out loud to himself, he began turning through his grimoire's pages in search of one very specific spell.
"True artists are never appreciated in their own lifetimes. And just as the world never truly understood my beloved Jeanne's beauty until after her martyrdom, she would never truly understand my devotion to her and God's utter loathsomeness unless I martyred myself too to prove the point! So be it. For her, to free my cherished holy virgin from her worship of a god that does not deserve her love and never never never did, I offer my blood, my life, and my soul. Jeanne, I do this for you! Weep for me from heaven and witness the unforgivable atrocities our unworthy God permits!"
Having finally found the spell he wanted, Caster stopped his private ranting and solemnly intoned the harsh syllables of the alien chant Prelati's Spellbook showed him. He might not have time to cast a greater ritual, but there was no need when a greater ritual incarnate was right in front of him and the only things needed to repurpose and actualize its full potential were certain materials. The alien monster with him writhed violently as each word was spoken, reacting as if physically struck by their utterances, and tiny blossoms of occult light flared and fizzled around the abomination. The tortured horror reached frantically toward its creator, seeking to murder its maker to end its misery...and, to its surprise, discovered that the geis previously protecting the madman had vanished.
Gilles de Rais's second death was as violent as it was quick. His maddened creation, its dozens of now unmuted voices screaming together in fury and retribution, lunged savagely at the Servant of the Spell. Over a half-dozen tentacles simultaneously grappled the robed servant and then ripped him apart as his body fell to the ground with the swollen water demon on top of him. Opening its fanged orifice wide, the alien monster then devoured every remaining scrap of him, spellbook and all.
The chanting abruptly stopped, and for a moment there was silence and the crazed water demon felt its first and only instance of peace. Then, the chanting—disembodied and even more unearthly—resumed, and the monster shrieked as agony greater than anything it had yet experienced engulfed its entire frame. Shaking violently, it collapsed and started rolling on the ground and tearing itself apart with its own tentacles in a futile effort to destroy itself and end its suffering. Its body simultaneously bursting and regenerating in defiance of the creature's own death wish, the water demon began to grow...and grow...and grow...
Once again, Caster's magic had given birth to something terrible.
Those who had been left behind watched silently as Rider's army converged on Caster's demonic host and swept over the opposition. For Waver, still standing in Iskandar's chariot, it was a moment of astonishment and turmoil. Reality marbles were considered one of the ultimate pinnacles a mage could reach, a taboo among taboos and mystery among mysteries, and not even in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that his servant possessed one. It should have been impossible. And yet, it was real, and he couldn't help but be amazed and wonder at the rules and principles that governed this world and made it possible. At the same time, though, confronted by this inhuman feat, he keenly felt the same gnawing sense of inferiority that had plagued him for most of his life. If Rider could do this then the King of Conquerors could quite possibly win the entire Holy Grail War on his own with no help from him, and what was the point of him being involved in any of this if he was only an accessory? Feelings of amazement and insignificance warred within Waver, feeding into his doubts about his own self-worth.
Lancer, who had left the chariot and now stood beside the two divine bulls that pulled it, was quiet for entirely different reasons. The death-defying loyalty of Rider's soldiers sincerely moved him as a knight, and he was impressed by Ionian Hetairoi's power. However, he was not overwhelmed. In life, he had fought entire armies of men single-handedly and journeyed to lands stranger and more inexplicable than this one. He felt awe, yes, but it was awe tempered with the supreme confidence of a hero who truly believed no challenge was beyond him and who understood that his best interests laid in discovering the strengths and weaknesses of the army that might march against him someday. Even in the presence of a miracle, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne would remain calm and analyze everything he saw.
The third of the company, Sayaka, stood by herself beside the curved sickle on the war chariot's left side, her expression dark and her thoughts darker. Unlike the others, she felt dread instead of awe. Everything about this world reminded her of the nightmare that was Oktavia von Seckendorff and her labyrinth, and those were memories she did not want to revisit. Merely thinking about the mermaid witch sent a shiver down her spine, but in this world—with its unmistakably familiar yet subtly different magic—such thoughts could not be avoided. She could almost hear the shadow orchestra play and the spinning of countless wheels in the back of her mind, and she silently urged Rider's advancing army to go faster, to defeat Caster and make this world and everything it reminded her of disappear.
