* The House in Fata Morgana – La Meglio Gioventu
* Umineko – Future
* The House in Fata Morgana – Labirintia
* Rose Guns Days – Linkage-alter
* Fata Morgana – La Meglio Gioventu
This was a memory from long ago.
It was from a time not many would remember or care about, but it was very important to Michael. Back then, his mind hadn't been filled with any thoughts toward magecraft or the Association in general, let alone Servants and Holy Grails. In fact, that time had been the closest thing to living a normal person's life in that regard. And yet, as far as he was concerned it had been anything but normal for him.
A time when, without thinking, he had turned his life upside down.
A day in particular was carved in his memory.
...
...
...
...
...
...
Returning from work as per his routine.
A lawyer could either be very busy or have all the free time in the world depending on their wages, contacts and enthusiasm. And Michael was making a point of being very enthusiastic to the point of working from morning to evening. The reason wasn't that he was a work-a-holic or that he loved his job that much; rather, he didn't have much else to do. He had only started working a lawyer relatively recently as well, so maybe he was overcompensating. That wasn't something he dwelled on.
As such, he indeed had a routine which involved getting home late.
Usually, he wouldn't think much of it (that was the point of a routine). He was letting his feet guide him down the same old path home while his thoughts strayed. But things were hardly the same as usual now. When he stepped out of his house in the morning, he was a lawyer and he only thought about cases. But when he got home, the cycle he had gotten so used to was suddenly broken when he looked up and saw that some rooms had the light on.
At that moment, he remembered and felt a stinge of guilt while making his way to the door.
For you see, he usually didn't have a daughter.
It was only when he got back home at this time of the night that he was reminded of the little creature who now lived under the same roof as him. It had been half a year already but many more years of being on his lonesome were engraved in him. As a result, while outside he didn't really spare a thought for her and it did hurt when that fact was shoved in his face, even though the same would happen the next day.
And every time, the same thought surfaced in his mind: what had he been thinking?
Sure, he had known her father – back in the days when he and Inheim had been studying at the Clock Tower. After that though, they hadn't exactly kept contact a lot, spare for the time Michael had returned home for his parents' funerals. Ever since he had left England, he had held nothing but contempt and bitterness toward all of his memories of that world, even the good ones. But the feeling hadn't been mutual apparently: it was common practices for magi to always have their will ready since death could come at any time, and it so happened that Michael's name had appeared on his. That was how he had been notified of his departure in the first place.
Maybe being remembered by an old acquaintance had awakened something in Michael. He couldn't tell and he didn't know if he wanted to. He had never heard anything about his former friend's family and so when he had learned about his orphaned daughter...
Well, he had acted on a whim.
No one had asked anything of him, really; it had been his own decision. A choice which, to his own shame, he regretted every evening.
"I'm back."
After stepping inside and closing the door behind him, he stated the obvious. He was greeted by silence, which was about what he had expected. After all, it wasn't as though Maria would come running to him with excitement. At the moment, she must have been in her room doing her homeworks, or playing with toys. Frankly, Michael didn't know what she did with her free time.
He and Maria didn't speak a whole lot. He didn't know what they would even talk about. He had tried remembering how his own father had raised him but... they hadn't done much small talk either, had they? At any rate, Michael couldn't use his personal experience. He didn't know anyone around him whom he could ask either. When normal parents picked up their child at school, they would probably ask them what they had learned during the day, what they had done during their breaks; anything was fine since kids loved running their mouths.
But, well, Maria didn't. She wasn't very talkative. And for that matter, Michael didn't pick her up when school was over and they didn't even share their lunch or dinner since he was busy with work.
It was laughable, wasn't it?
He had adopted her all of sudden but he didn't even care enough to change his lifestyle for her. It was as if his brain hadn't acknowledge he had become a father. He didn't have any experience with handling children. He had never even looked forward to founding a family or anything of the sort. Most likely, no one had ever pictured him as a family man.
When he had left his homeland, it had been to run away from his family.
When he had studied law, it had been to run away from magecraft.
He had made a great effort of ignoring his past for many years. At the end of the day, the only thing he was good at was running away. Someone like him wasn't fit to deal with personal responsabilities. So why had he adopted her? All he would do was pretend that he had a daughter while living his life as though she was a stranger.
He didn't even know what to call her. 'Maria' made the most sense but it felt weird when he said it; it made it sound as if there was a bond of familiarity between them. But at the same time, it was weirder to call her anything else, wasn't it? So the problem wasn't the name but him, all over again. Although, it wasn't like Maria was calling him 'dad' or anything affectionate.
"Dinner, dinner..."
Meals here were usually something simple to make like sandwiches, or takeout. After a whole day of work, Michael didn't really have it in him to prepare something, so this was simpler. Incidentally, this eating habit had been imposed on Maria – she wasn't missing out on much though, since he wasn't what you'd call a great cook. But he wasn't dumb enough to pretend this was a good thing.
He had found himself wondering several times if she wouldn't have been happier in an orphanage than with him. He hadn't acted on that thought however. He didn't know why. Maybe for the same reason he had adopted her in the first place, whatever that was.
"..." While munching on his sandwich, he dwelled on those thoughts again.
The house was deathly silent, to the point it was hard to imagine there was someone else living here. Were children supposed to be this quiet? Michael combed through his memories but he didn't know how it was to be an only child: regardless of how his parents had acted toward him, he had always had his older brother.
(Right, she doesn't have a sibling...)
Michael wondered how his life would have turned out if Inheim had never been born. But imagining what it was like to be the first born was the same as putting himself in Inheim's shoes, and that wasn't something he could do even in a million years. Speaking of his brother, the latter had also become a father some years ago.
What was his son's name again? Le... Leo... Leodegrance?
Whatever.
His son was younger than Maria, but Inheim had been a father for longer than Michael. And he was actually married too, so his household was like a normal family home. Even so it had never crossed the younger brother's mind to ask the older brother for advice. Instead, what occurred to him was the idea that Inheim, that Inheim, might be a better father than him.
In hindsight, this was a pretty pathetic attitude. What managed to get a reaction out of him wasn't Maria's plight but his personal feud with his brother. That described him very well though.
At any rate, it disgusted him to lose to someone like Inheim, even in a non-existent competition. That was why, instead of taking a shower and going to bed as he usually would, he stood up and went to Maria's room.
What for, though?
He had no idea.
He had raised his fist to knock on her door but instead he just stood there like an idiot. What would he tell her after she opened? They still had nothing to speak about. He would definitely look silly if he came all the way here to ask platitudes. He really had nothing else that came to mind however – his fist was just swaying back and forth slightly, never getting a chance to hit that door.
