5.1

I absorbed Galliasta's words, briefly pausing to consider that he might be lying, before dismissing it entirely.

Irritatingly, that Kotomine had been backing Galliasta from the shadows made too much sense given the information available to me. That my Master, or rather former Master, had been so jolly excited to make an enemy of every Master in the war via his rampant kidnappings never did make much sense; he was far too cautious to attract the attention of so many, so quickly. His leverage with Kotomine answered the question for why he was so confident that the Church would not retaliate from his foolishness, but it also shed light as to the less than fair resources he'd brought to bear for this contest. Surely if Galliasta could bring a small army into Fuyuki, the other competitors could as well; that Kotomine was likely ignoring the legality of Galliasta's maneuvers also lined up as to why I hadn't encountered Clock Tower assassins or Einzbern soldiers operating alongside the opposition's Masters.

Exacerbating as well. This was exactly the kind of situation that I would have dearly needed to know before I'd made any moves against the other combatants. If the rules were flexible enough to be bent in our favor, then it opened up a great deal of possibilities in what exactly I could do. It meant that there was a practical time limit wherein we could leverage this advantage to its maximum potential but before the other competitors could realize that the game was rigged from the start. Perhaps nothing so extreme as bombarding the enemy in broad daylight, at least not at first, but the knowledge that the arbiter of the war would have sided with us in any legal dispute was an incredibly powerful tool. I allowed myself a moment to feel impressed at such a maneuver, if not for the ominously large blade hanging over Galliasta's head and, by association, mine.

What did Galliasta trade, that he could gain Kotomine's cooperation like this? Considering the priest's predilections, I had a suspicion I knew what it was, though knowing such didn't particularly give me any joy. A sticking point for the future probably, but if I didn't act now, there was a very good chance that I wouldn't live to see that future.

I closed my eyes, a wave of nausea and exhaustion crashing against me, such that I had to reach for a nearby control panel and steady myself. Galliasta seemed amused by this, chuckling despite the concussion I'd given him.

"You better...just give up, Caster," he slurred. "Bazett will save me, and if you surrender now then-"

"Please." I sighed, turning my back to the man and facing the screens. "Shut him up."

My visages complied, Galliasta only managing a yelp of protest before he was socked in the jaw with sufficient force that he nearly toppled off the seat before the shadows righted him back in place. Silence fell, and with it I could put my full attention to the screens in front of me, my view of this floor of the Tower rapidly dimming with each camera that fell to their inexorable advance.

Ideally speaking, I would have preferred not to deal with Lancer or his Master so soon. I was aware that attacking Galliasta had put me in a vulnerable position, but I much preferred the current situation to the alternative. Galliasta was operating under objectives and paradigms that made him short-sighted and reckless, and in a situation as precarious as this war, such an arrangement could no longer be tolerated. I knew that, given their alliance, McRemitz and Galliasta would likely come to my Master's defense but, perhaps out of some fleetingly brief flirtation with absurdity and delusional thinking, I'd hoped that I wouldn't have had to deal with them quite so soon.

Though it wasn't quite too delusional to expect otherwise, I think. The last I'd seen of them, Lancer had clashed with Berserker mere moments after I'd left the docks, with the entire area erupting in a cascade of fire shortly thereafter. For all I knew, Berserker had murdered Lancer and McRemitz both- certainly not an ideal situation what with the dwindling supply of available Masters to bond with, but removing Lancer from play would have been an acceptable outcome. It's not as though I'd done any work towards shifting her opinion of me towards the green, I'd have lost nothing had she died.

Another wave of nausea, coupled with something like dread at the bottom of my gut. I pushed through it, though I smiled ruefully at the less than subtle reminder. A Master was a Master, so I'd take what I could get regardless of the effort involved. Though that presumed that I'd have eliminated Lancer by that point, a dangerous assumption to make. My gaze flickered to the screens.

The camera could barely pick up the crimson blur from his hands as he swept his lance to and fro, closing the distance between himself and my visages. Lancer swung his weapon with a childish recklessness, a grin plastered unto his face as he carved slender ravines unto the walls and floors of the Tower, moments before gouging out my manifestations with ease. Certainly, they tried to run, to create space between themselves and that monster, but it just wasn't enough. In an open plain, they might have been able to outpace the Servant, flying above and beyond Lancer's ability to kill them, but fighting in such constrained hallways might as well have been a death sentence. He was more agile on his feet than my visages were floating in mid-air, and so long as they could not maintain a healthy distance between the Servant and themselves they would be useful only to delay the opposition.

That man was the most immediate threat, his every action outlined the sheer danger involved that came with merely existing within his area of control. Traditional logic would have a spear-wielding warrior in such confined spaces to be at a disadvantage what with the terrain forcing one to limit their movements so as to avoid lodging the weapon into the ground or wall, but Cu Chulainn's sheer lethality and strength made such a consideration pointless. Engaging him in melee combat might as well be ritualized suicide, and even if I were at my best, maintaining my presence within his reach would be a harrowing experience at best.

My gaze flickered to another screen, McRemitz following her Servant at a brisk pace, all the more noteworthy considering that she'd been limping earlier this morning. The pair was sufficiently far apart that, when a visage appeared out from a corner and bathed the hallway with cerulean light, Lancer wasn't quite in a position to properly defend his Master.

Though it became abundantly clear, very quickly, why he didn't feel the need to do so. McRemitz's limbs began to glow a viridescent green, magic reinforcing her limbs as she rushed forward, an explosive velocity that scattered ash in her wake and set the walls shaking from the discharge. The Clock Tower agent seemed not the least bit concerned at the oncoming fire, her fists rushing forward to bat the munitions out of the air with mechanical precision. Munitions exploded behind her, the magical spells imbued with each bullet destabilizing into a multicolored conflagration that bathed her in color as she closed the distance with my visage. A hand grabbed the phantom's weapon, slapping it aside as her other hand stuck close to her waist, fist upraised in a ready stance.