The swift ending Sayaka desired did not materialize. Instead, when the once legion swarm of alien abominations had been reduced to its last half-dozen waves of defenders and Rider's army was almost within striking distance of Caster's final redoubt, twelve giant and still growing tentacles burst out of the corpulent fortress. The stronghold's walls collapsed, fusing into the swelling limbs as the monstrous tentacles hungrily and indiscriminately grappled anything within their extending reach. Water demons and heroic spirits alike were seized by the boneless limbs and screamed in agony as their souls were devoured and their bodies sank into the feverish, multiplying flesh of the newly born leviathan. Caster's remaining defenders were doomed, trapped between the nascent gigantic horror and Rider's soldiers, and the last of them was snuffed out within seconds. The Army of the King fared better, the infantry in front suffering initial casualties from the unexpected attack but then withdrawing in orderly fashion, spears and artillery defending the retreat.
However, retreat could only offer a temporary respite. Against a monster like this, there could be no disengagement. No escape. The tentacles continued to lengthen and thicken, becoming kaiju-sized appendages large enough to knock down skyscrapers, while at their center a hideous, squid-like body emerged. The leviathan's nightmarish head grew and rose high into the sky, surveying the imaginary-yet-real desert it found itself in through a half-dozen large, alien eyes all filled with uncontrollable hunger. The monstrous cephalopod opened its orifice where the tentacles met the body and screamed in over a hundred agonized voices, some human, some alien, and all begging for release. The tortured pleas drowned out all other noise, briefly eclipsing even Rider's booming voice as he issued new orders to his army.
From where Waver, Lancer, and Sayaka stood, watching, their earlier feelings swiftly turned to horror.
"That thing devours souls, just like Caster's previous monster. Rider's soldiers are doomed if it touches any of them!" Waver shouted in alarm, unable to look away as the tables were turned on his servant's ultimate noble phantasm.
Lancer, who had begun to frown the instant the tide of battle reversed itself, grew even more solemn as his orange eyes tracked the movements of Rider's army.
"Rider is having his soldiers assume new formations, spreading out and using his phalanxes defensively to push back the tentacles with their hundreds of spears while the artillery fires away. It's a good tactic and will minimize losses but—" The Irish knight pointed Gae Buidhe at the leviathan as a burn inflicted on its flank by an incendiary missile seconds ago healed fully. "—so long as our foe can regenerate there's little the army can do except distract and slow it down."
"Damn it!" Sayaka cursed, anger over Caster's newest horrific creation displacing her discomfort at the unsettling memories the reality marble stirred. They had come here to stop Caster's killing spree, not add to it! "We've gotta do something super quick, before that thing gorges itself on anyone else!"
Lancer nodded pensively while Waver tilted his head to the side, listening to his servant through their telepathic link.
"Rider says to come up with a plan while he keeps it away from us. He'll buy as much time as he can, but he can't maintain this reality marble indefinitely and once it comes down the leviathan will be free to feed on the entire city to keep itself alive." The raven-haired teenager's expression turned horrified at the mention of that possibility, his mind picturing the Mackenzies and the other people he had met since coming to Fuyuki...and then he frowned contemplatively as another thought occurred to him.
"This doesn't make sense, though. The leviathan already shouldn't be able to keep itself alive, even with the heroic spirits and water demons it swallowed. It would take the entire army to sustain an abomination that size and even then only for a few minutes! There must be an external source of magical energy..."
"Prelati's Spellbook, Caster's grimoire," Lancer spoke up, his piercing gaze locked intently on the gigantic horror's infernal form as the separate formations of Rider's army spread out around the monster, thrusting spears, raising shields, and firing artillery at each and every tentacle sweeping through the air to strike and destroy them. "And if I'm right, the situation is even graver than it appears. Berserker, can you use your gem to pinpoint Caster's location? If you don't find him at first, focus on the leviathan."
"Gotcha. The location of one psychotic madman in need of a permanent beatdown coming right up..." Sayaka muttered, conjuring her soul gem from her navel to her left hand and holding it close to her face for examination. The entire world they were in was magic, and focusing past the environmental noise and the tens of thousands of heroic spirits in the reality marble with them made her search so difficult she felt picking out a single face at a sold-out AKB48 concert would be easier. Still, she stubbornly persevered, and after thirty seconds with no results she followed Lancer's advice and narrowed her search to the leviathan itself. She received a ping almost immediately, and her blue eyes widened in surprise.
"He's in there. His grimoire is too, but...he's almost completely indistinguishable from the other souls trapped inside the leviathan, which doesn't make sense unless—"
"Unless he's as dead as the rest of them," Lancer finished unhappily, scowling. "I feared as much. Caster must've sacrificed his own body to jumpstart the ritual that spawned this monster and then fed it his grimoire to power it. It's a suitably grisly fate for the murderous madman, but defeating his creation would be easier if he was still alive and outside it. Stabbing the grimoire once with Gae Dearg would disrupt the entire ritual. As things are now, though...there's simply no way for me to reach the spellbook."