That was already pathetic enough, and the next thing he did was to listen in on what was going inside. As if spying on her would suddenly give him ideas. And he couldn't hear anything anyway; she must not have been playing. What else could she be doing? She should only recently have learned to read, so he didn't think she had any interest in books.
"..."
Maybe even his arm was tired of his indecision – unconsciously, he gave three light knocks. There was a faint grunt of admission from inside, so it was too late to run away: Michael grabbed the handle and pushed the door. He didn't open it all the way, though. Only slightly enough that he couldn't see her but they could hear each other clearly.
"..." He still had nothing to say. But silence was unbearable since he was expected to say something. That was why, he asked her the question that was still on his mind: "What are you doing?"
There was a short silence.
"Nothing."
Normally, he would think this was a blatant attempt at covering up something. But her small, flat voice sounded terribly genuine. If he went in, he would probably find her sprawled on her bed.
"...I see."
Was that all he had to say? Michael grinded his gears to find a subject of discussion, with little success. Maybe she was doing nothing because she was bored. In that situation, what would a father do? He wanted to suggest a hobby, only to realize how hard it was for him.
If someone asked him what he did in his free time, his answer would also be 'nothing'.
"..." There had to be something. "Say..."
"Hm."
"What was it like at your previous home? I mean, with your parents."
Was that an alright thing to ask? It had barely been a year since she had lost her family. That kind of wound couldn't heal very fast, especially not for a child, so prying it open had to be the most tactless thing Michael had ever done. He immediatly regretted even asking and prayed that she would ignore him.
But to his surprise, she replied.
"There was mama... and papa... and it wasn't like here..."
She was struggling with words. It was a difficult question to answer for a six-year-old, after all. Michael was trying to get an idea despite the fragmentary description but that was a hurdle. Honestly, he hadn't seen that guy for so long, he couldn't imagine what his family life had looked like. It had been a bonafide magus family, so perhaps it had been similar to Michael's.
"Did you like it there?"
"..."
What a stupid question. Of course she had preferred it when her real family had been alive. What had he expect her to say, exactly? That was now the second most tactless thing he had ever done. As proof, Maria didn't reply this time.
'What kind of person was your father?'
He almost asked her that but stopped himself in time; three time was the charm apparently. Even if she gave him an answer, he didn't see what he was going to do with it. What was he trying to achieve anyway?
Did he want to make her happy?
Did he want to not be hated by her?
Or did he just want to feel good about himself?
(Why did I take you in?)
Maybe he was too immature to understand. Looking after a child wasn't the same as having a pet, yet he had still gone had taken that responsability without knowing what it meant. And maybe he was being all the more immature by stubbornly trying to be someone he wasn't.
Or was that manner of thinking another way for him to run away?
...
"...Hey, Maria. How's school? Must be hard since everyone's speaking French."
"No. I learned some with Mama. It was hard at first, but I'm used to it now..."
Right. Her mother had been French so she must have been raised in a bilingual environment. Michael had been more or less aware of it; it sure had been convenient that she wasn't completely lost in a new country. But... he had used that convenience as another excuse to let her take care of herself.
"How are your lessons? You holding up?"
"It's a bit hard... sometimes..."
"Did you make any friend?"
"A few..."
"Do you play with them?"
"Hm."
"What kind of games?"
"Hopscotch... tag... " She enumerated. "Today I played spinning skipping rope..."
He had heard about those. Those were pretty popular as far as kids' games went, right? Michael felt like he should know but really he didn't. Growing up, his main game partner had been Inheim. And because his brother had been a bit weird already at the time, so had been his games. Young Michael hadn't really questioned it though, he had just been happy to play.
Naturally, he had been sent to a normal grade school, albeit a private one. But looking back, it seemed to him as though the only game he had played extensively had been throwing hands with other boys. Actually, he had kept doing that throughout middle school too. And a bit throughout highschool.
...
He had been a pretty violent kid, hadn't he?
But even after he had stopped getting into fights, the people around hadn't treated him any differently.
"Did you get used to the neighborhood?"
"..."
"Like, when returning from school."
"No. I get lost..."
"You do?"
"A lot..."
It was his first time hearing about it.
Michael did take Maria to school every morning, since it was on his way to work. Classes were over long before he returned home though. When he returned, he always found Maria here. He had never figured just how hard it must have been on her to get home on her own; although he called it a 'neighborhood', the school she attended wasn't exactly close.
So all this time, she had been completely lost but hadn't said anything about it.
"...You're very courageous, you know that?"
"Huh?" She let out a small yelp of surprise.
"I really mean it. Maria, you've been going through a lot but..." He had never heard her complain once. It was probably due as much to their complicated relationship than to her fortitude, yet even so Michael couldn't help but being amazed. "I wish I could have a bit of your courage."
...
...
...
"...How do I give courage?"
"Hm? You'd give me some?"
Even if he didn't deserve it?
"I don't know... how to..."
"I dunno either."
Maybe it was simple. Maybe... he was already receiving it. But that was hardly fair: he should be the one giving her something. He wasn't sure what exactly, but if he was going to receive something so huge he wanted to give her something just as important in return. Something only he could give her.
"Say, is there something you want?"
"Hm?"
"Something, anything."
"..."
"Heh. Come to think of it, you never ask for anything, do you?"
It shouldn't surprise him at this point. But that still felt wrong: weren't children supposed to be complaining and asking for stuff all the time? They should be selfish little creatures who didn't pay much heed to those around them. But looking at Maria, it was completely upside down.
That wouldn't do at all.
"Then, I'll ask differently: is there something that would make you happy? Really, really happy?"
"... ... ... ..."
"Hm? Did you say something?"
"I'd like better food."
"Ouch. You're hitting me where it stings..."
But, was that it? He wouldn't be satisfied with only that. He wanted to give her more. He wanted to see her act like a child her age. Even if it meant she would be noisy and nosy, he wanted to hear her speak her mind without reserve. Even if she acted like a total brat, he wanted her to be happy while doing it.
What he wanted...
What Michael Argas wanted...
(... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... Ah, so that was it.)
Something that had been very hard to fathom was suddenly so clear that he didn't even need to think about it. As though someone had finally switched on the light after he had been trumbling in a dark room for ages.
* Umineko – Future
Gently, Michael pushed the door open completely.
Now that he finally knew what Maria was doing inside there, he was taken by surprise: she was doing nothing indeed, but not in the way he had expected. She wasn't sitting on her bed or at her desk. Instead, she had taken her blanket and was crouching down on the floor while wrapped in it. With her tiny head sticking out of it and looking up at him, she looked like an armadillo.
