5.4
The most straightforward means to reach the ground floor would have been to just pick a direction and jump- there were a number of broken windows after all, and gravity would have allowed me to reach Berserker in due course quickly enough. Of course, I wasn't suicidal- I had no interest in putting myself outside the range of my territory unnecessarily, not when doing so would cripple me so severely. Nevermind the fact that doing so would give Berserker all the opportunity it would need to separate my head from my shoulders, a part of myself I was really rather fond of, so that was a wash.
Stairways would have been an irritating option, though certainly safer than the alternative. I wasn't about to physically climb down the dozens of flights of steps necessary to actually get to the ground floor, and modern buildings rarely had a convenient hole in the middle to drop down from. Beyond that, they just weren't a particularly defensible position. Too many openings on too many floors, hardly the most fortified place in Akitsushima.
As such, the most reasonable option would have been the very path that McRemitz and her Servant had taken getting here in the first place. It was a good thing that they'd already cleared the way for me.
The dusty wind snapped at my face as I fell through the elevator shaft, the darkness dimly lit by crimson emergency lights and the peeking light of other floors. Galliasta, with an understanding that these shafts were potential entry points for invading enemy forces from the ground, had taken pains to cast a number of esoteric spells to protect this section of the Tower. Beyond the maze-like nature of the place, he'd installed more specific defenses in other such strategic locations. Explosive traps to cave you in, pitfalls designed to send you down multiple floors, false walls to deny invaders further access as well as a myriad of other defenses I couldn't bother up the energy to recall at the moment.
They were inert and silent as I passed by. Galliasta simply hadn't had the time to reconfigure his defenses when I'd attacked, and so I still had thorough access to the Tower- a useful error on his part, now that control of the territory now fell to me. Unfortunately, I didn't see them playing much of a role in this particular fight. I doubted that Berserker was going to go through all the trouble of fighting floor after floor of static defenses and layered traps when he could just beat upon the building's foundations and not stop until the entire Tower toppled over. Perhaps, in such a situation, he might trip on one of the carved spell stones and trigger something- maybe it would even tickle him.
Another vibration, a shattering blow, forced my thoughts back to the present as I slowed my velocity to a gentle fall, mentally reviewing my current circumstance. Reviewing Berserker. Herakles. Attacking my base of operations, potentially with the intent to kill me, possibly ripping me limb from limb to amuse its Master. I breathed a bit, my shields filtering out any dust that had accrued in the shaft, before thinking back to the matter at hand.
Right. I couldn't run- the connection I'd secured with Galliasta meant that I was unsuited for direct combat until I could solve my Master problem. I could put up a decent fight while operating with the domain, but that was just mitigating the effects of my handicap. I hadn't really solved the problem so much as I'd cauterized an amputated leg. I probably wasn't gonna die from blood loss, but I wasn't about to win a marathon either.
Which meant that I couldn't abandon the Tower. I'd not established my domain in any other area around the city, partly because the thrice-damned parameters of the skill made actually establishing one tricky at best, and partly because I simply hadn't had the time to do so in the past few days. What's worse, just because I could fly while Berserker couldn't didn't mean I was untouchable. I couldn't fly above the clouds forever, not if I wanted any work done, and the moment I set foot on the ground I was willing to bet that bastard would be waiting. Assuming it wouldn't first hunt down and kill my men, taking whatever other resources I had accrued on the ground, which wasn't exactly an ideal situation either.
Practical considerations aside, it would be a bad move politically too. This was a challenge from the Einzbern girl. Abandoning it, and my most heavily defended territory, was a sign to the girl that I wasn't worth the effort. There was a slim, but not impossible, chance that she was still getting her Servant to pull its punches, so to speak. Her primary concern right now was amusement and curiosity, right? If she believed her Berserker so obviously superior, then having it crush me into sinew would go counter to that desire. As such, if any level of Berserker's power was being limited due to Ilya's whim, abandoning the contest would erase whatever doubts existed within her about whether to have Herakles me to the slaughterhouse.
So I had to hold my ground, which was easier said than done. I'd not seen Berserker fight, no recordings for analysis, no insight into any potential weaknesses or tendencies. Despite that, even fighting on the same battleground as it was sufficient to impart the dread and power Berserker exuded effortlessly. The subsequent destruction of the docks at Lancer's hand was enlightening in that regard- it clearly showed that wide-ranging, high impact, destructive power of that scale simply wasn't enough to kill the Einzbern Servant. Perhaps there was some theoretical limit to that, but given the enormity of the problem and my current limitations, it meant that even if I had that kind of destructive power on tap I likely wouldn't be able to kill Berserker in a direct confrontation.
An involuntary giggle came to my lips, frustration or exhaustion perhaps, and I coughed it away. No, it was obvious that this wasn't gonna be solved by my effort alone. Thankfully, for as long as their cooperation held, I wasn't alone.