The two servants and young mage fell silent after that, wracking their minds for options as Rider's impossible army fought an equally impossible horror. Human shouts, the thundering footsteps of tens of thousands of soldiers, the howling of artillery missiles tearing through the air, the crash of gigantic tentacles slamming into shields and spears, and, louder than anything else, the wretched, tortured screams of the cursed leviathan itself all reached them across the distance, adding to the urgency. Waver was the first to open his mouth again as an idea occurred to him, but he hesitated, doubting himself. Compared to the legendary heroic spirits all around him, compared to the abyssal monster they faced, what difference could he possibly make? He was only a third-generation magus not taken seriously by anyone!
Idiot, he heard himself think caustically. Do you really think that matters at a time like this? Third-generation, ninth-generation, or even first-generation, a mage is still a mage. If that monster isn't dealt with it'll devour everyone here and then slaughter the entire city, and as a mage you have an obligation to at least try to stop it. Or was everything you said about proving yourself a mage worthy of the Clock Tower's respect just a lie?
Waver grimaced uncomfortably, not liking where his thoughts were going. But then, gathering his tentative courage, he swallowed nervously and tried again.
"L-Lancer, your yellow spear inflicts incurable wounds, doesn't it? And your magic resistance is high enough to defend against greater rituals if that thing touches you! Couldn't you cut open a path to Prelati's Spellbook using Gae Buidhe and then stab it with Gae Dearg?"
Still watching the monumental battle taking place in front of them, the Knight of Fianna shook his head regretfully.
"Your idea has merit, but unfortunately that is not possible," he answered back, respectfully not mentioning that he had already considered and dismissed that option. "The Lancer class's magic resistance may be strong enough to protect me from temporary contact with that monster's soul-draining touch, but even I would be overwhelmed if I tried to carve a path through its gigantic body. I don't have any strikes powerful and swift enough to reach the leviathan's core before it would devour me."
"M-maybe Rider's army could damage it first for you?" Waver suggested frantically, desperation loosening his lips. "Rider has magic resistance too, and if he comes back for his chariot and uses the army's artillery maybe they could...I don't know, split the leviathan open or something?"
Sayaka's head suddenly shot up, veering away from her soul gem to look at Waver and then Lancer as she was seized by an idea of her own. It was a stupidly dangerous idea, but it could work and being suicidally reckless was supposed to be one of her strengths, right?
"Hey Lancer, this is a super strange question, but can anyone use your spears or do their curses only work if you wield them?"
At that question, Lancer turned around to face his two companions. His orange eyes focused on the blue-haired puella magi probingly, sensing her intent.
"Gae Dearg and Gae Buidhe can curse a target regardless of who wields them so long as I live, but, Berserker, your class doesn't have magic resistance and—"
Sayaka shook her head and scoffed. "Pshaw! Trust me, Lancer, you don't need to worry about my soul being devoured. I'm sure it's delicious, but it also has a...unique defense." Which, for once, I might actually be grateful for. "I also have a charged attack I can use to bore through the monster's body quickly, and with my magic detecting gem I can make sure I stay on target. So, how about we make a temporary trade? I promise to return your spears to you good as new discounting a couple alien bloodstains!"
The puella magi conjured two cutlasses in her hands, strode over to Lancer, and planted the weapons in the desert sands in front of him. She then held out her hands to him expectantly, a confident, daring smile on her face. He gazed back at her intently, his sharp eyes seeing the anxiety hidden beneath her bravado but also perceiving her determination. A moment passed, and then he returned Sayaka's smile and placed his two spears in her hands.
"Your swords may not be Moralltach and Beagalltach, but they are fine weapons in their own right and I am honored to receive your permission to wield them. May my own Gae Buidhe and Gae Dearg serve you well in the coming battle, Berserker."
Sayaka chuckled, suddenly feeling mirthful. "Heh, I'm sure they will, and you have my thanks. Fighting otherworldly monsters may all be in a day's work for a magical girl, but I feel better with two legendary and super awesome magic weapons in my hands." Putting her words into action, she assumed a fighting stance and gave the double spears a few quick, experimental thrusts. Their weight and shape were different from what she was used to, and the weapons were infused with a sublime magic far more substantial than that of her conjured swords. Still, she could point and stab them well enough, and it wasn't like she was going to duel Lu Bu with them or anything of the like. Satisfied, she turned to Waver.
