Fate 1961 – Part 5
A Fate/ series fanfiction
Antartica, Caster's workshop
As morning dawned on the grim castle, Caster was feeling very satisfied. Although his doubts had been confirmed on the unnatural nature of this war, he had been able to observe the last fights and take a guess at the identity of most Servants.
The death of Archer was a good start as well. His plans of summoning an incomplete Grail aside, having one of the supposedly most powerful Servants of this war due to the backing of an entire country die was in no doubt a great achievement.
Only one other such Servant remained, and Caster had already cracked the way to defeat him. Although he usually didn't rely on brute force, if his suspicions were correct Berserker was essentially invincible, yet had a gigantic flaw.
Based on his aptitude to creat handcuffs, his appearance and his general behaviour, one particular greek hero came to mind. The king and founder of Ephyra, first described as a hero and then a monster, who defied thrice the gods and escaped death, tasked in Hell to push a rock on a mountainside for all eternity... Sisyphos. His accomplishments in life led Caster to believe that killing him would require much more that a few good hits.
Fortunately for him, he had just the necessary arsenal.
Getting his Master's approval would take too long. Caster set on leaving without telling the homonculus about his plans. If worst came to worst, he had spells in stock to travel back to Cocytus as soon as needed.
One thing still bugged him, however. He had hoped that the Grail's absence of interference had been his doing, but it seemed he had been wrong. The recent developments could not fit in with any of his plans.
Which meant someone else had its sights on the Holy Grail War's flaws.
With an impatient grin, the bald Servant set out in the cold to track Berserker's footsteps.
Antartica, Mage's Association campsite
"...not only did you fail, but now we're very compromised. It's only a matter of time before they come back to wipe us out, and with Not and our Servant in this state...
-"Our" Servant ?
-Don't play with my nerves or you'll regret it.
-Understood. Well, I had no other choice.
-I'd have preferred you died to that blow instead of tiring my Servant to the verge of death.
-I'm sure you would."
Cecil and Saber had retreated after the battle to her campsite, forced to cooperate after what had happened.
None of them could have foreseen the developments. Rider immobilized by Berserker, Archer impaled by Saber and Not ready to do the same to the japanese Master... Archer had turned her weapon to Saber in a last feat of strength, and had taken the shot. Unable to avoid, Saber had his head pierced by the bullet, before Archer vanished. Using his still active Noble Phantasm, he had then regained his physical integrity at the cost of Lancer's, who fell in a coma.
But the worst of it had yet to happen. Before Not was able to deal the final blow, she was the one who instead got hurt, by none other than the mysterious Calladius.
Having appeared out of the blue behind her, he had striked her through the back with a winged-shaped sword. She, too had fallen unconscious.
The hooded magus had then done something to Rider's Master, rendering him docile, and freed him. All without a word, the Rider pair and their mysterious savior had then disappeared.
And now they were hiding again. Cecil and Saber being the only valid individuals of their alliance left, they had dragged Lancer's (who could no longer maintain his spiritual form) and Not's bodies to the campsite.
"So ? Don't you have anything to explain about that Noble Phantasm of yours ? And don't try the excuse of "we're enemies", that won't work in these circumstances.
-I understand Not better when she said you were a tyrant.
-Leave Not out of this conversation. This is about Lancer. What have you done to him ?"
Saber sighed, fidgeting the handle of his rapier. Eventually, he conceded.
"Fine. What do you know about me ?
-D'Artagnan, right ? I've heard about the Three Musketeers and all of that, but I actually never read the book.
-Good, because I'm not that stupid character.
-...Well, that's one thing settled then. So what ?
-I am, or rather was, a musketeer, that much is true. As a soldier, my job was to keep the peace and solve the people's problems. Long story short, I was talented enough that I acquired a good position. And you know what they say : with great responsability...
-I think you're getting that saying wrong.