With a thought, a holographic panel expanded at the corner of my vision. Computation magic and certain brands of modern technology were greatly tied together at this point, with the specific brand of magecraft I seem to employ taking advantage of such a fact. Access to the Tower's systems could be easily relied upon, doubly so due to the aforementioned access that Galliasta hadn't pulled from me in time. Taking selective control over the Tower's surveillance system, relatively straightforward as well.
The hologram expanded, giving me a bird's eye view as I peeked through the camera lens and into the ground floor atrium. There used to be cameras outside, but Berserker's efforts seemed to have very thoroughly rendered them nonfunctional. As such, I had to rely on the internal cameras situated within the atrium.
Not that the lack of external cameras made observing Berserker any more difficult. With the benefit of being in an environment intended for regular people, Herakles's sheer size was made all the more ludicrous. Its form was taller than the fancy glass walls that served as the Tower's entrance, the massive stone axe in the monster's hands flailing wildly as the weapon bit more and more chunks Tower to pieces. Every so often the barbarian would roar, hair wild with each exertion, and it would use fist and blade to beat the building down with all the fury of a decades long grudge finally unleashed. I was unsure exactly how Galliasta had reinforced the Tower so thoroughly, probably relying either on his fortune to pay for magical protection or some application of his magical secrets, but the Tower still held without additional input or support from my Territory Creation.
I'd not given the Tower's personnel prior notice at my attack, but I hadn't exactly been subtle with it. Assuming that the night guards and whatever janitorial staff had been paying attention, a portion of them could have at least escaped by now. The ones closest to the ground floor anyway, the ones most likely to have walked out of my domain then promptly fled as soon as Herakles had arrived. I doubted that they would have gone deeper into the building once they'd heard explosions and gunfire, so I liked to imagine that most of them were safe, else anyone in the building would be virtually dead men walking should Berserker succeed in the fight here and manage to destroy the building. The ground floor supported this argument, bereft of the typical night force that should have been here to man the stations and all that.
That was not to say that the ground floor was empty. There was still a figure here, leaning by one of the many concrete pillars within the atrium itself, the man I'd been looking for.
"Lancer."
If Cu Chulainn was surprised, he didn't show it. Instead, he turned his gaze to the side for a moment, away from the rampaging monster outside, before giving one of his patented self-assured smirks.
"Yo, Caster.' he said, voice deceptively calm and at ease. "How's it going?"
I snorted. "Oh not too bad, a bit hungry. Think I could use a bite to eat. You?"
"Oh, just enjoying the moment," Lancer remarked. "There's a certain pleasure in the moment before the fight. The calm before the storm, I think is what modern humans call it? The waiting, the anticipation of the moment. Enough excitement without release that it could lead a man to gnaw a bone to splinters. Get what I mean?"
I nodded to that. That was true enough to my experience. "I do. Do you think you'll be able to handle that thing?"
It was his turn to snort now. "Handle him? That's a funny way of saying it- does he look 'handleable' to you?"
My eyes flickered to another camera, this one noting that Berserker had stabbed the blade to the street and had begun punching the steel barricade. It didn't look like the steel was winning. "No, not particularly."
Lancer chuckled. "Yeah well. Just between you and me? He was kicking my ass plenty when we first fought, and I was at my best then. That was when we were fighting at the docks too- nice open space, lots of directions to retreat and regroup. But here?"
He waved his hand vaguely. "...between all that, him beating me like a drum and fighting you earlier? It'll be tricky."
I suppressed an amused noise. Fighting me earlier? As I recalled, he was quite thoroughly beating me down even without his Master's assistance, thank you very much. Perhaps he was being kind, or that he sought to preserve some primitive warrior honor that he and his kind enjoy so much. Regardless, I saw no reason to correct or interrupt him. Considering what he was about to do, I had no interest in distracting him from his task.
Lancer paused, squinting as he stared at Berserker for a moment. "Yeah, and it doesn't look like I gave that monster so much as a scratch, huh? That's gonna be a bitch to deal with."
"It's not too late to pull out," I noted aloud. "The defenses can hold for a bit longer, we can figure out another way-"
"What, and have you rob me of my glory? Nah, I don't think so." Lancer grinned. "You wanted a distraction right? I can do that. I can give Berserker a hell of a fight- amazing the sort of things you can do when you're not trying to win, right?"
That was an unappealing way of phrasing the strategy, though it was essentially accurate. Before I'd talked Ilya down from 'I'm certainly going to murder you all' to 'I'm only probably going to murder you if you bore me', the presumption was that a fight with Berserker would be a fight to the death. As such, I'd formulated a strategy with Lancer and McRemitz under that belief, had coordinated with them on what possible means we might have to neutralize Herakles.