"Your idea to use Rider's artillery to soften the leviathan up is a good one. Tell Rider to have them focus fire on top of that thing's head in three minutes, but Rider himself should stay far away. My impact's going to be messy enough already without having to worry about a high-speed aerial collision."
Waver nodded, the sharp relief he felt now that they had a plan unmistakably clear on his face, and passed on the message. Sayaka then turned to face her distant target and smiled gamely.
"Right-o. Time to show that super sentai monster-of-the-week reject who's boss. Wish me luck, guys!"
With that, she raced off, and Lancer and Waver could only watch as she conjured a glowing five-line musical staff beneath her feet and followed the azure path into the sky toward the massive battle ahead. Everything was up to her now.
High above the desert battlefield, Sayaka stood on top of a glowing magic circle and, watching the conflict below, waited for her opening. The Army of the King had split up and spread out around the monstrous leviathan in tight formations consisting of thousands of spearmen lined up in rows nearly fifty men thick and fifty men deep followed by artillery. Lines of soldiers in the front to stab and push back any of the deadly tentacles that came near. Archers behind the spearmen to distract and harass. Siege weapons behind the archers to provide cover fire for the other formations as they moved and to inflict the most serious wounds on their gigantic enemy. Runners racing between them all to replace damaged weapons and shields and relieve the wounded. Rider himself in the front, effortlessly commanding and overseeing everything simultaneously. It was military coordination at its finest, an awe-inspiring testament to the bravery, skill, and cohesiveness of Rider's vast, multi-ethnic army. And yet, to the puella magi's eyes, it was no different than the dozens of kaiju movies she'd watched where the Japanese Self-Defense Forces hopelessly fought Godzilla.
Simply put, Caster's leviathan was a monster Rider's army could not fight and win against. No human army could. It was tireless, relentless, and healed every wound inflicted upon it within seconds. The Army of the King, in contrast, was none of these things. Their weapons snapped, their shields buckled, and when a battalion fell—swept aside, crushed, or grappled by a giant tentacle—its lost members did not return. Slowly but steadily, Rider's soldiers were losing ground and being devoured, body and soul, by their otherworldly enemy.
That'll change when it meets secret superweapon Sayaka, though! Just another minute now...
Sayaka began to charge her magic, visualizing her power as a raging river and then placing a dam in front of it. The violent torrent of water pounded against the barrier but she held the mental obstruction in place, and the blue glow of the floating runic sigil beneath her feet intensified as its magic strengthened her. Then, bracing herself for the pain she was about to inflict upon herself, she raised the crimson tip of Gae Dearg to the side of her right cheek and sliced toward her mouth. Ignoring the blood that spilled out and acting quickly before her crescendoing magic healed the wound, she placed the Crimson Rose of Exorcism in the grip of her left hand with its yellow sibling, conjured her soul gem into her now empty right hand, shoved the radiant orb through the slit cheek into her mouth, and forced her lips shut around it. Teeth snapped, her jaw dislocated, and blood continued to pool as she felt herself gag, but a second later her healing magic took effect. The cut closed itself and her body regenerated, leaving her in intense but manageable discomfort with her soul gem lodged tightly inside her mouth.
Ugh. I can see why I never did this before. Not only is it super disgusting, but it's also too much of a distraction while fighting. It'd be troublesome if what I'm about to do was more complicated than 'point and stab super hard'. At least I have one over Kyouko now, though. She may be crazy, but I bet she's never done anything this crazy!
Considering the circumstances, that thought amused Sayaka far less than she would have liked, but then Rider's army acted and she had no more time to spare. The sky beneath her darkened as bows, ballistae, and other ranged weapons launched thousands upon thousands of missiles into the air, and Sayaka responded by gripping Gae Buidhe and Gae Dearg tightly together with both hands and mentally shouting the moniker for the attack Tomoe Mami had, in past time loops, persuaded her to name.
~SPARK EDGE!~
The dammed river in her mind burst, breaking through the barrier and sweeping everything aside as it gushed forward in an overwhelming torrent. Synchronously, the runic circle she stood on flashed, spun, and, accompanied by violin trills, shrank to a single glowing point beneath her feet. Its blue hue flowed up her body, suffusing her until she shined like a low-hanging star, and then she leapt and dove after the cloudburst of artillery, spinning drill-like as she fell with the cursed crimson and yellow spearheads in front of her and a blue comet's tail behind her. The hail of projectiles beneath her smashed into the top of the leviathan's cephalopodic head seconds later, splitting flesh and splattering blood and gore. The wounds would regenerate within moments, but that wasn't fast enough to stop the dual-wielding, upside-down, and magically supercharged puella magi following in the coordinated assault's wake.
