Fate-Rongodamiant

by Legends Storyteller

Twelve years after the fifth Holy Grail War, a new one begins. However, the rules aren't quite the same. Twenty-one Servants. Twenty-one Masters. Three Factions striving to gather the Grail Shards scattered around the world: the Masters of Red from the Mage's Association; the Master of Black from New Edge; the mysterious Masters of White.

36. Interlude IX

* Umineko - Dread of the grave

* Higanbana - The moon draped over with pure darkness

* Umineko - Tomorrow

* Rose Guns Days - Mission 023

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Interlude IX

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* Umineko - Dread of the grave

"DAMN! FUCK! FUCK! I'M NEVER DOING THIS EVER AGAIN!"

Rider of Red – Phaeton's mind was suddenly put in great turmoil, in more than one way, for more than one reason and in less than one second. The insults coming from the bottom of his heart were not meant for anyone to hear but him; a promise he wouldn't break under any circumstance. Well, actually they were also meant for the person standing behind him while he was driving his flaming chariot.

"That was cool~! I've never had sensations like this! Another! Another~!"

"NO! No no no nonononononoNO! I'm not doing this even against eternal life! To Hades with surgical strikes!"

"Oh come on, you did so great!"

"Fuck you! By the gods, I almost crashed us against the ground! And at this speed too! I could have killed everyone in the viscinity!"

"Pff, I wouldn't die that easily."

"You can die! I don't care about you and you crazy idea! I refuse to die because of you! I'm never listening to you ever again!"

"Keep telling yourself that~!"

Archer of Red – Maui didn't spare him any sympathy for the great risk he had taken and for the intense fear and panic making a mess of his sanity.

This shaky state of mind was mainly due to the concentrate of recklessness he had just indulged in: while he and Archer had been flying over the city as to keep an eye on the situation as a whole, Rider had caught sight of Leanne's battle by accident. Well, not by accident. Truth be told, he had been deeply concerned about how well she was doing, so much that he had come back more than once to check on her. His eyesight was not so good he could see hundreds of kilometers away though, so he had relied on Archer to report the situation.

Naturally, when Archer had told him that Leanne was in a pinch, he couldn't have left her alone. That was only natural, right? Well it shouldn't be! That whole deal almost got him killed, not to mention Leanne. On the other hand, Archer could die in the most shameful manner for all he cared. Everything was her fault! Not for telling him that Leanne was in danger, but for giving him he idea of diving at full speed to hit the enemy Servant head-on! From the first letter to the last, that idea has been mightily dumb!

And of course, like the idiot he was, he had listened to her – too concerned about doing something to think about whether he could! The concept sounded simple, but it was not by any mean meant for a chariot to execute. A chariot, not matter how sophisticated, was meant to go in one direction: forward! Diving recklessly toward the ground and changing direction at the last minute was not part of the training! Even the chariot of the Sun was not designed to make such crazy, meticulous manipulations faster than the speed of sound!

Only when it was too late to backtrack had he realized how fast the ground had been approaching, and he only had his survival instinct to thank for improvising. It seemed like he had suceeded; he didn't know if he actually managed to hit anyone, he was just immeasurably happy to feel he was still alive. Was he still alive? He wasn't even sure his heart was still beating!

This was too much for him to handle...

In fact, this crazy woman's presence alone was already too much for him to handle. Why did she have to come with him?! He didn't care one bit how safer teaming up was – in this very momentn Rider resented Michael for forcing him to do it. Had it been up to Rider, Archer would never have set a single foot within a hundred-meter radius of his chariot! It was the sun god blood running in his vein telling him she was bad news, and he wanted to stay away from her like a cat from water.

But, well...in all honesty, the real reason why he was so upset was because of bad memories flooding back. He wasn't especially fond of remembering the circumstances surrounding his own death – especially the feeling of hopelessness as everything around him was destroyed in a sea of flame. Triggering his PTSD with deadly chicken race, for he who wasn't even that great a charioteer, didn't make things easier. As such, even after retreating hundreds of meter back into the air, Rider was still terribly tense and only wanted one thing: rising even higher.

"Heeeeyyy, you're going too high! Even I can't see anything that way!"

"Then you can get off, I don't care! Maybe you'll know what it feels like to fall to your death!"

"Hey now, I'm serious." Rider couldn't see her face since she was behind him, but she did sound more serious than a second ago. "There's something weird going on down there. If you don't fly lower, you're the one getting off – from this height!"

"Kh...h..yes, ma'am..."

He was too shaken to grow a spine at the moment. And anyway, since Michael could see everything through him right now, he didn't want to make more a fool of himself. He couldn't claim to be completely at ease yet, but his reluctance completely vanished when he understood what Archer had meant: unlike her, he hadn't seen the firework explode in a purple flower shape; however, he distinctly heard the inhuman scream tearing into the tense atmosphere of the battlefield; and how could he not notice the unhealthy-looking mist covering the area like a blanket?

"What is that? This isn't something we've seen before, is it?" Rider fought back his hesitation and flew lower to take a better look. "How thick is that mist? I can't even see the river anymore!"

"So they had something like that up their sleeve, huh?" Archer clicked her tongue. "Maybe they weren't trying to counter us in particular, but that's still a spanner in the works. Supernatural weather...I bet it's that multi-armed overlord our Caster's been acquainted with."

"Who? You mean the one who beat him and cut off his arm?!" Incidentally, Rider's impression of Saber of Black was based entirely on their Caster's retelling of the events. "Oh, who cares, what about Berserker and Leanne!"

Being inside that mist could not be good news.

Rider didn't know where Lancer and his brute of a Master had disappeared to, but their other allies were certainly still down there. But even when Rider hovered over their position, he couldn't feel anything. It was impossible to miss Berserker of Red if you looked for him, yet as of now he might as well have vanished off the face of earth. Archer immediatly deployed two of her hooks and released them inside the sickly-colored mist. It was the last spot where she had sighted them, but when she retrieved her hooks those were empty.

"I have no idea where they are, sorry."

"W-what should we do...? If we're useless up in the air, maybe we should go down and help them...!"

"Nope~, we avoid that at all cost. If we're useless in the air, then we'll be even more useless on the ground. Remember, this is their ploy: they must have a way of finding their way around. But we still have supremacy over the sky, so let's not give up on that. In fact, you might want to fly higher; they could shoot us down at this height."

"...Fine."

Being this useless left a bad taste in his mouth, but there was nothing Rider could say in reply. It was true they couldn't locate Leanne and Berserker, so even if they landed they would wtill be stuck as to what to do next. Thus as per Archer's instruction, he rose up again to avoid a surprise attack. Well, even though she had expected something like that to happen, no one tried to lay a hand on them.

It was as though this mist was a barrier between two worlds, not meant to interact directly with each other.

"We can't get down, fine. But what do we do then? Do you think Caster has a spell to dispel this mist?" Rider was looking around restlessly, but he found no one, neither foe nor ally. That is, until he remembered of the most obvious target. "All we have is this ship, huh?"

Even though they could barely see the top of the buildings submerged by the mist, the golden vessel moored in the Thames was still extremely easy to spot. But Rider didn't have a good feeling about this – he felt a weird link with this ship. Not that he had ever seen it before, but this feeling of kinship meant its nature was not that different from his chariot.

As in, it was poor attempt at imitating the Sun.

"Come to think of it, that's where the fog came from. If we can destroy it, then maybe it will dissipate!"

"It could work. But what is that thing anyway?" Archer examined the golden ship from afar, probably gauging their chances. "Maybe if you charged at it with enough force, it would break in one go?"

"Ehm, no, how should I say this...you do realize my chariot is supposed to crush people, not giant boats?! I'm not even sure I could put a dent on it!"

"Come on~, weren't you the one boasting about how your chariot could raze buildings?"

"Well, I did but..." Rider had an unsavory memory of a certain black giant, blocking his chariot like it was nothing. "I guess it does pack a punch, but if it's not enough we'll be vulnerable. In the worst case scenario, we're both dead."

"I was thinking of sending you on your own though~."

"Wh-! You traitorous piece of garbage!"

"Juuust kidding~! Of course you can count on my support~." She patted his shoulder jokingly, but he absolutely hated that. He couldn't tell just how serious she was about not being serious. "Hmm, but destroying it might be a bit too much, huh? Maybe I can lift it off the water and carry it somewhere else? But would that remove the fog, hmm? Now that I'm looking at it, doesn't it look like the mist is not as thick around that ship?...Wait a minute."

Archer leaned over the edge of the chariot, even though the flames surrounding it were almost licking her skin. From Rider's point of view though, she was reducing whatever personal space he had. In all honesty, he was feeling cornered even though it was his own vehicle.

"You know, I wonder what would happen if I flipped the chariot around..." Hopefully she would fall off.

"I can see someone."

"Huh?"

For a moment Rider thought he had heard her wrong because of the wind whistling in his ear. However, Archer grabbed his head and forced him to look in a direction in particular, with no regard to the fact that he was the driver and wished to look forward. What his eyes were forced to stare was, without surprise, the golden ship.

"See for yourself: there's someone on the deck. See? Right over there. See?"

"My vision doesn't get better every time you ask..." Rider grumbled. He was nonetheless intringued, and his eyes skimed over the golden deck in search of a figure. "...Ah. There really is someone. Hm?"

It was just as Archer had said: the mist was not quite as dense around the ship, even though everything surrounding it was hidden from the naked eye. Perhaps it was capable of quelling its efficiency. In any case, the golden hull and the deck resting on it were partially visible, and the intense light made it easier to spot someone. But once again, Rider couldn't compare with Archer. Had the latter not said it was a person, he could have mistaken them for something else. At this distance, at this time of the night and with this many weird circumstances, all he could see was a shadow.

"Do they think it's safe to come out now that the mist is up?"

"Then they're going to be disappointed." Archer put a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go, get closer shiny boy!"

"That's reckless. It could be a trap, for all we know!"

"And what else do you suggest? For someone who answered the call for the Holy Grail War you sure are uncertain, shiny boy. Being a hero means you will go because you can go, not because it's safe~!"

"...I don't need you to tell me that..."

The golden chariot approached the golden ship. However, Rider was still keeping a distance and only got close enough to have a good look at the deck. Archer hadn't asked him to pound on the ship this time, so he took it as a sign that she was fine with this much of a gap between them. If not, then she didn't deserve the title of Archer.

He was on the look-out for any potential danger; for now at least, no one tried to attack them.

"That guy...he's seen us!" Archer warned him.

"What were you expecting? He only has to look up to find us!"