The problem that we'd run into, the main problem, was that we'd have no means of neutralizing Berserker with the tools and means available to us. I'd imagined, at first, that this came about purely from the sheer difference in our legends- Herakles was a step above us all, no other way to cut it really, and if it was so overwhelmingly powerful that it could afford to crush us with its bare hands then there was really no way we could reasonably come up with a practical solution to neutralizing the ancient hero. Grit and determination can only move one so far after all, and no matter how long one might punch the metal plates of a tank with that determination, you weren't likely to do more than smudge the surface with your own bloodied fists and pulverized bone.
But, upon consultation with McRemitz and Lancer, there was a possibility that wasn't the case. There are rarely any cases, both in the mundane world I'd been familiar with and the magical one that Mcremitz and Lancer had experience in, that any single enemy or phenomena be completely invulnerable. Taking Ilya's behavior at the docks into account there was a possibility that she'd been deliberately leading me away from her Servant. The practical reasons for doing so were obvious, I would do the same if I had to shoo away potential threats away from my Herakles, as they'd undoubtedly try to figure out a weakness. What Lancer could tell me about his battle with Berserker was also enlightening in this regard- Berserker had relentlessly chased Lancer down, allowing him not a moment to speak, giving him no time to analyze Berserker or his methods, only withdrawing once his Master was in danger.
All this together meant that there was a potential benefit in engaging Herakles in a protracted conflict and observe him for any potential weaknesses, assuming we didn't get ourselves killed in the process. It had to be done eventually, and if we did it here, now, in a battleground of our choosing? It would be our best, safest, bet to identify a weakness that could bring Berserker to its knees. Not now, of course, we simply didn't have the resources to capitalize on a weakness even if we did find it, but we could use it as leverage for a future victory.
Now, I wasn't stupid. In any other situation, I would rip this plan to shreds. The foundational thesis of the strategy was that there was some weakness that Ilya was hiding, a conclusion brought about by circumstance and wishful thinking. It could very well be that there was no weakness to exploit, or if there was, that we wouldn't be able to exploit it in the first place. Just because a vulnerability existed didn't mean that we'd have the tools to take advantage of it.
But there was a double purpose to this, an additional advantage in keeping Berserker here as long as possible.
I landed at the bottom of the shaft with a light flourish, settling atop a broken elevator cart at what would roughly be the third floor. Ilya had joked before, because it had to be a joke of course, that her curfew was coming up and that she had to go home soon- but there was a real truth in that, wasn't there? All nights had to end eventually, and how much longer would it be until dawn arrived? How much longer could Ilya reasonably commit herself while maintaining the paper-thin veneer of secrecy from the wider world? Kotomine had done very well to outline the complexity of the Church's infrastructure in our meeting, they obviously knew that this war could go out of hand, but surely this was too much. The past hour had seen a terrorist attack on a major metropolitan district, with a convoy of tinted vehicles dancing to and fro not too long before it all went to hell. Now there was this big, muscled, neanderthal knocking at my door, splintering steel in the middle of a populated city, doing the classical Berserker thing of raging and making as much noise as possible. An Assassin, he was not.
You couldn't amesticize a population from that. Not unless you'd want to do it again a few minutes later, once they made the drive home and found the giant screaming again. You couldn't kill them all either- there were too many possible avenues of observation for the average joe, too many windows, too many cameras, too many potential sources of contamination. Would Kotomine purge the entire Shinto district for the possibility that they saw something? Surely not- it wasn't a reasonable application of power, not with the war still so young, not when the cure to Berserker's antics were even more obviously traumatic to the public psyche than the symptom itself. That is, assuming they even had the resources to throw at the problem. They had people in the Akitsushima Meteorological Agency telling people that no, my battle with Rider over the skies of the country was just an unusual weather phenomenon, nothing to be concerned about. They had people sitting in the docks right now, fending off reporters and claiming they didn't know what was going on. Could they manage another wave of incident reports in the heart of the city? Possibly, maybe even barely, but not while Berserker was here actively destroying everything it touched.
Then there was the fact that we weren't the only threats to Berserker. My prior mistakes in allowing Rider to escape notwithstanding, it meant that the Matou and Tohsaka were still on the field, and they couldn't fail to notice the Einzbern Servant here. Ilya might have been motivated by impulse and irritation in challenging me, but acting on those impulses was a mistake. Every second that her efforts were delayed was a second she couldn't afford to be here. Not when seeing such an overwhelming display of force meant that she could very well find herself on the opposite end of an alliance formed against her. She was ostensibly my ally, of course, at least presuming that she was entertained enough by this entire mess, but that didn't mean we were tied to the hip until I would graciously lose the final fight of the war, mano-a-mano, an honorable duel and all that rot. Any data we could gather now was data we could use to formulate a counter to Berserker, and should Ilya decide that we wouldn't be allies after all, that information could be used to broker an agreement with the other parties. If she believed that we could still be allies after this, wonderful- such information can be held in reserve until Berserker becomes a problem.