SPLAT!
Sayaka crashed into the gigantic horror with the force of an angel falling from heaven and bored through its injured crown accompanied by the disgusting sound of tearing flesh. She felt equally disgusted as she violently and messily drilled through its body. Everything about this monster—every scrap of flesh, every ounce of blood—reeked of vile magic and horrific, mind-shattering despair and fury. It offended her and reminded her of the witch she had transformed into herself in innumerable time loops, and that was something she could not abide. Screaming silently inside her own mind, she channeled even more power into her attack and continued her gory descent.
The alien leviathan's innards pushed against Sayaka, but its flesh was powerless against the combination of Gae Buidhe's mortal curse and the surging magical aura surrounding her. The monster's hungry essence raged against this invader and sought to devour her, grasping body-to-body for her soul, but Sayaka's soul was outside its reach, stored within the transparent surfaces of her soul gem and shielded from contact inside her mouth. She could sense the leviathan's mind as it futilely strained to devour her spirit, and the voices that comprised the abomination's tortured consciousness wailed—some in jealousy; others in relief; many, those who were too far gone and had lost themselves in the crazed gestalt, in fury—but all in agony with one hateful exception. The mad, deranged laughter of Gilles de Rais echoed loudly in the mental landscape, his demented glee at so many suffering so horribly eclipsing his own share of the unending torment.
Bastard!, Sayaka cursed. You deserve this fate...but these people don't deserve to be dragged down into hell with you. This ends now!
Having torn through over thirty meters of flesh, organs, and muscles in almost as many seconds, Sayaka finally reached the target she had plotted her descent to intersect. Surrounded by her azure silhouette and blinded by crimson gore, she did not see Prelati's Spellbook when the tip of Lancer's Crimson Rose of Exorcism stabbed through its pages, splitting the tome cover to cover. She did hear the deafening otherworldly scream that immediately ensued, but whether the eldritch wail come from the book or the leviathan she would never know. And then, barely more than a second later, everything around her exploded.
BOOOSH!
Sayaka fell uncontrollably, caught in the powerful backlash as the improvised spells that had summoned and sustained the alien leviathan came undone. The monster's flesh liquefied into thousands of gallons of boiling blood that fell down with her, and her tumbling body burned as the crimson deluge washed over her. Frantic, the puella magi wrapped herself in her white cape and then, relying solely on instinct, she conjured a circular magical platform to regain control of her descent. In a series of aerobatic maneuvers that looked far more elegant than she actually felt, she kicked off the sigil, flipped and twisted sideways, summoned a new magical staff whose five-line bars dotted with runic notes rapidly lengthened into a descending spiral that stretched all the way to the desert sands below, and rolled down the musical path until she finally touched the ground. She remained there for several seconds, covered by her cloak until the scorching blood rain ended.
…I totally should've thought up a cool post-victory one-liner before I jumped, 'cause I'm way too jumbled to come up with anything awesome now, she thought, wryly, as her burned body healed itself. Then, deciding she'd better do it while she was still hidden underneath the white cloth of her cape, she pulled Gae Dearg's spearhead close to her face and sliced open her right cheek again. A few pronouncedly uncomfortable movements later and her soul gem was back in jewelry form on her navel. The self-inflicted wound promptly healed, and she dismissed her cloak. Slowly, using both legendary spears to prop herself up, she rose to her feet and looked around. The desert sands where the alien leviathan had once been were stained red with blood, and around her, outside the range where the crimson rain had fallen, the Army of the King stood majestically with Rider at its front.
Feeling whimsical, Sayaka flashed them a V for victory sign. The response she received back was overwhelming as tens of thousands of soldiers cheered loudly and banged their weapons and shields together enthusiastically. Rider, his arms crossed and a pleased smile on his face that could bring more light to a person's day than the sun, nodded in congratulations, and Sayaka could no longer help herself. Buoyed by the applause, high on adrenaline, and giddy with triumph, she threw her head back and laughed elatedly. There were still challenges ahead, enemies to defeat, and an unwelcome conversation with her master that needed to happen, but right now, in this instant, after a week of struggling and questioning herself, it seemed as though nothing was impossible, and she felt absolutely wonderful.
I did it! I actually did it! I saved the day and protected the city! Thank you Madoka—you were right! I can do this just so long as I don't give up and don't lose hope! Get ready, world; Sayaka 2.0 is here! Booyah!