That made him chuckle while she was blinking in confusion.
That child, the first time he had met her she had seemed so miserable. Even if she looked better now this sadness was still not gone. That was unavoidable though: he had failed to give her what she lacked the most.
"I'm a bit late and I'm not sure how to do things..." He crouched down in front of her. In response to that, Maria's head retreated slightly into her blanket. That wasn't very reassuring but Michael wasn't going to let that discourage him. "Still, I'd like it if this house could become your home."
This girl didn't have anywhere to go.
She had lost the home she had been born in. When Michael had taken her in, he had half-assed it. He couldn't just give her a roof to stay under and call it a day. And he couldn't pretend to give her something he didn't have.
He couldn't possibly have given her a home because he didn't have one either.
"I don't know if I can achieve that on my own, it sounds very hard. I don't have a home to give you right now, but I swear I'll do my best to make one. So..." Until this day, this house had been nothing more than a hiding place for him. But he had had enough. "...If possible, it would be nice if you could become my home as well."
Maria had completely shielded herself inside of her blanket carapace, so she must not have heard him. That was fine though: the one who had needed those words the most was him.
What did it take for a man to stop being a coward?
He still didn't know but he stopped asking himself the question.
After that day, he tried to learn how to cook properly. He even took actual classes and practiced every day. And it did wonders in a way he hadn't anticipated: at first, he had only been intent on preparing correct meals to make her happy, but before he knew it he was taking actual pleasure in it. It had never occured to him before how fun cooking could be. And inversely, it made him realized how forlorn his daily routine had been up to that point.
Since all of that required time, he cut down on his working hours. It wasn't as though he was desperate for money: his job was well paid to begin with, so he had quite a bit saved on the side. And even if it became tight, he was still a member of the Argas family. The idea of turning to his aristocrat of a brother was killing Michael, that part hadn't changed. But if it was for her, he would swallow his pride and ask for help.
Now that he had more time to himself, he could actually go pick Maria up when school was over. Then, for dinner he could put what he had learn into practice. It didn't always come out well, yet even so it somehow tasted better than the pre-prepared meals he had been having for years. He could watch over her while she did her homeworks, even if she hated those.
Many months passed by so fast he hadn't noticed them.
He was a decent cook now, despite his lack of predisposition. His new daily life had also completely erased the old routine he had trapped himself in. As for their relationship, well, you couldn't bridge that big of a distance so quickly. There was still some awkwardness between the two of them, although Michael was convinced his adopted daughter had become more talkative. It wasn't something he knew at the time but Maria had started referring to him as 'papa' behind his back. It was probably in order to fit better among the other kids, but still. On his side, Michael didn't have any qualm calling her by her name anymore.
Although, even with a home to live in, Maria needed more. There was only so much Michael could do on his own. As things stood, Maria didn't have a mother or siblings, so she must have felt pretty lonely with just him. From what she told him, she had other kids to play with but no close friend whatsoever.
In the end though, he didn't have to do anything about that.
Just as she needed more than just him in her life, she didn't need his help for everything.
Even though Michael was managing his work hours so as to spare time for her, that wasn't always possible. There were days where she had to come back home on her own, which didn't pose as much issues once she had memorized the path to take. But on one such occasion, she still managed to get lost; from was he was told afterward, she had gotten down the bus at the wrong stop and had found herself in a completely unfamiliar part of town. Everything turned out fine in the end: she had ringed at a random house and used the residents' phone to ask him to pick her up.
For Michael, this had been a one-off accident – but for Maria, it seemed an unlikely friendship had budded that day.
When she asked to meet with the other little girl she had met at that address, Michael didn't see any problem with it. Up until he learned exactly who it was who lived there. Magi were not exactly a rare thing in this part of the world but even so, to somehow manage to accidentally find them, and the Arbonnaux's of all people... Michael had never met or interacted with them in any way. He was aware of their presence since they were undoubtly the most prestigious and oldest family in this area. Which automatically meant that Michael did not like them.
And thus, for the first time he had to deal with a father's concern for his child's company.
It went without saying that he would much rather keep her away from magi and magecraft. That was why he had never talked about it with Maria and why he hadn't tried to teach her anything. She already knew about thaumaturgy from her previous family, so it wasn't as though he could keep her completely oblivious. But encouraging it was out of question and that included letting her hang around scions from big shot families.
What shall he ever do if they rubbed off on her?!
Unfortunately, that was not something he could simply explain to her. Maria may not realize who she had asked for help that day – but even if she did, she had said she wanted to play with that other little girl again. His adopted daughter, who rarely dared ask anything for herself, had made such a demand. His personal grudges were not worth sacrificing everything he had built with her until now, and so Michael had eventually given in.
(She's a smart kid. When she notices they're terrible people, she won't want to see their face ever again.)
So he had hoped.
So he had hoped.
Maria and her new companion Silvelune Arbonnaux became best friends. There was now absolutely no way for Michael to interfere between them. She now had someone to give her the company he couldn't and yet it was the worst possible scenario for him. He could have sworn he hadn't used any monkey paw though.
Silvelune apparently didn't go to school, which was illegal but Michael was aware that some families chose to take care of their heir's education all by themselves. However, as he learned later, Maria's friend was already the head of her family. That fact had not really made Michael feel sorry for her – prejudices were stupid like that – but it had forced him to acknowledge that Maria was not going to ever give up.
He did not meet Silvelune often, even though he was bringing Maria to her mansion many times a week. He was properly introduced to her by Maria however, and that first meeting had set in stone Michael's impression of Silvelune: it was his very first time being looked down on by a gremlin not even half his size and who was stuck in a miniature wheelchair. It was both infuriating and hard to take seriously.
And for the records, Silvelune had never given him anything other than a condescending look, although the way she glared at him did change over time for some reason.
And then, one day, Maria came to him with a question:
"Say, papa~." She walked up to him with her hands in her back. "Can I ask you something~?"
Michael's suspicious sensor was detecting something. This sweet tone she was using and her demeanor all indicated she was about to ask something he wouldn't like. He didn't point it out of course, but he wasn't fooled.
"What is it?" He feigned ignorance.
"It's alright if I invite a friend here, right? You don't mind if I do a sleepover with a friend, right~?"
(Aha! I knew it!)
So this was what it was about. Michael could easily guess what friend she was referring to. Maria must have noticed how uneasy he was about Silvelune, so she had decided to not mention her name. Clever girl...
