Chapter 13:

The King of Nightmares

The most peculiar thing on that lazy Wednesday afternoon was the unusually bright autumn sun.

At least that was how normal people saw it. One Shinosuke Hasegawa couldn't help but marvel at the obliviousness of the ordinary human being to the surrounding world. Coming to that city of mages, supposed bastion of the meld between magic and mundane, the young man had so far seen a great many of the latter and only a scarce few glimpses of the former. True, the Grail War itself was a marvel in and of itself- along with the Servants summoned. True, he had witnessed the magecraft of half a dozen mages in possession of both talent and experience. And yet, the eastern Master couldn't help but be disappointed at the mind-numbing boredom emanating from the picturesque scenery around him.

There was scarcely a patch of grass not covered by a blanket, pinned with a veritable clusterfuck of sandwiches and confectionaries. Half the young couples and old families in Hartcroft had seemingly gathered in Persephone's Grove Park in one last ditch effort to pretend summer hadn't come and gone. Mutts and purebreads alike whizzed past him, tangling in his legs in their mad dashes towards some whirling Frisbee he had been forced to dodge seconds earlier. More often than not, some giggling six-year-old waddled in chase soon after. It was noisy and crowded and made his canines grind with their opposite counterparts. The voice inside him, still as foreign as it was familiar, had gone louder since his ill-fated clash with the jester-priest.

The whispers had become an incessant rambling, urging him onwards to paint every blade of grass crimson and render the place more silent than a 20s movie. But, by sheer willpower- or maybe stubbornness alone (he had trouble discerning them anymore)- Shinosuke kept his hands in his pockets and his smile firmly on his face. If some unsuspecting picnic enthusiast was to glance at him, they would see nothing more than a young man out for a jog, duffel bag bouncing in rhythm with each step. Idly, said young man wondered whether he himself would be capable of recognizing a spree-killing blade-wielding quasi-vampiric maniac if one was to run past him. Judging by his own example, monsters all too often masqueraded convincingly enough as normal people. Maybe everyone else was also secretly a monster, yet they could never meet their kindred souls with all the hiding and sneaking around.

The voice that was his-yet-not suggested vehemently testing that theory. Shinosuke himself countered how awfully impolite it would be to cut anyone's free time short because of a census, as fun and bloody as that particular one might be. What was more, he had an assignment to fulfill, as much as Berserker's Master thought he had been rather rudely strong-armed into it. But the specter's words had caught his attention and tickled his curiosity. The very name she had given to his opponent- The King of Nightmares- made his blood boil and lips curl into a snarl. In the very least, it had sounded promising. Boring opponents rarely had such grandiose names.

And so, denied the death he so desired, Shinosuke Hasegawa had hauled himself back to his hideout. His heart had threatened to burst, filled to the brim with an amalgamation of excitement, anger and shame. The beast beneath his skin urged him to search and read and learn- no more half-hearted commitments to any fight would be allowed. The precarious balance Shinosuke had maintained with his darker half had shifted. Where once it had been satisfied with merely chaotic bloodshed and day-to-day survival, the beast now demanded more. The young man's hopeful plan of wasting away after one of his opponents landed a lucky shot was now null and void. And suddenly all his hopes of freedom had been squashed like a snake under an ironed heel. Or was it hopes of redemption? Of justice? He had so much trouble remembering the reason these days.

But such was the curse of the truly gifted, Berserker's Master concluded. No man or woman he had ever met had been capable of posing a threat to him at his strongest- save perhaps the frowning Englishman. The swordsmaster could only hope whoever was this King of Nightmares the spectre wanted to sic him on, he could at least prove a genuine challenge. His prana…benefactor had kept more than a few notebooks on his person- and thankfully one of them described said King in full, noted as a potential Master in the War.

And greatest threat should he truly participate in it.