The desert landscape around her began to fade away, losing its color and substance as Ionian Hetairoi became nothing more than a dream and returned to where all dreams come from. Her surroundings reassembled themselves into the now dead Caster's bloodstained workshop in Fuyuki's sewers, with Rider standing slightly in front of her, Lancer behind him, Waver and Rider's war chariot behind the Irish knight, and a fifth presence several feet behind her. Sayaka turned rapidly, and her elation died inside her when she spied the Servant of the Spell's orange-haired master wreathed in a shroud of transparent purple magic that was already dissipating.
"You!" she shouted angrily, memories of the man's horrific crimes and the dead family she had stumbled across so many days ago flashing through her mind. She nearly growled as Ryuunosuke, rubbing the back of his head as though awakening from a long rest, opened his brown eyes, took in his surroundings and the three servants in front of him, and put two-and-two together. Profound grief briefly marred his handsome features as he realized his friend was dead, but Bluebeard had wanted him to live and Ryuunosuke was never one to dwell on the past for long. Raising his hands in surrender, the young man put aside his own feelings and smiled his friendliest, most disarming smile. Unfortunately for the defeated master, his carefree grin hurt more than helped in these circumstances, and his next words only made things worse.
"Okay, okay, you got me. I give up. And I admit, I might've had a little too much fun these past couple days, but, hey, you know what it's like whenever you get a cool new toy and just have to try it out, and all's well that ends well, right? The good guys won—probably by doing something totally cool, I bet—and God got his entertainment for the night. So, peace?"
Ryuunosuke's complete lack of remorse, combined with the genuine sincerity of his sickening words, enraged Sayaka, and something dark deep within the Servant of Madness howled for blood. Instinctively, she tightened her grips on both of Lancer's legendary spears and took a step forward to impale the sociopathic master. She tensed in preparation...but then paused, feeling the gazes of Rider, Lancer, and Waver on her, watching her, judging her. Even farther away, she sensed Kariya seeing everything through her eyes but saying nothing, focusing entirely on providing her with the magical energy she needed to function at her best and keep her soul gem cleansed. The strain on his body had kept him silent throughout the battle, but she knew what he would think. What Rider, Lancer, and Waver would think. What Madoka would think. What she, herself, would think if she murdered a defenseless man who had surrendered and posed no threat to her. This wasn't that night on the train with those two misogynist scumbags who, as awful as they had been, hadn't deserved what she'd done to them, and she wasn't that same person. Not anymore.
"You don't know how lucky you are tonight, Uryuu Ryuunosuke," she hissed, unable to suppress the loathing she felt for the despicable man in front of her as she released her holds on Lancer's two spears. Gae Buidhe and Gae Dearg dropped to the ground with a clatter, and Sayaka took several small steps forward so that barely an inch separated her from the defeated master.
"I should kill you where you stand but that's not what an ally of justice would do, and, fortunately for you, there are people I don't want to disappoint. I'm taking you to the war's overseer instead, and he'll decide what to do with you. Until then, here's a little something to ensure you don't say something super stupid that'll change my mind."
Shwap!
Sayaka lowered her fist and watched in contentment as her punch sent Ryuunosuke crashing into the concrete wall several feet behind him. His head knocked against the sturdy surface with a painful sounding thud, and his brown eyes promptly rolled up into the back of his head as he fell unconscious.
"He had that coming to him," Sayaka said by way of explanation as she turned to face her friends with a cheerful smile on her face. No one chose to argue with her.
His black eyes watching the entrance tunnel Berserker, Lancer, and their unconscious captive had recently departed through, Waver frowned unhappily and looked up at his significantly taller, red-haired servant.
"I still don't understand why you yielded our claim to the extra command seal and told Lancer and Berserker to go on ahead while we clean up here. We were the ones who found Caster's lair, and without your reality marble there's a good chance no one would've gotten close enough to Caster for anything else to matter. More importantly, whoever receives the extra command seal will gain a powerful advantage over the other masters. Do you know how easily your decision could blow up in our faces?!"
The King of Conquerors chuckled lightly in response, amused by the ire in his master's voice. It was good to see the boy assert himself more, even if it was over something as trivial as this.
"Calm yourself, Waver. Arguing over who deserves the extra command seal isn't worth poisoning the partnership we forged with Lancer and Berserker—"
"Which was only for this one battle! Lancer threatened to kill you once it was over, you idiot! Remember?"
"—and the chance to build upon this alliance is a far more valuable reward than a one-off gimmick, boy. Those two didn't speak of it directly, but it's clear that, whatever transpired between them and Caster the last time they met, the encounter haunts them. This victory and the extra command seal should do wonders for their morale."