It was a dangerous gamble, but not an ill-measured one. I did not believe that Ilya was bereft of rationality and logical thinking, only that it often took a hike so that her impulses may come to primacy. Ilya knew that she couldn't keep fighting past dawn. Not unless she wished to deliberately antagonize the Church and set Kotomine against her, simultaneously painting a bullseye against her back to every other Master in the war. That had been what ultimately convinced McRemitz of the feasibility of the plan, remarkably enough. The idea that surely no one would be daft enough to keep up the fight for so long that Kotomine would set his sights upon them.
The problem was that Ilya was fighting us to be entertained, and an entertaining fight had nothing to do with an efficient fight. Stalling her out may make the most sense for us from a tactical standpoint, but ensuring that it didn't infuriate her to the point of deciding just to kill us from that mercurial temper of hers was another thing entirely. Still, that didn't necessarily mean we had to scrap the entire strategy in the first place- only that some things would have to be adjusted on the fly.
"Oi, Caster," Lancer remarked, still in that conversational tone. "Doesn't look like those runes are gonna last much longer. Might wanna start this soon."
A holographic panel snapped to life to my side, a reading of the Tower's defenses. A grimace came almost instantly. That didn't look good. "...very well, though I'll want to hold this a little while longer. We want to make the most of this- every second Galliasta's defenses hold is a second off your back."
He chuckled at that. "So serious. You really gotta live a little. Ain't every day you fight Herakles, right? As far as I'm concerned, every second not fighting him's a waste."
I rolled my eyes at that, though I said nothing more. It would be preferable if Berserker didn't destroy every security measure I had. Galliasta's defenses were somewhat elastic, they could take what punishment would be required of them and return to proper form given time, but even that kind of defense would be irreparably damaged given enough time under Berserker's assault. The goal would be to keep it up just long enough to burn a bit more time, but not so much that the defenses would be useless to me afterward.
A rather optimistic outlook I admit, since that presumed we would survive past tonight. Still, it was a rather endearing thought to have, so I clung to it regardless.
I pulled my legs up, into something of a cross-legged position, my abilities ensuring that I simply floated in the air as I did so and made myself comfortable. For the purposes of this operation, I didn't quite need to be at the front line- I did need to be a bit closer to the action than would be traditionally comfortable in a military capacity, otherwise I would have just done all this from the top floor or somewhere else suitably distant from Berserker. The other side of the city would be preferable- ideally, I wouldn't even be on the same landmass as him.
"How's McRemitz? Is she ready?" I asked.
"Eh, I think so?" Lancer frowned, his hand scratching the back of his ear. "I think she was ready, last I checked in with her anyway."
A frown. "What do you mean? You're her Servant, aren't you- is she ready or not?"
"Yeah, but she said that every time we fight I'm too loud. Says I talk too much, got her sick of my voice." He grinned. "She's serious like that, kinda like you actually. Only talks the absolute minimum in missions, super-secret agent stuff, y'know?"
"Then how are we supposed to coordinate for this?"
He shrugged. "My cute little Master says she took a radio from one of your girls. Apparently, since ninety percent of her job right now is keeping out of sight, she'll keep radio silence until she thinks it's time to move. If she needs to tell us something, or vice versa, we can just reach her on there- said you'd be able to at least."
I frowned. More holograms appeared to the side, a stream of information streaming into my consciousness. There was a variety of goodies here, a good portion of which relating to the defenses of the Tower, but I dismissed those for the moment.
I'd spoken briefly with the Tresillo, or it was perhaps more accurate to say that I spoke to their computation devices, and things with them had been going relatively smoothly. They were still empowered by my abilities and thus I could feel them through their gear- not a constant thing, but my influence was such that a little bit of effort could allow me to see where everyone was without explicitly getting on their network. A useful thing now, especially when time was so short that I couldn't actively coordinate them all.
Figuring out the anomaly was quick. Comparing the number of mercenaries to their affected gear, straightforward. Someone from Isabel's squad was missing one of their backup comms device apparently- the gadget several hundred meters away and outside the Tower, skulking about out of line and out of sight. I sighed.
Now that time had passed and I could get a better handle on the man, my initial opinion of him had changed somewhat. Given what I knew of Lancer, dangerous though he may be, his own behavior was relatively easy to pattern and predict. He obeyed his orders, he wanted to fight, he didn't mind dying overly much. Practically speaking, understanding those three principles basically meant you had about eighty to ninety percent or so of Cu Chulainn's behavior mapped out. That wasn't even intended as an insult really, I respected the man's sheer lethality, though I suspected that even if I told him of my thoughts he'd just shrug and say 'yeah that sounds about right'. He had a talent for irritating everyone around him like that.