Although, the fact that she knew about it yet still hung around Silvelune went to show Michael had no say in the matter whatsoever. Naturally, he wasn't too keen on having the gremlin come to his house. He could already imagine her face when looking at a house that wasn't a luxury mansion. It may have been an overreaction on his part, all the more since he had never put his foot down on the matter. But Maria's carefulness in approaching the subject was certainly making him feel like he was justified, as though she were a culprit caught red-handed.
In truth though, the one who looked bad here was probably him.
Michael wasn't the kind of person to deny his daughter's requests anyway, so this seemed like a foregone conclusion. But this time around, for some reason he let words slip out of his mind:
"You know, you don't have to force yourself." He sighed.
"Huh?" Maria tilted her head.
"I know it must be hard for someone your age, you want to have friends. But even if you're lonely, you don't have to be desperate. I'm sure there are lots of good kids who want to be your friend, so you don't have to force yourself to play with someone you don't like."
"..." Maria was staring at him with wide eyes. Then, she put her small fists on her hips and frowned. "I'm not lonely."
"That's..."
Michael was ready to continue his lecture but when he opened his mouth, he wasn't sure where he had been going with this anymore. She must not like being called lonely or maybe she believed having one friend meant she wasn't alone. But how could he explain this with words...?
"I'm not lonely!" She repeated with more insistance. "Because you know, my friend, well she's even more alone than me!"
"..."
"She won't say it but I can tell! Because she's the same as me! So I'm not lonely!"
"..."
She might as well have kicked him in the shins, because Michael certainely felt like he had received a slap. In fact, maybe she should have hit him. He realized now just what he had told her and what he had implied, and the words he couldn't take back were biting him in the neck. Who the hell was he to assume how she was feeling? – that was the question he saw reflected in her adamant gaze.
She had the right to be angry or hate him. But instead, she had corrected him.
"..."
"So, can she sleep over?" Maria asked again, innocently.
"... ... ...Sure, knock yourself out." He scratched his head.
Then, when she skipped away in a good mood, he passed his hand over his face.
He was gonna have to step up his game and prepare the best damn dinner possible.
That way, she could impress her friend and brag about her dad.
Chapter LXXVIII: Without You
* Fata Morgana – Labirintia
"What's gotten into you?!" Michael shouted to Ewald, although the latter couldn't hear him.
For some unknown reason, Ewald had started talking to himself before losing consciousness. Michael and Rider weren't dense however: he had clearly been attacked by something, an invisible attack which had also bore a hole in his shoulder. The latter wasn't that much of an issue as long as Michael could take a good look at it but they were currently in no position to do so.
The two Masters of White down below were definitely to blame for this; and so the first thing the middle-aged magus did was pull Ewald's unconscious body away from the edge of the roof and to leave their enemies' sight. Regardless of what it was they had attacked them with, hopefully they couldn't use it without seeing them.
"Rider!"
"On it!"
On the other side of the house was, of course, the endless flow of automata (although they were less and less numerous). Michael didn't want to go back into that sea of metal ever again and had Phaeton lift the both of them before leaping over the street. A few bronze darts flew their way but they were already on their way to the next row of buildings.
Once they were away from any sign of danger, be it human or mechanical, Michael could finally breath out. They didn't stop walking still; they didn't know where they were going but he wanted a safe place to look after Ewald. Michael would hate to give him back to Brynhildr in pieces.
As far as he could tell, Naraku and Evangeline had not been accompagnied by a Servant. As such, he wasn't too worried about their safety as long as Phaeton was with them. But he wasn't at ease either. So far, their adventures around the Ark had proved that they had more than Heroic Spirits to fear.
"Lay him down here."
"Are you sure...?" Phaeton looked left and right.
Indeed, they were still in the middle of an alley, but it was as good a place as any. Moreover, Ewald was rapidly losing blood. Unlike with Phaeton, it wasn't a state that could be overlooked for long. Michael's impression of Ewald was that of a stubborn man who would act recklessly even when he was pissing blood. So it was better to tend to it before he regained consciousness.
Right, that was something else he would have to take care of.
"There's no projectile..." His wound was empty, even though it looked like a typical bullet wound. "That makes things easier for me."
While healing his shoulder he also took a look at his head. That was usually the part to look out for in case of loss of consciousness – incidentally, unlike what books and movies would have you believe, it actually took quite a bit of care to wake up someone safely after a concussion. The brain was a fragile instrument after all. Magecraft could fortunately circumvent those requirements, but that was if Ewald's sleep had been shock-induced; Michael didn't know how to deal with supernatural slumber.
"There's a bruise..." It looked like he had been hit dead centre in the forehead.
For the records, Michael had never treated brain damage in his entire life. Phaeton had gone through much worse more than a couple time, but a Servant's toughness just couldn't be compared to a human's. Before the Holy Grail War had knocked on his door, he had only ever had to look after scratches Maria and Leo had gotten while playing.
It wasn't good to think about failure while taking on a challenge, but Michael could only hope healing magecraft could heal the brain just as well as it could reattach an arm.
(In any case, I've got to do it...)
It came down to doing what he did best, in the end. When the shoulder was healed, Michael moved on to Ewald's head. The thing that had attacked him had been able to inflict physical wound – did that mean it was simply an assaillant turned invisible? But Assassin of White was dead already and if it were a Servant Michael didn't think they would have gotten away so easily.
(Are they going to chase after us...?)
The answer was most likely yes. They must have been looking for opponents to begin with; Michael couldn't imagine they would let their prey get away when one of them was already out of commission. He would rather avoid it at all cost however: not only because of the aforementioned reasons but also because of how Naraku and Evangeline looked.
Michael was ready to fight, but to try and kill children was...
"Hey, Michael!" All the while, Phaeton had been on the lookout. All of sudden, he whispered to him: "Someone's coming!"
"Did they catch up already?" Though he wanted to focus on his task at hand, Michael tool a glance around them. He couldn't see anyone though. "...Is it a Servant?"
"Definitely." Phaeton nodded. "It's a strong presence."
It couldn't be the two from before then. It wasn't too surprising in hindsight: there were a lot of Masters and Servants roaming around at the moment. That included their allies of course, and how relieved Michael would be to reunite with their teammates. However, it was clear from the look on Phaeton's face that this wasn't a friendly presence.
They couldn't stay here.
Truth be told, he was already done treating Ewald – it wasn't as though he had suffered extensive damage beside blunt trauma. But that did not mean he would wake up immediatly, so they were still down to one magus who didn't want to fight and one Servant who wasn't at his best. Running away meant a risk of encountering more dangers while unprepared though, so instead Michael gestured toward the house next to them. In the end, indoor was their best hiding place. It would only be for a moment though.
Michael laid Ewald down on the floor while Phaeton closed the door behind them.