"And your concern for the well-being of the very people we need to defeat to win the Grail War does wonders for my morale!" Waver retorted sarcastically, a sour expression on his face as he shook his head in exasperation. "Honestly, Rider, I don't know what you're thinking."
Rider smiled at that and looked down at his master with an air of profoundness that should have seemed out of place on the impulsive giant but which instead somehow fit him perfectly.
"To win, but never to destroy. To subjugate, but never to humiliate. Remember what I once said about true conquest, boy? If I am to face a fellow heroic spirit on the battlefield...if I must take a fellow heroic spirit's life through combat...I would rather we battle each other as friends than as enemies. To fight with a perfect understanding between all parties and neither shame nor regret...I could only take pride in victory under those conditions."
"...You're impossible," Waver muttered, looking down and sighing wearily at his servant's reasoning but not disagreeing with it. Instead, he refocused his attention on his surroundings and glanced around Caster's grisly lair. Even with its master dead, knowing what types of atrocities had been committed here caused the young apprentice mage to shudder. "Putting your incomprehensible acts of charity aside, we'd better get started on the janitorial duty you signed us up for. Glenn and Martha will worry if we stay out too late."
Rider completed his own sweep of the workshop and frowned, sharing his master's distaste for the environment. Unlike the gallery of horrors they'd passed in the sewer tunnels on their way here, Caster's lair was devoid of bodies. Instead, the chamber's walls and floor were thickly stained with blood, and the room was littered with a hodgepodge of spellcasting paraphernalia and Ryuunosuke's own unpleasant tools. The stench of death was everywhere, and Rider could almost feel a palpable aura of dread clinging to the chamber. It reminded him of some of the bloodiest battlefields he'd walked across in life but worse. War could be both terrible and glorious, but this...this was something that could never have dignity and would never be right.
"There's not much we can do here except destroy what we find," Rider said after a long pause, his voice firm but cold. "We should also investigate the side tunnels and rooms that connect to our late adversary's lair. None of Caster's minions should have survived the destruction of his grimoire, but I'd rather be certain, and who knows what the madman and his master might have stored out of sight?"
Waver nodded and swallowed heavily, his earlier irritation forgotten in the face of the somber task the two had ahead of them. He wasn't looking forward to any of it, but he had a duty as a mage to guard the secrets of magic. Anything obviously arcane needed to be confiscated or eliminated and, considering the type of magic Caster had practiced, Waver's preference was strongly for the latter.
"We'll start here and then check the side passages, but...um, Rider?" Waver's voice became hesitant, a clear sign that he was questioning himself again, but he forced himself to press on. "Only destroy what is innately magical. Leave any bodies we find alone. N-no one should ever have to see any of this, but as terrible as the crimes Caster and his master performed are...the families and friends of their victims shouldn't have to live the rest of their lives in suspense, never knowing if their loved ones are dead or alive. That would...that would be terrible too."
Rider remained silent for a moment, watching his master and appraising the young man's timid but heartfelt order. Then, apparently approving of what he'd heard, he clapped a hand on Waver's left shoulder supportively and beckoned his master to follow after him.
No more than a few words were said for a long time as the two went about their grim business. Waver pointed out the esoteric tools and symbols of magecraft for his servant's benefit, reluctantly examining a few with a sickened expression on his face and using some of the alchemical vials he'd brought with him to chemically erase Caster's arcane sigils. Rider broke apart everything else through a combination of brute strength and his lightning-infused spatha, and master and servant carried the remnants to a corner of Caster's lair to be trampled by Rider's oxen and incinerated later.
They investigated the side tunnels next. The first few yielded no new discoveries save for the residual traces of decedent water demons that had not been dragged inside Ionian Hetairoi with the rest but which had still burst apart with the destruction of Prelati's Spellbook. They found bedding and prepackaged food in an adjoining alcove which was presumably where Ryuunosuke had slept in between his atrocities. The other passages and recesses contained no additional surprises, and Waver had just begun to hope that his and Rider's work was nearly finished when they came across Caster and Ryuunosuke's ghastly dumping ground. The defiled corpses and macabre experiments Ryuunosuke hadn't thought worthy of being displayed in his tunnel gallery had been left behind here, along with a large heap of mismatched and mutilated body parts. Waver's hands instinctively went to his mouth as he suppressed the urge to retch, while Rider frowned deeply at the appalling carnage.
"Unforgivable. The more I see, the more tempted I am to chase after Lancer and Berserker and mete out punishment to Caster's master myself, the overseer's authority be damned. Their crimes are—Stand back!"