Still, now that they were this much closer, Rider was curious as to who they were staring down. The shadowy figure was now much clearer, although the contrast with the golden light made it hard to discern the details. With a body like this , it was probably a man – something Archer had already confirmed. His build was visibly larger than Rider's; not that it meant much, but that was still the most obvious comparison to make for him.

At the very least, Rider could discern a cape on his shoulders, making his silhouette more imposing at first. Then he noticed his hand resting on the guardrail, and his short hair fluttering in the night wind.

–And then his eyes.

Yes, he had undoubtely caught sight of them. And they were now looking into each other's eyes. Rider was surprised he had managed to see it from this distance – what he saw were not simple eyes, but a malevolent glint. A chill ran down his back, prompting him to increase the distance once again. In doing so, he had the feeling he had avoided something dreadful.

"What are you doing? Are you bipolar or what?" Archer complained to him without reserve.

"I have a very bad feeling about this! We don't even know what this guy can do!"

"Nn, going from his appearance, isn't it that Rider of Black guy?"

"Like hell I know!"

"You know, that guy who really likes boats. If I remember right, Saber said he fights with his fists. He's a close-ranged fighter, see? You have nothing to fear~!"

"I can fight with my fists too, you know? And I can still use my chariot!"

"From the look of it, he's got to be the owner of that ship as well."

"Was that supposed to reassure me?"

"That solves our problem! We don't need to do anything to that boat, we only have to kill him and it will vanish!"

"Even if you say that, the boat's still here right now..." Was she selective in what she accepted to acknowedge?

But now that Archer had an idea in mind, she would put it into practice anyway. He hadn't flown so high that Rider of Black wasn't visible anymore, leaving the fields free to for Archer to do what she did best. The hooks she had used earlier had not disappeared, and she began twirling them faster and faster while taking aim.

"Hmph, it's not day so I can't use sunlight as ammo...is what I thought, but your chariot is giving more than enough. If that's not handy; I should fetch a ride more often."

"If you start doing that, I'm gonna make you pay a fee." Rider stated resolutely. Just as she had said, her hooks lit up by absorbing the light from his vehicle, prompting his to grumble: "And I'm gonna put a tax on my sunlight..."

She twirled her incandescent hooks some more, making beautiful rings of golden light around her. Then she finally 'let go' of them, hurling the light in concentrated bolts of pure heat toward Rider of Black. In the blink of an eye, she repeated the process and fired two more projectiles. Despite the constant movement of the chariot, these had flawless accuracy and closed up on their target in the blink of an eye.

Rider of Black...didn't move from where he was standing.

The approaching projectile's light illuminated his face, revealing a solemn expression coupled with indifference. The way he gazed at this imminent threat, one could have thought he was just admiring a landscape.

"...Hmph."

When the lights were close enough that his hair should have started burning, he sighed and waved his arm toward them.

It was a simple movement, so devoid of urgency it made one wonder if he had even noticed the attack. But instead of scorching his arm black with their intense heat, the projectiles merely up and and vanished into thin air, and the face of Rider of Black returned to obscurity.

Both Archer and Rider of Red gasped, for this was not an outcome they had thought possible. To be clear, they were not taken aback because Rider of Black was absolutely unscathed. But of all the way this outcome could have come about, this had to be the most unlikely. There was no doubt about it for Rider: the bolts of light had not been stopped by a shield; they had not been cancelled out by a force of equal magnitude; they had not been deviated; they had not been avoided; they hadn't gone anywhere and had not diverted from their trajectory once.

They had ceased existing, vanished without a trace and without a single clash. But it was even worse than Rider thought.

"This is bad. Really bad." Archer commented ominously. This serious side of her was unfamiliar to Rider, and this made him feel even worse.

Archer repeated the exact same attack, down to the smallest detail, and the result was the exact same. Then, she dematerialized her hook, to materialize larger versions of them. She repeated the same movements, but now the projectiles were almost as big as Rider himself. They met the exact same fate as their predecessors; neither their size, their power, nor their speed seemed able to change that outcome.

"Stop attacking, can't you see it's useless?!"

"Pipe down, shiny boy. I needed to test something, but now I'm sure of it. Listen, we're not getting anywhere near that ship for the time being."

"Why the sudden change in attitude? I thought being a hero meant going because you can." He rubbed her own words in her face, but Archer didn't wince.

"You're a scion of the gods as well, so can't you tell?"

"Tell what, exactly?"

"That my attacks weren't dispeled – they had their existence denied! Does that sound like a Servant's power to you?!"

"De...nied..."

True, he was a demigod, but that didn't mean he could understand what she meant. Well, with her explanations he had a better idea. But in all fairness, that was not something he had ever expected to come across.

"That's an Authority, the kind Divine Spirits can exert on the world around them. No one in this era can wield a power like this. If this guy is really supposed to be Caligula as Saber said, then why the hell does he have this?"

Authority.

Rider couldn't believe what he was hearing, but he had no choice but to accept it. Even if he refused to, he had no arguments to refute Archer's analysis. He was not sure what to do with such an information though – as such, his first reflex was to share it with Michael so other Servants wouldn't get close to the floating palace.

But before he could, Rider of Black reached the end of his patience. Until now, he would simply cancel Archer's projectiles when he was attacked. Now, at last, it was he who made a move against the two of them. His arm, the same which had swiped the scorching light aside, slowly rose up, and his fingers were aimed at the flaming vehicle.

(Something big is coming...!)

But what exactly?

There was no indications as to what form his attack would take, nor how fast and how powerful it was going to be. And Rider sure didn't have the time to ponder about it – faced with a wild card, he applied the oldest and simplest strategy which was to get as far away as humanely possible. The strike could come from the front, from above, from the sides, from anywhere; as they were up in the air, they were vulnerable at a 360° angle. As such, Rider shut off his brain and just increased the distance.

That had been the right call.

Soon after, there was a strange occurance: starting from the ship, up until where they had been a second ago, an invisible force seemed to distort the world. It was very hard to tell what it was. It could have been kinetic energy, gravity, anything that would have crushed them had they stayed in place. From Rider of Red's point of view, it was simply a concept of 'smashing', pure invisible violence aimed at them.

Even from a distance they were able to feel the strength of this unusual attack. But apparently, only Rider was fazed.

"Not that strong, after all." Archer said.

"Not that strong?!"

"It's hard to dodge and strong enough to crush a few bones, but that's about it. Even if you had the hardest stick in the world, you wouldn't try to split open a boulder with it. You would use an appropriate tool. What we felt was only a breeze, it wouldn't have killed us or anything."

"W-what's with you, it sounds like you're used to taking a beating..."

"Hm, well if we're talking about crushing pressure, I'll have you know that I lifted the sky once. This is nothing in comparison."

"W-why is everyone incredible but me..." Rider grumbled.

"You don't have to be afraid either, shiny boy. He can't hurt you."

"Huh?"

Archer repeated the same useless approach as before, and launched a few bolts of light toward the ship. They were nullified by Rider of Black, and the latter retaliated again. It was the same as before, but even so the chariot was barely affected. More precisely, the strength was the exact same as before, even though that man should have recalculated the range.

Archer smirked, a somewhat reassuring reaction for once.

"He can't reach us if we're far enough. Looks like that's his ability's Achilles heel: it's tied to his boat. Remember every time he negated my shots? He always waited until they had reached him before undoing them."

"...I see, so the same goes for his attacks. But he sure reached outside his territory there."

"That's nothing, I'm telling you. If we were right next to his boat it would probably be terrifying, but the further away he tries to reach, the weaker it becomes."

"Well, that's great and all but, that doesn't tell us what to do next."

"Well~, that's easy!" She stretched her arms and cracked her knuckles. "If I'm right and this guy has some kind of divine power, then I'm the man of the situation!"

"Don't you mean wo...actually nevermind, I don't want to ask."

Archer let her hook vanish, yet she grabbed the chariot's handrail and set foot on it. For her position, it looked like she was about to jump, but she didn't leap over board; while staying in this awkward posture, she gave him orders.

"Onward! Get me close to this big yellow rowboat and watch me totally save the day!"

"Oh, you mean toward that same thing you just warned me not to get close to? That one?!"

He was getting mixed signals here.

"It fiiine~, don't get close if you want. Just get me closer and drop me like a bomb!"

"How the hell can I just send someone to their death like I don't care?!"

"...My, someone being concerned for me, that's new. Whatever, if you trust me then just go!"

"I don't trust you!"

That was not his problem after all, so what did he care? Well, he did care a little. For one, if she kicked the bucket he would be on his own. More importantly, even if it was makeshift comradeship, they were still fighting on the same side, right? In his culture, being a hero meant reaping glory and achievements for yourself, being an unmatched warrior. Regardless of whether these values held up to the modern eyes, letting someone take care of everything while he drove them around felt wrong.

But that was still all he was good for.

"Here goes nothing!"

* Stop music

Once again, Rider tipped the course of his flaming chariot and gained speed steadily. They didn't have to rush, and he was looking out for another attack on Caligula's part. Archer was ready to jump at a moment's notice; considering her crazy strength, he probably didn't need to get too close. But the longer she would be in the air, the longer she'd be vulnerable, so he decided to get closer than his instinct advised him. His heart was pounding as he glanced back between Rider of Black, and Archer about to jump.

Then, it was her moment at last.

"Thanks, shiny boy. See ya if I make it back alive."

As she prepared to jump, he was still full of apprehension...wait.

Wait. Wait, wait, wait?!

He didn't have time to think.

Rider of Red acted on a moment's notice and grabbed Archer's arm before the latter could jump off for good.

"Shiny bo–!"

She was surprised, understandably.

But he didn't even have the time to care about that: with the hand that wasn't holding her back, he pulled on the reins as hard as he could, and instructed his vehicle to rise. Rise, rise, rise, and faster than that you stupid chariot! Time was slowing down for him, but he still found a way to curse in his head. He didn't need to cross a great distance – he only needed to move away from where they were, immediatly!

He was not looking at Archer...but he was not looking at Rider of Black either.

Right now, the sadistic emperor was the least of his concerns.

Rider's head was turned aside, his gaze toward the dark horizon.

This dark horizon, where a light had shone for an instant, an instant within which Rider had detected the imminent threat.

Thankfully, even in his panic his chariot moved as he wanted it to and they ascended through the night sky.

And then, something passed through the exact same spot where they had been, so fast Rider shivered at the thought of what could have happened.

That should have been impossible – there was no one else in the sky in this area, except for themselves. But that thing had crossed such a mind-numbing distance, at a speed Rider wasn't sure he could match.

It wasn't a plane – it was a golden aircraft.

"What the hell, shiny boy?!...–Whoooaaa, who the hell, shiny boy?!"

"Like I know! I'm still trying to understand what's going on!"

