* Umineko - Terminal entrance

* Higurashi - Moon bow

Interlude X

* Umineko – Terminal entrance

"I see. I thought this was only a smoke screen, but it's clearly more potent than that. I understand why the Yellow Emperor absolutely needed to deal with that fog."

Alexander Lendric mused pensively as he walked down the misty streets of London.

Or at least he believed these were streets – he had fundamentally no way of knowing for sure. At first, he had thought of this black smoke as nothing more than what it looked like: a mean of hiding their movements from the enemy. But it only took him a few minutes inside to understand there was more than meet-the-eyes with this weather. It wasn't just his eyes – his other senses felt numbed as well, and most important of all, his sense of direction. It was deeply disconcerting, like being in the middle of a wide empty room with your eyes blindfolded. You weren't exactly sure what was around you, only what was supposed to be there.

If anything, this was more than he had hoped.

He had asked Saber of Black to create this thick fog because he knew they would be under close scrutiny by the Red Faction. It hadn't been conjecture – there was no way the Mage's Association would allow them to move freely within their territory. And he wasn't only thinking of the Servants and Masters; there were other eyes locked onto them. This was a city of many secrets after all, and he couldn't claim to have laid eyes on its depth. That was why, he hadn't bothered with secrecy when entering the battlefield.

Rider's floating temple had served another purpose other than defense: their pompous entrance had allowed Assassin to scout the area.

But as expected, even someone of his caliber was quickly spotted and intercepted.

As such, when the signal was launched, Saber of Black had breathed out this black mist and had it hold the surroundings in its eerie embrace. Alledgedly, whether it was natural or supernatural weather, she could create it by manipulating the 'balance of the world'. Alexander wasn't much of a philosopher, and not much of a scholar either, but as a magus all he could observe was that this didn't quite feel like magecraft. If anything, it was closer to the kind of power an Elemental would wield.

(Well, she is quite close to a Divine Spirit, I suppose.)

That being said, although the confounding properties of this mist were beneficial, it was also a double-edged sword. Saber claimed she could find her way out with no issue, but she didn't mention how the other members of the Black Faction could do the same. She had little reason to conceal these informations from them at this point, so Alexander took it as meaning there was no technique in particular. It was meant to be efficient, not convenient.

Despite knowing that, he had headed out, without a Servant to protect him and without knowing was awaited him.

And he was rather sure of himself

The surprise of having your senses robbed from you could almost make you lose balance, but it was a matter of adapting. He couldn't tell where he was nor even what was under his feet. But he didn't mind as long as it was solid ground, and not water. But who knew, with this much confusion he might even be able to climb up a building and fall to his death. Yet he was confident that such a scenario wouldn't happen; he was even ready to bet he could easily find his way out of this world of fog.

That was because, in the end, he didn't need to 'find' anything.

Nothing was flawless in this world, especially when it came to the supernatural. And in general, the fewer weak points one had, the more dangerous those weaknesses were. As for the present situation, Alexander had discerned two loopholes in Saber's mist. The most obvious was in the way it functioned. Even without clues as to Saber's true identity, just standing around that mist would give you all the information you needed. Or maybe he was a special case; he was used to getting told he shouldn't be taking his sense of deduction for granted.

But when he thought about it, that was just too obvious: this was a fog meant to lead you astray, a mist of perdition to get you lost.

But you couldn't get lost if you weren't searching for anything.

That was the trick behind this mist: like a Chinese finger trap, the harder you tried, the more you would get confused and lose your way. It was, after all, a tool meant to prevent your enemies from finding you. But in his case, he was not looking for anything or anyone; he only wished to leave the area covered in mist. Perhaps that alone was enough to trigger the mist's power.

But there was another method Alexander was putting into practice.

This demonic fog was not something new: it had played a part in Saber's legend, during her final battle. Her opponent had been the Yellow Emperor, the legendary figure who would go on to become the main founder of China. That man had been trapped all the same inside the miasma, yet he had nonetheless managed to lead his troops to safety. That was thanks to his invention, a chariot which always pointed toward the South. Of course, now that he could feel the effects on himself, Alexander understood it wasn't simply a matter of walking in a straight line until you were out.

The key here was that Huangdi had known exactly where the South had been, at all times. But he didn't need something on that level – Alexander only needed a reference point that wouldn't change no matter what. In his case, though he didn't know where he was and where he was going, he knew for sure that 'the golden ship was behind his back'. As long as he didn't lose sight of that information, then the floating palace was behind him and he was walking away from it.