With piqued curiosity- and a sinking feeling it was actually the beast's evolving survival instinct urging him on- Berserker's Master read on. The King of Nightmares- Albus Grimaldi- was noted to be at least five hundred years old, having survived through supposedly feasting on his own kind and taking over the bodies of his descendants. Each two generations he would choose a successor to be implanted with the family Crest for easier assimilation and then proceed to wed the sister, repeating the cycle for the good part of a thousand years. Half the city feared him outright, the other had tinges of respect for the city's last living founding father mixed in-between. The Grimaldi's magecraft was said to be a thing out of a man's greatest nightmare, capable of twisting flesh and melding bones as if they were wet paper. The family's brand of mercy was also described in gruesome detail. The now-comatose mage had retold in vivid detail the stories of many an unfortunate mage who had ended up fleshcrafted to the extreme and thrown in the Grimaldi's dungeons, to either rot away for eternity or find a way to reverse it.

Shinosuke had grimly made a mental note to avoid such a fate if possible- an eternity anywhere was counter to his goal, much less in some damp dungeon alongside a hundred or so moaning monstrosities for company.

That was why, after reading for pages and pages how any sane man should slit his throat merely on the off chance Albus Grimaldi threw a glance at him, the young Master found it rather baffling that said pentacenterian monstrosity looked like a teenage girl. Perhaps it was a way to move around unsuspected, guessed the swordsman. It seemed logical- where his disguise was a drab tracksuit and a pair of sunglasses, a man capable of altering flesh and blood with the snap of his fingers had a much larger variety of disguises to choose from. On the other hand, a form such as this only gathered unneeded attention. There was nary a man in the Grove, young or old, whose head didn't turn to follow the barefoot beauty just about skipping down the park alley. Her-or was it his- unnaturally bright hair tangled the sunbeams like a fisher's net, sparkling in a half a dozen hues from bloody crimson to rusty red. The porcelain skin was like a doll's, unblemished and pale, a stark contrast with the fiery hair- as opposite as blood and snow. The viridian eyes were like gemstones, dazzling anyone with their sparkle if one maintained eye contact for more than a few seconds. The ruby lips- achieving the affect without a trace of lipstick, were curled into an innocent smile which Shinosuke found deeply unsettling.

There was something eerie in that beauty and Berserker's Master doubted it was his knowledge of the "girl's" real identity which made him see it that way. No, it was too… faerie. Unnatural and artificial- such traits were perhaps rare on their own in nature, not to talk of being capable of existing in one person. It was as if the girl's very colors were brighter and more alive than the ones surrounding her. The fallen tree leaves looked duller, the sky- a bit grayer, the grass- dry and liveless. She- he- The King- didn't just stand apart from the mundane drabness of the world by possessing such beauty. The world itself became uglier in the King's presence.

And in the eyes of the swordsman, his would-be enemy's beauty was the one of a snake warning predators about its lethal poison. No wonder the sheep around them could only gawk and marvel- prey were meant to be lured in, such as they were. Shinosuke didn't even need to bother to look inconspicuous as he lightly jogged a bit behind his quarry, trying not to let the flowing red hair and white sundress out of sight. The sole reason he was thankful for the beaming sun was for giving him a valid excuse for wearing sunglasses. Even with the King providing such a distraction, the swordsman highly doubted a blindfolded jogger would have been as unremarkable to the gaggle of onlookers.

The young man had just started to wonder how on Earth was he supposed to fight freely with so many witnesses, when the crowds gradually started to thin. Not ten minutes later only the odd couple could be spotted lurking around the trees, but there was a mutual desire for being unnoticed there. Berserker's Master soon found himself in the shadow of the old Escalus residence, surrounded by a moat-like pond in the very heart of Persephone's Grove. By proxy, it was the city's heart as well. It had obviously been built sturdy- there was no sign of disrepair or old age, despite the veritable castle weathering almost half a millennia. And it was a castle indeed- loved by the mundane citizens for its late-Medieval looks and apparently loathed by the mages as symbol of the very thing Hartcroft's founders had fought to escape. From what Shinosuke had learned, tensions with the more traditionalist and aristocratic Founding Families- such as the Escalus- had quickly soured after the city's founding. But even as the family had died out- whether by natural reasons or by the sword- their home still stood as proud as ever, empty as it was. All in all, an excellent battlefield, concluded Shinosuke. The young Master unstrapped the duffel bag and strode through the courtyard, between rows of well-groomed gardens and right through the front double door.