But Bazett McRemitz, in contrast, was another matter entirely. Her loyalty to Kotomine immediately brought into question both her character and her actions. She trusted him implicitly and without reservation, which made her no better than a pawn for him. If Kotomine were to interfere with my operations now, the most obvious and direct method he would do so was via the Enforcer. The fact that she agreed with the plan was one thing, but everything else about her made the girl a risk not worth keeping.
I mentally shrugged. Well, whatever. She was free to play her little games, and if she went out of line- well, there were means and methods to deal with her if it came down to it. I could still communicate with her and if she refused to cooperate and stuck to her own motives then that just meant I was well within my rights to cut her off from my strategic directive. It wasn't like I would be particularly sad if McRemitz died after all; as far as potential Masters went, she was not a viable candidate. Not when Kotomine had her strung up like a good little doll. Perhaps if Kotomine died, or if her last Command Seal could be expended on something innocuous, then perhaps an arrangement could be made. Until that happened though, she was an expendable asset- her and Lancer both.
At least the Tresillo were doing their job, if the constant stream of information I was getting from them was any indication. Several dozen floors above, I could feel Laurent and the rest of Ghost preparing to cast off and go dark. Several more above that, Rodriguez and his men with the girls. Isabel and the remains of Fang squadron were in relatively close proximity, but going entirely different directions, which sounded about right. I'd need to split my attention fairly widely across them all, but I was used to multitasking. As long as we could manage things appropriately, I had rather high hopes about this entire operation.
I snorted. Well, would you look at that? A few days alive, and already I was feeling optimistic about my circumstances. Humanity truly was a contagious thing, wasn't it?
"Lancer," I said, my tone seemingly catching the dog's attention. "It's time.
The smirk grew wider, a hint of teeth joining the party. "Finally."
The weapon manifested in his hands mid-twirl, the Servants arms moving in a practiced, effortless, motion. Whatever jitters he might have in fighting it again, none of it showed as he walked- eventually positioning himself in the halfway point between the front door and the elevator shaft. He placed himself into a ready position, lance pointed downward, eyes focused forward, cracking his neck in anticipation.
"Hey, Caster?"
"Hmm?"
"I know our Masters had an alliance thing going on- well, before you so thoroughly removed your own from the equation anyway." He chuckled. "But this is the first time we're fighting together, huh?"
I blinked. A rather inane diversion from the task at hand, but we still had some time. "Yes, I suppose you could see it that way."
He grinned. "Assuming we both survive, that'd make us comrades. Let's celebrate; I don't think I've had a drink with you yet."
Perhaps it was due to the nature of the task we were about to undergo, but I took his offer into actual consideration. In life, I was something of a lightweight as far as alcohol was concerned, so I rarely ever imbibed except when it absolutely required of me. State functions, anniversaries, things of that nature. While it was certainly nothing quite so grand, the same principles applied here. Considering the risks that Lancer was about to take on, entertaining his request in exchange for his cooperation and further goodwill would be a worthwhile trade even with the inevitable embarrassment that was likely to come afterward. Such a thing was useful in bond-building with others I've found- a brief peek into the vulnerability of another was a powerful motivator in establishing trust and friendship. It probably wouldn't even matter anyway- if either of us died, it would all be moot. It's not like such promises mattered much to the dead.
"Well, perhaps-" I said hesitantly. "In such a case-"
"Who knows?" Lancer continued, wolfish tilt to his features. "Maybe with some liquid courage you'd actually sleep with-"
"Good luck, Lancer," I said instantly, my tone dead and humorless- a response that seemed uproariously hilarious to the other Servant. "Try not to die."
With a thought, the defenses at the front door fractured, the metaphorical gates to the castle coming undone as I willed the Tower to allow passage through the front door.
A moment later, those same front doors exploded. Shrapnel of glass and steel exploded inwards as the blur of Berserker's form came spiraling towards Lancer like an obsidian lightning bolt. The marble floor ripped apart at its approach, stone shredded like cotton as the enemy dragged its blade through the ground. It ran and stumbled, so blinded by violence that stepping forward to meet the enemy seemed its only concern, before ripping the blade free from the ground with a savage roar.
Rock, marble, and concrete came undone at the motion, the rain of projectiles perforating everything within range. Shrapnel pockmarked the ground, glass, porcelain, and other more fragile decorations shattering in the aftermath of the attack. Lancer, for his part, seemed largely at ease; flourishing his spear, the Servant met the oncoming lithic storm with absolute confidence. He moved only when he had to, allowing the weapon to catch and deflect what shards he couldn't. There was a grin on his face as he parried the fragments, not a single one of them so much as pinging off his armor.