But just to be sure, he had also brought another insure with him: two soldiers dressed in white from head to toe, carrying a machine gun each. Of course, they weren't humans or even familiar – only automata of his own creation. That was the field of thaumaturgy he specialized in: puppets and artificial beings. He didn't dwelve as far as homonculi and organic creatures though. Incidentally, these puppets didn't have a will of their own – they could obey perfectly, but couldn't use their head to improvise.

These two accompagnying him were the exact same model than the units dispatched in Danemark. They were the only two survivors however; the ones which had tried to snipe Rider of Red and Michael Argas, unsuccessfully. Those deployed inside the town had been destroyed by Berserker of Red, and the rest were thoroughly annihilated by Lancer of White. He could make more of them if given the time, but it wasn't worth the effort. He could think of several use for them, but he had seen for himself how weak they were, even when equipped with Saber's bullets.

But this was beside the point – the reason he had brought them with him this time around, was not to defend himself. Unlike before, instead of leaving them in autopilot he was controlling them directly this time. That way, they became an extention of himself – other terminals for his consciousness, in a way. Yet at the same time, they couldn't be said to be his own body, and he was conscious of their presence close by.

Had they been left in autopilot, they would likely have been affected as well, and there was no way they could have stayed together. But by assuming direct control, the one affected was only Alexander, yet the automata's presence helped counterbalance the mist's effect on his perception of space.

In the end, the result was that Alexander managed to make his way through the mist almost effortlessly – if manipulating several puppets at the same time could be called effortless.

This latter technique was still nothing but an insurance, and he believed he could have managed without his aides. But they could be useful beyond serving as a reality check.

After all, he was expecting to encounter more than just Servants.

The mist around him was starting to lose in thickness. He wasn't sure how long he had walked like this; most likely the demonic miasma also affected his perception of time. But now he was clearly leaving the range of its influence: little by little, he was able to distiguish the concrete road below his feet, and could even tell he had avoided walking straight into a street lamp. Looking up he saw the black smoke taking a different kind of black hue, one mixed with artificial light illuminating the night.

"That was rather easy in the end...but I guess leaving isn't the hardest part. After all, that was the part Huangdi had managed on his own without divine help. I suppose I don't have to worry about the ship's safety anymore."

It was their current headquarters, as well as their mean of escaping. If they lost that, then the Black Faction could only disappear in the wild and reunite afterward...if they did choose to reunite.

Fortunately, even without the demonic fog the floating palace was a fortress in its own right; and its Master was a monster, in more than one way. The only thing Alexander could regret in this situation, was having to provide for Caligula's existence while supporting his own Servant at the same time. Thankfully, Assassin of Black barely needed any sustenance to operate satisfyingly. Rider of Black on the other hand...

That man was an egotistical existence, even when it didn't benefit him. Alexander had a few ways around that, but he could feel some sympathy for the late Linandir Eïchtobell.

In such a situation, bringing several puppets with him could be seen as either talent, or stupidity.

What was he even planning to do, now that he had left the security of his stronghold?

He was on his own, without Assassin of Black who had left on his next assignement. This battlefield was such a rare occasion, everyone was expecting his to have some kind of scheme. Well, boldness was one of his trademarks in this Holy Grail War, he couldn't refute that. Regardless, for now he was only planning on playing fair. He had come out of hiding to fight, as he was supposed to.

Not that anyone expected him to; but what they did expect for sure, was for him to be on that ship. He would rather be where nobody expected him, even if that meant taking a few risks...

...Well, that was not entirely true. If he had to give a reason, he simply hated waiting idly. Loïa had given him more than one earful about this, but he couldn't help it. Since he had time to waste, he would waste it fighting – he needed that feeling. The feeling that he was actively fighting for his own cause.

But time to waste before what, exactly?

...Truth be told, he hadn't come without a plan. But grand schemes were useless with so many variables, so he had settled for something simple. As such, he was now waiting for his time to come.

"...Oh."

Realizing he had lost himself in thoughts, his feet came to a stop.

"Not good – if I was going to lower my guard like this, might as well have stayed inside that damned temple. Even if that mist is to blame for numbing my attention all this time, you can still call it carelessness..."

Without hurry, like a smoker taking a puff while on a break, he turned his head to the left.

His gaze focused on the bodyguard standing there quietly.

"...And it allowed you to make a move, in such a short time."

Something was amiss: the bodyguard automata in question had no head attached to its shoulders anymore.

The sound of it falling and rolling away was what had drawn Alexander out of his reflection.

