Chapter 15: The Rage of War (Part 1)
"What are you doing, Caster? I thought you said you wouldn't reveal yourself!" Shirou complained from the safety of a skyscraper on the other side of the Mion River. But even from where he stood, he could see the lights of the chaotic battle.
On one corner of the wharf, golden light showered down on an inky mass of black. Not too far from where this was happening, flashes of red, yellow and gold blades colored the stacks of metal crates right before they were torn apart like paper. And over at the far corner of the docks, a large red dot lit the sky up with blue streaks of lightning as it chased a smaller black dot running like the wind.
This was all conveniently hidden away from the citizens of Fuyuki by a warding spell Lancer's Master had cast, but Shirou had no way of knowing that. Either way, he didn't really have the time to think about the repercussions of the war being seen by outsiders, not when he could switch to Caster's field of view and see an up-close look of all three Servant fights
But as overwhelmed as Shirou was to see six Heroic Spirits fight, he still had the calm of mind to protest Caster's abrupt course of actions.
"Yes, I originally planned to sit this one out," Caster explained as he stood up to get a better view of all three simultaneous battles. "But I changed my mind when I saw the opportunity to stir the pot. It was reckless, but well, luck was on my side when Berserker showed up when he did and started attacking Archer before he could get to me."
This was a truth Caster was well aware of. He had rubbed the King of Heroes the wrong away as soon as he flushed out Assassin with those sword projections of his. Had Berserker not intervened at the last minute, he would have been branded a Faker and attacked by Archer for sure.
"Well, Master, just relax and enjoy. It's not every day that three great kings from history put on a spectacle like this. Try to learn as much as you can," Caster said, finding a vantage point where his reinforced eyes could see all three fights.
"Alright, if you say so…" Shirou gave up his case and returned his attention to the clash of legends. It was better than any of the special effects on television. He couldn't begin to imagine what it was like to be one of those Servants caught in the heat of battle.
Weren't they scared at all?
Assassin ran for her life. Her body moved on pure instinct. Her mind still struggled to come to grips with how quickly things had escalated. One minute she was spying on the other Servants with none of them aware of her presence. The next minute she was outed by Caster and made the target of some childish wager between Caster and Rider.
She jumped from one crate to the next, making sure to never stay in the air for too long. Any second longer of hang time was a chance for her pursuer to gain on her. She didn't even have the luxury of time to look behind her. She kept on moving forward, but she knew he was there. His vexing battle cry grated on her ears from miles away.
"ALALALALALALA!" Rider howled with glee as he urged his bulls to charge forward. Lightning bathed his mighty chariot and thunder paved his path. He could feel his blood rush at the thrill of a good chase.
Assassin took a sharp left turn. She saw from the corner of her eye, the trail of destruction that the King of Conquerors had wrought. His bulls were veritable beasts of mass destruction. Everything they trampled over was reduced to smoldering rubbish. That Rider managed to keep such beasts tied to his chariot spoke volumes of his power. Assassin felt the all-familiar chill of death wrap around her neck like a noose. She picked up her pace.
"Master, your orders," Assassin prompted again for the third time. She continued running over the shipping crates, taking a right turn to avoid treading on the molten scrap that Rider's chariot had created. But seconds passed and then minutes. But still, Assassin heard not a word out of her stoic Master, only the incessant voices of her "other selves" which were of no help whatsoever.
Assassin cursed her infidel of a Master for taking his sweet time. She ran through the possible options she had on hand. She couldn't recklessly reveal her Noble Phantasm tonight. Her Noble Phantasm could only be used to its fullest potential the longer it remained secret. She also could never beat the King of Conquerors in a head-on fight. And the element of surprise had already been lost, courtesy of that meddling Caster. Then, perhaps her only option was to stick to the expected template of an Assassin Servant.
Assassin looked over her shoulder, taking only half a second to drink everything up. Rider's chariot loomed over her like a haunting apparition. She hurled several daggers at the chariot, all aimed at the squirming boy who looked to be on the verge of soiling himself. The daggers sailed true to their course and should have sunk six inches deep into the boy's skull.
But before they could make contact, a bright blue barrier of electricity lit up. The electric field repulsed the daggers so that they harmlessly fell away to the side. Assassin cursed whatever pagan god Rider worshiped and continued with her running.
Rider grinned so widely that his teeth showed. "Don't sweat the small stuff, boy. So long as you ride with me, a petty Assassin's tricks aren't anything to worry about," he hollered as he picked up the speed of his divine bulls.