-No matter. What I'm getting at is that loyalty is everything to a musketeer ; yet I've seen both the kings I served and my close friends make mistakes, turn against each other. Through all of this, I alone stayed true to my principles. And that is what my Noble Phantasm entails.
-Sorry, I don't get it. Be more specific.
-For my Noble Phantasm, [One for All, All for One] to work, I first need a subordinate, or more. They have to willingly come under my orders,or it won't work. Once that is done, I can... revert back to a previous state, using their memories of me and their energy to that extent.
-So, just to be clear, you're sacrificing people to stay alive no matter what happens to you ?
-If my Spirit Core is damaged, then that's the end for me. What's more, the conditions are fairly hard to unite, unless my Master had actually accepted to be a part of it... But I digress. Yes, that is indeed what my Noble Phantasm does.
-So much for the great hero that you are.
-I've never pretended to be a hero. That's entirely Dumas's fault and you should blame him rather than me.
-So quick to reject the responsability, as well..."
Cecil took a moment to digest the information. More of this now made sense ; knowing Not, she could understand that her pride and her disinterest for humans prevented her from bowing to her own Servant. And while Lancer had his reasons for sealing that contract, he was not aware of what it exactly entailed...
There was the matter of Lancer's knowledge as well. If it was true, then Saber could not sustain himself through Not and would eventually disappear ; but that Noble Phantasm changed the game quite a bit. That time limit would still exist, but indefinitely extended...
"I know what you're thinking, but I don't have any intentions of using by Noble Phantasm any more than necessary. Nor will I use it if lancer is fighting as well ; I may be a cold-thinker but I'm not stupid enough to dry out a powerful ally.
-I don't know about that... But fine. Either way, we have to cooperate until Not heals herself and Lancer regains consciousness."
She glanced at Not's body, laid down on the couch. Although she didn't appear to be breathing, Cecil knew that she could not die from a simple hit. That's the benefits of having a string body for you.
But there was the problem of Calladius. She couldn't understand why he had come alone only to retrieve Rider and his Master, and why he ignored them. Surely, he would eventually come back and try to fight them, especially with one in each of their pairs down.
"...Saber. Although I'm not really happy with that, but...
-You want to form a contract with me ?
-Certainly not, that's revulsing. No, I was thinking about something else. But you have to promise not to ask any questions. And I need you to answer me truthfully.
-...Understood. Do as you wish.
-If one of your subordinates betray you, what happens ?
-They can't break the connection. Rather, it will start emptying them of their energy on its own.
-Tch."
Feeling her idea weaken, she shook her head. There was no time for hesitation.
Standing up next to not, she placed her hands either side of her own neck. Under her fingers laid her Command Spells, and the fake one she had prepared initially.
Think about it. Aren't you doing exactly what Lancer asked you not to do ?, she thought. But her reasonning was stronger than her Servant's now that she knew all of this. Lancer's intuition had got them into this alliance ; it was now her role to turn it into a debt of gratitude.
Removing the hand that covered her fake Command Spells, she instead placed it on Not's forehead.
She had no previous knowledge about the transfer of Command Spells. She had only studied their abilities and effects, but she had a good understanding of the process.
A Command Spell was a result of a contract formed between a mage and their familiar, relevant in the field of Evocation. Although the Grail's Command Spells were of great importance, they were still just a scar, or maybe a signature, of the contractants left on the contractor's body.
As a spiderborn, Not had not received them, being treated as unfit as a contractor. That just meant her contract with Saber was unrecognized, even if it existed. Right now, Saber's existence was holding to a thread.
Cecil was about to change that. A Command Spell, no matter its origin, was still no more than a mana reservoir with power over a contract rather than any specific Servant. If she used her Creation to create a similar signature on Not's body, she could create one almost from scratch... But she had to sacrifice one of her own in order to fill the Spell with the required mana for it to work properly.
First, she drew a tear on Not's forehead using her own residual mana, before pouring in the energy contained in one of her Command Spells. Highly concentrated, she didn't hear Saber let out an exclamation of surprise.