By now, even the middle-aged magus could feel the presence Phaeton had mentioned; he could also hear heavy footsteps. Whoever that was walked down the street and didn't seem to react or slow down when they passed in front of their house; it would seem they couldn't detect Michael or Phaeton after all. All the latters had to do was stand still and wait.
But Michael's curiosity was strong.
As they had just experienced, an invisible menace was worse than one you could see. Perhaps that was why he didn't like hiding without taking at least a single look at what they were up against.
There was no window to peek from and the door was closed. That didn't mean there was no way to see what was outside though: the Ark was in pristine condition overall, but that was only true for what was made of white stone. The doors in this place were made of wood and showed their age a bit. And as it happened, the door to the house Michael and Phaeton were staying in had some cracks large enough to see what was on the other side if he put his eye against it.
Through this little crack, he was able to see a tall body of polished silver wielding a sword that was half black, half white.
Hey, I recognize that guy!
Phaeton, who was looking through another crack, spoke to him mentally to avoid making any noise.
I hit him dead on in London. Do you think he'd recognize me and come looking for vengeance?!
Stop squirming and you'll be fine. We're just letting him throu–
But as it turned out, the silvery giant was not alone. It had been hard to tell before because of the noise he made with each step, but there was someone trailing behind. Although it was hard to get a good look from where Michael was standing, he saw a wheelchair with someone in it. He only saw the back of their head though.
Behind the wheelchair, there was another figure who seemed to be pushing it, and...
And...
And...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Michael's mind blanked out.
Any thought about hiding or safety flew out of his mind: he slammed the door open and stepped out on the street. Phaeton let out a loud gasp behind him but Michael didn't hear it. The rest of the world vanished save for what was right in front of him.
"... ... Maria?"
It was her, no doubt about it. Even from behind he would recognize her in a heartbeat.
His sudden appearance didn't fail to attract the attention of the silvery giant and of the two girls following him. When she too looked at him, Michael had his answer: this was his daughter.
It wasn't a deam or a delusion.
Words couldn't describe the emotions that clashed within him. He wanted to feel relief, elation and anger, but in the end he was completely stunned by confusion.
He also recognized the girl sitting in the wheelchair next to her.
"You... you're Maria's friend, aren't you...? Why are you..."
It was obvious what she was doing here. Michael had heard about the silvery giant who belonged to the Black Faction. When he thought about what Leanne had said all the dots connected by themselves. But even once he had understood, he could only stare at Silvelune in a daze.
"What are you thinking?!" Phaeton rushed out of the house to stand between his Master and the Black Faction members. But he too was bewildered to see Maria Argas standing in front of them. "W-what's happening here exactly?"
They were not the only one to feel that way, however. Silvelune too seemed conflicted: her expression changed several times over the span of a couple seconds, in subtle hues of surprise and seriousness. In the end, the corner of her mouth curled up in a stiff smirk.
"So you're here... I shouldn't be surprised, actually." She finally spoke up. "When Maria told me you were asking her to join you in London, I already had a hunch that you were a part of this as well. But still, you really are here, huh?"
"..."
Maria was not reacting at all.
When Michael had imagined their reunion, many times over, he had pictured her gagged and bound to a chair like in old comics. Or at the very least imprisoned somewhere, behind bars he could break to set her free. Of course, that had been when he hadn't imagined finding her dead. But of all things, he hadn't expected to find her standing there with nothing binding her. This threw him in a loop trying to understand just what in the world was going on, until he noticed how vacant her expression was.
"Are you... controlling her?" He asked the girl in wheelchair.
"It makes things easier, don't you think?" She replied. "It's not as if she would have come with me if I had asked her."
"You... you're the one who did this...?" Michael was muttering to himself more than he was adressing her. Slowly, his balled-up hands clenched harder and harder. "When she trusted you... while she saw you as her friend, you took advantage of that trust... to betray her...?"
If all blood had drained from his face a minute ago, it was now all rushing back. His breathing became heavier while every inch of his body felt like it was boiling. His fists were now trembling with a rage he barely managed to keep in check, and it would take very little for this thread of sanity to snap.
"What the hell are you doing to my little girl?" Even trying to control his voice proved to be hard. "You... I really didn't like you when she met you... I thought you were a little shithead who would only bring problems to her. But you know, I accepted it, eventually. I accepted how much you mean to her and that I was wrong about you... ... ... So what kind of sick joke is this supposed to be?! Is that how you repay her for her kindness?! For her patience?!"
"..." Again, Silvelune couldn't seem to decide what expression she wanted to put on. She ended up cackling. "I always knew you weren't fond of me. You weren't very good at hiding it, even when Maria was there. I really didn't have anything to lose from you."
"... ..." Michael breathed in deeply while glarring at her with a hateful passion. "Why did you do that to her?"
"You can choose whatever excuse makes you happy. Even if I gave you the reason, it's not like you'd be satisfied with it, would you?" But Silvelune coldly denied even his attempt at understanding. "I didn't act on anyone's orders. I wasn't blackmailed into doing it. I took Maria with me of my own volution. That's all you really care about, right?"
". . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I should have stopped her back then." No matter how heartless it would have been at the time, he shouldn't have ever let those two be together. "She would have been better off never knowing you!"
Silvelune's face became rigid.
"...Yes, she would have gotten a better hand out of a life without me. But you know, I would also be better off if we had never become friends. I only knew how to be alone until she came along."
"Shut up! You're the one who put her in danger! It's your fault if she's here instead of being safe! Not only that, but you're also taking her freedom away from her?! Do you even realize how she must be feeling?! None of that had to happen to her – and it's all your damn fault!"
"Is that really right? Are you sure you aren't getting ahead of yourself here?" She didn't seem fazed by his howls of anger, although the confidence she was trying to show wasn't very convincing either. "I can't deny the consequences of what I did, but I never tried to put her in danger. No one ever laid a finger on her. On the contrary, I've done everything to keep her from falling into the hands of unscrupulous people. That could have very much happened, you know? Even if I'd never kidnapped her, because you are also involved in this mess she would never have been safe."
Ironically, the fact that Silvelune had managed to take Maria away in the first place was a proof of it. Michael had been aware of it from the beginning; that was why he had wanted Maria to join him and Leo. That didn't mean he was the least thankful for Silvelune's protection however.
"Give her back." He took a resolute step forward and reached out one hand while the other hand was tightly clasped around his rapier. "I don't care about your reasons. I don't care about your excuses. I don't give a damn about what you thought you were doing: let her go!"
"Hum, Michael..." Phaeton was still standing behind his Master. But instead of their conversation, he was more so focused on the silvery giant towering over the two girls. "I understand how you feel but we're in a really bad position right now!"
