It was pure instinct that drove Arturia forward, slashing at the air next to the mage's shoulder before the blade could reach its mark. Excalibur clanged as it deflected the knife, masking the second blade's hiss before Saber had any chance of defending herself.

Arturia yelped as the short dagger dug into her shoulder, and slammed her into an invisible surface rising from where they came.

What?

Arturia beat back several other knives with one hand, and felt the invisible wall behind them with the other. Medea's purple rays of energy tried their hand at the wall, but they too, didn't make a dent.

Irate purple eyes met green ones. They were trapped.

But for the servants, there was no reprieve, as they did their best to shield themselves from the deadly rain. Every knife was a distraction for another, every arrow followed by a dagger. There was no room to stop, no room to breathe, no room to even blink or risk their precious life.

"Scatter!" Saber ordered, frantically maneuvering through the aerial assault as Medea fashioned a herself a shield. The trees provided as much cover as an umbrella during a thunderstorm, but there was nothing more they had, not between an impenetrable force field and a barrage of weapons.

A string of curses escaped Saber's lips as she took a moment to inspect the blade. It was buried all the way to the hilt, a few red droplets escaping the wound, courtesy of the lack of her usual armor. She tried to summon her usual blue armored dress, but try as she did, it never came.

Why? Her armor flickered in and out of existence, like a cursed mirage. This couldn't be happening, not now. Not now.

"Your master only mentioned destroying a seal!" Medea scolded, weaving a purple shield around them.

The fading light made it impossible to tell from where the knives were coming from, nor let them in on any clues as to where their comrades were. Zayd and Zhavia were nowhere to be found, but the familiar roar to their right explained where Heracles had gone.

Retreat wasn't an option. They hadn't even a visual on the seal, and already her left arm was growing numb.

"I swear to you I did not know," she replied truthfully, analyzing their surroundings for something, anything. They were sitting ducks staying here, soon whoever, whatever it was that attacked would close in.

Defense mechanisms, my ass. Of course Kiritsugu would leave out the more grueling details. Of course he would!

The barrier at the entrance meant there was no other option but to advance. The seal was here, the air tasted of the same toxicity the Holy Grail did. All they had to do was find it.

"Stay close to me," she ordered, hoping Excalibur at least wouldn't come up short. "Strike Air!"

A hurricane unleashed itself from Excalibur's tip, scattering waves of weapons and clearing a path for the two. Arturia dodged around shrubs and roots, taking advantage of the temporary leeway to gain some ground, Medea close behind, repelling attacks from their sides.

They made it all but fifty meters when a figure all in white careened into Arturia, tackling her to the ground. Arturia's vision went white as her attacker shoved the blade's hilt further into her shoulder, her sword useless, pinned under a bamboo slipper.

Medea screamed her name, deflecting projectiles left and right. The woman raised her arm, dripping dagger at the ready and it was all Arturia could do to force it away. Drops of acid fell to Arturia's collarbone, searing her skin, and the smell of burning flesh filled her lungs. Excruciating pain shot up her left sleeve, but she threw the crazed woman off with a sharp kick to the abdomen.

Arturia collected herself before her opponent could do so, and brought Excalibur to the woman's throat.

"Identify yourself! Why are you attacking us?!"

The figure jerked her head up, a chilling smile on her face. Shivers raced Arturia's body as the woman stepped forward, staggering as if being held up by strings. She raised her poison dagger again, and ran forward to strike.

The King of Knights disarmed her with a slash of her sword.

"I said, identify yourself!" Arturia shouted, pressing her blade into the woman's neck.

Drops of black tar flowed out of her throat as Arturia raised her chin. Cold tremors raced the back of her neck as the enemy finally met her eyes.

White. All white...her sclera, irises, and pupils, blank as a sheet of paper, staring at Arturia like predator did prey. Throbbing blue veins protruded from her lifeless lenses, making the british knight's blood run cold, like she'd seen a ghost. It was like it didn't even notice the cut on its throat. This...was no woman, nor Heroic Spirit. This was something else.

Arturia moved her sword swiftly, swinging the blade so the death was swift. Merciful. The creature grasped the stub of its neck, gurgling for for just a moment, before its decapitated body slumped to the floor, melting into a pot of tar.