It was an unlikely stroke of luck: the automata still couldn't act on their own, so had Alexander been targeted first they wouldn't have been able to react before it was too late.

So much for security.

But Alexander didn't feel ashamed of his carelessness; he was much more interested in his would-be murderer. Even with his guard lowered, he had set up a Bounded Field around himself to warn him of anyone's approach. This wasn't something easily circumvented with magecraft; this was an opponent with the skills to erase their presence almost perfectly.

For a second, he had dreaded the possibility of it being an Assassin, but had that been the case he wouldn't still be standing.

His opponent was at least as human as him.

"..."

The opponent in question was still standing next to the beheaded automata; Alexander was looking at her face from the other side of the dismembered neck. At the same time, he couldn't help noticing it was clean horizontal slice – the work of a professional.

Not many people came to mind; unsurprisigly, his eyes met with those of a young girl, somewhere around twenty, half a head shorter than him. Her features were typically Asian, with her almond-shaped eyes glaring intensely at him. It wasn't easy to tell because of the automata blocking his field of vision, but she appeared to be wearing a tar-colored armor over her limbs and torso.

As for her weapon, he didn't need to see it to know she was using a kind of sword typically used in a certain far-eastern archipelago.

He recognized Hatsuyo Toriyama, the Master of Lancer of Red.

"Why is it not bleeding..." She grumbled. "Are you one of those doll-users who use cheap tricks to defend themselves?"

"That's rich coming from someone who attempted a sneak attack on me." She didn't make another move immediatly; she was on her guards. "I heard samurai were the kind of honorable warriors who would only face an opponent head-on."

"That's just dumb romanticization. A victory is a victory; if you're not feeling proud about how you won, just rewrite the story afterward - if that's what caresses your ego."

"Well, I figured." He chuckled.

Warriors were warriors, no matter the country nor the era. While he made that reflection, Alexander didn't fail to give back his automata's 'freedom of thought'. Immediatly, the beheaded puppet pulled up its machine gun at blank range toward Hastuyo. However, instead of gunfire all Alexander heard was a swift movement, followed by the sound of something falling on the ground. What rolled at the automata's feet were not just the remains of its weapon, but its hands as well.

"How terribly sharp." Despite the situation, he didn't lose his composure. After all, unlike other opponents, this girl was particularly interesting. "Sharper than a proper katana should be actually. I don't really believe in the modern myths of an all-cutting sword. Could it be enchanted?"

"I don't need something dumb like enchantments." She replied bluntly.

"Of course you don't. And that's because you're the heir of the Toriyama family, isn't it? You have to be one of the most atypical magus out there."

"I don't give a rat's ass about magecraft. Or magi for that matter. Better at running their mouth than moving their body." She made no effort to conceal her disdain. "And I'm not in a good mood tonight; your cheap threats are just pissing me off."

"You aren't more surprised than that? That I know of you?"

Alexander shouldn't need to explain the obvious.

It wasn't that Hatsuyo was a celebrity – he had simply inspected her background thoroughly, as soon as he'd known she was a Master. From her reply, it didn't seem his implication had flown over her head, and yet that was her reaction. Of course, he had expected that kind of defiance.

"So what if you know me? I don't remember hiding who I am. Rather, you're the piece of shit who's not telling me his name. If you want me to remember you for at least one thing."

"...Heh, what else did I expect?"

...

* Higurashi – Moon bow

But instead of giving an answer to her query, Alexander just smirked and snapped his fingers.

Immediatly, the bodyguard puppet which had lost both its head and its hands let out a strange noise. Those were automata he had made himself – if one wanted to put it politely, they reflected the personality of their creator. And Alexander wouldn't make a soldier who became useless as soon as they couldn't use a weapon.

In answer to his finger snap, the automaton's body writhed the span of a second. Then, the white clotes covering its body from head to toe was ripped apart as many steel wires sprang forward. They were meant to restrain, mostly, but they could very well cut human flesh. This once, however, Alexander meant to maintain the distance between them: at the same time his puppet exploded, he stepped back briskly, as did his remaining bodyguard.

"Digging informations about you was really refreshing, you know? One surprise after another, a real oddity if I dare say so myself."

"I don't really care about you though."

Her movements were as sharp as her sword.

Before the threads could close in on her, she had cut down half of them. The rest had managed to wrap around her body, but they couldn't put a dent on her black armor.

She raised her arm entangled in threads and pulled the badly damaged automaton toward her blade.

Shh!