* Higanbana – The Moon Drapped over Pure Darkness

Litterally, everything was happening so fast his brain was having difficulties following up. There was so many questions to be asked in this moment, so instead he focused on the fundamental. First of all, that spaceship or whatever it was. Where was it right now? With the distance crossed and the velocity of this unidentified flying object, he almost expected to find it on the horizon again. But it had not gone that far.

After all, it was an enemy. With how accurate that charge had been, there was no doubt as to whether it had been trying to hit thel. They had known they were charging at someone, even from this distance. Since that was the case, they frankmy didn't need to go that much farther, as the people they planned to to kill were right here.

That should honestly be enough, but something else was nagging at Rider.

"Archer, do you remember anything about it?"

"Another flying vessel...there was something like that in Saber's stories. Something about a golden plane flying everywhere and bombarding them."

It was their first time seeing it with their own eyes, though. It was quite different from what Rider had imagined for himself, but that wasn't the issue.

"So that means this guy is...Rider of White?"

"Seems like it." Archer gave him a tap on the shoulder again. "All three Riders gathered in the same place, isn't that cute~? Anyway, in case you were wondering where the White Faction is..."

Her gaze was scanning the area around them. She was searching for the rest of the White Faction obviously, but with this mist there wasn't much to see. They had heard pretty crazy story about this mysterious Faction, so she probably couldn't help expecting more of them. Rider wasn't so sure about that however: unless Rider of White was transporting them, he doubted just anyone esle could close up on them as instantly.

And anyway, he didn't have the luxury to worry about anyone else but Rider of White. Tonight appeared to be nothing but a serie of stressful events, and it was only getting worse. It wasn't enough that he couldn't interact with ground level anymore, now he was being challenged in the sky? He had a terrible, terrible feeling about this; a strange floating palace below, and now this man whom he had heard only terrifying things about. His self-esteem wasn't that high at the moment, but now he felt even weaker just by being in the middle of those monsters.

But at least, he felt more useful for once.

"I guess we should have expected this... Archer, grab onto something and don't let go!"

"Wait, are you trying to act cool?"

"I said grab onto something, dammit!"

"Fine, fine."

He was not getting riled up because of her mockery. If his gut feeling was true, then they indeed wanted to hold on tight. The Heroic Spirit next to him may have been something incredible, but he was only Phaeton. If anything, this was his first time fighting this high up in the sky – In fact, the concept of aerial combat had not crossed his mind until very recently! That was supposed to be his shtick, but was if he was outperformed in that area?!

His only option was to pull through somehow.

"Why does life hate me so?"

Due to these various factors, he wasn't feeling quite confident enough to take the lead. Instead, he opted for a classic wait-and-see, unsure of what he was waiting for and what he would see. While staying on the move, he was anxiously staring at the aircraft hovering quietly in place. Maybe Rider of White was taking the same approach. After all, this must have been a first for him as well, so he might have been just as anxious – that was what Phaeton said to himself as a way of staying calm.

But since the yound godling wasn't going to make a move, Rider of White evntually lost patience and made his move.

What would a battle between two flying chariots look like? Rider had only ever heard of chariot race, so what would they do? Charge at each other until one of them broke? If that was the case, he had already lost since he was waiting or the White Rider to come at him. Well, at least he could avoid it without problem and keep some distance...was what he had hoped for, but that aircraft was seriously too fast!

"Come on, get moving as well!" Archer urged him.

"I-I'm trying, geez!"

Phaeton avoided being rammed for the second time, but once again by a hair's breadth only.

However, if he had to tell, this was still slower than the first time. The aircraft's speed, that is: he kept his eyes focused on its course even after Rider of White had missed them, and it certainely wasn't the speed which had allowed him to cross dozens of kilometers in the blink of an eye. That made sense though – it was definitely the fastest in a straight line, but on smaller distances where turns and maneuvres had to be made, Rider of White probably couldn't afford to keep that speed.

In other words, their difference in speed wasn't that great. Phaeton noted that in a corner of his mind.

He was a bit proud for noticing such things in the middle of a fight, but he quickly became disillusioned with that: he had made a terrible mistake by not attacking first. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference and he would still be in a pinch. What he could tell was that waiting for the golden aircraft to come had tipped the balance in his defavour. He wasn't an old and wise warrior who could observe the enemy as they approached recklessly. No, he was an idiot who had allowed a significantly stronger opponent to close the distance, and now Rider of White was chasing him restlessly without a break!

That was not an exaggeration: after Phaeton had barely avoided the first charge, the aircraft had made a U-turn at an unexpected speed, proving a second time it had more flexibility that the flaming chariot. Thus Rider of White was once again pounding of them, except this time he was much closer! Too close to avoid in fact: at this point, making zigzags like with Rider of Black was not going to cut it. To stay in one piece, he had to show why a chariot could only go in one direction.

With a dry snap of the reins, the horses of fire pulling the chariot launched forward

Like a bird over the sea, the flaming chariot soared over the world of mist devouring London.

Phaeton reduced their flying height, trying to fly as close to the black fog as possible, despite his warriness. In a straight line, his chariot would build up speed the farther it went, so he was not afraid of a contest in this regard. Or rather, that had been his expectation. Not that he was fundamentally wrong, but this logic also implied he needed to cross a certain distance before reaching a velocity he could write home about.

That was not something Rider of White would allow; he gave chase immediatly.

Before the two of them could travel a mere hundred meters, the golden aircraft was hot on their heels. So close in fact that Rider of White could ram them at any moment. Phaeton was not curious to see what would happen then – since the aircraft had caught up and was dangerously approaching their right flank, he forced his chariot to make a sharp turn on the left. It wasn't like he could do a 90° curve, so they almost felt the tip of Rider's vehicle.

They got away with only a scratch though, and the chariot was able to gain some ground. It didn't quite feel like a victory though. Since it was certain the aircraft would follow suit before long, Phaeton gave up on flying in a straight line; as things stood, he was heading back toward the Thames and the London Bridge.

He risked a look behind though – and a shiver went down his spine.

That aircraft was something else; not only its speed on paper, but also how easily it could slow down, and how fast it was shooting up again. The shortness of this time span meant it was all the easier for Rider of White to make up for the time lost: by the time Phaeton turned his eyes back to what was in front of them, the golden aircraft was already catching up.

"Why are we just running away?! Let's fight back at least!" Archer shouted in his ear.

"And how?! I can't do anything if he stays behind us! Scratch that, I can't do anything if he gets too close!...Kh...!"

It was just as he said: this was a chariot! Up in the air, that was his only weapon! What was he supposed to do if he couldn't trample people over with it?!

At any rate, Rider of White was here. And to think, they had only been able to lose him for a handful of seconds. Upon thinking that, the young charioteer could understand Archer's frustration perfectly. This battle was going nowhere – playing tag until they couldn't escape felt like a terrible way to go.

Phaeton tried to outmaneuvre Rider again with the same technique, but to no avail. Either the Servant of White had predicted it, or he had been too close to begin with. At any rate, a violent tremor shook up the chariot, almost sending them off course. For a millisecond Phaeton felt his feet leaving the ground and his heart stopped; even after Archer's hand made sure he wasn't going anywhere, his hair were dressed on their end.

That being said, the chariot was still running, and so was the aircraft. But they were now pressed against each other, all while they kept soaring forward. The aircraft was trying to send them lying like a bull, and Phaeton was trying his darnest to put up a fight! It was a strange contest of raw power happening hundreds of feet above the ground.

A contest of strength the Red Faction was losing badly.

When you thought about it, there was a fundamental difference between Phaeton's ride and that of his White counterpart. More important than their appearance or their capacity, they were not 'moving' the same way. Although they were only ethereal beings without a solid physical existance, the horses of flame were still executing the action of 'pulling' the chariot. On the other hand, from what Phaeton could tell the golden aircraft was like a modern plane: it was 'propelled'.

That was not a meaningless detail, as now that they were pressing against each other, the one whose power came from 'behind' could push the hardest.

As he tried desperately to fight back against the aircraft's momentum, the charioteer was able to see their opponent from up close for the first time. The same went for the machine Rider of White was flying: Phaeton could now grasp more details beyond its precious color, mainly the breathtaking garden resting atop of it. The otherworldly flowers of magnificent shape and colors were not swayed by the wind, as though they existed in a frozen time. But his eyes didn't loiter on this sight for too long, for they found a golden throne further behind.

And the man sitting on it.

So this was Rider of White.

There was no way Phaeton could have missed him. His was an impressive existence the likes of which attracted attention. His presence, sitted on the throne of a perfect war machine, was regalian without comparison. Nothing in his attitude betrayed emotions such as doubt, reluctance or apprehension. On the contrary, his composure as he sat there with his arms crossed spoke of nothing but confidence. He was as serene as a statue, but his smirk as he returned Phaeton's gaze was nothing short of intimidating. He was filled to the brim with confidence to the point where it could be called arrogance. But his existence was such that this arrogance felt justified, not unlike Lancer of Red. But unlike the latter, this presence was much more overbearing.

That was not the first time Phaeton was confronted with a presence like his...

In many ways, it was reminiscent of the Gods of Olympus whom he had seen but once. Upon making this realization, the young charioteer promptly turned his eyes away.

(...What are you doing, being scared now of all time? Pull yourself together!)

He was in no situation to be daydreaming, as the violent rocking reminded him.

At that time, a voice resounded in his head: that of his Master, Michael Argas.

Rider, are you alright?!

Don't you know already? I thought you could see through my eyes!

That's why I'm worried, you idiot! You're completely outmatched!

"..."

Hey, he already knew that.

There was no need to rub salt in the wounds.

Just hang on, I'm gonna use a Command Spell and–

Don't. We could need them later.

What if there isn't a 'later', dumbass?!

Who's the dumbass here, old geezer? Have some trust in your Servant! Or do you take me for someone who needs to be saved at every turn?

...

No words followed.

Michael said nothing more.

Phaeton interpreted it as acknowledgement.

That being said, he had nothing to back his word. He was on the verge of losing this contest of raw power between the two vehicles, and was considering pulling away at all cost. By the way, it had completely slipped from his mind for a moment, but he wasn't alone on this chariot! What was Archer of Red up to, being silent for so long? She hadn't fallen off, had she?

When he glanced above his shoulder, he was relieved to find her still onboard.

As for what she was doing, well, she was glaring.

Intensely.

Phaton broke in a cold sweat in front of so much hatred gathered inside two eyeballs. Thankfully, these murderous eyes were not directed at him, but at the imposing existence sitting nonchalantly on his throne. Why was she staring so intensely? He himself had had a peek at Rider of White earlier, but he couldn't begin to imagine what could provoque this unseen-before reaction from her. Not that he had taken a liking to their foe personally, but Archer's enmitty still felt out of proportion.