Arturia felt bile rise in her throat, the stench was unbearable, and her legs staggered back as the rancid fumes abused her lungs. She couldn't breathe!

BOOM!

Multiple explosions popped Saber's ears as she was thrown backwards like a ragdoll, her bones creaking as she dashed against a boulder. The blood on her forehead worsened the blurry blobs of black that wer e her surroundings. She pressed her hands to her head, hoping to quiet the thousand sirens going off in her ears to no avail. Blinking away the blood, she found Caster's unconscious body next to her own, the glowing magic shields that had been protecting them gone. Blood shone through Medea's hair, bright red under the moonlight.

No.

Arturia scooped up Excalibur as she stood in front of Medea, putting the mage between herself and the boulder. With limited vision and no hearing, the knight was forced to rely on her remaining senses to find her opponents.

She had no doubt it was another puppet. One similar to the woman all in white. One that had no consciousness, only instinct. One that felt no pain.

The creature leapt straight out of the shadows, arms posed to strike her head, but she swatted the gremlin away with the broad side of her sword. The creature was barely up to her knees, dressed just like Zayd, with a human skull mask covering their face.

"Hassan!" she called, wracking her mind for an Assassin of its stature within Ionioi Hetaroi when Rider had dragged the Assassins inside, but she couldn't dredge up any memories.

The figure flipped in mid-air, reorienting himself after Arturia's hit, and dragged his hands on the ground below.

Before Arturia had the chance to understand his actions, he flung up pebbles and dirt right into the knight's path, blinding her to the rain of needles that followed.

"Strike Air!" Arturia called, aimlessly directing her weapon at the tiny assailant. The spell cast the shadow back, but a few of the needles, too slim to be affected, impaled themselves into Arturia's skin.

The creature was back, this time with the severed woman's head is his left hand, dripping balck tar all over the floor. Sinister snowy eyes gleaned behind the skull mask, waiting, waiting...

Medea was unconscious, Arturia was losing control of her left arm by the minute, her sides were open to attack should a third enemy choose to show themselves. She wasn't used to this. No Knight would fight without an even playing field, no knight would not be so cowardly as to pick at their enemies from the shadows. She was at a disadvantage from the start with the ambush of knives, her stubborn armor refusing to show itself, and the knife she took for Medea. And as if the situation couldn't get any worse, she could taste blood in her throat again. Her chest seized.

Not now, not now!

Curses flooded her mind as she lurched forward violently, trying desperately to cough out the iron in her throat, a distraction the midget immediately took use of. With Arturia's eyes barely tracking his movements, the figure hurled the severed head straight for her, quickly following with an onslaught of needles.

The severed head expanded and glowed, and with growing horror, Arturia realized why.

Saber flung herself over Caster the best she could, releasing a torrent of mana she hoped was strong enough to substitute for a shield. Arturia shut her eyes, bracing for the impact.

BOOOM!

The blast whipped Arturia's body like a tidal wave, shaking her to her core. She barely held on hope for her already ringing ears, and could only play the unconscious magus beneath her wasn't too beaten by the small debris Arturia's mana couldn't block. Saber swiped away the black tar from the blast, from her eyes, her arms. That was the last straw.

"Enough!"

The woman released Excalibur from its invisible coat and made straight for the enemy, dodging every needle he threw. When he was in her range, she unleashed a flurry of light, using the opponent's weapon against him. The enemy lunged for her head with his left hand, but Excalibur cut him off before he could even touch her hair. The first strike missed his agile body, the second scarred his hand, and the third finally hit its mark.

The holy sword sliced through the assailant's torso, splitting him clean in half mid-throw. His weapons clattered to the ground, followed by his top and bottom half, littering the grass with pungent dark blood. The body twitched violently, desperately trying to reach Arturia.

Suddenly, bright purple blasts of light decimated his carcass, severing off his extremities. Arturia looked up to see Medea, and awake with her hand raised. She was alive, thank heavens.

The englishwoman used the tip of her sword to cut off the tiny man's mask in curiosity, finding not a face, but a skull with no skin or nose, but the same whited-out eyes. She barely had a glance before she had to step away from the toxic fumes as the body turned to black mud.

The knight turned to her comrade and offered a hand, which the magus took, dusting herself off as she stood.