Another fluent swing of her katana, and the puppet was down for good. In a single movement she had sliced the puppet's torso clean off. That had taken more than sharpness and skill – she had used strength, more than a girl her size should have, even were she made of muscles.

"You study at the Clock Tower as a magus, yet you don't use magecraft at all. According to your teachers, you're at the bottom of the barrel – a student who doesn't know and doesn't bother to learn. It's a wonder why you're even there. Incidentally, you're seen as anormal but harmless. When you're no bickering of course."

After getting rid of the remaining threads, Hatsuyo put her sword back in its sheath. It was not a sign of her giving up though; Alexander didn't feel any safer now than before. After all, she could draw it again just as easily. If he was to be honest, she was probably the worst kind of opponent for him. Without being an expert he could already tell how much skill she had; yet according to his information, this was only the beginning.

"However, it's not that you don't have the potential: you were never once taught how to use magecraft before! The Toriyama family does not use regular magecraft – you people are the unlikely result of a line of mages and a line of warriors joining together. Not that many people know the details about your family, but that fact alone makes it heretical to the rest of the Mages Association. You do not pursue magecraft, nor do you have any interest in reaching the Root."

Her blade was sheathed, but her hand was resting on the handle. Hatsuyo walked toward him, step by step without hurry. But she was definitely on her guard: as soon as he did any movement that would take his eyes away from her, she would leap like a tiger. By backing away slowly, Alexander was getting closer to the mist, a place where he would be safer. But because of Hatsuyo, he couldn't retreat any faster than that.

From her rude demeanor, you would expect her to be hot-blooded; yet her expression was placid. Was it a human staring him down, or a snake?

"Rather than a cross-breed between warriors and magi, it's more accurate to call it a warrior line which ingested magecraft. From the records of the Clock Tower, the Toriyama only wish to perpetuate their lineage. Ancestry is a universal concept, and everyone likes to brag about outstanding ancestors. Magi in particular hold lineage in very high regard, so in a sense you aren't out of place because of it. But mages have their eyes turned toward the future, they only care about the past when it benefits them. Your family on the other hand..."

"Why do you keep talking? You have nothing to teach me about my family."

"There is more than one way of fighting; 'words' uses the same letters as 'sword'. But I suppose you're better at moving your body than running your mouth."

Alexander gave an order to his remaining automaton, and the latter aimed at Hatsuyo with their machine gun.

The girl took it as her cue, and put strength in her limbs. She was not faster than a bullet though – her only option was dodging. She acted in reaction to the puppet's movements and bent her body forward while lunging. She only needed to leave its field of sight for a second: after stepping out of the way, she prepared to charge and cut it in pieces.

However, she was forgetting that Alexander was here as well.

He was not underestimating her, as womeone who knew exactly what kind of magecraft the Toriyama family passed down to their heir. At the same moment he had given the signal, he had wiped out his own gun and made sure to fire after she had dodged the first volley. She must not have expected that – using firearms was not exactly a staple of magus battle either – and she had no choices but to leap away again. But by the time she did that, the automaton was aiming at her again.

She must have understood it was pointless; she could have waited until they ran out of bullet, but she was not that patient. So instead, she lept high up in the air, too fast for Alexander to follow.

A metallic sound informed him she had landed on a nearby lamp post; as that put her above the artificial light, it made it harder to discern her. But there was no way Alexander could have missed her: unlike before, her presence was imposant. At first she had so little presence as to sneak on him, but each time she made a move, she became harder and harder to ignore.

While carefully obesrving her every movement, his mouth kept moving.

"It is custom among magus families to pass down their family crest to their heir. It allows them to transmit their knowledge intact, and their successors can build upon that knowledge. But your family only cares about the idea of passing down. And since they don't have any magecraft to entrust to a new generation, they've never used a family crest. Instead, they use something much more fundamental..."

Hatsuyo's breathing had become weird.

For one, it was heavy: Alexander could hear it from this distance. He highly doubted she was out of breath already. More likely, something was happening to her. And since it wasn't Alexander's doing, it was surely not something that'd make him happy.

"...Bloodline. They didn't need any thaumaturgical link between ancestor and descendant, because they were already connected by blood! At any rate, with each new generation of humans, more people can claim to have famous ancestors. That's how a genealogy tree works; it's especially notable for kings with many children. On the other hand, few people can claim to have 'perpetuated' their bloodline quite like yours has."

Perched upon the street light, Hatsuyo seemed to be writhing.