"Hm...Archer...? Are you alright?"

"...That bastard. No matter how you look at it, this guy is my antithesis, right? As if I'm gonna tolerate a scumbag like him breathing the same air..."

"Hahaha..." He laughed weakly, but only to calm down his nerves. "'Scumbag', you say. Must be great to be able to find nemesis, huh."

"You keep steering the wheel, shiny boy. I'm killing him."

"My chariot doesn't have a wheel, but if you insist..."

Her behavior had him think she didn't realize how bad the situation was.

With a strength you wouldn't guess from her slender body, Archer threw her hook toward the golden aircraft. Her objective wasn't to board it by force. Quite the opposite in fact: the fishing tool was aimed directly toward the throne in order to catch its imposing owner. So rather than venturing on an unknown ship, she was planning to drag their opponent out of it. This was actually quite clever, since so far the ride had been more of an issue than the rider. It was also the perfect opportunity to do so, as Rider of White had no intention of pulling away.

Of course, their foe understood that as well.

Rider of White was visibly not curious to find out what this hook could do; in the blink of an eye, a luxurious war axe with a blade black like ink materialized in his hand, and he swiftly parried the unorthodox projectile. It would take much more than that to discourage Archer, however. After retrieving her hook, she hurled it again several times. Each time it was parried, yet each time the strength she used increased noticeably. So much in fact, that the last hook brushed away by Rider of White almost knocked back his weapon.

If she kept it up, she might just manage it.

Unfortunately for her, Phaeton was not quite as competent.

If he were honest with himself, he had done a good job of holding on for so long, but he couldn't make miracles. Perhaps pressured by Archer's incessant onslaught, Rider of White exerted yet even more power against this poor chariot, and that was the end of it.

To say they were sent flying might be a bit redundant, but there was no better way to describe it: Phaeton lost control of his vehicle, and the latter was sent spiraling through the air like a crazy spinning top. The world was revolving around him at such speed, he had absolutely no idea if they were going upward or downward. Familiar emotions were welling up from the depth of his memories: fear; panic; confusion; a loss of understanding; a loss of direction; a scorching craving for help, anyone's help.

The feelings of a brainless young man who falling to his death, too terrified to even understand where he had gone wrong.

Too terrified to even call for help.

That made him wonder, if he fell from this height, would he die like in the legends?

Now that they had left the black mist behind, he might be able to see the ground before crashing down – terrific images of a time far behind in the past flashed before his eyes.

Not this time.

Not on this chariot, and especially not after he had told Michael to trust him!

A scream rose from within, fighting back the urge to curl up and close his eyes before the disaster.

In this world spinning restlessly, his hands searched around frenetically, seeking to find the reins. He heard them whip past his face, so he got a general idea of where they were. Finally, his fingers closed on the long leather bridle, and he grabbed on with all the might he could muster in this moment of fright.

He had to remember: this chariot was pulled forward not by the phantasmagoric horses with manes of fire, but by his sheer willpower and his belief that he could drive it.

This wasn't the Chariot of the Sun, the vehicle of his father which he had brought down with him after setting the world ablaze. This chariot was just a manifestation his hubris, his sin but also his strength. This was a part of himself more than anything else, and it was both the most tragic flaw and the most outstanding quality of the Heroic Spirit Phaeton.

"Don't screw around with me...! The chariot I pictured in my dreams...the chariot I pictured in my pride wasn't falling like a dead star! It was flying high, higher than anyone had any right to be!"

Kcc!

And at last, the chariot stopped spinning.

He had done it.

He couldn't believe it but he had done it.

He needed a few seconds to recover – not only from relief, but also from the intense happiness overflowing from his chest. In his incredulity he wanted to let out a scream of victory, until he was brutally reminded of the situation around him.

It was great that he had managed to stabilize this damned chariot, but they had been only seconds away from disaster. In answer his previous question, he confirmed they had been falling down this entire time and were only a good eight meters above the ground. The landscape around him was plains and hills as far as the eyes could see, with a few houses and some grazing land. Then there were trees bordering the roads, with their tall branches wheezing dangerously close to his face; that was what brought him back to reality.

As a matter of fact, although the chariot was not falling anymore it was not flying upright, but vertically. As such, Phaeton could see the horizon by looking up, and almost fell off for real when he noticed that. So much for flying higher than anyone else...

But what about Archer?

He had not noticed her presence once while they were falling down.

"W-what am I going to do if she actually fell?! I don't have the time to look for that awful fisherman!"

"If by 'awful fisherman' you mean me, allow me to say I'm the best fisherman you'll ever find. Also, I'm right here."

When Phaeton looked up – or rather, looked aside – he was relieved to find Archer, who was in a much more dignified position than him. Somehow, she had not only managed to stay on board, but she had found the way to be standing on the side that was facing the sky. She was not looking at him though; her eyes were turned toward the dark firmament, no doubt following Rider of White's every movement, something Phaeton couldn't do right now.

"How is it looking?"

"The exact same it's been looking so far. We're being kicked around."

"Very helpful, thank you very much." He grumbled while gathering his thoughts. "For starters, I'd like to be standing 'up' again. Hey, I'm going to straighten the chariot, try not falling off!"

But his friendly warning to grab onto something real quick was answered with a sudden order.

"If you've got the time to think about that, then think about dodging! He's aiming at us!"

"Huh?" A stupid-sounding grunt was all he could reply.

What did she mean, 'aiming'? Up until now, Rider if White had done nothing but try to ram them down. The young charioteer couldn't remember him using ranged weapons even once...however, now that Archer had mentioned it, a faint memory was emerging. Something about an island being bombed, and almost razed off the map. His memories were fuzzy in regards to the culprit, but he was almost certain a golden aircraft was involved in some way.

He didn't need to wait before finding out – for the next thing that came whistling past his face wasn't a branch, but a bullet.

All of sudden, before he even got to rectify his chariot's position, they were showered with golden and silvery bullets. When he saw a tree being shred to pieces in an instant, a chill ran down his spine. The aircraft was far enough that he couldn't hear it firing those rounds, yet Rider of White's accuracy was almost impeccable. For the records, although he called them bullets it was good to note these rounds were as big as Phaeton's head. A single one of those, and goodbye Holy Grail War.

Thankfully, their trusty chariot was not hit by the first barrage...that being said, since he could hear the clash of metal against metal right next to him, it must have meant Archer was deflecting every single one coming at them.

"If you want to put this useless chariot in the position it's supposed to have, then it's now or never, shiny boy!" Archer howled ferociously.

"I thought I was supposed to dodge!"

"Whichever you like, but at least don't just stand here doing nothing!"

He couldn't catch a break.

But he would take her up on her offer nonetheless.

Before the second barrage would come raining down, the chariot slowly turned around so that Phaeton felt his blood flowing from his head down again. Archer returned to her spot behind him, but she didn't say anything more. If she was going to look out for Rider's next attack, then he would entrust that matter to her. Truth be told, even if he hated being called useless, he at least agreed that he had had enough of being pushed around.

They were made to look like fools by running away all the time.

'Can't do anything if he stays that close'?

That didn't even sound like a proper excuse.

Even now, Michael was probably watching him struggle, thinking of pulling him out as soon as things get complicated. What of his pride as a Heroic Spirit? He wasn't a useless charioteer who could only run away or being cared for, okay? Since that was what they all believed, he would just have show them! He needed that spark, what made Phaeton a Heroic Spirit! Since Archer was defending them, then as the driver he would decide where they were going, and find what to do in order to defeat Rider of White!

This arrogant king up there ought be on his guard: after all, this charioteer knew how much it hurt to bite more than you could chew.

"We're heading back to London!" Wherever the hell they actually where. They had crossed such a long distance in so little time, but it shouldn't take too long. "Archer, can you still see him?"

"He's not very sneaky, so I don't think I'll lose sight of him. So what?"

"Then make sure we aren't losing him! I have a plan!"

"A plan...?"

It was only stray ideas he was putting together in the moment.

Since they were in a pinch and wouldn't get an occasion to fight back, he had very little to work with. Still, Phaeton managed to suggest something to Archer over the sound of the wind blowing in their face. He wasn't sure how sound a strategy it was, but that was all he could offer in a rush. Archer had listened to him without a word, but eventually she gave a smile of approval.

"That's certainely something we can do. I hope you don't mind a bit of improvisation on my part."

"Isn't that what we've been doing from the beginning?"

"Well then, I hope you're ready to improvise further, 'cause he's coming back!"

Just as she said, Rider of White suddenly fired a second barrage at them. But the situation was different now. They had a plan, a real plan. And all they needed to do for now was race forward like the fate of the world depended on it. Maybe it was because he now had a clear objective in mind, but Phaeton's chest felt lighter. Nevermind that death was raining down on their head, he was the son of the Sun, and the Sun was not so easily struck down!

He forced the chariot to make a rather rough U-turn, before ordering the horses to gallop as fast as they could toward Inner London. Hopefully they hadn't left the area designated by Ruler – but even then, they would quickly return back inside it, so surely it wasn't a problem?

The chariot was now flying just above ground level, illuminating its own path in the night. They were so close in fact that they were leaving a trail of burnt grass in their wake.

The bullets of gold and silver were flying around them, making a mess of the fields around them. This time at least, the driver could see them before they could reach them, and the chariot had no problem zigzagging between the projectiles and the explosions. Even if one or two of them threatened to hit home, Archer just swatted them aside like they were flies.

Then, at some point, the bullets couldn't even hope to reach them at all. After racing over a certain distance, the chariot had now picked up enough momentum that it completely outsped the rain of death. Now, instead of attacking them from a distance Rider of White had no choise but to focus on catching up to them, which was well within Phaeton's plan.

But of course, it was too much to ask for him to follow them quietly. No third barrage ever came – it didn't take a genius to understand that the bullets were completely ineffectual now that they couldn't hit. But that did not mean Rider of White was out of options, far from it. In the end, the main issue with what Phaeton and Archer were trying to pull out was: not dying on the way. Even though they had picked up some speed, as Archer informed the aircraft was still hot on their heel, still well within range to try something.

"He's not attacking immediatly..." She noted.

"That's great. If he keeps that up he's my favorite person ever."

"Wait a minute." Archer squinted. "He's putting away his huge machine guns."

"And...?"

"And something else is coming out instead."

"Oh, by the gods..."

A sudden chill ran up his back.