"Tourists aren't allowed in here, y'know," drawled out a female voice from somewhere above. Albus Grimaldi was perched atop the railing of the curved double staircase to the second floor, fixing the Master with a mocking stare. Shinosuke retrieved his sword from the bag and let it slump on the tiles. The clatter of the discarded sheath echoed out soon after, the painted ceiling mirroring it back. The young man pointed the katana at the magus, sunbeams dancing along the blade.

"I'm not exactly a tourist."

To his credit, the Grimaldi didn't look surprised in the least. Quite the contrary, in fact- the piercing green gaze reminded Shinosuke of a child armed with a magnifying glass. And it wasn't hard to see who the magus was about to cast as the hapless ant. Seemingly without a care in the whole wide world, Albus slid down the railing and jumped into the center of the entrance hall, opposite Berserker's Master. A playful smile was dancing on his lips.

"And you would be?" asked the magus, still using the voice of the girl whose body he had stolen.

"Shinosuke Hasegawa, pleased to meet you," replied the swordsman and offered a curt nod. "Master of Berserker in the Grail War," added the young man and pulled back the sleeve of his left hand with his teeth to show off the Command Spells. "And I'm afraid I have been asked to put an end to your existence. It has been a bad few days so can you be cooperative and at least make me try to get the kill?... Please?" tacked on Shinosuke, uncertain whether to apologize for his rudeness or to intimidate his opponent.

"You have the strangest definition of cooperation, boy," answered Albus, with his own voice this time. It made his looks triply unnatural, even without the barking laugh that followed after. "I like that! I like it indeed!"

Well, at least this one wasn't as rude as the others, spouting curses and a variety of other offences, thought the swordsman. A refreshing change of pace. If weird.

"But," continued the Grimaldi, looking somewhat disappointed for the first time since the swordsman had seen him. "Even weakened as I am, are you sure it's wise to challenge me? Live as long as I have, boy, and you will also start to see clearly where bravery ends and foolishness begins. And let's be honest here- yours is idiocy. Still, I am bored out of my skull…"

The magus trailed circles at his end of the hall, hands behind his back, eyes cast upwards as if deep in thought. Shinosuke was starting to get impatient. The beast inside him was quick on trying to sell the pros of a sneak attack, honor be damned.

"You are awfully nonchalant for a man being threatened," finally said the swordsman and lowered his weapon in annoyance. "I think it's rather rude."

"If you are so sure of your victory," shot back the Grimaldi without even sparing a glance in his direction. "Why did you throw your scabbard away?"

The question was a low blow and Berserker's Master had half a mind to let his Cybele meet that condescending viridian gaze. He could feel his nails digging in his hand as his grip on the hilt grew tighter. Without a single warning, the magus stomped his foot on the ground- and shards of broken tiles filled the air as a column of spikes erupted in a beeline towards the swordsman. With a single horizontal swipe of his blade the front ones were immediately bisected, falling with a harmless clatter at his sides. Only then did he notice the spikes were actually genuine, honest-to-goodness bones. It seemed some of the things he had read about the Grimaldi's magecraft hadn't been exaggerated in the least.

"Here's the deal, whelp," quipped the magus, as if he hadn't attempt to murder him seconds earlier. "I may be in no condition to pick needless fights but since I am currently suffering from a severe lack of entertainment, I will oblige you with this… duel." The words dripped with the ridicule of an adult explaining a petulant child he had no time to play with him. "But to keep things fair, I will not move from this here spot," announced the magus with a cheerful smile, voice switching back to the girl's.

Even without the curse of his eyes, Shinosuke was sure his gaze would've petrified the smirking redhead. His earlier assessment of his enemy's character was more than redacted- it was fully reversed. The swordsman could forgive many things- harsh words, rude manners, unannounced murder attempts- but to have his talent, the one thing he could truly call his own, dismissed so thoroughly… The metallic taste which nipped on his tongue was familiar- but when had been the last time the young man had tasted his own blood? Elongated canines kept on growing as his free hand clenched in a fist and Shinosuke barely kept it from shaking. The mage raised a delicate eyebrow.