Berserker did not stop, the initial stumbling run rapidly transforming into an out of control car crash, the monster shrugging and running through everything in its path. It swung wildly, obliterating a pillar with disturbing ease, before jumping upwards. Its form disappeared into the floor above, the sounds Berserker made as it shredded through the Tower having to be heard to be believed. A moment later, the ceiling above Lancer exploded- the enemy Servant roaring as it held its blade in both hands, an overhead smash reserved just for Lancer.
It struck downward, the resulting blow coupled with the weight of its bodies crushing all in its path, dust and stone blowing up into the air- but no blood. With a terrible howl, Berserker slashed down again, too slow and too late as Lancer twisted off the ground into a sliding dash between its legs. The tip of Gae Bolg's blade sank into the monster's skin, accomplishing little to nothing as Lancer twirled upwards to gain distance from the enemy.
But Berserker was already moving. Whether by dint of its reflexes or instincts or some strange skill only it possessed, Lancer's dodge meant less than nothing to the monster. It was still mid-swing when it turned around, a movement so quick and sudden I was almost certain it had broken its back, before throwing the blade at Lancer. The blade thrust into the air, aim solid and true, and at the angle it was approaching from it would have beheaded Lancer outright before obliterating the rest of his body down to his knees. At such a velocity, with such a short distance, it should have been impossible for him to get out of the way before it impacted him.
Lancer did it anyway. Sweeping to the side, continuing the motion he'd made to slip past Berserker the first time, he curled into a ball and just barely moved quick enough for the blade to strike the wall behind him. Berserker roared, rushing forward arms outstretched, seemingly determined to rip the man limb from limb, taking advantage of Lancer's awkward position to take the Servant before he could recover. He landed just a heartbeat before Berserker reached him, Gae Bolg pointed upwards as the blow was redirected. Herakles's punch slid off the pole, another explosion blanketing the area from the impact, subsequently shrouding even more of my view. A moment later the dust cloud billowed and collapsed, Lancer jumping out of the danger zone quickly enough to leave a vortex behind him. Berserker followed closely behind, ripping the blade from the wall as he did, each relentless swing causing more damage than the last. Cu Chulainn was saying something to the giant, the content of which was lost through the constant crushing and crunching between the two of them. Judging from the smirk on Lancer's face though, followed by Berserker's continuous roars, it was probably some embarrassingly masculine shit-talk of one sort or another. At the very least, it indicated that Lancer seemed to be having the time of his life.
I sighed, releasing the breath I hadn't even know I'd been holding. This was going to be a bloody affair. It was one thing to know that Berserker fought- well exactly as its namesake suggests, but another thing entirely to see it in action. Strength, speed, agility, it was an exemplar of physical perfection, all to be expected of Herakles really. Less expected was the...intelligence? Deviousness? The cunning in its combat so far. With confirmation that Lancer was particularly capable of avoiding otherwise fatal blows, Berserker had abandoned inefficient strategies in favor of a more brutal approach. It indicated that Herakles wasn't completely brainless, not in a way that would matter in combat in any case, which made concocting a strategy against it a rather difficult proposition.
Still, it seemed that the situation was still manageable. The key to this strategy was to put up just enough resistance that Berserker, or rather its Master, believed that killing Lancer was just within reach, but not so much resistance that Ilya believed that concentrated effort was necessary. The strategy demanded that every second be squeezed out of every step, every blow; every moment that Ilya believed Victory was just close in hand meaning that it was another second Ilya hadn't fully committed to a full breakthrough. My role in this, at least my role in this particular fight, would be managing and balancing this act. Contributing effort on Lancer's behalf when necessary.
Though honestly, knowing Ilya, the longer the battle continued without Berserker facing me, the greater the odds that she'd throw a temper tantrum. The Einzbern Master did not seem like the sort of person to be particularly concerned with such petty things as delayed gratification. The fact that Berserker would not have immediately engaged me may be reason enough to escalate the fight. Thankfully, as far as entertainment goes, Cu Chulainn was better at playing the fool than I could- as evidenced by his little silent back and forth with Berserker. Perhaps that could make the difference? Regardless, it was dangerous to rely so heavily on the performance of another- I'd have to think of something to entertain the brat when my moment came.
That they were now fighting within the building did little to nothing in reducing public impact. The roars and sounds of combat echoed just as loudly inside as it did out, and Berserker was not shy with property damage. Thrown debris was flung far and wide, crushing through anything in its path, the blaring of the Tower's alarms a constant background noise to the conflict. They'd been screaming for quite a while now, with automated reports sent to the local police from each newly discovered expression of violence, though I doubted that any such calls would ever reach their intended recipients. Not if Kotomine had anything to say about it.