The young charioteer decided to trust his instinct and immediatly altered their course. The next moment, he heard a high pitched noise coming from the sky above – next thing he knew, a ray of light split the night apart and set the ground ablaze right next to the chariot. The sound of destruction echoed and the laser beam fired by the golden aircraft created a detonation in its wake. Because of that, its range was much larger than the 'puny' projectiles from before, and Rider had to further deviate on the side.

It wasn't just the range as well: this light beam had been much faster than any of Rider's previous attacks. Thankfully the distance between the two vehicles made it easier to see it coming, but not to the extent that they could rely on it. And as per of course, it was also much stronger than what the machine guns had had to offer.

That was the power which had reduced an island to smithereens. In fact, it was a wonder why that monster of a man hadn't started with that.

The answer was probably that he couln't abuse it, yet Phaeton's memories disagreed with that theory.

"That's not something I can deflect with my machete." Archer commented.

"I wasn't going to ask you to try it!"

"Well, if I have to say it's more or less the same as when I catch sunlight. It's not that impressive, if you want my opinion."

"You make it sound like your opinion matters! If one of those land it will still kill you, you know?!"

"Getting cold feet now?"

"I'll have you know I'm worried about you!"

"How cute." Her comment was lacking her usual teasing tone though.

"I'm being serious, you know? I'm not the one in real danger here!" Although that was yet to be proven, as he wasn't quite ready to bet on it.

And to make matters worse, they couldn't keep flying at low height forever.

Up ahead in the distance, buildings were appearing – of course they would, they were retreating back to civilization faster than a jet fighter could. Staying at ground level any longer involved the risk of destroying a few buildings; not an achievement he wanted to add to his list of collateral damages. Thus, whether he liked it or not Phaeton let the flaming chariot gain altitude until it towered above the buildings approaching at frightening speed.

But that meant reducing the distance separating them from Rider of White.

What was the worse that could happen?

Another laser beam apparently, which he barely avoided as they ascended.

"And our objective isn't even in sight yet!"

The sickly-colored mist, though it was hard to discern in the dark of the night, was still further up ahead.

"Well, I guess it's my time to shine then." Archer, who sounded a bit more relaxed, heaved a sigh and stretched her arms. "Don't you worry about him, shiny boy. I'm gonna show that bastard he bit more than he can chew!"

"Are you sure about this...?" He asked hesitantly.

"I don't have a habit of disappointing people, I will have you know. If I say I'm gonna do something, then there's no way I can't do it! Right now, all the bets are on the great Archer of Red~! So just keep going straight forward, and leave it to me."

"...Fine." He grumbled.

He was too far gone to be embarassed about it.

At times like these, it sure was nice to have a brazen braggart to watch your back.

"I'm counting on you."

---

* Umineko – Tomorrow

Incidentally, Phaeton didn't witness the following:

Archer traded her machete and stone axe for a hook in each hand. There was still some distance between them and their pursuer; too much, in fact, for her to make the first move. That wasn't a problem: for now she only had to protect the boy behind her back, so it was fine if she waited. Although the hooks in her hands were twirling already, her attention was focused on the golden canon sticking out from the aircraft's golden hull. That was where the light had come from, and where it could come from again at a moment's notice.

The canon was moving around slightly...he was aiming.

Since she had told the charioteer to keep forward, he only needed to calculate their path and the distance in order to make a direct hit. And her job was to make sure these laser beams would never make direct contact. That was not an easy job, truth be told: if she made a mistake, she wouldn't have the time to correct it. She didn't have an ounce of hesitation though – a braggart though she might be, she had never put up a front of fake bravery.

She would do it, without conditions.

At last, the canon lit up before another beam of condensed light erupted. And, as expect, right in their direction. She could sense the driver tense up behind her back, but she only sighed tiredly. Her arm moved almost on its own, and for sure the ray of light vanished from the night sky without its usual path of destruction. Not that it had entirely disappeared: it was now trapped in her hook and making pretty twirls in the dark. She didn't fire it back though – she was only waving it around to taunt Rider of White.

"How do you like it, having your precious attack stolen? I bet you were pretty proud of your toys. Well, how does it feel now you piece of shit?!"

Not that Rider of White could hear her.

Still, when the canon's barrel lit up again, she took it as an indirect answer. She could try to catch that one as well, as to hammer home how pointless it was. On the other hand, she had another idea, sadistically satisfying at the mere thought of it.

In other words, that was when she returned the light she had caught previously.

Since Rider of White was in a good position to hit them, then she was in a good position to do the exact same.

And she was not disappointed, for she hit her target dead on: that is, the canon itself. Before it could fire another beam, it was reached by the one it had fired before. That being said, since it was about to fire anyway it seemed like the two beams had collided, except inside the barrel itself. The deflagration which followed was a sight to behold; Archer had to raise her arm in front of her eyes. For a moment, the golden aircraft completely disappeared from sight, blocked by the explosion that shook the sky.

But she didn't expect that to be the end of it. If it was that simple, they wouldn't be having this aerial chase right now.

Although it was fuming profusely, the aircraft emerged from the explosion's aftermath in one piece. Which probably meant its owner was unscathed as well. Well, his body of course – his pride was another matter. This time unlike before, she could practically feel Rider's murderous intent as if it was physical. But he ought to know – the feeling was mutual. Archer had known it the very moment she had laid eyes on him: they were diametrally opposed existences. She was a being who would protect and support humanity to the very end. That guy was the exact opposite: not someone who slaughtered humans nor wished to wipe them out; a being who belittled humans and considered them the same as crawling insects.

VVVVVVVHHHH–!

"–!"

The golden aircraft suddenly sped up and considerably reduced the distance between them. Archer had almost lost sight of it because of that. Had that happened, she wouldn't have seen the badly damaged canon disappear inside the hull – before being replaced by three others with the exact same appearance! The aircraft and the chariot were now almost side by side. Rider of White still kept a good distance between them. Firstly because he didn't want to be within range of whatever she might pull off, but mainly because of the downpour that was about to follow.

All three canons fired at once.

"Trying to send more than I can counter, huh?"

While commendable, that was still a vast underestimation of her abilities.

So what if he fired three of them? She only had two hooks in hand, but that only meant she needed to focus more. She did not need complexe planning, only outstanding skill – she was, after all, the very best fisherman the world had ever known! Archer accepted the challenge and unleashed her fishing hooks. She simply grabbed two laser beams, before intercepting the third one midflight using one she had caught. This way she still had one light beam to spare, and she didn't lose time before returning it.

But Rider of White just wouldn't give up on this strategy - he only increased the number of canons each time he failed. Four, then five and so on. Meanwhile, he did not fall into the same trap twice: whenever Archer used his own beams against him, the aircraft managed to avoid them skillfully. Six canons, then seven, then eight...

And it was indeed growing difficult to counter them all.

"Using overwhelming force to crush anything in your path, that feels like your own nature! But you're playing against the greatest trickster of them all!"

Rider of White's approach was sound, as Archer was slowly being overwhelmed. However, it was founded upon a single, deeply flawed assumption no person sane of mind would have ever made. Namely, that she only had two hooks at her disposal. Her Noble Phantasm, Manaialakani: Constellation of the Great Hook normally only consisted of one single man-sized fishing hook. But she could divide it into several smaller hooks if need be – as many as eight of them!

When the number of canons became too much for two hooks to handle, Archer deployed all eight of them. What followed was the strange dance of someone juggling with eight hooks in order to catch attacks coming ceaselessly. Yet, for how unpractical and ridiculous it looked, she managed to hold up. The space between the two flying vehicles was filled with explosions illuminating the night to its core. It was like a golden firework.

That being said, Archer couldn't say she was very happy with how things were going. Even though she was managing her eight hooks expertfully, she'd rather not use more than three to begin with. This was asking a level of dexterity she couldn't hold up forever.

Twelve canons, thirteen canons, fourteen...

Just how many pieces of artillery did this aircraft have?! They just kept sprouting on the same side without end, in a way that made no logical sense. In fact, taking into account the bullets from before, there was no way that spaceship-looking vehicle could hold this many things within it.

Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one...

Most likely, the inside was much larger than the outside. If it could twist sapce like this, or rearrange its composition, this aircraft reall was on a league of its own. They had now reached a point where the aircraft had so many canons on the same side, firing all of them at the same time was pushing it back.

But it was working just as Rider of White intended.

Archer did her best, but that was just getting ridiculous. She was even working up a sweat, something rare enough to write down in History.

By now, some beams managed to escape her vigilance, although they harmlessly flew past the chariot. She was nearing her limit.

"How long...do I have to keep...doing this, shiny boy...!"

"We're there!"

And indeed, although she was too busy to notice, they were flying over the sea of mist again.

"G-good job holding up...! Here I go, so don't fall off!"

---

She had held up even better than he had expected. That preposterous barrage of light rays was partly due to her own provocations, but even so he was glad he had trusted her. Though it had happened in the span of a few minutes, she had allowed them to travel all the way back to where they had engaged Rider of White.

In other words, the floating palace and its dimmed radiance were once again in sight.

They didn't need to travel any further than that.

Although that was originally not part of the plan, Phaeton wanted to relieve Archer of her burden and escape the aircraft, if only for an instant. Once the sickly-colored mist was once again masking the world below, Phaeton mustered his courage and audacity for what was about to happen. Once that was done, he did the very same thing he had sworn to never consider ever again: he dived recklessly toward the ground.

Well, ground or water, whichever it was – this thick supernatural fog could even contain Olympus that he wouldn't be able to tell. But that was exactly why he let the chariot plunge: Rider of White would lose them instantly. It was impossible to tell where was what below this blanket of mist; just like the Servants of Red before him, the Servant of White was deprived of his superiority when it came to the world below.

Ignoring the downpour of scorching light, the chariot descended in a straight line before successfully diving below the unknown.

The world inside the dark smoke was...exactly the same as it looked from outside: you couldn't see a damn thing. In fact, you could barely even see two meters in front of him. As he adjusted the chariot's trajectory to fly horizontaly, a hundred reasons why this was a terrible idea flashed inside Phaeton's mind. Well, he just couldn't help it. It was scary, being courageous. But for once, he told his mind to shut up and let him do what he wanted: unless he wanted to crash into a building, panic could be damned.

But surprisingly, the chariot didn't ram anything on its way. Maybe that was because he had tried to follow the Thames, but that didn't mean he was flawlessly accurate. And even then, he had feared to encounter a bridge. Still, he didn't have the time to get drunk on his achievements. It was risky to stay down here any longer, not to mention their objective wasn't to hide.

"I'm rising up!" He warned Archer.