"Give her back!" Michael didn't care, however. It could be Inheim, the Devil or God Himself standing in front of him that it wouldn't change anything.
"..." Silvelune did not answer immediatly.
Her eyes were shifting from Michael to Maria and then back. And sometimes, they turned toward Berserker of Black. What was going on in her head was an enigma but she was visibly torn about something. So much so that her hands were clutching the arms of her wheelchair while more and more sweat was beadding on her face.
"I refuse." But finally, she gave her reply adamantly. "I agree it's my fault if Maria wounded up here, but I can well enough take my responsabilities for that. Meanwhile you, have you taken a look at yourself? With that puny Servant of yours, you couldn't even defend yourself. The only reason why Berserker hasn't killed you on sight is because of how important you are to Maria – did you really think I was going to hand her over when anything and anyone could kill you? She will stay with me because that's where she's the safest."
Then, there was no way around it.
"...I'll kill you."
"Even though we are allies? Our Factions have made a truce, I believe. If you attack me, you'll put your companions in more danger." Silvelune was serious. "You can't even deny that I'm right! You can't protect Maria, you can't even protect yourself! What about your nephew? Is he safe? Or is he also involved? That wouldn't surprise me. All of your little family has been put in danger's path but I'm not the one you should blame for it."
* Rose Guns Days – Linkage-alter
But Michael wasn't listening anymore.
When he had said he would kill Silvelune Arbonnaux, that was not a threat – that was his resolution. And in order to carry it out, he broke into a sprint toward the girl in wheelchair, holding his weapon with pure killing intent. There was no plan or rational thinking behind it; he was letting his wrath tell him what to do.
Thus, it was fortunate that he was not alone:
"I told you to wait!" Phaeton ran up after him and grabbed him by the waist. "There's no point saving her if you die here!"
After all, there was no way the silver giant would stand idly by when someone ran at his Master with such clear bloodlust: by the time Phaeton got a hold of Michael, Berserker had jumped and landed right in front of them. Instead of swinging his sword at them to kill, however, he raised his fist and slammed it on the ground. It seemed that Silvelune's claim that she was holding him back was true; at any rate, the silver giant had deliberately missed an opportunity to kill them with ease. That wasn't to say they were safe: the mere impact from punching the ground sent Phaeton and Michael flying.
But if you thought this would clear Michael mind, you would be dead wrong.
Maria was right there. His daughter whose fate had been all but uncertain until now was finally within his reach. Of course he couldn't think of anything but to be by her side. And to do that, he could think of nothing but to kill Silvelune with his own hands. Even though Berserker of Black now stood in their way like an impervious wall, Michael's determination only doubled.
'Seeing as she is involved in the Holy Grail War, the chances for her to die are not slim.'
He could hear words of dread spell out his fears at the back of his mind.
'If that were to happen, would you be able to accept it?!'
'Would you not try anything to get her back?!'
That wouldn't happen.
He was not going to let it happen.
Maria was finally here, he wouldn't let her disappear again.
No matter what...
No matter what, he wouldn't to have to choose who to save and who to abandon.
Michael shook free of Phaeton's grasp and was ready to rush forward again. His best chance here was to kill the Master to make the Servant vanish as well. But in order to do that, he had to slip past the Servant first. Once that was done, it wouldn't be hard to get rid of Silvelune: she was weak beyond compare; she most likely couldn't fight back or run away.
And fortunately for him, he had just confirmed that Berserker of Black was trying to avoid killing him. In that case, Michael really had a chance to get through; it all came down to what the silvery giant would pick between obeying his Master and defending her. A sensible analysis would have pointed toward the latter, but Michael's thinking stopped at the conclusion that there was a chance.
And so he ran toward the silvery giant.
Berserker's size actually made it easier to circumvent him, as long as one didn't fear for their life. What Michael was aiming for was to pass between his legs since he could hardly stop him without killing him. He was also counting on Berserker's innate slow wits to pull off this trick. Phaeton was crying something behind him but Michael wasn't paying him any mind. The silver giant raised his arm again, as expected; he wouldn't bring it down if Michael was too close.
However, maybe those thoughts had been leaking from him somehow: if he paid more attention, Michael would notice that what Berserker was ready to slam down on him wasn't his fist but his sword. There was no mistake about it - he was just as intent to kill as Michael was.
And the Michael only realized it once the white-and-black blade came down on him and his legs froze.
...
...
"... ... ... ... ... ... ... Ah."
But, as it turned out, he did not die. In fact, the sword never hit him: after Michael blinked, the silvery giant was not standing in front of him anymore. And yet, he heard the sound of the blade hitting the ground loud and clear – but it was behind him. And in front of him, there were Silvelune and Maria. The girl in wheelchair was staring at him with wide eyes.
Berserker wasn't the who had suddenly moved: Michael was.
"I gave you a chance, won't you seize it?"
Looking down at them from the top of a nearby house, Aleister Crowley called out to him. Unbeknownst to Michael, the Caster of White was the one who had teleported him away from Berserker's attack and in front of his target. Aleister's presence was not a coincidence either: at the very same moment, Naraku and Evangeline emerged from an alley. But all of this escaped Michael; those events were unfolding too fast for him to follow.
So instead, his mind focused on what was in front of him.
"..." After his confusing had cleared, anger returned to him. "You..."
Berserker of Black wanted to turn around and save his Master but he was hindered by an invisible wall erected by Aleister. When she realized this, Silvelune's face turned deathly pale.
She raised her hand to cast a spell - Michael was faster.
He thrusted the rapier toward Silvelune. The blow was ruthlessly precise, more so than he had anticipated in his blinding rage, and the blade stabbed into her chest at the perfect spot to pierce her heart.
"...!"
But the blade only sunk as far as the tip.
As Michael felt he had hit something hard. Ironically, making such a precise and efficient blow had been the end of his luck: Silvelune's chest glowed golden. The next moment, Michael received something akin to an electric shock and was blasted away. For the span of a heartbeat, it felt as though his body had lost all weight – that is, until he crashed against a wall and a splitting headache assaulted him.
He could hear his Servant's concerned shouting but it felt very distant.
In fact, everything around him was hazy and came to him in fragments of information while his held his head between his hands.
Meanwhile, Aleister had witnessed all of this and in particular the peculiar shine emanating from Silvelune.
"So you have one the Shards as well." He stroke his chin. "That you would be keeping it for yourself instead of hiding it away... Fascinating."
"And you must be one of Pedilefey's Servants..." Silvelune answered his smile with a glare. "You just had to rear your ugly face now of all times, didn't you?"