"Hey, are you serious ? How do you even..."
After a few seconds, the ritual was complete. The tear was now shining with bright red, and one of the marks that were previously on Cecil's neck was gone, leaving only two remaining.
"That should do it. I expect you to help us in exchange.
-Wait, are you sure that's what you wanted ?
-I don't just do things on a whim, that's Not's thing, not mine."
With painstakingly obvious incredulity painted on Saber's face, he stared at Cecil for a few minutes before exploding into a loud laughter.
"You... Impress me. I was not expecting that.
-Flattery won't do anything for you. Now that we're on equal terms, I'd like you opinion on what to do.
-First of all, we can't stay here. This place is dangerous, if only for the simple reason everyone knows about it.
-Everyone ?
-Us four, Rider and his Master, Calladius, Berserker, and the external observer that watched our battle. You noticed them too, right ? If I know how to count properly, and with Archer out of the picture, everyone involved in the war must have followed the events.
-Great, just what we needed.
-But, not everything is bad. Calladius and Rider's group aside, Berserker is fairly easy to avoid if you're careful. As for our mystery spectator...
-Actually, I have an idea about this. Lancer and I scouted the continent out after your little altercation, and we stumbled across a mage's workshop. That's probably where they were hiding.
-Then I have a suggestion. Let's visit them.
-Wh- Are you crazy ?!
-If they've only been watching this whole time, they may give us some good intel on Calladius. And if they're not pacifist, then we'll have to fight against them eventually anyway. We know for a fact they don't have an alliance, since we know every other participant's doing. I believe chances are on our side, event without the help of Lancer and my Master.
-You're actually a madman. Have I somehow made you more stupid by officializing your contract with not ?
-Maybe less stupid than brazen.
-That's not any better."
Cecil crossed her arm, watching the sitting, unconscious Lancer and wondering what he would advise in this situation. But in truth, they didn't have a choice. Here in Antartica, there was nowhere to lay low. Their only option was to take the fight to the enemy, and the best starting point was the last Servant pair they hadn't encountered.
With a shrug, she finally gave up.
"Okay, we're doing it."
Antartica, deserted plain in the middle of nowhere
Caster had finally reached his destination. Here in this deserted part of the world, where the weak sun shone on the bright snow, and the wind as dead as himself, he faced the most fearsome warrior of the war.
"What's up, my fellow deceased comrade ? I'm here to take you soul.
-..."
Berserker, who had been walking slowly, came to a stop, and turned his burnt, malicious eyes to the fool that dared speak to him.
"...Move.
-Ohoh, I will, don't worry... It is kind of a shame to use my powers for such a stupid fight. But I cannot take any chances ! That is just the way of life.
-Move.
-Let that be your last words, then."
Berserker leaned to the side, before running to Caster with speed above any living creature in this world.
Caster raised a finger and, with a twist of the wrist, slowed down the mad Servant. Or rather, he slowed time itself down, and his finger decomposed into a thin black powder, leaving his hand to fall to the ground.
"This was worth the pleasure of seeing you distorted face as your bestial mind takes control of you ! But I don't have all day. Let's get to the main course, shall we ?"
A book materialized in Caster's hand, opened to a double blank page. Clearing his throat in an exaggerated fashion, he smoothed out his non-existent hair to the back and focused his eyes on the pages.
"Avatar of Aiwass, answer the calling of your disciple and come to share your knowledge with this world once more. Let the powers beyond the Veil uncover my True Will and let it replace my True Name for all to see and fear. In the name of Aleister Crowley, open the gate to the Aeon of Horus and shine its light on this imperfect body : Liber AL Vel Legis !"
At the end of Crowley's incantation, text started to appear on the pages, then on his own skin, spreading all over his body. His eyes slowly turned white as the pages of the book flipped by themselves, and horns appeared from his skull, which lost all color. Now of a monochrome white and grey, his body changed shape, adopting a series of abstract geometric shapes before settling for a humanoid, horned and white-eyed creature two-meters high, and stature on par with Berserker. Just as its transformation came to an end, and his previous time-altering spell wore off, his voice echoed.