Now that they had managed to hide, a part of him was reluctant to head out again; but it could sit in the corner right next to panic. The next moment, they emerged from the world of smoke into the world of golden light. Immediatly, Phaeton scanned their surrounding hurriedly in order to spot Rider of White. That wasn't too hard, as that man had been searching for them as well. He was still flying at the same height, though as demonstrated before, it was meaningless. Close by or far away – either way he could reach them with ease. But this time around, Phaeton wanted him to be as close as possible.

That was the next phase of the plan.

"Archer, are you ready?!...Archer?"

Phaeton called her a second time, but he was ignored.

Impatiently, he turned around...

Only to find no one behind his back. No one holding onto the handrail, no one tip-toeing where they shouldn't. Nobody, absolutely niet.

She had fallen off?

She had fallen off.

She had fallen off!

"W-wai-what-huh-hey-don't joke – huh?!" His mouth stuttered fragments of words in no coherent order, with no real sentence in mind. He was simply translating his confusion into words. "You're kidding right? What do I do now?! I don't know where she is! I can't even look for her! And that guy..."

He was now alone, facing Rider of White. And the latter wouldn't care to allow him a time out. Phaeton's entire body froze – he wanted to plunge all over again; hide in a hole or something and never see the light of day ever again. In this very moment, a split second before Rider of White made his move, he was faced with a choice: reckless, unrealistic bravery, or good ol' cowardice.

"Kh...ghhh...I'm so gonna kill her later...!"

To hell with that.

They had gone this far, he only needed a little push. He only had to endure; fear, intimidation, the unlikeliness, all of it.

The flaming chariot began its course toward the golden aircraft.

However, because of his surprise he had lost time and was greeted by Rider's weaponry. But it wasn't the beams he had been bombarding them with, and didn't look like the bullets that had almost torn him into pieces. A myriad of small spherical objects were released through holes in the aircraft's hull. And after being dropped into the night sky, these spheres blasted off toward the flaming chariot.

In other words, those were missiles.

Phaeton gave up at once his plan of charging the aircraft and turned away. He honestly had no idea what this aircraft was, nor what its weapons were made of. In any case, he didn't want to find it out the hard way. Though arguably, there was no other way than the hard way: a quick glance behind his back told him that the missiles were following him, no matter how many turns he made. And of course, the one person who could get rid of them from afar had mysteriously disappeared at the worst possible moment!

He couldn't afford to waste time on those. For starters, whatever maneuvre he would make, these missiles would follow him until he tired out. Moreover, Rider of White didn't have to wait idly by until that happened. If he had the occasion, he would shoot him down without mercy.

So there was no choice, huh...?

He didn't want to...

His guts were screaming not to...

But at times like this, the craziest option might turn out to be the best. Or the least hopeless, at any rate.

Thus Phaeton strayed from his original plan and dived...but not toward the mist. Toward the only thing visible through the screen of black smoke. Toward the golden floating palace moored in the Thames – toward Rider of Black. Of all the reckless nosedives he had done tonight, this was probably the most nerve-wrecking. He was headed toward someone who had power on the same scale as Divine Spirits, or so Archer had said. Caligula had remained strangely passive during the aerial ballet between the two other Riders, probably due to his short range. But since he was there anyway, he wouldn't mind being taken advantage of, right?

(Hahaha, the hell am I doing...)

He wanted to laugh to alleviate his anxiety, but he couldn't even spare that little attention. After all, if he made a single mistake here, he was toast. It wasn't like crashing against a building, where he had a fair chance of surviving. It wasn't like being shot down, where he had a chance to cushion his fall. He was approaching what was basically a living event horizon, like a madman with a death wish. But in the end, it was either that, or the missiles which were still hot on his heels.

He was approaching fast...

Very fast...

Too fast to his liking, approaching the other madman standing still on the boat's deck. Rider of Black hadn't moved an inch, even after the two airborne Servants had disappeared from London. Once he was close enough to exchange gaze with him, Phaeton felt a new wave of panic overcoming him, but he gritted his teeth and proceeded nonetheless. He couldn't chicken out now. It wasn't just a matter of principle: he was so far gone that any act of pulling away would result in his untimely death. So he edged closer...and closer still...just a little more...

(...Now!)

And then, he drifted.

It was arguable whether or not there was solid ground under the chariot's wheels. That being said, even air had friction so the idea didn't sound so ridiculous to him. In any case, what he performed next could only be called a drift; midair, diagonally, between a boat of destruction and a rain of missiles. Rather than cursing his luck, Phaeton completely shut off his brain and let his body do the work. Between controlling his speed at the last moment and making a turn soon enough as to not collide with the ship, thinking would only terrify him to the core. There was also a chance Rider of Black would crush him before he could try anything, but he had to purge this scenario from his mind as well.

As the flaming chariot made the sharpest turn in its career, he was only a few meters away from Caligula. He pretended not to see him and kept drifting.

Arduously...distressingly...but successfully.

Suddenly, the oppressive radiance of the luxurious vessel was behind him, and he felt his entire being ascending rapidly. Only then did he allow his thoughts to flow through his mind. At once, fear, incredulity, recklessness, relief and exasperation flooded his heart. Yet with no effort, he brushed them aside. All his fear was useless now – not being afraid when he ought to, wasn't that what made him Phaeton?

He had done it.

All those watching him – especially through his own eyes – must have thought this was a hopeless situation. What kind of bewilderement, what admiration was now shining in their eyes? His heart was beating wildly in his chest at the mere thought of it.

If Caligula had intended to harm him, he didn't get to do it, and the chariot was flying away victoriously. He had done it; he was alive and well. He didn't need to turn around to know what happened to the missiles. They had followed him mercilessly down to the last moment. But now was when they stopped pursuing him: the charioteer had not forgotten how Archer's assaults had been rendered useless by Caligula. The first reason why Phaeton had gotten so close to imminent death was so the missiles would approach Caligula. And without fail, the latter had destroyed them, or nullified them. Regardless, he couldn't feel their presence behind him anymore.

And this was all his doing. Not Archer's, not anyone else's! So he didn't need fear; and neither did he need relief. In this moment, he didn't want to recover his calm. He didn't want to settle down and feel like he was facing an impossible hurdle again. Right now his chest was beating with bravery of the stupidest kind – courage of the most exhilarating kind. He needed it a little longer, the pride and hubris of Phaeton!

For after all, there was another reason why he had dived so close to the ground.

It was so he would have just as much distance when going up. Rider of White must have been of those who believed his back was against the wall. He was not bothering to chase him down like he used to, even though that was what had made their confrontation so one-sided. And though the chariot was low below the golden aircraft's glow, the latter was foolishly staying in place as though it was untouchable.

Since that was the case, he would show him as well.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Phaeton soared fearlessly toward his opponent, staring down the aircraft without an ounce of hesitation.

"Rideeeeeeerrr–!"

The chariot soared faster. Faster, faster, and faster yet! Every single spin of the wheels increased its velocity without fail, until the flaming chariot couldn't be told apart from a shooting star. The horses were galloping with all their strength, although they were only an illusion. Well, no, they were more than an illusion. They were part of this chariot, part of his hubris and part of his incandescence. They weren't merely made of fire – they were fire! And so they eventually lost their equine shape and merged with the flames decorating what was an imitation of the Sun itself.

Phaeton, along with his ride, had become a ball of fire.

And yet, Rider of White didn't so much as move aside. When someone confronted him so directly, so intensely, he couldn't bear to fall back or lose in strength. That was why he held onto his position and was preparing to crush him with excessive strength. He wouldn't be seen losing a battle against someone like Phaeton.

That man...was undoubtely just as prideful and blind as the young charioteer riding passionately had once been.

His reply to the oncoming shooting star was intensive suppressive fire: at once, a great many canons emerged from the aircraft's mysterious interior. When they all fired in unisson, it wasn't a rain of light but a single, concentrated beam that could have razed and entire district. This was several orders of magnitude above what he had thrown at them until now, anyone could have told.

That was a challenge Phaeton accepted without thinking twice about it.

"See for yourself...who's the foolish and reckless one here!"

He was the son of the sun.

If that light believed it could blind his eyes, if it claimed to burn his body to a crisp – if that was what people expected, then he would remind them who it was that had withstood the heat of the Sun!

Just as Rider of White had refused to escape him, Phaeton refused to fly around the ray of light fired at him. The chariot-turned-shooting star collided with the light, entered its bliding embrass without the shackles of fear. He didn't even close his eyes: as expected, this light was nothing.

Saying he endured it would be incorrect; he resisted it, he pushed it back ferociously! The chariot, which was now too powerful to be brought down with only that much power, pushed back the ray of light. Slowly, it was split apart, unable to slow down the vehicle's mighty stampede.

* Stop music

It was too late for Rider of White to regret his conceit – when the two godly vessels collided, it was as though a meteor had blown up in the sky.

Both the clouds above and the mist below were swayed by the powerful gale born in its aftermath, and the highest windows of the surrounding buildings shattered. If only for an instant, the blast of fire that bloomed intensely in the dead of the night outshone every other light.

Phateon was rocked to the core, in more than one way. First of all, physically: he was immune to fire, not to shockwaves. The sheer strength of impact almost propelled him out of his chariot, and despite avoiding that he could feel every bone in his his body vibrate. It was like a mini-earthquake was happening inside him. Incidentally, he was also shaken mentally, and at last a little voice whispered in his ear that maybe, maybe this wasn't the brightest idea he'd ever had. For a second, he feared that the collision might tear his chariot apart.

It wasn't an indestructible Noble Phantasm like the other Servants had, and it had a history of being destroyed.

On the other hand, another thought came to him: that if it was that bad for him, it must have been hell for his opponent. The impact had been so strong and sudden, he hadn't even felt resistance from the aircraft. Maybe it had been blown away, or had fallen apart. Or maybe the shock was just so great Phaeton couldn't feel much of anything right now.

All in all, the collision was short enough to be called instantaneous.

And with it came the consequences.

With the realization that his actions were putting even his own life in danger, Phaeton hadn't had the gals to keep pushing forward. As such he was expecting to be propelled back quite strongly and readied himself for the mess that would follow.

However, no mess followed.

* Stop music

In truth, he didn't suffer any important knockback from his powerful charge – if the chariot didn't keep forward, it sure wasn't repeled backward either. This was not normal, not one bit normal, and Phaeton's alarms were blaring loudly in his head. After the last flames vanished and the smoke faded away, he discovered with shock and horror the reason behind this unlikely development.

Simply put, his chariot hadn't moved a iota because someone's hand had held it back. Because someone's hand had held onto his chariot, with enough strength to keep it in place. Despite the ongoing deflagration!

That was the only way the charioteer explained this situation, for indeed there was large hand grabbing the handrail, right in front of him. A strong, veiny hand attached to a muscular arm as thick as Phaeton's head. And this arm belonged to none other than Rider of White.