"Rider!" Waver managed to eke out before having to cover his mouth. He felt his dinner climb up his throat but forced it back down. He didn't want to imagine what puking in Rider's chariot would get him.
Assassin was quickly running out of terrain to move around. The harbor was big, but it was still a finite space. She also couldn't turn back to where the other Servants were gathered as even from her current position, she could feel the earth rumble from another Servant battle. Assassin could only to weasel her way through her corner of the harbor or escape over the water.
Given Rider's incredible speed, it was a miracle Assassin hadn't been caught yet. Only her clever wit and quick thinking had carried her thus far, a true testament of her skills as an Assassin. But just brains only could only take her so far. It was only a matter of time before she would be caught.
Assassin felt small and belittled, but she could only press on. Her eyes constantly surveyed her surroundings, searching for every possible angle of attack to tip the balance even slightly more to her favor. Her gaze lingered at the series giant shipping cranes nearby.
As Rider's chariot was finally about to catch up with her, Assassin jumped up to the night sky. She used all of her strength to propel herself as high as possible. Once she reached the height she needed, she launched a series of daggers at a giant crane. All at once, its metallic frame snapped and came crashing down. Assassin then quickly threw a grapple to the next closest crane and pulled herself away to safety.
The giant mass of metal fell with perfect timing. As per Assassin's calculations, it should land square on Rider and his Master in just three seconds. She looked back with curious anticipation to how the famed King of Conquerors would deal with the hurdle she prepared.
However, Rider remained steadfast, his grin never ceding an inch. He brandished his iron sword and muttered, "Like I said, petty tricks."
Lightning sheathed Rider's sword, extending its reach to the span of two meters. He swung his prolonged blade and cut the large crane frame into manageable chunks, like he was slicing through butter. The smaller bits of metal were then easily repelled away by the chariot's electric field.
"Wha–" Waver blanked, blinking. He'd never seen Rider do that with his sword before. Industrial grade steel had been torn apart like flimsy paper constructs.
Assassin also watched with stunned silence. She recalled the legends passed down of Iskandar's purported divine heritage. Her stomach turned in equal parts fury and awe.
"Infidel king," Assassin muttered beneath her breath, before finally deciding to make a break for it. Her Master couldn't fault her for abandoning the mission, not when the mission was already lost.
Just as she was about to clear the distance to escape the harbor in her astral form, Assassin felt something amiss. Her skin tingled, warning her of impending danger. Her instincts told her to twist her body to the right. But it was still too late.
Crimson stained the bottom of Assassin's white skull mask. She felt her mouth go slick with blood. The red liquid crawled up her throat like a cold snake. She coughed out a mouthful of blood, before realization finally dawned on her.
Assassin had been hit. A fourteen-feet-long wooden javelin went straight through her chest and dug into the ground, effectively pinning her where she stood. Blood seeped out of her chest, staining her black robes even darker. The javelin had only narrowly missed her heart because Assassin had twisted her body just enough.
She tried to move, to quickly snap the wooden shaft and escape, but she couldn't. Her body stiffened up. No matter how hard she struggled, her hands would not obey, only flailing out wildly. She felt her jaw tighten and pretty soon, even her mouth no longer obeyed her. Was this some kind of poison?
Assassin craned her neck to look down with great difficulty. She noticed the tiny flecks of electricity running through the javelin shaft. Her brain buzzed with understanding. This was an attack that targeted her nerves, one that sent a shock of electricity to short circuit her nervous system.
"This ended a lot faster than I would have liked," Rider said as he parked his chariot right before Assassin's paralyzed figure. She could only helplessly glare up at the King of Conquerors. Her body had curled up, so she looked like a feeble puppy shaking before the maw of a beast.
"I apologize for the rough handling, Assassin. But it seemed like you were about to make a run for it, and I couldn't very well return to that Caster empty handed," Rider laughed as he shook his head.
As her blood began to run cold, dripping down to ground, Assassin tried one last time without hope. "Master, your orders…" she thought through the debilitating pain.
Rider shook his head again, releasing his hold over his reins. "Assassin, I can't say I appreciate your style of lurking in the shadows. Heroic Spirits should fight openly with everything they stand for on the line. True superiority can only be determined through a direct contest of strength!"
He placed a finger on his chin, raising a brow at Assassin's fallen form. "That said, I suppose your type of strength lies in the shadows. Perhaps I can't fault you too much for your cowardice."