In a motion too fast for the camera to pick up, the visage was obliterated, McRemitz's fist plunging through the phantom's heart, splattering puffs of shadow and dust as my puppet began to dematerialize. McRemitz continued on, the encounter dismissed from her mind as she continued to follow her Servant, who'd not spared his Master a single glance throughout the entire encounter.

They continued like this for a while longer, Lancer in the lead as McRemitz followed behind, the pair working in graceful tandem as they dismantled my forces with every step they took. In a way, I was almost jealous; while I'd seen Masters capable of combat, or at the very least of not folding instantly upon being contested, it was another thing entirely to see these two operate with such coordination and instinct. I couldn't quite imagine the Einzbern Master deigning to fight side by side with Berserker in much the same fashion, and while I could see Rin having the combat skills necessary to survive, I didn't imagine Archer and Rin as being particularly complementary towards each other like these two were proving to be. At least not to the same extent, anyway.

Nonetheless, their fight through the Tower revealed an integral fact; they were operating blind. They ran quickly, fought, and killed with utilitarian efficiency, but the way they pressed forward, only to step back and proceed elsewhere, did not indicate that they had a full accounting towards the floor's layout and schematics. They were searching for someone, Galliasta most likely, and were acting comprehensively to ensure that they don't miss him among the rubble and the dead. They might not even know of the location of the control room, though that in and of itself wasn't surprising; Galliasta was not so trusting as to allow another Master to know the nerve center of his entire operation.

Still, that situation would not last forever. Soon enough, via the process of elimination or upon them noticing the oncoming burst of magic I was about to perform, they would find me eventually. There was only so much space they could scour before eventually stumbling upon us, and I needed only a little bit more time.

I felt my knees shake, my breathing hitch, as more of my visages manifested. They revealed themselves outside the confines of the Tower, outside the limits of my Domain, and almost immediately I could feel them begin to unravel. Whisps of ash and shadow unsnarling themselves in the gentle snow, though not before they unleashed another wave of explosions that rocked the building to its foundations. Cerulean light bombarded the Tower, the security cams showing Lancer stagger backward as he moved to defend his Master before the feed died in the flames of yet another magical explosion.

A wave of lethargy, more metaphysical than psychological, washed over me and I figured it was about time now. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with air that it probably didn't really need, before exhaling it in a sudden burst. I clapped my hands, less an application of my power and more an impulsive gesture, and nodded my head.

It wasn't an ideal scenario. I'd hoped to be alone and secure when I started this, but given the current situation, this would have to do.

Galliasta's arm burned bright in my senses, uncomfortably hot in my grip, a blazing sun empowered not by hydrogen and helium but by the artificial construct of man-made effort. The source of such a sensation was easily enough to identify, dull sigils the color of dried up blood upon a rapidly paling hand. For all that it was severed and dead, it nonetheless thrummed with life.

Command Seals were proof positive of a Master's contract with a Servant, the most physically obvious sign of that metaphysical bond present in the world. Even with my limited ability to truly understand what the hell I was seeing, I could tell that its designers had been geniuses in their craft. Through my eyes, it thrummed with all the intricacy and precision of a pocket watch; magical energy flowing forth from the Fuyuki leylines, the human Master serving as a conduit, as it kept the Servant grounded to this world.

And that flow of power had been cut by my hand, severing my bond with Galliasta and the Grail, a death sentence for anyone else as I was left to slowly wither away and die. I could feel the World encroaching into my existence, the pressure omnipresent and disdainful, like some long-absent landlord discovering that a neglected property had turned into a cockroach hive. I felt like an interloper, something that was not right or proper in this place, to be excised and banished as was my due.

But the World would just have to be disappointed a while longer. My Domain thrummed at the edges of the Tower, sigils deteriorating and faltering, but holding nonetheless. It staved off my dissolution for a while longer, my authority sufficient to delay the bleeding. Not enough to sustain me indefinitely, but it was enough to secure a lifeline, one that was rapidly withering as I took on Lancer and his Master from afar. The moment my Domain was disrupted, an easy enough task to do should they discovered my sigils, then I would share the same fate as those visages outside. A slow, painful, death as my individual components decayed to nothing. This problem needed to be solved first, all other considerations can wait.

My gaze met Galliasta's. Despite the concussions, he still seemed conscious, though not quite completely there in any case. His eyes met mine, and perhaps there was something lurking beneath my expression, a near instinctual familiarity over having been in my position so many times with far, far more vulnerable subjects, that clued in my former Master to his predicament. His eyes widened, panic flooding his gaze with terror, as his mouth began to move and he raised his remaining hand-

My hand lashed out, seizing Galliasta by his wrist. Behind him, a vestige grabbed him by the shoulder while another took his neck into a stranglehold. He kicked his legs out in desperation, body only barely contained into his seat, as he screamed something incoherent; perhaps a spell, perhaps pleading for me to stop, though the particulars didn't really matter at this point. My breath misted in the cool air, my body shuddering in tune with the Tower as my fingers pierced his skin and drew blood.

"For the Wonders are mine, an Age of Reason built upon the Art of the Possible."

The Command Seals burned bright, the ephemeral hallucination of its power in my sight made manifest into the real world. The sigils grew hotter and hotter, from old blood to new, from new to that of a burning flame. Through my eyes, I could see the strands of my magic reach forward, my former Master's skin burning up as my influence seeped into his flesh and bones. Galliasta's screams only grew louder, his rabid shuddering and resistance kept in check by the shadows holding him down.