The golden aircraft, either by miracle or through another mechanism, was still here – only inches away from the chariot. Rider of White had left his throne at the back of the deck and had walked through his garden to stand at the very tip of the ark-shaped aircraft. And Phaeton wished he had stayed on his chair, for he was tenfold as scary up close. If anything, he could swear the regalian Servant had grown in height and in size. Even though the chariot was slightly higher than the aircraft at the moment, their heads were on the same level. And that monster of a man was glarring death.

Something else attracted the eyes however.

His body was in terrible shape, an ample proof that he had stood at the center of the deflagration. There were few areas were his skin hadn't been deeply burned and melted; his hair were white as ashes and still burning, like a frightening mane. In fact, his entire body was fuming like a volcano! And if you looked closer, parts of body had been blown away here and there, or plainly disintegrated. Yet Rider of White was standing tall and mighty as though none of this were a matter for concern. His extensively wounded body was not cause for relief in Phaeton's heart, quite the opposite.

Who could suffer injuries like that and still be standing?!

There were other changes to his appearance.

At the same time his body had grown in proportion, it had also grown darker. The nightmaring grimace adorning his face displayed two rows of sharp teeth - and with his cheeks burned to ashes, his gums were visible and his smile was like a shark's.

And finally, there were his eyes. Such eyes could not belong to human, mortal or half-divine alike. Those were the eyes of demon, filled with ominous power; an existence on a higher scale. All in all, as Rider of White stood tall and proud in front of him, Phaeton felt like he had become minuscule, a rat in comparison to this inhuman being.

Whereas Rider of White held the chariot with his left hand, he had the other clamped tightly around the shaft of a spear. It was a magnificent black and golden trident, imposing in length and width. But Phaeton didn't think much of its appearance – he was much more concerned by how its three sharp ends were aimed at him. At any moment it could be thrust at him, and there was little he could do against that.

A memory resurfaced, that of a black giant wielding an equaly impressive spear. Another Servant on who Phaeton's attempts had been fruitless. Needless to say, after such a cold shower, his brazen bravery had left him. Instinctively,his nameless sword had appeared in his hand, but in all honesty he didn't know if he had the strength to swing it. More than despair, what rose up from within him was exasperation.

"You...can't be serious. Why is it always like that?" He complained out loud. Both the Lancer and the Rider fo White...such a pain, it was like destiny always sent monsters like that his way. "Why is it always someone I can't kill?! Dammit...!"

His body felt feeble; all he could do was stare at the weapon meant to kill him. After hearing his lamentations, a sound rose from Rider of White's chest. It sounded like a mountain stream's rumble, although all he had done was exhaling.

"Why do you weep, warrior? Few soldiers can brag to have played me and my Pushpaka Vimana to this extent. Even though this is but a fragment of my power, to have me reduced to this state...this chariot of yours in intriguing. It would seem it fits all the criterias to destroy me. This is the closest someone has gotten to killing me, warrior. But this as far as you may go, as a lesser being."

"...Not good enough, is that what you're saying?"

Although his body was feeble, Paheton found the strength to bear that demonic gaze. His courage was not completely extinguished, for what that was worth. While there was respect in Rider of White's voice, there surely was a lot of condescence and contempt as well. The same way you'd compliment a child who doesn't suck at drawing.

"You were unable to destroy me, in spite of this one-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Your ride certainely has power, and I have felt the claws of death brush on my skin. But it amounts to nothing if you cannot finish me at once; I can heal faster than your fire can destroy me!"

And he backed up his words with actions: in front of Phaeton's eyes, his burnt flesh and the missing bits of his body regenerated in the blink of an eye. These wounds inficted at a costly price vanished without trace, without even a scar.

That was not pleasant for the ears – if his words were to be trusted, this power had allowed him to survive in the middle of a world of destruction. What was Phaeton supposed to do against something like that?!

Though he still had defiance, the young charioteer was running low on hope. He couldn't find the will to swing his sword at this opponent, as he knew it would be utterly useless.

"Nonetheless, I will not be careless a second time."

The demon readied his trident

There was nowhere to run to; Phaeton was tied to his chariot, and the latter was in the hands of Rider of White. It wasn't such a large vehicle that he could dodge a weapon ad vitam eternam. No, even before that, he didn't find that strength within himself. When you wanted to fight, there was something you needed before you would need any kind of power. Once that will has been stomped on, what worth was all the strength in the world?

Before Rider of White could thrust his trident, a voice shouted violently inside Phaeton's mind.

Rider!

Right. His Master was still watching.

That's enough! I'm getting you out of here! By this Command Seal, I order you to-

No! Don't bring me back! I'm...I'm not done fighting!

I'm not taking any of this! This isn't the time to act like a kid!

Then stop taking me for a kid! I'm not your kid, I'm your Servant! You've summoned me to fight, like the other Servants! Don't you even trust me for that?!

...That has nothing to do with-

Or did you summon me to feel like shit all the time!?

...

Rider of White swung his arm at last. It was a powerful thrust, as expected of this massive body. Without his chariot, Phaeton wasn't worth that much in a fight. Even if he had tried, he couldn't have hoped to escape that. So what? That wasn't his first time staring death in the eyes. Phaeton...the Servant Phaeton, the Heroic Spirit Phaeton wasn't worthless. He didn't need a reason to hope!

I'm not done, not yet!

It wasn't that time yet.

* Rose Guns Days - Mission 023

And that was because, they were still in the middle of executing their plan.

"Fine! Since it's like that, we're going back to plan A!" He shouted exasperatedly.

"–!"

The trident had been aimed at his head with perfect precision. But instead of impaling his head neatly, it only left a large scar on his cheek. An impressive scratch, but nothing compared to what Rider of White had intended.

It wasn't that he had slipped up. Phaeton hadn't moved an inch compared to before, and the arm holding that trident wasn't one to make a mistake. In fact, the charioteer could feel just how much strength had been behind that thrust, even though it didn't look like Rider of White had produced much of an effort. But the result was the same: the three sharp end of the trident had not impaled his head.

The cause wasn't either of them – it was the footing that had changed. They were hundreds of meters up in the sky after all. Let's say one of their vehicle were to move a little, that would completely screw up any calculation. For exemple...what if the golden aircraft had been pulled?

"What...is the meaning of this?" Rider of White roared.

Neither of them could see it, but something was stuck on the aircraft's belly. Well, to be more accurate, it had caught onto it and refused to let go. It was none other than a fishing hook – a giant fishing hook the size of a grown man had been attached to the Vimana without its owner noticing. The rope attached to it went all the way down to the mist, too low to glimpse the other end. In a way, it was like an anchor for a flying ship. Except instead of keeping it in place, it was actively dragging the aircraft down, slowly but surely.

And it wasn't hard to guess who was at the other end.

'Trying to snatch all the glory for yourself, shiny boy?'

Phaeton didn't actually hear those words, but he was certain that was what she would say.

"What sort of farce is this? What kind of impudent joke do you think you're pulling? Humans?!" The demon's face twisted with rage. That was an expression that would make nightmares run away in fear. "Now your place! If you desire to face me, then you will be the one to come over!"

The White Rider was not planning to wait by quietly, quite the opposite. Either by pride, or through anger, he replied in kind. As expected, he resisted Archer's restless pull with the power of his flying machine, the kind of power that made distances meaningless. And it was nothing to laugh at: when the sound of engines roared, the aircraft stopped being pulled and started pulling.

For a moment at least.

Soon enough it wasn't pulling anymore, and they were equally matched.

But truth be told, he had only managed to pull back because Archer of Red had been caught by surprise. But now the the tide of the battle returned to her favour, and the aircraft was losing altitude again. In fact, it was descending much faster than before, as if to make fun of Rider of White's efforts. Boosters emerged from the aircraft, but he wasn't able to come out on top. It was too late for that: since he had been caught, he wasn't going anywhere.

After all, on the other end was someone who had bragged about lifting the sky.

"Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiideeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrr!"

This time, it wasn't Phaeton's imagination. A ferocious roar resounded from down below, a testament of Archer's determination to bring the Servant of White down.

By the way, while this was going on, Rider of White was still holding firmly onto the flaming chariot and refused to let go. And yet, his attention was entirely directed at the woman beating him in a war-of-tug. In another display of hubris, he was refusing to focus on one adversary. Losing to her was probably more infuriating than Phaeton, yet the latter was at hand's reach and nearly defeated.

Or at least, that was what he believed. Archer mysteriously disappearing from the chariot had not been part of the plan, so Phaeton had had no choice but to improvise. Now though, since they were back to the original plan he had a role to play.

And since Rider of White was so kind as to look away from him, then he would gladly indulge in this occasion.

The strength he had lost before was born anew. In all honesty, he had been on the edge of despair at that time – had he not felt Archer's hook catching onto that accursed Vimana, his hope wouldn't have been rekindled. But that was something of the past, and something which hadn't happened: Phaeton raised his sword above his head and cut off Rider's arm cleanly. With this, the demonic Servant had lost his hold onto the chariot, and the latter could break away from the plumeting golden aircraft.

This, as a matter of course, did nothing to improve Rider of White's mood. He couldn't react in time to prevent the chariot from getting away. And he was still in stuck in contest of tenacity against a particularly stubborn Servant, on the losing side. As such, he was visibly torn as to which opponent to pursue. His eyes, a mixture of wrath and contempt, were glancing from and back the two Servant of Reds.

Not that he could come after Phaeton now. He was too far away, and with his flying engine caught in Archer's trap, he had no way of closing that distance – or so Phaeton had thought.

He was proven direly wrong after Rider of White finally settled with killing him first. The demon's body had already been already tip-toeing on the line between human and monstrous. And yet it strayed even further from its deceptively human basis, when two black bulges budded on his back. The bulges stretched like fresh dough, and in the suddenly they had turned into humongous, raven-black wings.

As he witnessed this transformation, Phaeton was torn between two thoughts. First, that this might make Rider of White one of the largest birds in existence. But more importantly, he felt his body temperature drop when seeing this.

Ragefully, Rider of White took flight.

"No, you don't!"

Phaeton spared him the trouble of coming after him; after pulling himself together, he was the one to charge toward the winged demon. Archer was not dragging the flying vessel for nothing: they wanted him to be as low as possble, and to prevent him from running away. But if that unfair existance sprouted wings and flew away, neither of those conditions could be fulfilled! So Phaeton preferred facing danger head on rather than waste all their efforts. They would not be able to pull the rug from under Rider's feet a second time.

"Why do you just keep making it harder...!"