"My, forgive my sudden interference." Aleister chuckled. "Your Berserker is much more of a threat than that little Rider over there, so I wanted to get rid of him first. I'm still recovering from a bad hit though, so I thought I would let someone else take care of it."
"Then that means you can't use all of your nasty tricks right now, right? If you could, you would have attacked me directly." She said. "Or could it be you were checking for what secrets I have up my sleeves?"
"A magus knows better than to ignore what another magus is capable of. All the more since that other magus seemed to hold a bit of a secret..." Aleister's smile became twisted. "The Shard you hold seems to be a genuine one, but where exactly did you get it? If my calculations are right, the three Factions only ever fought over as many as three Shards. The others were gathered by Ivan thanks to his knowledge about their locations... then where does that one come from? Did you steal the only Shard the Black Faction has?"
"If you're that interested, you can figure it out on your own!"
Silvelune snapped her fingers; at once, Berserker turned toward Aleister. The latter only had the time to do one his reflex leaps through space to avoid the black-and-white blade.
The giant didn't stop there and came after him like the relentless killing machine he was.
By the time Michael could understand what was going on around him again, the situation had turned around completely. His last thoughts had been about Silvelune and what could have possibly happened back then, but he was now forced to acknowledge what was goin on in front of him.
Namely, the fact that the White Masters he had been running from had found him.
"Every man and woman is a star." Evangeline began chanting.
It took one second too many for Michael to realize the danger he was in and, though he held his rapier up to defend himself, he failed to understand the true nature of the attack. He was already standing within the Bounded Field Evangeline had cast earlier: sparks were lit out of thin air all around him before erupting into fire. The flame thus created moved like a snake and slithered toward his mouth without giving him the chance to defend himself.
"How many times do I have to bail you out like this?!"
Thankfully, someone here was more reactive: Phaeton grabbed Michael by the back of his collar and pulled him back. The mystical fire had to settle for him as a target; but it was as harmless as a cool breeze to his skin that could bear the heat of the sun.
"Did you really think you could attack my Master in front of me?" With a fierce look, the charioteer moved to attack them. "Don't look down on me just because I don't have my chariot!"
"That's your cue!" Instead of panicking - although she was definitely on edge - Evangeline cried out to Naraku.
"Indeed."
The teenager hadn't waited for her signal: taking both Michael and Phaeton by surprise, he let his teammate step back and willfully stood in the blade's path. Even though metal sliced through his ribcage and part of his thigh, his face didn't so much as twitch – whereas Phaeton was stunned by this illogical behaviour.
"Retribution will come."
Then, Phaeton's face twisted in pain: blood burst out of his side as the latter split open in the exact same spot he had wounded Naraku. Not only that, but he began swinging his sword and his fist at nothing. To Michael, it looked like he was stuggling back against the air; at any rate, Phaeton was not paying attention to the two Masters of White anymore.
"20. 8. 15. 18. 13.!"
Evangeline pronounced numbers at tongue-biting speed, after what a myriad of needles appeared all around Phaeton. They weren't able to inflict much damage through his Magic Resistance, if at all; but because Evangeline's spells were strengthened by her Territory, they at least managed to graze him.
This was nothing more than a diversion though.
"...!"
Michael, who had been wholly focused on his Servant's predicament, suddenly noticed Naraku closing in.
He spotted a metallic glint in the teenager's hand. It was a simple and rather short knife, the kind you would expect to see in a street fight. But it was plenty dangerous despite its size; Michael's rapier gave him a natural advantage with its length but his reaction was too weak. In truth, the rage that had made his movements so sharp and decisive before was now faded. Worse yet, its ashes were still burning: his mind couldn't decide whether he should follow his anger or calm down.
On the other hand, Naraku was dashing toward him without hesitation in spite of his nasty wound. Taking advantage of Michael's confusion, he stepped in as close as possible and slashed at the hand holding the rapier. It was a very shallow cut but Michael nonetheless almost dropped his weapon. After all, the only battle experience he had were from battles where forces stronger than him clashed against each other – this was the first time he fought against a human to kill.
And now, Naraku dominated him completely: once he had a good grasp on Michael to prevent him from getting away, he aimed and swung his knife at his throat.
Bang–!
But the sound which drilled Michael's ears wasn't that of metal stabbing flesh.
Blood soaked Naraku's sleeve and the knife was no longer in his hand. He and Michael turned their head at the same time: there, on the doorstep of the house where he had been left, stood Ewald with his gun locked on the teenager.
"Use your curse on me, I dare you." The freelancer said.
"... ... ... ... Retribution wil–"
Before he could finish his sentence though, Michael gave him a piece of his mind in the form of an uppercut. Naraku was pushed away and fell down backward on the floor. That wasn't enough to dispel the curse cast on Phaeton; even so, with this they could take back the momentum of this battle.
Or so he wished, but there was a battle of greater magnitude taking place next to them: the street was sweeped by a powerful updraft, as though a storm was passing through.
Against someone like Berserker of Black, Aleister was forced to stay on the defensive.
His control over space made it significantly easier, but he had learned his lesson from his defeat against Maui. Rather than overestimate his ability to keep the silver giant in check, he kept running away. It did not help that his own attacks had little effect on the behemoth: trying to compress space around his limbs or even his head did nothing but leave a small crack in his silver cuirass, to say nothing of regular spells.
That was why, after goading him to jump over the street to chase after him, Aleister contorted space to create a gale strong enough to knock him away. Not wasting the time this was buying him, he then put the head of his staff against his temple.
"20. 8. 15. 21. 7. 8. 20."
At once, everything seemed limpid and the world around him seemed to slow down. That was only an impression, however: he had applied a thought accelerator. Much like how magi benefitted from chanting spells fast, so did they like being able to think calmly in the middle of a duel. With his reasoning now enhanced, he observed his opponent carefully.
As ever, the silver giant was back at it faster than you could say it, but as he lept toward Aleister the white side of his blade shone. Letters flew out of it and danced around him:
"The hare is slower than the wind
But the wind is slower yet than a thought
And a thought you must catch"
The words entered his body and, when they did, Aleister noticed a sharp increase in Berserker's movement speed – around 20%. It wasn't too drastic but it was meaningful nonetheless. The logic behind this power-up was unknown and thus it would be very dangerous if Berserker was able to use it repeatedly.
"So the white side is used to reinforce yourself. Although, considering your other attributes, you may be modifying your Saint Graph directly." Aleister pondered while teleporting away. "Then, what could the black side be used for?"
He did not want to play a game of cat and mouse he would eventually lose: instead of directing another fruitless attack at the Berserker, he instead turned to his Master standing helplessly on the ground. But the result was exactly what he had expected: no sooner had he tried to attack Silvelune that the silver giant jumped into harm's way to act as a shield.