Beyond the meat and the screams, there was a sort of beauty in this. Of exerting my will, the feeling of another dimension, another territory, expanding in my sight so as to maximize my needs. With one hand upon his severed arm and the other upon his wrist, the connection between his entire body established via my own being as a bridge, I assumed control of his magic circuits.

To Galliasta himself, the loss of his arm had resulted in the loss of his connection with his Servant, but the framework for our contract wasn't necessarily lost. The rudder was gone, the means to meaningfully direct the vessel ripped from his grasp, but the ship yet remained. With access to his still-living body, upon which I could claim his magic circuits, and access to his Command Seals, still merged with the circuits in his severed hand, I could reopen that conduit.

In my mind's eye, I flexed those circuits in my hand, connecting those magic circuits together, the Command Seals recognizing both Master and Servant reunited again, the necessary parameters for access to the Grail met. Mana flowed from the Grail once more, passing through Galliasta's magic circuits and into myself, his role that of a Master in name only, access to both his magic circuits and the Seals robbed from him, for as long as I maintained contact. The output feeding into me was greatly diminished, as all things were when my Noble Phantasm subsumed magecraft for my use, but it would serve as a stopgap for now.

Sometime during this process, Galliasta had fallen unconscious, though I couldn't quite bring myself to care. Dimly, I could sense that there was a change outside; that Lancer and his Master had paused, an aberrant trend to their recent behavior that did not at all set me at ease. A refocusing of my will had my visages intensified their bombardment, the shadows outside strengthening, no longer at the edge of destruction as they fulfilled their duty with aplomb. The monitors transmitted what information they could see, flashes of cerulean energy blocking out the vista ahead of them before a storm of static signified their subsequent destruction. The added fire barely seemed to affect the duo, before they suddenly started moving again, faster, and with more brutal efficiency than before.

In my direction.

I turned my attention back to Galliasta. The crimson light of his Command Seals, my Command Seals now I suppose, dimming to a barely perceptible glow. For all that I'd achieved some measure of survival, fighting with both hands occupied just wasn't feasible. With a mental command, one of the visages put their hand out, dark shadows more opaque and solid, now that I'd secured my mana supply. With some trepidation, I handed the arm over to the shadow before letting go.

The effect was immediate and unpleasant, the glow of Galliasta's magic circuits dimming in my vision, the uninterrupted flow of mana between him and I faltering into a stream. I looked over to my visage, unblinking gaze staring back at me, the nearly imperceptible glow of the Command Seals a sign that the plan still worked. I repeated the process to Galliasta's hand, the other shadow already holding a firm grip upon the magus, and the sensation was further exacerbated; the stream turning into a trickle, a supply substantially smaller than what I'd been getting with physical contact, which was again smaller than an actual contract with a Master. But a trickle was still better than nothing, sufficient to keep me moving until I found a replacement.

The Art of the Possible was a remarkably temperamental thing. It did not respond well to subsuming multiple targets, intent only on the incorporation of one element at a time. It wanted me to maintain contact with the target, an impractical requirement in a battle against Heroic Spirits. Nonetheless, I'd spent some time considering how exactly my abilities might best synergize with each other, and the most interesting had been whether or not my visages, an extension of my own will, could maintain the Art of the Possible without the need for physical contact.

I doubted that I could, or even should, utilize my visages to activate the Noble Phantasm remotely. The effect of this was already incredibly diluted from the watered-down benefits I'd been granted through the Art, a servant with even the most minimal degree of Magic Resistance would be able to shake it off with minimal effort.

But this was still good. This still worked, and it meant that my death moved away from inevitable, to just probable. I could work with probable.

The door burst open and I focused my will on the walls behind me. Structures of concrete and metal empowered with Galliasta's magics and well within the confines of my Domain. I gathered up what mana I still possessed, focusing my will unto the obstructions as my authority echoed out in an ethereal voice.

"Crumble."

Fortifications faltered, magic died, and the material of the wall itself decayed to ash as my visages fled through the miasma, Galliasta and his arm still in their grip. A wave of nausea fell over me as the whiplash struck me like a physical thing, a migraine forming that nearly distracted me from the glint of crimson at the edge of my vision, Lancer rushing forward to impale me.

The crimson spear carved through my shield, its velocity impacted sufficiently that instead of severing the back of my neck, its tip merely caught me at my shoulder, shoving me forward into Galliasta's recently vacated seat. I set my gaze behind me, just in time to see Bazett rush past the two of us, gaze set directly upon my retreating visages, as Lancer's armored boot came rushing to my head.

Unthinkingly, I brought my arm upward to block the blow, only to feel my entire body thrown upward by the force of Lancer's kick, my arm breaking near instantly from impact. The spear twisted around my wound, or perhaps it was more accurate to say that my body was twisted around it. The pain was excruciating, but with the sudden velocity of Lancer's kick, I managed to leverage the momentum so as to jerk my shoulder forward and away from the enemy. Meat and bone broke free from the lance, strings and shards flying in every direction, my body now straight across from Lancer's as my feet landed upon the ceiling. My flight spells kicking in and ensuring that I maintain some degree of distance.

If Lancer was perturbed by our relative positions, it was overwhelmingly washed out by that battle lust of his obscuring any other emotion except psychotic elation. There was a wide grin on his blood-soaked face as he twirled his weapon, a blur of crimson rushing up to bisect me as I sped downwards. The sharp tip of his pike aimed too high to connect as I swept past him, my body landing atop the concrete with one knee, a pistol manifesting in my hand as I set sights on Bazett, barely visible in the dust.