"Are you perchance upset, boy?" quipped Albus and, receiving no immediate answer save a murder glare from behind dark sunglasses, added. "And here I thought you were a smart one- did you seriously expect an adult would fight for real with mere children?"

Without a word, without even waiting for the magus to finish his sentence, the swordsman had dashed forward. Had someone glimpsed through the high windows of the Escalus' entrance hall at that moment, they would have seen only a golden flare dashing across it, sunlight gleaming off a readied blade. Shinosuke seemingly readied himself to strike from the right, grinding to a sudden stop in front of his opponent-

- Only to swivel in the opposite side, reversing his momentum. Metal cut into flesh and a streak of red splashed across the snow-white tiles. And the eerie green eyes in front of him didn't even blink. Albus Grimaldi only turned his head to observe the blade with curiosity, nonchalantly ignoring the fact that it was halfway through the arm he had stopped it with.

"Well, isn't that a fine sword!" blurted out the mage, as if they were discussing Shinosuke's ancestral weapon over tea and biscuits. "Frankly, I didn't expect it to cut through the skin. Quite embarrassing actually, never planned for the first blood to stain this dress to be mine." The Grimaldi paused for a fleeting moment and shrugged afterwards. "Oh, well-"

No words followed after, as the swordsman was forced to jump back, more on instinct than anything else. A searing pain on his chest was the first thing to alert him of the four deep gashes bleeding crimson down his ruined tracksuit. A few meters away, still rooted at his place, the redhead was inspecting the blood left on the now bone-clad, claw-shaped fingers of his free hand.

"You weren't chosen by the Grail for this War, correct?" asked the Grimaldi and idly played with a droplet hanging off his fingertip, waiting for it to fall. "You stole the Command Spells from someone and rather sloppily, if I might add. As a professional in this particular field I would like to point out necrosis of the transplanted tissue is not a desired effect. But a botched transfer isn't surprising, seeing that you are no magus." The droplet finally gave up, and a second later finished its fall with an echoed pang. The unblinking viridian eyes of his opponent seemed to drill into his own even through the sunglasses.

"But I do firmly believe a real man chooses- no, rather, he makes his own destiny. I applaud you to that end, boy," said the redhead and proceeded to do just that. The clapping was slow and methodical, its echo bouncing off the walls. Shinosuke had trouble discerning where the genuine compliment ended and the mockery begun. "And so I grant you this rare chance: give up your position as a Master. Let me have your Command Spells and your Servant, forfeit your place in this War… and live to see another day."

"Or else?" calmly asked the swordsman, seemingly nonchalant. He refused to break eye contact, no matter how unnerving that creepy green gaze was.

"Or else I take them by force and you spend eternity underground, chained by your own spine, with the skin of your face pulled over your eyes." The mage truly had a unique talent, Shinosuke had to admit. Saying such ridiculous threats with such a blasé voice was really something else, indeed.

"I think I'll refuse. You can't read people at all if you think my life is something I'm concerned about," answered the young man and readied his blade. The booming laugh that followed as a response made him clutch it even harder.

"But of course you'll refuse! It's precisely because I know you would decline that I even made the offer. I said I was bored out of my skull, didn't I?" said the redhead and bared a smile, somehow more vicious than Shinosuke could ever hope to achieve, in spite of his razor fangs. "Where would the fun be if you gave your Servant up willingly?"

The blood gushed forth from the mage's wound and gathered in front of his extended arm. Swirling like a miniature planet, the crimson liquid coagulated- and shot forward with the speed of a bullet. Skills drilled into him throughout the years moved his sword to intercept it- but barely reacted on time to the second one. A cut flashed open across his cheek, the Master prepared to move on the offensive-

- And barely held himself from screaming out in pain as the third blood bullet took the majority of his shoulder with it. His vision quickly turned as red as the lifeblood pouring out from his wound. The voice inside his head howled in fury, trashing in indecision between fight and flight. Shinosuke tried not to fall on his knees and dug his sword into the floortiles. The mage just observed as black scales grew out of thin air and filled the wound, replacing torn-out flesh and fractured bone.