"I am the Beast of 666, Redemption incarnate. Face your demise or bend to my will."
As time had resumed, Berserker stopped and jumped back at once, a sense of dread suddenly coming from its prey. Its blurry mind couldn't understand the phenomenon that had just occured, bt its natural acute intelligence was telling it that this was not something that he could fight by conventional means.
Caster -or rather, what now stood in place of Caster- raised a twelve-fingered hand to the sky, and the ice and soil under Berserker's feet started to crumble and rise periodically, destablizing him slightly. With an inhuman screech from the white being, clouds started to amass in the sky and rain started pouring in the below-zero environment, melting the snow and inflitrating the ice. In a matter of minutes, gutters of water had formed around them and started filling a pattern, taking the shape of a magic circle several meters wide.
Berserker hit his fist on the ground, flattening with immense power the unstable floor, and creating a deep rift from his position to his enemy's. Using this as a distraction, he jumped down and caught both sides of the opening, linking them by a chain that made them come to a sudden halt. Using the chain to propel hismelf, he finally jumped back up right to the horned man... only to get caught in its grip.
The absurdly large hand had clutched his skull and slowly, his eyes shined before his view was returned. His eyeballs, no longer charred, looked down to the Beast.
"Did you remove the cloud from my mind ?
-Answer me, son of man. Do you abide by the laws above you ?"
The suddenly sane Sisyphos narrowed his eyes, his mind working as fast as possible to regain his lapidated memories while searching for a way to escape.
"There is no law above me.
-Then you will suffer."
The Beast of Revelations loosened its grip, and Sisyphos fell down the rift that he had created. His sanity, once again, flushed out, replaced by an undying hatred.
Destruction and revolution. That is what the people who thought themselves supreme deserved to experience. After all, he was above all rules... They were.
Feelings of despair and famine washed over his last memories. Grasping the wall, he climbed out with lightning speed and rushed to the former Caster. With a scream, he punched through the body of the Beast, only to stuck his arm inside.
"Behold the might of the Dragon at the end of the world."
The white being's fingers got thinner and longer, resembling needles. Then, the creature plunged them in the king's body, and started precisely searching for something. With a cry of rage, Sisyphos opened and closed his hands, again and again, creating more and more chains as time went by, until eventually, his opponent found what he was looking for.
Piercing and piecring again. A fatal wound. And another one, and yet another one. Berserker, unable to keep fighting, let loose. His arm, escaping from the ethereal body of the Beast, dropped to his side, until he eventually vanished.
Antartica, site of the first battle
When Rider came to his senses, his shackles had disappeared... Or instead, replaced by knots of fabric, holding him in a crucified position on something like a grid. He had been stripped of his cape and lightsaber, instead given an artisanal necklace made of wood and feathers. At his feet, which is to say serveral meters below them, his Master was facing a man in priest's clothing, looking emptily at the space in between them. Shun's face, devoid of any emotions, was turned towards Father Wilde, who had the leisure of examining his condition.
According to his observations, Suniji was currently controlled by some form of hypnosis. And its author left no doubt as to its identity.
Calladius was walikng around the arena, using his feet to mark out some spots, slowly forming a wide circle. He stopped to chuckle.
"Haa, so Berserker is no more... The Beast-class is a surprise, however. Even if it is but a partial invocation, that is impressive of young Alexander."
Back to his initial task, he started humming the tone of the Swan Lake by Tchaikovsky.
But the one that really caught Rider's eye was the other Servant, the teenage featureless boy who was staring at him. Caught in a locked eyes battle, Rider finally remembered that he could speak again.
"You thought I had been subdued but you failed to account for it was me, Don Quichote, who was subject to such a puzzle ! But worry not, for I have figured out the identity of that powerful foe, Sisyphus of Corinth !
-You're late. Berserker has already been defeated."