But soon, her trembling disappeared and the ferocious grimace on her face vanished. That was one technique passed down the Toriyama line: she was entering a trance. Most likely, the longer she fough the more entranced she would be. Yet, despite what it sounded like, she was not using self-suggestion to power herself up. If that was all she was capable of, she wouldn't even be worth calling a magus.

"They probably used to be a normal warrior family at the beginning. But that changed completely when they decided to mingle with mages. They couldn't content themselves with passing down teachings and weapons – they wanted to transmit everything. No, even more than transmit, they wanted to get back what they had lost. The Toriyama don't make spells, they make catalysts!"

Hatsuyo jumped.

In doing so, the street lamp bent under the pression. And it was quite the impressive leap at that; Alexander wasn't sure any animal could go so far in a single jump. In an instant, she closed all the distance he had gained while talking. Her first target was the automaton – she must still be considering it as his main strength. Regardless of the truth in that regard, she was much stronger than both Alexander and his bodyguard.

The latter deemed her to be beyond the treshold where firearms would do the job – it readily let go of its machine gun and spread its arms wide. Its limbs stretched, and with a clicking sound various sharp blades emerged from every part of its body. Unlike the previous automaton which had been designed for trapping opponents, this one was made for direct combat. It looked more like a nightmarish torture tool than a fighter though. And that was not all, it was equipped with a Mystic Code which weakened spells in its close viscinity.

In a way, this was a doll designed to kill magi.

But it was not prepared to deal with Hatsuyo.

What she was using was not simple magecraft, so there was nothing it could do to reduce her power. Not that its many blades were of any help either: whether before or during her jump, the young warrior had drawn her blade. Instead of the ground, her leap had her land perfectly on the automaton's shoulers – unlike how powerfully she had jumped, her landing was as light as a feather. Immediatly, she jumped off and pressed onward toward Alexander, disregarding the puppet. Well, no, she hadn't ignored it; Alexander had no idea when, but she had managed to cut it cleanly in half.

Now what?

Alexander had no more bodyguard to count on, but he wasn't intimidated. She came at him in a straight line, so he raised his handgun and aimed at her head when she was almost at blank range. She had more range than him with her sword, but he had been quicker. At this distance she couldn't both attack and avoid it.

But she tried neither.

Instead, she barred her teeth.

Crunch!

"...!"

Alexander was dumbfounded.

Choosing neither retreat nor an all-or-nothing, Hatsuyo Toriyama had opened her mouth wide and had bitten the gun's barrel, as it was close to her face! And it wasn't a light bite – with a jaw strength far surpassing that of a human, her teeth had managed to twist the metal. But before he could realize that, Alexander had pulled the trigger, and the gun detonated in his hand.

The short-lived flash of light and fire made both of them flinch. Alexander tried to keep his composure in the midst of his confusion, and stepped back hurriedly. Hastuyo recovered much faster than him however, and lunged forward. There was blood around her mouth – her own – but her expression didn't change. It was still cold and placid.

But Alexander glimpsed something different as his reaper crossed what little distance remained. A corner of her mouth had curled up slightly.

But he couldn't waste time scrutinizing her face; her arm swung the deadly blade with the same swiftness and accuracy as before.

In that case, he had no choice – he threw a punch.

A simple, straightforward punch with no magecraft to power it up.

Even if he did have something like that up his sleeve, he wouldn't have had the time to use it. And it was not a necessity anyway: his fist landed squarely in her face. That was probably not the counter she had expected in this situation. Hastuyo was sent rolling backward – she had been in the middle of attacking but in no position to guard, so her feet had easily left the ground.

Of course, there was also the fact that his punch was nothing laugh at.

Any other opponent might have been knocked unconscious by a surprise blow of this magnitude.

For this one however, it could barely be called an inconvenience; she had almost completely recovered the first time her body hit the ground. Before she could roll further, she was back on her feet and in a fighting stance. Her expression was still undisturbed as though she was a statue – except for the smirk budding on the corner of her mouth. Despite the latter, hers was a look of warriness; she wasn't startled, but quick glances between Alexander and her katana betrayed her confusion.

And he couldn't blame her: even though he had reacted quite fast for someone in his situation, it was still nothing compared to Hatsuyo's speed. And the warrior hadn't hesitated a single second to dice him, so it stood as a matter of course that she had attacked faster than him.

A thin line was running across Alexander's body, and his suit was so cleanly cut that it was almost hard to notice.

But there was not a single trace of blood, neither on Alexander nor on the blade which had slashed his body.