I shook my head. No, even that man, repulsive as he was, couldn't be allowed to distract me now. With the battle well on its way, I couldn't be allowed unnecessary distractions- not when I had so many already. I took another breath, my focus receding from this place, my attention elsewhere.
A blink, and I found myself in the darkened sky, lit by the innumerable lights of the city below. Rapidly escaping my area of influence, Rodriguez and his team were more or less free from any immediate threat. Silently, Rodriguez received updated orders- that once all of the women were secured and within Kotomine Parish, to settle matters with the rest of Galliasta's errant mercenaries. Ideally, to bring them into the fold and compel their obedience. More manpower would not be a bad thing as we continued into the war, so long as they were capable of following orders.
Another blink, and a disorienting shift in perspective saw me at another quadrant of the sky, the monolithic figure of the Tower well within distance. Ghost squadron had been instructed to establish visual confirmation regarding the Einzbern heir. More information was transmitted to them this time, including physical description, voice clips, and probable locations based on line of sight between the ongoing battle and tactical positions around the Tower. Until Laurent and his men actually found her, their use in this conflict was rather limited.
Focusing my effort, my attention leapt to another, only to find unreadable darkness instead. McRemitz was still on the field, though where exactly that may be was not nearly so certain. Some magic she was utilizing served to shroud her movements, made it harder to track her, and even with the radio in her possession, her exact location was impossible to determine. I knew that she hadn't made a run for it, that she was still within the immediate premises of the Tower, but anything more specific was impossible to determine.
My gaze shifted upward. Far above me, Isabel's team was rapidly approaching their rally point at the top of the Tower. Updated orders were transmitted to Isabel-
Stone cracked steel, the Tower shivering in pain, bringing me back to reality and to the battlefield. The conflict had escalated quite nicely while my attention had been diverted, the atrium sustaining even more damage than before. Deep ravines and trenches ravaged the field, Berserker seemingly having taken a significant interest in ensuring not a single spot of the hall would remain unspoiled. It made the ground craggy and unstable, pulverized stone and concrete of variable disposition littering the floor, thus making positioning and footing more difficult. A rather well thought out strategy- I doubted Berserker's size and strength would greatly hamper his movement in such an environment, but Lancer couldn't say the same. Even if the effect against him was minimal, such differences at this level of combat were supremely significant.
Despite it all, Lancer was handling it rather admirably. He'd taken a few more hits while I wasn't looking, though nothing that I would call particularly life-threatening- at the very least there was no sign of even moderate injury from a casual glance. A thin layer of dust coated the Servant, proof of the effort he had to expend in playing keep away with Berserker in the first place. It gave him a kind of mangled, mangy, look. Knowing nothing about Chulainn, a passerby might be tempted to pity the spearman. At least before they got a good luck at his eyes.
Blazing. Feverish. Pure. The kind of unyielding pressure more in common with a fanatic than what I imagined a proper soldier should be. Berserker roared opposite him, charging after him once more as Lancer moved to evade the other Servant once more. Dodging what blows he could, parrying what blows he couldn't, a string of more than two dozen consecutive blows without even a single one landing a clean blow upon the Servant of the Spear. A remarkable feat, though I couldn't help but acknowledge that when even a single clean blow would probably be enough to obliterate you, then you'd likely be careful about what you allowed through your defense.
Because as far as I could see, Berserker was still doing its absolute utmost in trying to murder him. A string of relentless blows, a nearly inexhaustible supply of stamina and mana, it was a study in the thermodynamic mechanisms of murder-by-neanderthal. Every punch and every step was quietly and reliably recorded for future consumption, a means for us to study anything we might miss in the heat of the moment.
I doubt that I possessed anything in my repertoire to compel Lancer to pull back from this fight even if I wanted to. Despite that, I had the impression of a dog enjoying his bone far too much. The point of all this was to play for time, but Lancer's pleasure in the heat of combat was causing him to make too many unnecessary mistakes. Berserker's blows were getting much closer to him now- Chulainn parrying what blows he could, ensuring that not a single blow could land cleanly on him. It could not last forever, not with the aggression Lancer displayed in what should be a purely defensive posture.
I figured now was a good time to step in.
Throughout the Tower, in hidden alcoves and out of the way corridors, sparks of crimson magic blazed to life. Though far enough away and separated from each other such that I couldn't actually see them, I could feel the little sigils of power intersecting and tying themselves together. The magic sunk deep, blending into the stone, the air, the very essence of this place. Soon enough it spanned wider, growing and growing and growing as it filled the outer edges of my territory, before falling like rain- a curtain of my magic enveloping anyone and everything within my domain.