As for why he hadn't tried to kill directly before, other than the fact his attention was monopolized by her Servant, there was also the Grail Shard Silvelune had in her possession. The way she had repelled Michael Argad showed that she understood how to draw in its power.
But his attempt at harming her at least had the effect of arousing Berserker: his once serene face veered to rage.
"He grinded stars and Neverlasts into a lotion
To smear his body and claim his dominion"
Again, white letters flew in the air and turned the surface of his body all the more resplendent. What was more, his very presence appeared greater than it was before, so much so that Aleister could hardly look away from him.
(I see, so this kind of application is also possible.)
It only served as more data for him to uncover the mechanism of Berserker's ability. And for that matter, Aleister believed he more or less understood it now: it was all mimicry. Or rather, a game of pretend – the foundation of it was magecraft, in a way. An outward Reality Marble that let the silver giant translate elements of his inner world into reality.
This was of course nothing more than a partial understanding of it, as there was no way for Aleister to truly know.
But at the end of the day, all of this was fake. It was bound together and brought into reality by a spell, or at the very least a similar processus. And if there was a spell, there had to be a way to dispel it. Something of this level of complexity would actually requiere hours if not days to come up with a counter-spell – to Aleister though, it was only a matter of second as long as he could think at high speed.
For the first time, when Berserker of Black charged at him, the magus did not run away. Getting this close was dangerous beyond compare but so was controlling space in general; Aleister managed to teleport past the black-and-white sword and applied his hand against Berserker's skin.
Then, he activated his counter-spell.
"▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ !"
There was a dry noise: the silver giant's body was cracking at the seams where Aleister had touched him and all around it. It was different from fissures created by brute force and instead looked like a broken mirror.
However, it was a failure.
Aleister was swatted away by Berserker's arm; the wounds previously inflicted by Maui were screaming. In the end, he had failed to completely dispel it: the cracks in the silver giant's body disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. Well, that was no wonder for a counter-spell made on the spot. It could be considered a successful first trial.
That being said, the second trial could wait.
"▄▄▄▄▄▄▄!"
Aleister had left his guard down and the silver giant would now make the most of it: the black side of the sword shone.
"Seek the shadows around the edge
Mightier than the lion or the boar
Devour the stray lambs wedge by wedge
On the fifth day, answer the call of the drums of war."
The black letters which had appeared from the ashen metal returned inside of it rather than Berserker's body. As they did so, the sword changed in size and shape, becoming as along as the giant was tall. Lifting the massive weapon above him with both arms, Berserker dashed toward Aleister. The energy flowing within the sword became more and more unstable by the second – it was simple enough to guess what he was going to do with it.
(So the black side is meant to project fake Noble Phantasms.)
Aleister was in a pinch. He had no time to teleport out of range, nor could he able to raise a barrier sturdy enough to save him. Now was no time to panic however – a proper magus shouldn't ask themselves whether or not they could do something, but instead how they would achieve it. There was still a way out.
The calculations necessary requiered him to use the limits of his accelerated thought in the very short time he was given.
"Maliagan: Giant Slayer."
"Disperse!"
Finally, the silver giant unleashed the power of his sword. It was a very crude attempt at producing a Noble Phantasm: it only matched the level of one by its sheer power, an outpouring of energy focused on a single area. This simplicity is what Aleister took advantage of since it was a level of Mystery he could match with his own power.
What he did was straightforward: the wave of energy discharged at him was dangerous because of how packed it was. In other words, it could be rendered harmless by expanding it – the fake Noble Phantasm was distributed over a much larger area, thereby lessening its destructive power. That was in theory – in practice, Aleister had no experience with such manipulation and he had made his calculations before even knowing how much mana he would have to move.
Thus, when the fake Noble Phantasm clashed with his space maneuvre, a miscalculation showed up immediatly. He had meant to render it harmless but had misjudged the quantity and distribution ratio: instead of feeling a slight tickle, it felt as though he had been struck with a hammer.
This was a preferable outcome to death, but there was one little problem: the range of the blast also encompassed the Masters fighting below.
"I'm afraid playtime is over..."
This miscalculation also gave him an opening; he teleported down in the street at the location his Master should be. As expected, he found her on the floor, holding her head with a grunt. She was still a lot better off than Naraku however.
"M-Master Therion..."
"This is no place to die."
Aleister snapped his fingers. He and the two Masters of White teleported away, disengaging from the fight.
* Stop music
A weird silence had settled in.
Michael got back up to his feet with some difficulty; it felt as though something had hit him hard in the chest. Looking around him, he noticed Naraku and Evangeline were gone. He couldn't hear the intense clash between Servants either.
"Ewald..." He saw the freelance magus sitting down on the doorstep with his hand on his mouth, as though he was going to vomit. "Are you alright?"
"I'm not." He helped himself up by using the wall as a support. "But I'm alive."
It would seem he didn't have any aftereffect from his concussion. Well, that was one thing off Michael's mind. Then the next thing was...
Silvelune Arbonnaux.
She was still where he had fought her before. That being said, Michael found her lying down on the ground: her wheelchair had been knocked over by the impact. As for the girl herself, she was breathing heavily. It didn't look like she could get up on her own, not in her state. She couldn't fight or defend herself either.
"..."
"..."
She looked back at him but her gaze was hazy.
There was nothing to stop Michael now.
He hadn't forgotten how he had felt a moment ago; he knew what he had to do. The least he could do was to make it quick and painless.
But when he was about to raise his rapier to finish her off, hasty footsteps approached.
A pair of arm wrapped around Sivelune and lifted her up.
And when Michael looked up, his eyes met Maria's.
"...!"
But they were different. She didn't have the same expression as before, distant and befuddled. No, her eyes were clear – she was truly looking at him. The Maria he knew had returned.
Finally.
Finally...
But...
That same Maria, while holding the weakened Silvelune in her arms, stepped back.
"...Maria...?"
Michael didn't understand. She was free at last. They were finally reunited. So why was she not coming to him?
"Sorry..." Maria gave him an awkward smile. "There's something I'v got to do."
"Wha..."
Michael was lost.
Sadly, there was no time for questions: with a loud crashing noise, Berserker of Black returned and he envelopped the two girls with his large arms. All the while, Michael and Maria did not look away from each other. But, in a single jump, the silver giant disappeared with his daughter.
"Maria...!"
He reached out his hand.
But he was too late.
He was left without but a feeling of void in his chest.
Thank you for reading.
It feels like this chapter had many things that were a long time coming.
~Legends Storyteller