With a cut that deep, his guts ought to be hanging and his blood should be gushing in streams. In fact, if not for his counter-attack he could have been cut cleanly in half like his automata before him. However, it was not all that surprising considering he had no such thing as organs inside his body, nor blood flowing in his veins.

"The hell." Finally, Hatsuyo came to the most logical conclusion. "You're a fake too?"

"Surprised? Did you really think I would bother making puppets only to stand right next to them?"

That was why his previous punch had had so much power: the Alexander currently facing Hatsuyo was not the genuine article, but a puppet meant to look like him. He couldn't really blame her for being surprised though, as this one was made to be extremely realistic, down to his gestures and expressions. Unless you took a peek below its artificial skin, you would never realize this wasn't a human being.

Of course, there was also the fact that this puppet could only be controlled manually – since the real Alexander was manning it, it appeared all the more realistic. If necessary, it could even fake body temperature and a bioelectric signal. On the other hand, he had not bothered filling it with with blood and flesh – it would be a waste of space for something that was still fundamentally a weapon.

Since it had come down to this, he might as well drop the mask completely.

"What was I saying again? Oh, that's right. The Toriyama never had in mind to create spells, even to become stronger. They probably wanted something more genuine – if they needed the support of magecraft to be strong, then it wasn't worth it. So instead, they used thaumaturgy to create catalysts. That is, they turned their heirs into catalysts."

Alexander's – the puppet's shape started losing its humanity. It was still humanoid by the end of it, but the proportions were too grotesques to be called human. First, his legs had grown in length, while a second pair emerged from its back. The second pair of legs didn't look quite human so much as insect limbs. In fact, even his former 'human' legs looked too strange to call them so. His arms also grew lengthwise, and they each grew a blade that looked like an ominous sickle. Just as for his lower body, a second pair of limb grew out of his back, but they looked like a caricature of human arms: long bony hands with holes in their palms.

In the end, only his head had remained unchanged – for the rest, it was as if he had morphed into a monster. His clothes, a mark of humanity, laid around him in pieces. The final result looked like a forbidden crossbreed of a man, a grass hopper and a praying mantis. Not that Hatsuyo looked particularly shocked nor impressed.

"Skill, reflexes, strength, agility – you don't need to train any of those yourselves; in fact, maybe you never did. And why would you, since you can choose to assimilate the same abilities your ancestors had? It's not a matter of 'passing down', but of 'conserving'. Regardless of their consent, you can make their strength your own. That's the objective of the Toriyama: creating the strongest warrior by cherry picking among their predecessors."

"And what are you trying to say exactly? You think just because you know how my body works, you have a chance of defeating me?"

Honestly, he didn't.

Part of what he had said were conjectures – the actual records from the Mage's Association weren't that precise, and the Clock Tower didn't really care about a magecraft that did nothing to inovate. However, Alexander had to question their priority: simply reading about it had sent a chill down his back. When explained on paper, it didn't sound all that impressive; admittedly, you could reach a similar result with some enhancing spells, if strength was what you wanted. However, there was a single detail that made an entire difference: there was no clear limit. According to the claims of the Toriyama clan, the spell could work as far back in time as they wanted, as long as there was an ancestor to be found. If that wad true, then whoever had brought magecraft into their family must have been equivalent to a first-class magus, if not more.

It was not a temporary enhancement either. He had seen how strong her body was, but he doubted she could grow that rapidly. On the contrary, that was a leftover from previous uses, or maybe a side effect of being a catalyst at all: her body was adapting to match whoever's abilities she was copying. Or more accurately, she was slowly gaining a body capable of these feats, at the same time they became natural for her.

And that...was the scariest part.

For the longest time in Japan's history, warrior was not a job but a status, passed down from father to son. Since Hatsuyo's family was still clinging onto this title, then they must have had it for a long time, perhaps since its establishment. If truly she could reach as far back as she wanted to get stronger, then she could choose from the cream of the crop.

When you thought warrior clans from Japan, two names came to mind: the Genji and the Heike. Or, pronounced differently, the Minamoto and the Taira. Alexander hadn't bothered to verify her ancestry – for what it was worth, the Toriyama claimed to have some famous direct ancestors. In any case, if Hatsuyo Toriyama could reach through her entire family tree, then her growth potential was nearly limitless.

Minamoto no Yoshitsune.

Minamoto no Yoritomo.

Minamoto no Tametomo.

Minamoto no Yorimitsu.