Rider began to mull over something. He inspected Assassin closely. Now that she was finally immobilized, Rider could finally get a good look at her through the darkness. "Hoh, I see you're a woman, huh. So, Saber's not the only female in the war. I would offer you a place in my army, but you already made your answer clear when you stayed silent during my initial call earlier, didn't you?"
To Rider's mind, there was a clear distinction between Archer and Caster who had revealed themselves willingly and Assassin who had been forced out into the open. Such weakness had no place in his army.
Waver looked between his Servant and the Servant crumpled helplessly on the ground. To the watching a bystander, a giant of a man in fine clothing was towering over the frail ragged form of a woman. His mind spun in circles of the implications. He tried to guess Rider's train of thought, "Rider, you're not considering–"
"But still, if this fight ends like this, it wouldn't be much of a sight to see, don't you think? That arrogant Caster won't be impressed with a match so one-sided like this," Rider shook his head stubbornly. A smile spread across his face as he continued, "So, how about I give you a chance? As a proper fight between one Heroic Spirit to another, show me your Noble Phantasm and I'll crush it with all my might!"
Waver lost his marbles. He stared hard at his Servant. The moron wasn't kidding around. "Hey, Rider, what are you saying? Why would you give her the chance to even use her Noble Phantasm? Just finish her off, quickly!"
Rider sighed, shaking his head at his Master. "You don't get it, boy. A king doesn't execute his adversaries so lightly. Even a war ought to have some decency. Besides, it's not every day you get to fight a Heroic Spirit. It'd be a shame to kill them off before you've even had the chance to see their Noble Phantasm."
Rider spoke with an amicable voice. But it was clear to Assassin that the man spoke from a higher standing. It was a viewpoint only afforded to those in power, the loftiness of a king. To Rider's mind, there was probably no chance in hell that Assassin's Noble Phantasm could ever pose any threat to him. Only the king's curiosity of her Noble Phantasm had kept her alive this long.
Assassin's pride as an Old Man of the Mountain was challenged. She may be just one of the many entities connected to Hassan-i-Sabbah, but she was still one of the nineteen leaders of her sect! And she was being talked down to by some pagan tyrant. Rage seethed within her, stirring her body to shake uncontrollably.
Assassin fought through the paralysis, moving her mouth. She clenched her jaws hard to even get a sound out through the paralysis. She hated the man before her to the core. It wasn't enough that he was an infidel, or the half-breed spawn of some pagan god, but he dared to underestimate her Noble Phantasm, her greatest triumph as the last Old Man of the Mountain!
Assassin was tempted. She really wanted to see if Rider would still be wearing that stupid grin of his if she unleashed her Noble Phantasm here in full force. She had an inkling that merely increasing her numbers wouldn't be enough to face the King of Conquerors, but she was very much tempted to try. But before she could consider the matter further…
"Assassin, you will die here. Do not reveal your Noble Phantasm. Squeeze as much information as you can out of Rider and his Master," came the cold, heartless words of her Master, Kotomine Kirei.
Assassin gritted her teeth, blood running down the corners of her lips. She wanted to curse that damn priest to high heaven but could neither risk blowing her cover of obedience nor physically achieve the deed with her mouth still paralyzed. In her anger, the blood coming out of her mouth began to froth.
Rider raised a brow. He felt something change in Assassin's gait. As a King, he'd seen that look on her face before. It was the same look some of his subjects used to wear, the look of a subordinate's indignation as they were forced to swallow down outrageous commands given by their superiors. Had Assassin just received some command from her Master?
Before Rider could ask more, Assassin moved. She used every ounce of her anger at her Master, at Rider and at the accursed Holy Grail, to move one of her arms. She grabbed the special tiny bottles she kept on her belt and threw them at Rider's Master's direction.
Reflexively, Rider frowned and activated his Noble Phantasm. His chariot electrified to life. But the moment the lightning struck the glass bottles they erupted into a fiery explosion. The blast covered the everything in sight, creating a shockwave that shook the whole harbor.
Clouds of smoke covered the area, but in another moment, the clouds were ripped apart by the electricity generated by Rider's chariot. The air now clear, only Rider's chariot stood intact. Rider and his Master were left perfectly unharmed. The ground around them was devastated, carved up into a crater of destruction. At the center of destruction, a pile of burned ash and a blood-singed javelin were the only traces left by Assassin. But her last moments were firmly carved into Rider's memory.
Even with her face covered by a white skull mask, her outrage could be felt. To the very last second right before she was consumed in flames, her body trembled with a white-hot rage. Wordless and without voice, though it may be, Assassin's rage was unmistakable.