"Cease, McRemitz." I ordained, mana draining as my authority forced itself upon her as she stopped in her tracks. It was a brief expenditure, my influence lasting only as long as necessary, as I paused to take aim and pull the trigger.

Absurdly, the Master sensed it. Not my gun to her back no, but the imposition of my will to her the moment I spoke. Even as her body froze midstep, she brought her gloved hands behind her; reinforced limbs serving as a makeshift shield before freezing in place. The munitions exploded upon impact, an emptied magazine shrouding her from view in a cloud of ash and smoke.

I felt a shadow eclipse my form, and with a flick of my will the pistol was sent flying from my grip, towards Lancer, his arm still upraised for a mighty blow. A moment later the pistol nailed right across the lip, the weapon exploding half a second later, smothering his face with shards of shrapnel and gunpowder. The explosion blinded him momentarily, a brief delay that allowed me to jump upwards, only narrowly dashing away from Lancer's blow. The floor shattered below me, the tiles cracking into minuscule pieces as I spun like a saw, my foot rapidly closing in on the back of Lancer's neck.

Lancer was quick, his instinct beyond compare, and it was his awareness of the battlefield that caused him to abandon his grip on his weapon and rush upwards, guarding my blow with his free arm. Nonetheless, his reflexes were just a tad too slow, my maneuver executed too quickly and haphazardly, and my heel impacted Lancer's elbow with a satisfying crack that drew a pleasantly aggrieved sound from the enemy Servant as I dislocated his elbow. I adjusted my footing, placing myself ahead of Lancer before jumping off and racing toward Bazett's position.

But Lancer was far too canny to let me go just like that. His other hand rushed out, his weapon falling to the ground as he grabbed my ankle in a firm grip. With a wide grin he swung me around like a set of discarded garments, his foot nimbly catching the spear by its butt. His arm twisted, dragging me down unto the ground with all the strength he could muster, at the same time that he kicked the spear upwards, the spear glinting madly as it rushed towards my throat.

My hand snapped out, a hastily drawn shield absorbing some of the kinetic energy as I slapped the spear to the side, where it clattered with a metallic clang. A short-lived victory if anything, as a moment later I was made intimately familiar with the shattered remains of the floor. Lancer squeezed, his hold threatening to dislocate my ankle, as he shifted his stance and dragging me closer, an upraised leg raised to stomp on my neck. I gritted my teeth, utilizing my flight spell to suddenly and violently twist my body to the side, my foot impacting Lancer's face and dodging his stomp, whilst I desperately tried not to scream from the feeling of cartilage stretching as my ankle twisted in his hand.

Thankfully, the sudden impact was sufficient for him to loosen his grip, and I blasted off away from him as fast as I could, gritting through the pain as my ankle squeezed through his grasp. Grenades manifested in my wake, primed to explode within milliseconds, and I dimly noted his hand blurring, that distinctive, ominous, clang of his spear in hand as I bolted straight ahead. Munitions exploded behind me, drowning out Lancer in a wave of flame and shrapnel, as I rushed through the miasma of ash and dust that enveloped this floor of the Tower like a virulent disease.

From the shadows came a viridescent glow, hands clasped into a hammering blow, aimed to take my head in a ferocious swipe. I adjusted my momentum, my body slipping into a semi-horizontal position as I flew beneath her ambush, catching McRemitz's feet with my body as she was sent tumbling forth into the dust. She threw a wild swing as she fell, too undisciplined and wild to do more than whizz past me, and I swept up to the ceiling and well enough away from her reach. She was still struggling to get to her feet when an array of armaments manifested behind me.

I'd seen what she was capable of with an insufficient volume of fire, capable as she was at merely deflecting and resisting them. In such a situation, anything less than overwhelming fire would be unsuitable in breaking her defenses.

A single burst of light, bright enough to briefly bare the ruins around us in a cerulean glow, before my armaments divulged their munitions in an echoing expanse of illuminated carnage. Briefly, I could see a glimmer of something by McRemitz's side, a silvery glint of something magical, before a blur of blue had Lancer standing before his Master.

A swirl of blood, his lance twirling in his hand and somehow, miraculously, the entire wave missed its mark. Its trajectory abruptly altering, a fell wind obscuring and pushing the projectiles aside, with what few that remained true to the course simply pinging away as they were deflected by Lancer's bloody spear. Explosions rocked the area around him, not a single one close to hitting the target as I felt my coat ripple in the shockwave of so many simultaneous explosions. Concrete pillars were shaken apart, ceiling plaster shredded into minuscule bits as holes were blown through the ceiling, but Lancer and his Master still survived.

Lancer flashed me an amused grin, a look of smug satisfaction that all but dared for me to do it again. I chose not to entertain his bravado, my good hand reaching up to my face as I thumbed away a flicker of blood from my lips, before gracing him with an upraised brow.

"If you were so interested in another sparring match, you could have simply asked."

He blinked at my words before a short cackle escaped him. "Oh man, that's a good one Caster. Freakin amazing, do you just come up with those on the spot?"

I shrugged. "After enough time fighting, one just gets the feel for these sorts of things."

"I suppose," He grinned, arm hanging limply to his side. "Though you're playing with more tricks than you were last time. The ghosts are one thing, but that command of yours? What's up with that?"

Despite the levity in his voice, I didn't intend to let my guard down. A dislocated elbow was nothing too severe for a Heroic Spirit. I had no illusions that I'd dealt the man any lasting injury; he could just as easily pop his arm back if necessary, only that I'd not yet given him a moment of peace to do so. It was important that I maintain this momentum, ensure that he had no opportunity to retreat and lick his wounds. The moment he or his Master would even hint that they intended to continue the fight, I'd have to attack them.