I took a deep breath, the air coming to me easily, a dozen minuscule dull aches and pains over the last few days slowly retreating to the back of my consciousness. The difference between passively residing within the Tower and indulging in active effort within it was astounding, mitigated only by the constant strain on my mana pool with each second it was active. A reasonable cost I suppose- one couldn't simply spit in the World's face without expecting some kind of retaliation in one form or another.
Down below, the activation of my Territory had caused the two combatants to still for a moment. Berserker's gaze scoured the environment around him, growling and sniffing the air like some feral animal. It was aware of the change to the battlefield it seemed, though puzzled enough that its murderous rampage had stumbled for the moment. Lancer was less surprised, having been briefed on it earlier, but even he seemed to be taking the moment's break to study my domain with some interest.
The last time I'd attempted Territory Creation against another Servant, it had gone...fairly well, all things considered. Rider had been beaten and much reduced during that instance, and so could offer no real meaningful resistance against me when I'd compelled his obedience. In this case, trying the same against Herakles would almost certainly be impossible. I wasn't entirely certain as to the specific strength distribution in our opposition, but I was willing to bet my left eyeball that Berserker would be substantially more difficult to compel than Rider. As such, I didn't even try.
"Let your step quicken, your vision sharpen, Lancer," I intoned, the command audible only to me. "Unburden yourself, and let not the world strain your path."
The world pulsed in crimson, the Tower thrumming to my will, a shifting in the data parameters of any relevant object within my sphere of influence. It was not a subtle change, and Berserker reacted with admirable speed at my interference. It turned around, filled with an awareness and certainty that went beyond the conscious, closing the distance to Lancer in the blink of an eye and twisting the hilt of its blade into a wide arc. A moment later, more of the room exploded- desks turned to splinters, glad turned to pebble-like shards as the area around Cu Chulainn was immediately obliterated.
-Only for Lancer to no longer be there, the servant vanishing in a crack of crimson lightning.
Another crack of lightning, crimson light briefly blinding the room in its light, and Lancer was there behind the monster. Berserker didn't miss a trick, his blade already moving against the other Servant, only for Lancer to step back a moment, moving just out of range of each blow. Below him, the rubble and debris from the battlefield seemingly slipped to the side with each motion- as though the glass and concrete were deliberately moving themselves out of the way of Lancer's footsteps. This continued for a while longer, a look of excitement slowly building on Lancer's face, before Berserker seemingly had enough of it all. It swung its blade wide, a sweeping arc that was more bludgeon than blade, only for Lancer to disappear in another crack- reappearing several feet away well out of Herakles's range. The sight of it only infuriated the monster more, who proceeded to charge the grinning dog, spear at the ready.
Territory Creation was a flexible tool, one open to multiple interpretations and rather expansive utility. Using it offensively, as with Rider, was an option that could not be relied upon to any significant degree. Doubly so at my current state; against an opponent that could not be negotiated or reasoned with? It'd be a waste of time, effort, and mana; against an opponent like Berserker, I would probably last only a fraction of a fraction of the time that Lancer would be capable of. As such, it was simply more efficient for Lancer to match Berserker, while I was to avoid direct confrontation while my lack of a 'proper' Master continued to cripple me. Lancer was useful when we'd been discussing the plan- while McRemitz was rightfully suspicious that I was simply prioritizing my own safety, Cu Chulainn just wanted another go at Herakles. His cooperation on that front was invaluable.
But that did not mean I couldn't meaningfully contribute to the fight, just that I would have to do so by adopting the traditional role that Casters were expected to hold. That of working behind the frontlines, of taking up a supportive role in a conflict while making it as difficult as possible for the enemy to get at me.
Their blades clashed, Cu Chulainn laughing in glee, as I yawned. I'll admit, while I would always be more comfortable on the front lines, this arrangement suited me just fine. No ridiculous tasks like trying to outrage a Rider or out-melee a Saber or outshooting an Archer, no sir. Just a simple and measured application of force and magic, maximizing my impact on the battlefield while minimizing risk. Wasn't that the golden ideal of all warfare in the first place? I'm sure that Cu Chulainn may have words to say to the contrary, but what else could you expect from a man like that? Who lived in an age where the definition of warfare was stabbing people with the pointy ends of sticks?
I closed my eyes, mentally calibrating my mana supply in the safety of the elevator shaft. As long as I wasn't in active combat, I could probably maintain this level of Territory Control for a decent block of time. Presuming that every element on the board stick to their assignments and cooperate with the plan, we could probably maintain this stalemate for quite some time. Presuming that nothing went wrong anyway.
Author's Note: This particular chapter was…..problematic to get to. While certain elements flowed right, others were more difficult to wrangle into place. As it currently stands, this chapter falls into the 'better post it now or forever fiddle around with it to minimal gain' so it's going out now. Hope everyone enjoys.