If she reached far enough back in time, then she wasn't lacking in big names to choose from. If given enough time, and supposing her body could to take this much transformation without breaking down, then nothing prevented her from reaching the same heights as Heroic Spirits. In fact, many warrior clans from ancient Japan descended from emperors, who were themselves supposed to descend from Divine Spirits. But if her condition was that potent, no doubt her family would have received a Sealing Designation eons ago.

"I'm just trying to show you how much effort I put into this. I know you better than the people you've surrounded yourself with, I can assure you."

This time, Alexander was the one who stepped forward and attacked.

Knowing how dangerous an enemy was did not change the fact they had to be faced. And as long as his true body remained inside that mist, she was hardly a threat to his life.

The puppet double's new legs were not just for show: when he sprang forward, the fake Alexander crossed the distance between them with the speed of a swallow. Hastuyo didn't move from where she was, but he wanted to make sure – the hands that had grown from his back glowed faintly, then strongly before unleashing that light toward his target. Well, not directly at Hatsuyo, but next to her as to prevent her from getting away. Meanwhile, he readied the sharp blades that had replaced his hands – with his speed and range, he was sure to reach her.

He was not entirely focused on attacking though: as he was much more afraid of what she could do to him, his first target were her weapon and the hands holding it. The second sickle was swung at her throat as to corner her further.

CLANG!

The shape of his weapons played against him however, as Hatsuyo managed to stop both sickles with relative ease. As an inorganic puppet, he was supposed to have the upper hand in a contest of strength, but as expected they were now locked in an even struggle.

"In fact, I can't say I understand why you fight for the Mage's Association. What will it change for you? Some recognition at best, envy and hatred at worse. You will still be despised by them. Your family and your craft will still be looked down upon, and you'll still be seen as an inferior. Many cases like yours have been ringing at my door, you know? There's no rule saying you can't pick an alternative."

She had both of her arms occupied, but he still had half of them free. They were close like sumo wrestlers, there was no way she could dodge a blast of magical energy from this distance. Her parrying his sickles also meant he had managed to temporarily incapacitate her only weapon. The hands with pierced palms positioned themsleves on each side of the warrior and lit up with a crimson light.

Before they could fire though, the world around him spinned.

"Hu–!"

And the next moment, he crashed heavily against the ground.

It had happened too fast for him to understand.

The only thing he was certain of was the sensation of concrete being pulverized underneath him. On the other hand, this robust body was mostly unscathed from the impact, but what really suffered was his mind. It took him a few second to understand she had kept pushing her sword with one hand, only to grab him with the other and had slammed him into the concrete road below. To think someone could use grasping techniques against this body – that scenario had never come to mind before. For his defense, this puppet was never meant with wrestling in mind.

But he should have expected that from her: he had been blinded by the fact she used only a katana, but there was no such limit to the knowledge she could assimilate. Since she was an almagation of warriors from different eras, whether it was swordmanship, unarmed combat, spearmanship, marksmanship – even modern firearms were not out of question.

Of course, for all the admiration it inspired him, such a condition couldn't possibly exist without drawbacks. That being said, they may not be what everyone would expect.

When he took a peek at her face, he couldn't help but notice both corners of her mouth were curled up in a faint smile. Her eyes were still glaring intensely however, and her voice when she spoke up was still as scathing.

"So what? You make it sound like I give a damn whether you know me or not. Here's a heads up: I don't care who you are and what you have to offer; I've found you, so you're going down. 'Fighting for the Mage's Association'? Who the hell ever decided that?! Whether it's you or them, you're all stuck up your presumptuous asses. There's no such thing as fighting for a side. There's only one winner here!"

"But don't you want an insurance...? Kh-!"

She didn't let him finish: before he could defend his case, she lifted her foot off the ground and ruthlessly stomped this defenseless body. Incidentally, humans legs were vastly stronger than their arms – the ground beneath him fissured again, but his puppet even moreso. In fact, the loud cracking noise that followed didn't come from the concrete, but from him who took the full brunt of her kick. He could tell this body was starting to reach the limit of what it could take.

But it was not out of ressource quite yet: despite being under the sole of her shoes, the puppet wasn't exactly paralyzed, and could try to litterally overthrow her.

Thus, using every last fiber of its artificial body, the fake Alexander pushed back against Hatsuyo's ruthless pressure. As expected, she wasn't in a good position to keep him pinned down – Hatsuyo stepped off his crumbling body, and prepared to carve him with her sword. But he was a few steps ahead of her; not giving her the time to counter-attack, he swung his remaining blade with all the momentum he could muster (the other sickle had been broken when she had stomped him). Another step back put her out of range of his blade, but not out of range of his magecraft: his two humanoid hands were still intact and fired off in volleys until they overheated.