And that would be a dicey proposition at best. I certainly wasn't at my best, and even presuming that Lancer had been injured or otherwise reduced by his fight with Berserker, that still wouldn't be a sufficient advantage to balance out my current energy deficiencies. Not unless Lancer was willing to bare his neck to me and throw the fight anyway, which seemed less than likely.

"If our alliance is maintained, I might tell you." I shrugged. "I don't particularly want to fight you two, but you did strike first. You're lucky in that regard you know, if those visages had truly been my companions, this conversation would be going very differently."

"Good enough for me," Lancer remarked, a good-natured smile on his face. "I'd apologize about your companions, but you don't seem all that torn up about it."

I waved it away before my eyes were drawn to the figure behind him. McRemitz had been knocked down by Lancer's arrival, her body covered in dust and smog from the explosions around her as she unsteadily got back on her feet. Despite that she seemed relatively unshaken by the experience, eyes blinking quickly as she wiped the dust from her eyes.

"Enough, Lancer." McRemitz coughed, her hand reaching out for her Servant for balance, which Lancer endured with a cocky grin. "Can't you taking anything seriously?"

"Oh, I take plenty of things seriously, Master." Lancer groused, shaking his head in despair. "But if you let yourself stay so stuck up like that, you're never gonna have any fun. Fighting Caster's always such a treat, you should enjoy it while we can."

"No."

A disgusted sound from the spearman, his subsequent epithets ignored in favor of settling my attention on McRemitz. Despite the recent battle, the Enforcer seemed relatively unharmed from our recent tussle. Her suit was singed around her upper body, perhaps the result of her shattering the munitions from earlier? There were signs of cuts and tears all across her body, lacerations from stray shrapnel, though all things considered, that wasn't even close to the worst-case scenario she could have endured considering how recklessly she threw herself into battle. I waited until she'd pulled herself up completely, eyes settling on me before I spoke again.

"While our prior interactions weren't exactly warm, I didn't think they were particularly hostile either," I remarked. "For all of Galliasta's faults, he certainly knew how to choose his partners well; I'd like to imagine that even without him being an active member in our alliance, that our cooperative can continue to last a while longer."

Lancer chimed in almost immediately, a cheery grin on his face. "Well, I don't have a problem with that. I don't really like sketchy guys lurking in the shadows, doing nothing while other people do their work for them, so as long as we have that duel of ours by the end I wouldn't mind."

I quirked my brow at that, though I said nothing. Battle and warfare didn't mean the same thing for me that they did for Lancer, animosity or greater benefit didn't really factor into the equation of whether he wanted to fight someone to the death or not. He didn't really need a reason beyond a fight possibly being 'fun', which was something of a mixed bag. It meant that he was a flexible asset, content with fighting whoever and whatever as long as he considered it fun, but also meant that he needed little to no persuasion necessary to engage me in a fight. He even seemed to consider it as something of a treat, which was somewhat foreboding to hear.

"And what happened to him, exactly?" McRemitz asked, eyes set with a strange sort of tension. "You're still here, so that means he's still alive or you would have dissipated by now. Or did you dissolve that partnership, and answer to another now?"

I digested that for a moment, considering her words before I spoke. That Lancer and McRemitz's response against me was remarkable, went without saying. Barely minutes had passed since my assault, and they'd somehow managed to speed through what must have been dozens of floors to arrive at Galliasta's penthouse. It spoke to a kind of motivation that could not be readily derived from a dull, lifeless, contract. There were plenty of ways one could go about sticking to the letter of the law, all whilst ensuring that no constructive assistance could actually be offered. That she evidently operated under good faith was notable, though the extent and circumstance of such fidelity remained to be seen.

McRemitz reasoning out that I was under new management was not unreasonable either. It would be suicidal to launch this attack without some degree of premeditation and back up after all, and in any other situation, I'd agree with that assessment. But in this case, I was very much Masterless- my sole lifeline for mana the thin link between Galliasta and I made possible only by the unique mechanics of my own Noble Phantasm. I could probably explain to that to them, that I'd not sided with anyone else, and that the alliance remained; only without the middleman that Galliasta's position had entrenched himself as.

But that was incredibly dangerous. I couldn't just admit to them such a glaring weakness, not when they'd made a determined effort to kill me. They may be truly genuine, steadfast, allies and all that rot, but at the end of the day, we would eventually have to kill each other for the Grail. My attack on Galliasta had made me unpredictable and dangerous in their eyes, and that kind of reputation allowed for some degree of flexibility. If they knew that my confidence and supremacy was just a fabrication, meant to hide the very real fact that I was essentially on life support, who knows how they'd react.

A piece of the truth then, to better obscure the reality of the situation. Challenging, but not necessarily impossible.

"Galliasta's still alive," I admit. "He and I merely had a rather strenuous disagreement as to the nature of our ongoing strategy. It might have gone somewhat out of hand."

"Somewhat." Lancer whistled, a grin on his face as he surveyed the room with apparent fascination, noting the destruction I'd wrought. McRemitz herself seemed unconvinced, so I pressed forward.

"Rest assured, his removal will not adversely affect our coalition's chances of victory in the long term," I noted. "The opposite, in fact. With full access to Galliasta's resources, as well as the information I'd gathered during my reconnaissance, we should be more than capable of neutralizing the rest of the combatants with reasonable certainty."

Nothing from her at that, merely a blank, absent-minded, look as she stared around her surroundings, which I found rather irritating. I recognized the value of a stalling strategy, of course, silence was oftentimes worth far more in a negotiation than flapping one's mouth, and given the current climate, it was probably more beneficial for me to keep my mouth shut and allow McRemitz to come to the reasonable conclusion. Right now, she was probably conversing with Lancer, communicating with him and conferring his thoughts on the matter; presuming that magi were the highly rational individuals they were supposed to be, it made the most sense for her to simply go along with what I've said and spare both of us any more unnecessary grief.