And he was not as terrified as before. Rider of White had so himself: this chariot was dangerous to him. Now that he had parted with his ride, he couldn't count on its insane speed or its myriad of superweapons anymore. Truthfully, Phaeton couldn't hope to face a more vulnerable version of this enemy.

On the other hand, this opinion was shared by the winged demon, whose confidence hadn't faltered one bit. Not that he was entirely wrong; after so much trouble, the charioteer couldn't fool himself into believing he was completely safe.

Rider of White more than welcomed his initiative. Needless to say, the arm Phaeton had just cut off had already healed completely. That was to be expected, so he didn't mind it too much. It didn't change anything to his plan, which was to take Rider to low height by force. This time around, the chariot was only able to cross a small distance, so it lacked in speed and power. That must have been why the winged Servant was not afraid of it.

Still, if he was able to hit him, Phaeton would teach him to be afraid.

But he had been wrong to think the demon was acting under the influence of anger alone. If that man, a frightening foe all by himself, had not switched weapons, that was because he still planned to use that trident. It was Phaeton's mistake for ignoring his opponent's skillfullness, and he paid that mistake dearly.

At the very last moment, when the horses of fire pulling the chariot were about to run that demon over, the trident was hurled toward Phaeton. After all, even with its already impressive reach, nothing prevented it from being thrown.

"Gah...!"

But it was a bit to late to notice that once the trident was already stabbed in his guts, and quite deeply so. Phaeton's body shook from the intense pain – his chest felt like it was on fire, a sensation he hadn't thought he would ever feel. From the impact alone, he had the impression his body was split in half; the middle spike might have reached all the way to his spine.

The only silver lining was that, with the impeding threat of the chariot, Rider of White hadn't used enough strength to knock him off his feet. Had that happened, it would have been game over for him who could not grow wings.

Well, there was another saving grace: the fact that Phaeton managed to keep his ideas straight. Blood gushed out of his mouth in quantity and he lost strength in his limbs, but the will to plunge with Rider of White remained. Actually, this excruciating pain was numbing his brain and he couldn't entertain thoughts of giving up or retreating. There was only one thought in his mind.

Keep going.

Keep going.

Win.

Show them what you are made of.

"Hhhrr...hraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" He roared in mindless determination.

Probably not what the winged demon had expected from a 'lesser being'. In his mind, he must have imagined Phaeton dying on the spot or being too weak to carry on. Too bad for him, without being a hero, the young man was known for being stubborn. Incidentally, Rider of White was still on the chariot's path – the ethereal horses passed through his body without much harm, before the main body slammed into him with all its weight and momentum.

Phaeton winced: the brunt had caused the trident stuck in his stomach to twist and move around, and more blood spilled out between his clenched teeth. Damn it, he wasn't a great warrior or anything! He couldn't really call himself tough, and the first wound he received was enough to put him in that state. The only part of his body he could feel correctly was his belly, from how much it hurt, and his hands from how hard they were sqeezing the reins.

Just a little more...

Just a last push...

Rider of White was not giving up. Exactly as he had boasted before, the full brunt of Phaeton's charge was barely an inconvenience. Even with flamed devouring his body slowly, his flesh and bones recovered so fast you could hardly tell a difference. However, that didn't change the fact that the chariot had pinned him down. The fiery vehicle was still running furiously, and without solid ground under his feet he couldn't get away from its crushing mass and momentum. He wasn't planning to remain that way of course – his flesh was moving around, growing and expanding.

He was acquiering the strength he needed to crush him.

At the same time, his hand brandished a new weapon, even scarier than his trident. It was a curved sword of magnificent craft. It looked delicate and fragile, but Phaeton was ready to bet it wasn't. Its blade's color was that of the moon, and even beyond craftsmanship it was obvious this sword was on a different league than the trident draining his of his strength. If he had to tell by sight alone, it was at least on the same level as that aircraft.

"Khhh..., a fake moon...against a fake sun, huh?" His voice was getting hoarse.

Just a little more...

But too much for him. The chariot had successfully brought Rider of White near the top of the highest buildings, close to the sea of mist. However, that was not the end of it. They needed one last effort...one last move.

Phaeton looked left and right, in search of his only ally.

"Archer!"

Rider of White had become massive now – the chariot was starting to look small in comparison. Now he could easily reach from Phaeton by raising his sword. Which meant it was time; that was where his role ended, and where he entrusted the rest to Archer. Hopefully, the latter had understood what he was about to do. Her head was always full of dangerous ideas, so the answer was probably yes.

Phaeton changed the chariot's course abruptly. In fact, he made it as sudden and brutal as he could, for the objective this time was to forcefully shake the winged demon off. The latter was taken by surprise and was promptly thrown off the fiery ride. He was not helplessly hurled away though - thanks to his large wings, he made perfect recovery mid-air. With how few lights there were tonight, his massive, threatening frame hovering in the dark of the night would send chills down your heart.

He looked exactly like a monster a hero should defeat.

And there happened to be a hero nearby.

After Rider of White had decided to chase after the young charioteer, it had been child's play for Archer to drag the Vimana down. But while Phaeton had put on a show of bravery up in the sky, she had had no choice but to keep her hands on it. Right now, her feet were not resting on any physical foothold. Instead she was standing up in the middle of empty air thanks to her Culture Hero skill.

When Rider of Red cried out her name, she immediatly understood what he wanted her to do. That was a good thing since she didn't know what to do with this aircraft now. So even before Rider of White was shaken off the flaming chariot, she had started to swing the golden aircraft in a wiiiiiide circle above her head, faster and faster.

This didn't fail to attract the winged Servant's attention, as well as his ire.

"To treat the palace of he who conquered gods, demons and men alike, in such manner...! Your due sentence is to die and be reborn as an insect, sow!"

"Fine, you can have it back!"

When Rider of White stopped moving and the timing was just right, she released the captured aircraft. With her unparalleled strength, saying she threw it hard did not come close to the truth. If anything, it had enough sheer power to mess Phaeton's hair even though he was completely out of the way.

And she hit bullseye.

Rider of White had grown large, but his ride was larger still. When the divine flying machine crashed against him, he was dragged along in its inexorable course. Once again it didn't have much effect on him. As a matter of fact, he planted his arms against the golden surfaced and resisted with nothing but his strength alone. Gradually but visibly, the aircraft slowed down. Soon enough it had lost too much momentum to keep soaring, until it came to a complete halt. And it had been done nearly effortlessly by Rider of White.

But it was already too late by then.

For what mattered was not the trip, but the destination.

"I...haven't forgotten you."

* Stop music

Rider of White had regained possession of his vehicle, but he was now exactly where the Servants of Red had intended to take him.

That is, within Caligula's range.

From the floating palace arose a gigantic arm, made of gold, silver and jewels. Before Rider of White could understand what was happening, the massive inorganic fist coiled its merciless grasp around both him and his aircraft. The winged demon was squeezed tightly against his machine with no means of escape. Then, slowly, the arm closed in on the boat's deck, where Rider of Black stood solemnly.

The murderous emperor spoke in a deep, authoritarian voice.

"I lay eyes on your face for the first time, but I could recognize you even amidst a boundless crowd. You who fly impudently within my sky. You who shamelessly robbed me of the most sublime radiance in this world. My mistress, prettier than even Venus, my beloved Diana...you are the filthy pile of smut who dared take her away from me!"

The grasp around Rider of White tightened.

It was not absolute though, as the trapped Servant fought, and even manage to break one of his arms free. That was the arm holding his curved sword; he brandished the blade above his head, whereupon energy began to gather and fester inside the moon-colored metal. The next moment, pure unadultered energy was released from the sword like a bolt of lightning, and the entire arm crumbled down.

Rider of White was now ready to repeat that action directly on Caligula.

However, the emperor would have none of that – his clenched fist was raised above his head. Many arms emerged from the golden floating palace, smaller than the previous one but numbering at least a hundred. Rider of White swung his sword to annihilate them, but he couldn't destroy all of them, and teh were regenerating faster still. They reached him before he could fly away, before greddily grabbing his limbs and coiling around his body without end.

Then, when Caligula swing down his fist violently, the arms hurled Rider of White toward the ship's hull, where a gigantic mouth appeared to swallow him, and disappeared as suddenly. The murderous emperor, who had not moved an inch from his position this entire time, also began to sink slowly inside his boat as though the ground was liquid, and he disappeared for good as well.

As for what was about to happen inside, who could tell?

Archer and Rider of Red were now the only Servants around, at least above the mist.

"We've done it, shiny boy!" Archer cheered loudly. "It wasn't so hard, see?"

"What the heck...since when can you walk on air like that?! If I had know, I wouldn't have let you on..."

"Oh come on~, don't tell me you regret having me around~!"

"Heh...I guess we did okay...but still, couldn't you not disappear from the chariot...?"

"Whaaat~, I thought you didn't mind some improvisation...Shiny boy?...Hey, what are you doing!?"

Archer's voice sounded a bit distant.

Really, it was almost laughable how much they had struggled to defeat a single opponent. But it wasn't too bad, in the end.

But now Rider was losing grip on his consciousness. The trident, which had been left in his guts, eventually vanished. More blood spilled out, and what remained of his strength left him. This chariot was pulled forward by his will, so now that the world was getting blurry around him, it suddenly lost its ability to fly.

For one time too many tonight, he dived helplessly, though this time he couldn't quite see what was below. He might crash on a street, in the water, or he might even follow Rider of White inside the golden boat. In all honesty, he didn't care that much. Now that they had won, the drowsiness enveloping his mind felt comfortable; he wanted to lie down a bit and forget about the rest.

Ironically, this was the closest to his untimely death. Falling helplessly, his body in a mess and with no one to catch him.

Like a curse, memories of that time were resurfacing, even in his hour of glory.

Hah, jokes on them.

It wasn't so scary anymore.

He had won.

He had shown he wasn't just a cluless boy making a mess of things.

Hopefully it made them proud.

Michael.

And his father.

---

Thank you for reading!

What the hell is that chapter? I think I should stop complaining and embrace the fact that I can't write a scene without making it a kilometer-long. Still, this is five time longer than I had expected...In fact, that might be the longest chapter focusing on a single fight, so I guess it's an achievement?

Anyway.

After so much time, it's the triumphant return of they who haven't fought since an eternity! In fact, did any of you remember Rider of White existed before this chapter? This si the perks of a new arc. Another being making new pairs with interesting chemistry - I'm quite fond of writing dialogue for Maui and Phaeton, even moreso between them. For them, this chapter is nothing but hurdle after hurdle after hurdle after yet another hurdle. But in the end, it turned out to be more of a Phaeton chapter.

Once again, thank you for reading! Don't hesitate to comment, review or ask a question.

~Legends Storyteller