The King of Conquerors frowned. His grin now nowhere to be seen, his mouth wrinkled to a disgusted sneer. He whipped the reins of his chariot and took off without another word.
"Finished so soon?" Caster quipped as he saw from the corner of his eyes the shape of a war chariot steadily drawing closer. The chariot eventually stopped right beside where he stood atop the rooftop, as if standing on some invisible platform in the air.
But Rider didn't answer immediately. His stern red eyes were instead directed towards down below the rest of the harbor. His gaze lingered between the two battles, finding familiar comfort in the fights that befit Heroic Spirits. He sighed heavily, releasing some of the tension that weighed his heart.
"Why the long face?" Caster tried asking, but still never committing to looking at the King of Conquerors in the eye. His attention remained focused on the flashy scenery down below, but even still, he could pick up on Rider's foul mood. The Master accompanying the King in the chariot was also awfully quiet.
"Were you paying attention to my fight?" Rider asked briskly. He knew he'd been played with by Caster, but at the time had felt it nice to go along with Caster's goading. But in the ensuing fight, two more fights between Servants had broken out. So, Rider wasn't sure Caster had been watching his fight with enough attention.
Caster nodded. He tapped his left temple with a finger. "Yes. Any proper Caster should at least be able to manage multiple trains of parallel thought. I didn't miss a thing."
If he were being honest, Caster would admit he just barely managed to keep an eye on everything. Even for him, it was a struggle only possible thanks to a mental compartmentalization spell he had learned from some Alchemist in his past. But Rider didn't need to know that.
"Then you should have seen how Assassin went out." Rider shook his head, releasing a disappointed huff. "To swallow down a death like that without even the chance of fighting back. It's an end unfit for any Heroic Spirit. At the very least, I would've wanted to see her Noble Phantasm," he said as his eyes drifted towards Caster's unmoved stance.
Much of Caster's face was obscured by the red hood he wore, but from a glance, one could see that his skin was tan and that his mouth held a rigid smile. "If it's just Assassin's Noble Phantasm, I'm sure you still yet have a chance of seeing it."
"Ohh, what gives you that idea, Caster?" Rider eyed Caster carefully, searching for anything to read on the enigmatic Servant's shady face.
"Just a feeling. Assassin went down too easily. Any Old Man of the Mountain should have an ace up their sleeve, but she never used it. It's only prudent to be cautious of the most secretive Servant," Caster said without missing a beat as he had nothing much to hide.
Rider nodded. His hands twiddling with his beard, he said, "Indeed, the Assassin that died the other night also didn't put up much of a fight."
Caster finally turned his face to Rider's direction. "What?"
A smile spread across Rider's face. "So, there is something you don't know, Caster?" He asked with a giddy teasing tone.
Caster's brows furrowed. "I'm a magus, not all-knowing. But from what you just said, I gather that just simply killing off Assassin once isn't enough to eliminate her."
"Quite so," Rider agreed, nodding.
"Then that means you haven't fulfilled the conditions of our wager, Rider. I'm not swearing fealty to a king who couldn't force Assassin to reveal all their tricks," Caster said, unabashedly weaseling his way out of definite alliance with Rider.
"You're a crafty bastard, huh, Caster?" Rider shook his head, but his mood didn't sink in the slightest. He was well aware that Caster wasn't so meek as to submit without a fight. But it didn't matter. Any conquest without a little resistance was no conquest worth mentioning.
Caster returned his attention to the fight below and Rider did the same. As the two Servants watched from a distance, the conversation picked up once more when Rider perked up. "By the way, Caster, what is your True Name?"
"Don't you think it's a bit rude on our part as observers to chat while the others are fighting with their lives on the line? I think we should at least give them the respect Heroic Spirits deserve and watch attentively," Caster spat bullshit without a change in his expression.
Rider grinned, not buying the well-decorated load of crap. "Then we could have a fight between ourselves!" he offered.
Caster sighed. "King of Conquerors, it's not every night you'd get the chance to watch the King of Heroes and King of Knights fight. Why waste the opportunity over a measly Caster like me?"
"I think a Caster who could recognize the King of Heroes' identity and detect Assassin's presence must be a capable Servant himself," Rider said in opposition.
"Oh my, that's high praise. My thanks, your Highness," Caster said.
As the two Servants' banter was in full swing, Waver Velvet grew increasingly unsettled by their mutual nonchalance of the chaos wreaking havoc down below. "Pay attention to the fight, you morons!"