But in the off chance that McRemitz was not a rational actor, that she would choose to engage me for a variety of reasons known only to her, then waiting would be the last thing I would want to do. Every moment that passed was a slowly mounting advantage in their favor; with my mana supply reduced as it was, my Noble Phantasm tied up in maintaining my existence, I would not win a protracted fight against both of them acting in tandem. As much as possible, a diplomatic answer was necessary.

"It would be unpleasant," I began, her attention drawn away from the blank, thousand-yard stare and back to me. "If we continued to work at cross-purposes. Neither of us is all that fresh; I've had a rather bracing interaction with Rider and Saber earlier tonight, while Lancer's had that little tussle by the docks, huh?"

That, finally, seemed to draw McRemitz's attention, even as a grin formed on Lancer's face. "Oh? Were you watching our fight, little miss?"

"It was hard not to notice that the entirety of the Fuyuki Docks got sent into the sea, Lancer." I explained patiently, with much the same tone as one would explain something simple to a child. My opposite number guffawed at that, shrugging in a 'what-can-one-do?' manner that I found fairly irritating. I turned away from him and back towards his Master.

"My assault wasn't exactly subtle. I can guarantee you that others have noticed and are mobilizing as we speak." I theorized. "The longer we stand here to fight after Atrum Galliasta of all things, the more likely it is that someone is going to come here to take advantage of that chaos. As much as an insufferable human being that man may be, I'm not so blind as to die for that cause. Are you?"

It took a few moments for McRemitz to respond, the magus obviously chewing through something before she finally spoke. "No."

I blinked, confused. "No?"

"You're an unpredictable factor. Your assessment might be true, but your very existence invites chaos wherever you tread."

A shrug. "The war we've invited ourselves into is inherently unpredictable. The very concept of a 'clean' war is unlikely at best, ridiculous at worst."

The Master folded her arms. "I do not intend to see this conflict escalate to one of your wars, Caster. Galliasta may have had his faults, but at the very least he was capable of containing you. If he had been successful in this, then this conversation would not be happening."

I kept my face calm, as I considered her words. What did she know? What did she suspect? She mentioned my wars, did that mean the conflicts I fought while I was alive? Or was she aware of my efforts in the Fourth War, and considered me a danger because of that? Lancer hadn't known that I'd been summoned instead of Medea, so this was from a recent conversation; Galliasta likely pleading to McRemitz that I was controllable in one of their private conversations. A lie if there ever was one, or just Galliasta overestimating his ability, either one was possible. 'Containing' me was the last thing that man had ever really done.

And what did she mean by faults? His 'charming' personality? Or that he sacrificed children? Considering that my former Master had kept things from her, there was a very good chance that he kept her in the dark about that as well. I could ask, but the objective in this conversation was that this meeting didn't end with either of us trying to kill each other. McRemitz's guilt on the matter could be ascertained some other time, when I wasn't literally being held together by duct tape and string. The children were safe with Galliasta neutered, and if there were anymore among Galliasta's many properties, then I'd see to it that they were freed. That was what was important.

"If you're concerned with the fallout of this conflict," I began. "Then rest assured, I have no intention of this war going out of hand. Neutralization of our enemies, minimization of unnecessary casualties. That should be the goal."

She narrowed her eyes at that, her stance stiffening. "Is that so?"

I frowned, before casting my eyes to the side, looking past the dust and ashes. They'd been buried by the prior assault and the aftermath of our current battle, but bodies of Galliasta's people littered the floor. Broken bodies, blown out organs, and incinerated limbs scattered the ground, even as Lancer continued to study them with undisguised interest, his prior fascination now very much clear. McRemitz continued to stare at me, eyes steadfastly locked onto mine.

"If any other enemy had tried to assault this Tower, rest assured that the entire building would have been destroyed in an effort to take Galliasta." I responded after a moment's thought. "I regret that anyone else had to die, but I was unwilling to take a chance that my former Master would utilize a Command Seal on me. I hope you understand."

She said nothing at that, and in turn, I drew my attention to Lancer. "What about you? This concerns you too, you know."

"Oh me?" He chuckled, doing a remarkably good job at appearing light and uninterested what with his broken arm. "Oh I don't make any decisions, that's not my thing. Point me at an enemy and shoot, as long as the fights are good, I can't complain."

I frowned. "...and because we're going to have to kill each other to claim the Grail, you don't mind if we're allies or not, huh?"

"Nope!" He grinned. "Just don't get yourself killed by anyone else, yeah?"

A deadpan stare. "No offense, Lancer, but if it was up to me I'd prefer you just go and get yourself killed before our fight. If it's anything like our past few bouts, I doubt I'll do much better than this."

I wiggled my foot for a moment, my ankle dangling in a rather disturbing fashion that I did my best not to pay attention to. Lancer seemed quite enthused at the sight tho, guffawing in apparent glee.

"Hah! You're killing me here, Caster. Dying before our duel? Heh! Not likely."

He snickered to himself, all useful conversation topics apparently expended, and so I glanced over to his Master instead. McRemitz seemed displeased at her Servant's apparent lack of gravitas, but Lancer relieving the tension this way was a valuable opportunity. I settled myself to her level, lowering my body until my feet were only a few inches away from the ground.

"I still don't trust you." McRemitz noted, stubborn to the end apparently. If she had anything of substance to protest, she wouldn't have said such an achingly obvious thing.

I shrugged at that. "If it helps, the decision to turn on Galliasta wasn't mine alone. Before I came here, I had words with the Supervisor of the war, and he chose to let some….rather interesting facts be known. You could say that it was by his advice that I turned on Galliasta in the first place."