"Would you look at that!" quipped the Grimaldi and tilted his head, as if to see better. "It seems you are more peculiar than I initially thought. A shame really, I don't think the source of this magic deserves a host such as you. I met him once, in fact, a century or two ago. A bland, unimaginative man with delusions of grandeur, chosen by the one he so tastelessly emulates only because of his eyes. Some would say it was a miracle he retained his sense of Self, but with an ego like his… Hah, it seems it falls to me to perform pest control."

His own shout mirrored by the guttural growls in his head, Shinosuke dashed forward, sword at the ready. He hadn't crossed even half the distance to his opponent when the blood levitating in the mage's hand had shifted into a whip. With a loud crack, akin to a bullet, it lashed out and forced the swordsman to stop dead in his tracks. The young Master didn't have time to observe the deep gash dredged through the ground as he was forced to flip sideways in the interested of not being bisected. Yet another lash- and his sword was now entangled as he had used it to deflect the potentially fatal blow. The redhead yanked it with a hearty laugh and the blade swirled upwards. The blood-whip cracked again, its echo reverberating all around the hall.

The katana embedded itself effortlessly into the ground after finishing its flight. With the crimson whip gripped tightly into a scale-covered hand, Shinosuke's lips stretched in a parody of a smile. He had trouble putting his finger on the feelings welling up inside him. There was anger born of annoyance, there was excitement born of a challenging fight… and then there was something else, almost forgotten. And the swordsman would have cut off his own head before admitting that it was a tinge of fear creeping up inside him, after he had discarded it so many years ago. In his world, a predator beyond his ability to slay was a thing of myth and fables. Alas, the redhead, currently staring at him with mild amusement, looked like a demon who had escaped straight out of one.

Putting all the strength in his legs, Shinosuke dashed forward and snatched back his sword. There was no trickery or deceit this time- only the mad dash of a livid man out for blood. The steel song of his blade echoed out as his strike was blocked by the curved bone-sword now substituting his opponent's arm. For a weapon almost as big as he was, the Grimaldi wielded it well. Shinosuke lunged forward again and again, switching sides, vaulting over his opponent, bouncing off the marble pillars- and each and every time his attack ended up deflected. The redhead danced in one place, handling the seemingly impossible weapon with the ease of a child with a toy sword and the grace of a painter tracing his brush across a canvas. It was a standstill- neither managing to land a blow on the other, but Shinosuke's desperation grew with each unsuccessful clash. The mage's mad laughter alternated between his two voices, making the fine hairs on the back of the young Master's head bristle.

After the umpteenth consecutive clash- he had stopped even counting his attempts at breaking through- Shinosuke jumped backwards and skidded to a halt at his starting point. Sweat was now mixing with the blood from his wounds and making his black bangs damp and sticky. It took him nearly a minute to understand he wasn't hyperventilating, but actually, truly, out of breath. The swordsman was ragged for the first time in- what, forever?

"I actually came to this city, to this War, looking for someone strong enough to kill me," The words had left his mouth without him even realizing it, and then just kept on flowing afterwards. "This being- this thing- inside of me is bound to win the struggle in the end. And so I started looking for someone strong enough to kill me. But no matter where I went, no matter who I fought, it was all the same. Man or woman- there wasn't a single opponent that came close to my skill. The Grail probably didn't choose me because it thought death a trifling wish. And perhaps it's right. But to me it's a wish as good as any other- and it seems you can actually fulfill it."

"I'm sensing you are going somewhere with this…Right?" shot back the redhead, seemingly bored by the cessation of hostilities.

"Precisely because you are the only one I have ever met with a chance of besting me… is the reason I cannot allow to be bested!" announced the swordsman, hoping his words could convey the jumbled feelings welling up inside. "I cannot mar my pride as a warrior in the face of such an opponent no matter how much I desire death." Shinosuke effortlessly kicked the discarded scabbard back into his free hand. "So here I come, King of Nightmares."