"We are," Caster and Rider chorused with equal annoyance at the young Master's intrusion.
While it was true that they were trading verbal blows and feeling each other out, Caster and Rider had each kept one eye on the battlefield. Neither of them had neglected the conflict taking place before their very eyes.
"So, let's say we go along with your idea of showing the gathered Heroic Spirits the respect they deserve. Caster, what do you make of the King of Heroes' fight, huh?" Rider prodded as the intensity of the fight between Berserker and Archer escalated exponentially.
"Well, let's see," Caster muttered, devoting more interest in the battle between the black knight and golden king. "Archer has the upper hand, but Berserker is putting up quite the fight. Archer's attacks are one-note, relying simply on firing off Noble Phantasms from a safe distance. But the sheer number and ferocity of these attacks would be enough to demolish any ordinary Servant."
"Oh? Go on," Rider said, egging him on.
"That Berserker can still stand on even footing against that king's monstrous Noble Phantasm proves that he's quite the monster himself," Caster said as he watched, taken in by the spectacle.
Waver also focused on the fight between Archer and Berserker. He blinked, rubbing his eyes to make sure they were seeing well enough. "What's going on?"
"Oh, you don't get it, boy? Well, maybe it's a little too fast for your eyes," Rider said, pointing a finger at the flurry of black rampaging on the ground. Golden swords and lances rained from the sky, but Berserker stood his ground and created a cloud of smoke each time. "Every time that golden Archer throws a barrage of weapons in Berserker's way, Berserker uses the weapons he's already taken to fight back. Then when the new weapons are beaten back, he takes them for himself with those black tendrils coming out of his back."
Caster nodded, still impressed that such a feat was even possible. "It's hard to believe someone so skilled can even be a Berserker. Even as he's consumed in madness, he hasn't lost an ounce of skill."
"No way…" Waver muttered, taken aback with the explanation. "But how can Archer have so many Noble Phantasms in the first place?"
"Well, you heard the boy, Caster. Care to explain?" Rider raised a brow. He already had an idea of how it worked but was curious to find out what Caster knew.
Caster didn't find any need to hide anything. "Gate of Babylon. A Noble Phantasm unique to the King of Heroes whose treasury was said to house every Noble Phantasm ever dreamed of. It allows Gilgamesh to use legendary weapons as ammo."
Waver's jaw dropped at the revelation. Something so absurd like that could be a Noble Phantasm?
"But that Berserker is digging his own grave. Every time one of the King's weapons is taken, he gets even angrier and he opens the Gate of Babylon even more. Berserker's compensating with his Madness Enhancement. But eventually that precarious balance will tip," Caster continued with his analysis.
"Whichever side that will be will most likely depend on their Masters," Rider nodded.
"Their Masters?" Waver asked. To his knowledge, the only Masters even remotely near the wharf were him and Lord El-melloi.
"Both Archer and Berserker are expending incredible amounts of magical energy. If Berserker isn't beaten by the sheer difference in numbers, then he'll be running out of steam soon. But the same can be said for Archer's Master, magical energy isn't something a Master can supply endlessly," Caster explained for the benefit of both Rider's Master and Shirou who was still listening in from afar.
"Then how would you describe Saber and Lancer's fight?" Rider prompted next.
Caster blinked, glancing to his left. "Hm? Just about the same as Archer's and Berserker's. They're in a stalemate that can go either way. With a wound that egregious, Saber can't fight to the best of her ability. But in the first place, Saber's combat ability was slightly above Lancer's. So, now, they're about even?"
"You seem to know an awful lot about Saber and Lancer. Enough to tell who's above whom even?" Rider probed, wondering who Caster exactly was to know so much about the other Servants.
"Well, the reputation of the King of Knights proceeds herself. Though if Saber wants to tip the balance in her favor, she'll have to destroy Lancer's yellow spear. Likewise, if Lancer wants a clinch a victory, he'll have to fight while safeguarding that yellow spear of his," Caster commented on the duel between the two knight Servants.
It was exactly as Caster had described. The fight between the four Servants had gone on for quite some time now. But none of them were making much head way. The delicate balance of power was somehow managing to sustain itself. When one Servant would push, another would pull back. The roles would switch back and forth but would still repeat again and again.
If there were anything that could break this precarious balance, then Caster would say it would be the four Masters pulling the strings behind the four Servants.
So, what will you do, Old Man?
Author's Note:
Thanks to everyone who reviewed in the last chapter. You guys were wild.
Thank you for reading!