"The black substance. It appears to be the same as the Holy Grail's black mud. I am certain of it," Arturia stated, eyes ever vigilant.

Medea nodded and pressed her hand to a cut on her arm, the glow of healing enveloping the gash. The sooner they were out of this mess, the better.

Arturia looked to the ground, where several thin, similar knives lay forgotten. All of them bore the same mark as the one on her shoulder. Reluctantly she picked up a few. She never used daggers, skilled as she was with them, but from the multiple ambushes they had just endured, it wouldn't hurt to have them.

It seemed the torrents of knives had finally stopped. For how long, that was yet to be determined. However, neither of their two attackers appeared to be using this kind of blade. It begged the question, who was the one throwing them?

The magus forged ahead, weaving another shield over them. Arturia dared to take a glance at her shoulder, where the dagger now stuck in an even deeper gash, her blood soaking her clothes faster than her natural healing ability could reel it in.

The taste of iron suddenly filled the back of her throat.

"Are you alright?"

Arturia nodded, wiping the red in her hand off on her clothes.

Half a mile away, a figure juggled her dagger, wondering whether or not one knife to the shoulder was enough.


Kojirou Sasaki was not having the best of days.

For the two weeks he'd returned to Earth he'd tried to appreciate his surroundings. The birdsong in the mornings, the trickles of water down the stream, the quiet hum of wind through the trees. His return to the Fuyuki temple was quiet, as the building had been abandoned, perhaps untouched since the last Holy Grail War.

He could see remnants in the concrete steps from where he'd had the fight of his life, one with a sword master so different, yet so intriguing. It was a moment in time he wished he could relive, even if it led to his defeat. He'd never before felt more excitement. Bless that woman.

It was also thanks to her that he finally had his own life to look forward to, and that was why he savored every breath of air he took as he explored Fuyuki. He thought he should try to find out more about the country. Through speaking with the locals, he'd learned about Tokyo, about how the culture has evolved since what would have been Kojirou Sasaki's time, if he was real. And so, the nameless spirit decided it was time he ventured out of the city to find himself.

But somehow, he knew doing so would further him from another interesting thing he wished to know more about. After all, their battle, though glorious, was far too brief for him. It felt like merely a taste of the true wonder that was Arturia Pendragon.

Ah yes, so that was her name, Arturia Pendragon. It was such an honor to fight such a powerful Spirit, he wondered if he shouldn't have stopped her from identifying herself back then, then perhaps at least it wouldn't be from third parties that he learned her title.

Now, he could tell he was a little late to the game, from pure observation he knew Arturia was "friendlier" with some rather priggish boys that thought much of themselves. Still, if it was possible to relive that moment, with blood pumping in his veins and excited grins on their faces, he would have liked to see where they would have gone.

But he lost sight of her as soon as the knives started raining on them. He was no master of defence, and the long sword in his hand was not meant for deflecting attacks. Even now, as he stood still, masking his presence in the trees, he found himself decidedly out of place. There were two blades piercing his back, and though he felt the familiar energy of the Grail just a little further up north, the open path laid out in front of him seemed much more perilous than it looked.

He swung his nodachi just in time to throw off his would-be killer, and ducked before they had the chance to sever his head. His breath steadied as he lunged, catching the man in the wrist just as he tried to dodge. A smile graced his face as he slashed upward, there were times he was truly thankful for the length of his blade.

The motion did nothing but unravel the shadow-figure's bandages, and the attacker once more made a move for his head with a dagger in his left arm.

Impossible...

The discarded black cloth revealed only bone where an arm should be, a skeleton shining bright orange like the dawn, impossibly long for a human limb.

"You...stole...MY...spot…" called a raspy, jaded voice.

The glowing arm contorted backwards, the stench of death in the air becoming more and more apparent as the masked one drew it back and flung it forward.

Every nerve in his body told Sasaki to run, run, run, but he refused to turn a blind eye to his foe. No, he couldn't allow that cursed limb to touch him. Adrenaline was coursing through him as he dodged without missing a beat, without tripping, for even a moment of weakness could spell death. The bamboo slippers on his feet were slipping, threatening to snap with the twists and turns it took to avoid the snaking red hand, but he couldn't stop. He wouldn't lose, not here.