Shinosuke raced across the hall like a blur, the Grimaldi swung his giant sword… and blinked in confusion at the empty space in front of him. With a triumphant shout, balanced atop his opponent's blade, the black-haired Master struck at his opponent's blind spot. Not a second later twin spikes jutted out of the mage's back, forcing the swordsman to somersault forward. The spikes grew and spread out, forming a gruesome imitation of upside-down skeletal wings, stripped of flesh and feathers. With a grin, the redhead plunged them into the ground-

- And Shinosuke barely moved in time to dodge the bones which erupted underneath him. The spikes grew in a frenzy, sprouting new protrusions which multiplied themselves in turn. Somersaults and timely slashes kept the swordsman from becoming a pincushion as the forest of bones grew large enough to fill the hall. Realizing the bones currently trying to eviscerate him were weaker than the ones the mage used to defend himself, Shinosuke took aim and threw his katana. Like a buzzsaw, the blade cut a swath through the bone-branches and beelined towards the redhead. The fleshcrafter hid from view as his artificial wings developed fully, sprouting bones instead of feathers, and locked them in front of him like a wall. The sword cut through, but barely- just enough to embed itself into the makeshift shield.

Close enough for Shinosuke.

Calling upon the power of his… tenant for perhaps the first time in his life, the swordsman pressed himself low on one of the branches. The sensation of his skin transmuting almost overwhelmed him as his arms turned black and scaly, followed by his straining legs. The bone tree he was perching on burst into pieces as he lunged downwards and slammed both hands into his jutting sword. The wing-shield of the mage creaked and groaned and for one fleeting second Shinosuke thought it was his sword that would break- but the blade pierced through fully and with a thunderous crash the forest of bones behind him turned to dust.

Silence fell heavy on the castle as the young Master stood unmoving, staring at the blood rapidly gushing out of the hole in disbelief. His heartbeat refused to go down- there was pride, there was excitement, even a tinge of disappointment it was actually over. Shinosuke let out the breath he had been unknowingly holding in—

-And then the blood around his feet rushed forward and engulfed him.

The world had turned red in an instant and every single cell in his body was screaming in pain. Not that there was any actual screaming involved. His brain had just about shut down from the strain, nerve receptors burning out one after the other in a vain attempt to just disconnect himself from the suffering. His lungs seemed to have caught fire- or maybe it was his skin, because he could actually see it peeling off and melting, as his very flesh started to dissipate. Somewhere deep below, in the dark pits of his mind, his tenant echoed his screams in panic. The black scales spread farther than ever, hissing and steaming as they came in contact with the tainted blood. Instincts took the place of any higher functions, and with soul-crushing effort he crawled out of the imprisoning sphere and crashed onto the welcomingly cold floor.

"No hard feelings, right?" asked almost amused the Grimaldi after reforming from the pool of blood. "How could I have kept playing around when you insisted on treating you as an adult?"

Shinosuke, barely acknowledging he had just survived almost being eaten alive, answered with a roar. More beast than a man, body fully clad in armored scales and with clawed hands digging deep into the ground, he lunged at the mage. The redhead had no time to react as an outstretched claw tore off his jaw… only for it to promptly flow backwards, like sand in a sand clock, and reattach itself. The beast bounced back off a ruined column, tearing off an arm- and then a leg and several ribs and a throat.

But all of them just refused to leave their owner permanently, in the worst cases liquidizing into blood and trickling back to the mage.

Enraged even further by his opponent's mocking laugh, the beast attacked once again, fully intending to dig its fangs into the redhead's throat. Inches away from victory, two large grotesque hands erupted from the Grimaldi's back and stopped the beast dead in its tracks. Hoisted helplessly into the air, it could only howl in the face of the object of its hatred. With nary a word, the mage turned his hand into a drill of solid bone—

-And jammed it straight into Shinosuke's chest. The segments actually moved as prana emanated from the fissures between them. The beast let out a scream, disturbingly human, as the hardened scales proved an insufficient defense. Blood gushed out like water, staining the mage's dress crimson. With moments away from its ribcage being fully pierced, the beast retreated inside, leaving a barely conscious Shinosuke as the sole master of his mind. The swordsman gathered whatever strength he had left and, in one last gambit, bore his violet eyes right into the viridian ones of his enemy.