This time, the young swordman had no choice but to put a respectable distance between the two of them, a short respite which Alexander used to get back up.

"The Holy Grail isn't a genie's lamp that will on grant one wish. Rather, it's a battery – you have a set amount, but you can use it however you like until it runs out. Moreover, this isn't a regular Hoy Grail War. Usually, six Servants are enough to grant even the craziest of wishes. But with twenty of them acting as a battery, I can grant many wishes! Even if they lose, those who follow me can see their dream come true!"

He wasn't sure why he was still making her an offer. It was doubtful she even understood who he was, let alone his motives. But after being repudiated while being called a fool, how could a man just stand down? Though he was visibly the only one to think that way:

"Is that what you give them as a carrot? Like I care. If the Grail's that impressive, then I don't mind having it for myself."

"...Is that so?"

Alexander shot forward.

...Or so it was supposed to be, but when he tried to put weight on all four of his legs, his body fell clumsily to the ground instead. His mind didn't understand how something so stupid could have happened to him, until he actually took a look at his legs – he couldn't use them because he didn't have any. Both the vaguely human-looking legs and the grasshopper limbs were lying there behind him, cleanly severed from his body. Not realizing that until know was probably the result of not having nerves inside that puppet.

But just when had she...?

Hatsuyo, on the other hand, had fully functional legs which she didn't hesitate to use. And he was practically unable to prevent her approach, blade in hand.

Expect for one thing...

* Stop music

"Hmph." Hatsuyo threw a disinterested glance sideway, before swinging her katana at the empty air.

"...!"

A gunshot rang out at the exact same time, but all he could see of the bullet were the sparks it made as the blade deflected it. Alexander couldn't believe she had so effortlessly predicted and parried it. This bullet had been a gift from his real body, one of the few left that were made by Saber herself. She had no way of knowing where he was, let alone that he was armed with a gun and would use it. Had she simply felt the bullet as it approached?

He was completely out of options, then.

All he had left were words, for someone who didn't care to hear them.

"I'm curious, what would you use the Holy Grail for? You don't seem to have a care in the world, I can hardly imagine what could motivate you. Do you seek riches? Pleasures? Eternal life? A weapon? Wisdom? Someone who could fight you as a worthy opponent?"

Shh–!

Swiftly, the tip of her sword flew toward his face and sliced off his lower jaw like a hot knife through butter. She probably wanted to shut him up, but unfortunately for her it wouldn't work. The movements of his lips was just for show, his voice came from a Mystic Code inside the head.

Even with half his mouth missing, the puppet stretched its cheek in a semblance of a smile. The bitter smile of someone asking questions without expecting an answer.

"Do you want to bring back the parents you've massacred yourself? Do you want to get rid of the fate they've put on your shoulders? Do you want to be put out of your misery? Do you even have a wish at all?"

Despite his taunts, the expression on her face didn't ressemble fury. In fact, it was the complete opposite without the shadow of a doubt. The smile that was barely perceptible before couldn't be more obvious now. And this time it wasn't just her mouth – her entire face was smiling; even her eyes couldn't retain their harshness entirely.

She was now right in front of a powerless puppet, but unlike before she didn't finish it off quickly. She kicked it, sliced its body bit by bit, crushed watever she could get her hands on, and she was doing so frenetically without rest. It was as if she didn't even care what the real Alexander was up to.

However, the happiness plastered all over her face didn't have a single hint of sadism. Unlike what her behavior indicated, hers wasn't the smile of a bloodlusty warrior frenzied by the heat of the battle and the joy of crushing a foe.

It was an expression of utter bliss.

Such a strange sight which felt terribly out of place on her face. But there was no mistaking it for Alexander: she looked as though she was bathing in a form of serenity and beatitude. If he didn't know better, he would have believed she had attained some form of inner peace. But that was completely impossible of course.

"You were made into the perfect weapon...in a world that doesn't need you at all..."

Now there was nothing left but the head to crush.

Thank you for reading!

This time I was able to moderate myself. Today was a one-sided battle bewteen two characters whose meeting you weren't expecting. Nor wanted. I must say I have a strange feeling toward calling this a 'fighting chapter', as it felt half like a battle and half like a dialogue which wasn't directly related to said battle. Anyway, this is the second Interlude in a row - in case you've noticed with the previous chapters, this means we're returning to the 'main' plot next time!

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

~Legends Storyteller