The one who answered was Shun, his voice plain and almost mechanical.
"Is that so ? I will have to thank the brave warrior who would slain this man in duel properly later, then.
-He too, will soon disappear.
-Pardon me, Master, but how do you know this ?
-Soon, everything will disappear."
Rider bit his lip, faced with such a laconic answer.
"Well, it is not my way to ask for help, but I appear to be stuck to some kind of tortue contraption...
-Be careful what you say or it may just happen.
-Ah, I see. We are in this kind of dire situation then."
Suddenly serious, Rider looked at his arm and started thinking.
Antartica, Caster's workshop
The infiltration had gone much more smoothly than Cecil had anticipated. Having recreated a Bounded Field to protect Lancer and Not, Saber had transported her while following her directions to the nexus of leylines.
When approaching the castle, Saber had been able to cut through the main obstacles, and Cecil used her talents to go unnoticed when entering. They did hit a blockade, most likely one that had been setup with stealth in mind, but when smooth tactics were inefficient, sheer power got through.
She had to admit that Saber, even though he lacked in chivalry and empathy, had proven his worth many times during this journey. She wouldn't admit it to him, but he was reliable.
"I've been around spies quite a lot, if that's you're thinking about. I know how you guys work, and this castle is the same."
He also had those scary moments of extreme lucidity quite often, which were perturbing her more than they helped with anything.
After deactivating some traps and walked dark corridors, they eventually arrived in a large room, comprised of a chimney and desk, next to which was standing an albino man holding a finely-crafted sword.
"I knew you'd come", said Karl von Einzbern.
"Well, we did enter through the front door..."
Cecil was simply not in the mood for the "master at the top of the castle" vibe. Instead, as Saber unsheathed his own weapon, she asked :
"Is your Servant not here ? I thought we'd run into them earlier.
-Caster left about an hour ago. He will be back soon, but you won't be here to see him.
-Hm ? I'm sorry ?
-I don't need him to take you down."
As he said this, he turned to face them, sword in hand. Saber walked up to him, and the both stared each other down for a second, before exchanging a series of passes in quick succession. None of them advanced or stepped back.
Cecil raised her hand in order to cast a spell to aid Saber, but a wall of darkness raised herself against her, absorbing the attack. From behind, the voice of the Servant echoed :
"Don't step in. I've got this.
-You cocky little..."
The walls finsished forming around her, isolating her from the outside, and she soon found herself in another part of the castle.
"Hmph... So this place did have a trick up its sleeve after all..."
She readied a paintbrush. Although Creation magecraft was something that usually took a lot of time and careful preparation, she had perfected through her job uses for it in short-term. Namely, she was able to conjure spells from splashes of color, although weak by themselves, they were more than enough to fight back against an automated system.
Making her way through the labyrinthic structure that moved around in order to lose her, she marked her path with a yellow line. Arriving into a fairly narrow corridor, she ran through, and splashed the walls with green dots that prevented the walls from closing on her, forming poles all throughout. Using everything at her disposal, be they explosives, freezing or windy spells, she repelled the castle's corruption in every form, be it solid, gas or liquid.
Soon the landscape she found herself in had subsided from a castle to a vast and dark room with liquid floor and liquid walls, that she walked on, dropping blue paint before her every step. She walked, and walked, and walked without finding an exit.
So, no more convoluted redirections, we're straight up in a prison cell now...
Master ?
She jumped, not expecting Lancer to respond.
Lancer ? Are you okay ?
I am alright. But where are you ? It sounded like you were in trouble.
Saber and I have confronted Caster's Master, and the castle has seperated me from them.
By the castle, do you mean the one we saw before ?
Yeah. Any tips ?
Aside from "don't die", nothing comes to mind... Hold on.
Lancer had cut the conversation. With nothing better to do, Cecil sat down on her improvised, self-made floor and waited. After a few minutes, Lancer returned.
I have an idea, I hope that it works.
What is it ?
I'm going to use my Noble Phantasm through our link and scout the area to find an exit.