The mage froze like struck by lightning, overwhelmed by the Cybele. The skin of his petite bare feet actually started turning grey- only for twin brilles to grow over the eyes and shut off the connection. Still, the brief respite had been more than enough for Berserker's Master. By the time the redhead had sprouted a new pair of wings, those covered with eyes possibly meant to circumvent his Cybele and still be able to see, Shinosuke was already a good distance away, clutching his katana once again. The black scales were almost fully sloughed off, revealing regenerated skin. He suspected the limit of his healing factor had finally being reached, judging by the alarming semi-transparency of it.

"You are a persistent one, I give you that," said the Grimaldi, a dozen viridian eyes turning to stare at the swordsman as one. "Few have ever given me that much trouble to dispose of. But I have distracted myself enough for today. The correct thing would be 'it saddens me to say it, but the game is over', right?"

Shinosuke could only stare, half-mesmerized, half-exhausted, as the flesh of the mage's extended hand swelled and bloomed, opening up and twisting into a grotesque parody of a rafflessia. In place of seeds, hundreds of bone spikes grew in the span of seconds. Seconds seemed to stretch into eternity. The mage smirked, the spikes erupted and for one single moment the swordsman was tempted to just give up and let it all end. It was madness to even consider survival possible, much less fight to attain it. But madness and fool's hope were the few things he had left. In that moment when the two things Shinosuke wanted most were both to live and to die, he decided to grasp for the impossible regardless of the outcome. He had never done it on such a scale before- not with so many targets, not with so little time.

But he, plain and simple, just didn't care what was sane and what was not anymore.

The blade cut apart empty air and shifted out of existence- and in that very instance the rain of bones splintered into dust as a hundred blades flashed across the air before its path was finished. Albus Grimaldi was silent, truly silent, for the first time since Shinsouke had met him. Taking advantage, the swordsman traced his weapon through empty air once again- and the rafflessia withered into thin air, detached from its master's hand. A dozen viridian eyes stared in disbelief as he brought the sword down one last and final time.

Albus Grimaldi clutched his chest in pain as his heart was slashed into pieces. The wings shrunk and melted into thin air, blood gushed out from the stump and the mage actually retracted his brille to look at him. Shinosuke had expected to see the eyes of a dying man. He had expected accusation, fear, rage, perhaps even quiet acceptance.

But those piercing green eyes weren't the ones of a dying man.

Without a word, the redhead's whole body erupted into a torrent of blood. The swordsman scrambled back to avoid a repeat of getting trapped and melted, only for the tendrils to catch him by surprise. There was no burning sensation this time- his left forearm ended up cut off before he could even notice. Clutching it tightly, the tendrils retracted into the sentient puddle of blood. Shinosuke could only watch, clutching his injured hand, as the blood rose up once more and reformed oh-so-slowly, like a statue being sculpted by an invisible artist. But here was no trace of the mesmerizing female visage this time. The… thing which emerged was human only in the sense that it had a head, two arms and two legs. Its skin was the pink of a human, but that detail only served to make it more disturbing. Both the arms and the legs were too long and thin to be normal, with no nails at the end of spiderlike fingers. It had not a hair on its body and no genitalia either. It was more like a creepy doll than anything else- as if someone had been asked to make a life-size model of a human without ever actually meeting one. A lipless mouth stood below two slits substituting for a nose. Only the lidless eyes, colored the same stomach-twisting shade of green, had remained the same.

"That was… unexpected," said Albus Grimaldi, voice raspy, as if he was getting used to being able to speak after years of forced silence. The mage inspected his pale fingers in disgust. "Won't even be able to sustain her own form in this body. Still, I could have been dead now, so there's that silver lining."

The mage's eyes stopped at the sigil branded on his bony arm, which Shinosuke recognized as the Command Spells engraved on his former hand… only one of them was faded out, like a healed wound. Wordless, the mage traced his left hand across his right and the flesh transmuted into bone, forming once again the curved blade he had seen earlier. Albus Grimaldi raised it high above his head, poised to strike, and the former Master didn't even have the power to raise his voice in defiance.

And then the world crashed and burned around him as the ceiling erupted with the roar of thunder.