The mound of disjointed body parts shifted as something trapped underneath them moved, and Rider immediately rushed in front of his master with his Sword of the Kupriotes raised protectively. However, instead of the tentacle or other monstrous limb he expected a small, dark-skinned human hand poked out between the corpses.
"H-help...help me..." a young girl's voice pleaded weakly, trembling with fear. Waver reacted with shock, turn between disbelief and wild hope that they'd found a survivor, and took a step forward, but Rider used his free hand to motion him to stay where he was. Maintaining a strong grip on his spatha, the gigantic servant approached the cadaverous pile himself and, starting from the top, carefully removed body parts. Buried near the bottom, almost crushed, he found a quivering nine or ten-year-old child with neck-length, dark purple hair and matching eyes. She wore a plain white shift stained with dried blood and looked terrified, but when she saw the red-haired king and his young master behind him her traumatized eyes brightened with frantic hope.
"H-help...me..." she pled again, reaching with all her strength towards the two she needed to be her saviors. Her fingertips had just barely brushed Rider's burly arm when he cast aside whatever reservations he might have initially held and removed the remaining obstructions pinning her while Waver ran up to the girl and helped her to her knees.
"Tha-thank you," she whispered hoarsely, shaking slightly from a combination of exhaustion and lingering terror. "The bad men...are they gone?"
Waver nodded his head rapidly as Rider made himself look as reassuring and nonthreatening as a heavily muscled, seven foot tall man wearing bronze armor and carrying a sword could appear. For almost anyone but the King of Conquerors that wouldn't have been much at all, but Rider's mood defined his features; he could be the terror of the battlefield one moment and a kindhearted giant the next, and there was no mistaking which one he was in the presence of this frightened girl.
"Yes. Yes, they've both gone far away where they can't hurt anyone ever again," the teenage boy rushed to assure the even younger girl. "You're safe now. My name's Waver, and my friend over there is...his name is Alexei. What's yours?"
The dark-skinned child reflexively opened her mouth to answer but then froze. Her purple eyes widened in confusion and then began to pool with tears as she turned, sobbing, and threw her arms around Waver.
"I...I don't remember...," she mumbled in between her convulsive weeping, her voice nearly hysterical and close to breaking. "I don't remember anything!"
Completely out of his element but knowing that the frightened child needed comforting, Waver suppressed his own uneasiness over the role he found himself in and returned the panicked embrace. He gently patted the young girl on the back and whispered soft words of reassurance while Rider watched and placed his own consoling hand on the child's shoulder. They remained there like that for a long time, both master and servant waiting as the girl cried herself out and slowly calmed down, while, invisible to all, an Assassin watched, smiled, and then disappeared deeper into the shadows.
The Hundred-Faced Hassan's schemes were proceeding perfectly.
Servant Stats
Class: Assassin
True Name: Hassan-i Sabbah
Master: None
Alignment: Neutral Innocent
Parameters
Strength: Sealed.
Endurance: Sealed.
Agility: Sealed.
Mana: Sealed.
Luck: Concealed (B+).
Class Skills
Presence Concealment: D (A+)
Suitable for spying. The servant has a talent for remaining unnoticed when she doesn't want to be seen. Her rank in this skill increases to A+ when her parameters are unsealed.
Personal Skills
Independent Action: A-
The servant can remain in this world for a week even without a master. However, unsealing her parameters reduces this duration to six hours or less depending on her activities and magical energy expenditures.
Expert of Many Specializations: A-
Although operating independently of her greater self, the servant can still utilize the many skills possessed by the Hundred-Faced Hassan with a successful Luck check. The Luck check must be repeated each time she attempts to use one of the applicable skills. If successful, the success manifests as a child's precociousness.
Noble Phantasm
Zabaniya – Taqiya, Mask of Innocence.
Type: Anti-Unit (Self). Rank: C-
A noble phantasm hidden within another noble phantasm. Although the servant is only one of the Hundred-Faced Hassan's many multiple personalities manifested through "Zabaniya – Delusional Illusion," she has her own unique variant of Zabaniya that makes it possible for her to separate herself from the host and sever her contract with their master. Doing so disguises herself as a human child, raises her Luck stat to B+, and modifies her class and personal skills, but the cost is the sealing of her physical servant parameters and memories. With Zabaniya active, she cannot be identified as a servant by anyone other than the Old Man of the Mountain. Deactivating Zabaniya will return her parameters to their defaults and restore her memories, but her skills will remain unchanged until she rejoins her greater self. Triggers that will awaken the amnesiac servant to her true identity can be set before Zabaniya is activated. Essential memories will also begin returning when the servant's time in the world acquired through Independent Action nears its end.