That would be great ! But can you really do that ?
I've never tried... But I might as well. Try going straight.
Happier to have some conversation than to receive help, Cecil obliged and soon found herself following Lancer's directions. Eventually, she reached a doorframe.
If I'm correct, this place is based on a real building, only covered with what you're finding yourself in. That should take you to Saber and the enemy, if you find the way to open it.
That's great and I appreciate your help, but, I have no idea how to open something like that.
Hmmm... Right, with the darkness around it, it's no simple door, is it.
Indeed, the doorframe was shut tight only its size and shape really indicated its true purpose. Cecil examined her surroundings, trying to find some form of clue...
Though, she realized, the initial door likely didn't have a keyhole ; it was just a door. If the corruption was undoable, and the original couldn't be excavated... Then her only solution was to make a new one.
I can't believe that I wasted so much time.
I take it my halp was unnecessary ?
I suppose, but it's okay. I still enjoyed your presence.
Why, thank you, Master.
With a deep breath, and focus, she started painting. With her eyes closed, leaving her instrinct and magecraft guide her, she plastered the frame with paint and ink, slowly but surely reaching her goal.
Meanwhile, Saber and Karl had been exchanging blow after blow, testing each other's stamina. To Saber's dismay, Karl fought well and had pleanty of energy, while he was gently tiring. Although his swordsmanship was better, and his thrusts faster, his opponent's use of magecraft and improved body were making it difficult to actually land a hit.
Having made no progress after a few minutes, the fighters silently agreed to take a break, each on one side of the room. Saber reviewed his options.
The situation reminded him of his relation to Nicolas Fouquet, a prisoner of the king judged for his crimes that he had to escort for three years. The talented and retorse man had nearly became a friend, even if that had not been enough to divert d'Artagnan from his duty. Although the Master was at his mercy, he was stuck in a standstill, in a very similar fashion as that time.
"You have talent. Would you want to become my vassal ?
-You're dreaming, Servant. I swore to make my family proud, and you will not get in the way.
-An honorable wish. Very well, then. I will show you what the musketeers are truly capable of."
With these words, Saber gave assault again to the homonculus, but this time focusing entirely on the offense. Slightly overwhelmed, Karl stepped down and focused on protecting himself using magecraft. But after a while, he noticed an opening, and raised his sword to d'Artagnan, hurting his leg.
At the same time, his shield weakened, and the fast-moving blade of the rapier pierced his cheek. With a shriek, Karl managed to escape the sword and moved out of the way. His mouth was hurting, and he suddenly found himself asking why he was even here.
He had been tasked with staying a spectator and stay hidden, away from the fighting. It had been molded into him as he was made, and his body had perceived the wound as an impossibility.
Karl had not been designed a fighter, but an assistant. Although he had learned fencing, it was not a skill intended for combat.
Starting to reject itself, its body failed. Stuttering incoherently, his mind bent on winning the war tried to pick his sword and swing at the Servant behind him, while his body screamed against the very idea. Collapsing, he fell to the ground as Cecil entered the room again.
Seeing that, she simply thought : oh, so Saber already won.
But Saber didn't intend it this way. Grabbing the convulsing Karl by the hair, he looked him in the eyes :
"Tell me. What do you know about Calladius ?
-Cl... Ca... Rgh.
-Tch. Speak up.
-Bl... H... Who ?
-Useless."
With an expression of digust, d'Artagnan abridged the homonculus' life and suffering.
Antartica, somewhere
Crowley came to his senses to a very unpleasant sensation. His Master was no more, and nothing was supplying his needs for mana.
He swore, and looked around at the scene with feverish eyes. Then, he grinned.
"What a pain... Seems like it's over for me, but I'm not done here... Gotta act quickly."
Without the Grail to support his Essence, his body started crumbling. He raised his arms, and gave his all in this final incantation.
A few minutes later, only remained a chasm, and a sizeable magic circle glowing a menacing red.