A bit of a stretch, but I suppose if you squint enough then it was technically true. I doubted that Kotomine was quite so able to facilitate a manipulation to that degree; not because he lacked the aptitude for it, it was quite clear that the priest had his hands in multiple pies here. It was more that the man just had too much fun baiting and poking at me, that I doubt he was pushing me towards anything specifically. He wanted me to react, wanted me to do something, and didn't quite care what it was as long as it would be interesting.

My mood soured at that. I wasn't entirely sure whether the Enforcer would have known about that aspect of his personality, but the fact that I was operating on his 'behalf' would hopefully smooth things over.

McRemitz frowned, gaze set in suspicion. "How convenient."

I shrugged. "You could give him a call if you like, though I think that-

To my surprise, McRemitz's hand immediately went to her pocket, pulling out a fairly aged cellphone, and dialing a number by memory. I blinked in confusion, sharing a look towards Lancer who, for the first time since his Master had gotten herself blown to bits, wore the most dissatisfied expression I've yet seen on him. Something like if a man had decided to walk barefooted across nature, intended to experience the early morning dew, only to step foot on a pile of dog shit instead.

Eventually, whoever was on the other line picked up, and McRemitz turned aside and shrouded her face. "Good evening. Yes, it's me, I'm sorry to disturb- Yes I've been doing well I-"

It went on like this for a moment, what I could see from the girl's expression turning from polite deferment to confusion, to shock, before eventually looking over to me with a bewildered expression, her phone mildly pointed in my direction.

"He….Father Kotomine wants to speak with you." She noted, confusion in her tone as I felt the urge to sneer at the phone heightening. Still, I knew better than to reject the call now, not when it apparently seems to have bailed me out of this conversation and took it from her hand.

"Fine." I sighed, before placing my ear to the receiver. "What is it?"

The voice was raspy and amused, his voice back to the guise of a man instead of the collection of cockroaches he truly was. "Such a pleasure to hear from you again, Caster. Did you have fun?"

I couldn't help the sneer from forming this time. "You tell me, Kotomine. I'm sure you have the Tower watched in one way or another, I don't really feel the need of summarizing something you already know."

"Ah, perhaps." He conceded gracefully. "But there are times wherein exposure to sin is interpreted differently from person to person; it is my duty, as a man of god, to then interpret such perspectives in a way helpful to the sinner."

"I don't have time for this."

"Oh but you do, Caster." He said, his voice pleasant. "For if you do not answer my question, then I shall tell dear Bazett that I have no idea what you're talking about and that she should simply kill you now to preserve the sanctity of the Holy Grail War. Surely you are not so irrational as to deny me a brief conversation, are you?"

My spine stiffened at that, and whatever was on my face now seemed to have Lancer in fascination and McRemitz in trepidation. "I did what I had to do."

"Oh of course you did, of course," Kotomine remarked soothingly. "It just so happens that what you had to do, also meant the slaughter of as many people as you could, didn't it? Just to be safe, to minimize the chances that poor, deluded, Galliasta would have to escape. Am I right?"

"...so you do have bugs in here."

Laughter now, amused and nostalgic in equal measure. "Oh dear, no. For all his faults, Galliasta's security precautions were rather extensive, at least in certain matters. But it does enthuse me that, after so many years, some things still remain the same."

I threw the phone at McRemitz, not so fast that it could be considered an act of aggression, but certainly with more force than was strictly necessary. The Enforcer caught it in her grip, confusion still evident in her face, before setting it to her ear. It only took a few moments after that for her expression to change once more, the girl nodding along with whatever Kotomine was saying until finally, the conversation was over.

"I…..I suppose I owe you an apology?" McRemitz remarked, somewhat dazed by the conversation, which was a damn sight better than how I was doing. I shook my head, brushing past her as I ignored Lancer's attention on me.

"It doesn't matter now," I remarked, my hand, the still-functioning one anyway, brushing aside a few strands of hair that had gone askew after my throw. "What matters is that this ugly incident is behind us now."

At the very corner of my mind, the visages that held Galliasta and the Command Seals in their grasp repositioned themselves to the upper floors of the Tower. They'd been at the barest edge of the Tower's barrier, hanging aloft at the outside of the building's walls. The hand had been with the visage farthest away, the one with Galliasta close enough that if I'd wanted it to, my former Master could be brought within viewing distance.

I'd presumed that, what with their response being so quick, that they were at least nominally interested in Galliasta's safety. If the negotiation had gone rather badly, I would have probably used him as a hostage of some sort. I could imagine dropping Galliasta to the ground, forcing a response from Lancer or McRemitz, thus allowing me the opportunity to neutralize the other. Perhaps a replication of what had happened with Galliasta, severing the Command Seals and allowing Lancer to wither on the vine, then thereafter establish a more permanent contract with McRemitz herself.

Thankfully, there was no need for that plan, and so it was better to just set them aside somewhere safe for now. I would deal with him later, once my appetite for talking to subhuman trash had returned, at any rate. Galliasta still had secrets close to his chest; by the time I was done with him, those secrets would be mine, with or without his collaboration.

The control room was still blaring as I entered the room, Lancer and McRemitz following closely behind. The sudden output of magical energy from both Lancer and me sending the magic sensors crazy as I paused in front of one of the sensors. I placed my injured limb in front of me, one hand on my forearm, and, with the dulled resignation of someone who'd done this far too often before, set my arm back in place.

The pain was excruciating, but with the advantage of having my back to both of them, little of my pain could reasonably be seen. I flexed my hand, testing it out for a while longer until I eventually settled myself on one of the few chairs still unmolested from our fight.

"You mentioned a plan, what exactly are you thinking?" McRemitz eventually spoke, her voice still maintaining that confusion from earlier, though it was now slowly giving way to a more professional seeming tone. Small mercies, at least; I had no intention of entertaining the woman's curiosity.

"Currently, the Three Families are in a delicate position," I noted. "The Einzberns are the strongest, followed by the Tohsaka then the Matou, with all three having various degrees of friction between each other. We can take advantage of that, set them against the other, and profit from the chaos."

A brief pause, before the girl spoke again, voice hesitant. "Easy enough to say, but those three would not have survived for this long after so many wars without some degree of cooperation. They may kill each other to secure the Grail, but the magi that they invite to participate in their ritual were never meant to be anymore more than fodder."

I nodded. "True, but there are legitimate grievances we can exploit. Matou attacked the Tohsaka Master last night, and the Matou Servant was grievously injured during the process. If we make a move to neutralize him, the Tohsaka would most likely be grateful, and we can leverage that gratitude into a combined assault on the Einzbern."

Left unsaid was that killing Rider would also allow me an opportunity to form a contract with Matou. It'd be tricky to execute, but considering the injuries Rider sustained and the experience I'd had in fighting the other Servant just now, I was fairly certain that Lancer and Bazett would be able to steamroll through her Servant fairly easily. Assuming that was a fair fight anyway, which was never a good assumption. Rider might still have a trick or two left in his sleeve.

Even if that failed, and Lancer got himself killed, that was still fine by me. I had no distinct preference between Matou or McRemitz as my Master, one was foolish enough to allow emotions to overwhelm her in the middle of an assassination attempt, while the other respected Kotomine of all people, but beggars can't be choosers and all that.

"Picking off the nearly dead? Doesn't sound all that fun to me." Lancer groused, to which I rolled my eyes, turning to him.

"The Matou Master is Alexander the Great." I remarked, which set the other Servant's eyes alight with mischief. "It's been almost twenty-four hours since our fight I think, so he's probably healed up some by now, so you're more than free to give him a shot if you like. He'll probably be happy at the opportunity."

He grinned, one hand reaching over to the other and twisting, arm settling back into place with a nauseating crunch. "Oh, that will be fun. How was he?"

I shrugged, turning away from him as my hands set upon the keyboard, intent on turning down this awful racket. "Determined sort. Younger than I thought he'd be, don't suppose you like horses do you?"

"Fairly well, I'd say."

"You won't like his horse. Monster of a thing, I'm pretty sure it tried to bite me."

Lancer chuckled at that, as McRemitz ignored her Servant's sudden interest towards the Matou, turning to me. "How do you know all this, exactly?"

"I wasn't exactly sitting on my ass the entire time, you know," I remarked, my irritation from that phone call with Kotomine possibly affecting my tone with her. "I've had some amount of interaction with the other families, diplomatic overtures, and all that. I've also seen Matou attack Tohsaka, so I know there's bad blood there, if nowhere else."

"And what about the other two? The three Families, plus us, that means two more Servants unaccounted for."

"One belongs to some hanger-on in the Church, an apprentice priest or something," I noted, a final few taps on the keyboard, the alarms finally quieting down. I'd probably also have to inform the mercenaries that the danger had passed, though hopefully, Rodriguez was doing his part in disseminating the new order of things. "Emiya and his Servant may be a problem; they're aware of Galliasta's prior operations and aren't gonna have a good perspective of us. We're definitely going to have to fight them at some point, but it might be a better choice to simply delay that fight until we have the Tohsaka on our side. Saber's something of a brute, she won't be easy to take down and I prefer to tackle that one from a position of strength."

Well, Saber at least, wouldn't have a good perspective of me. I doubt she'd have any preexisting hatred towards my new partners, but I was leery of engaging her without assistance. I was out of tricks now, and if I could get Lancer to eliminate as many of my enemies as I could, then that would be the icing on the cake.

"Emiya?"

The alarm started again, and I cursed, turning to the screen. "Yes, that's the one. As for the last Servant, I know little to nothing about it. Assassin's doing a remarkably good job at staying hidden, irritatingly enough. I doubt we'll catch them until they finally make their move."

From the corner of my eye, Lancer shrugged. "It's an Assassin, I doubt it'll be much of a problem. At the very least I don't think my Master would be felled so easily, would you?"

An aggrieved noise from the girl, which I ignored as I double-checked what I was doing. The alarms were meant to trigger first at the point of insertion, which would be on this floor specifically. Lancer and McRemitz had been fighting in this area as well, so whatever alarms were sounding, it should have been isolated to incidents here. And yet…..

"Just out of curiosity," I said, calming the palpitations in my chest, alarms ringing incessantly in our ear. "I don't suppose that you brought anyone else with you? Backup maybe? Or an alliance with another Servant that I don't know about?"

"Unlike you, Caster, we don't quite have so much free time to lounge about and socialize with other Masters." came the remark from McRemitz, quickly followed by a more concerned noise as she leaned closer to the terminal. "What's happening anyway?"

There was a magical reading, larger and more robust than either Lancer's or my own, approaching the ground floor. The system would have recognized its presence earlier, had recognized it in fact, but unfortunately, there was just no one else on the wheel to have noted that earlier. Not great, especially considering the rather foreboding size of that magical signature.

"Well." I began, my lips suddenly dry as the little bird in my coat pocket began to flutter against me. "I think we have company."


Author's Note: Apologies for the delay. I'd been dissatisfied as to my writing process and, with an eye towards maintaining quality as much as possible, adjusted a few things to compensate. On an output basis, the schedule remains the same, but a chapter's production should be much more straightforward now. At the very least it shouldn't be as stressful, hopeful. Hope everyone likes the chapter.