The wind whipped through his indigo hair and bit at his skin, but he ignored the goosebumps, ignored the scratches of obstructing branches, ignored the thorns that pierced his flesh. All he needed was one opening to succeed, just one moment to plant both his feet on the ground. Just that!

Kojirou Sasaki stared in horror at a third knife protruding from his abdomen.

No!

"You...forgot...ab..out...my...left."

The red hand collided with his heart.


Zhavia moved their head to the side, letting the blade pass her skull without harming a hair on her head. Zayd was a few paces forward, her other personalities scattered about, giving her eyes to nearly the entire terrain. "Big" assassin had already eliminated at least two different enemies, one bespectacled blonde with a rather sick idea of fun, and a woman obsessed with killing the other, more beautiful female personalities.

But Zhavia's instincts told her that the shadows hid many more that they couldn't detect at a glance. She prayed to her God it wasn't them. If they were here, even with all of her personalities combined, she hardly expected to last the night.

Zayd's voice hummed as he landed next to her, handing in directions to the seal. They'd found it at last, far uphill, hidden behind desert shrubbery. Zhavia adjusted the skull mask on her face. If this seal was as Zayd had told her, her own Noble Phantasm would never be able to destroy it. They needed an anti-fortress level of force, or at least the same kind of firepower as one. Which meant they needed the King of Knights.

Another blade whizzed past, but this time she caught the handle and instantly felt her blood run cold. She knew this blade. She knew this blade.

Serenity.

She prayed to her God none of her comrades had been hit, because the antidote existed only in the mind of the attacker, and who knew if she would ever give it up.

"Well, hello my unfaithful successor. Or was it successors? Either way, I'll have your heads."

The two assassins froze, flashes of their individual decapitation rooting them into place as they recognized the voice. They dared not turn around and risk their lives if they raised their eyes to his mask. Zayd trembled, Zhavia whimpered. He was here.

The female gave up any hope of surviving the night. It was far, far too late for that.


Heracles's lungs burned with the need to breathe. He would have been doing well, he'd gained so much ground despite the way they started out with the ambush. As much as he wanted to be as stealthy as the enemy, his bulky exterior was far too much for the rather sparse vegetation. But he'd made the most of what he had, using his speed to subdue an array of different foes on the way here, leaving a few black blooded bodies behind.

So far they'd been easy pickings, all nameless. Despite everything they'd thrown at him, every trap they'd laid out, they were easy pickings for a half-god. None of them even nicked his skin. That was not the case for this pesky newcomer. Heracles was an absolute powerhouse. Even just accounting for his skin, no ordinary weapon could pierce it. Even among Noble Phantasms, those that could wound him were select. But even with an impenetrable outside, there was still the matter of his insides.

He'd beaten enough slippery fiends to know what poison tasted like, and as impenetrable as his skin was, his insides just weren't. That was something that his latest opponent was clearly taking advantage of. She, or at least he believed the tiny shadow was a she judging by the petite figure, had began by throwing dirks and had quickly switched tactics when she realized it none of them had hurt him.

And so this chase had begun. Since he'd crushed that half-masked opera singer with his feet, he'd been running for what felt like hours, even scaling trees to get away, but Heracles could never extend the distance.

Air!

His lungs protested, he was seconds away from falling unconscious, but he had to make it out. He had to! He hasn't even reunited with his master yet! Heracles cursed his weakness. Imagine what the fates would say? The man who cheated death, who's life string frayed and thinned, but never cut, defeated by mere poison gas? He would be the laughingstock of Olympus.

Still, his chest could no longer take another minute. His mind, no longer corrupted by the Mad Enhancement, was clouding against his will as he fought to stay awake.

You're strong, Berserker.

The words of his former master brought him back to the wilderness, where her so-called family had thrown her out to face the conditions. He didn't remember much, but he knew she was hurting. She bled with every single move he made. She bled when he walked. She bled when he breathed. Every day she called him ugly. Every day she told him he was worthless. Every day she spewed hate from that tiny mouth of hers. He couldn't blame her, if it hurt her so much to have him around.

She bled torrents when he fought off those beasts. Really, even Mad, without conscious thought, he knew his master should have been dead by then. But for the very first time, when he saved her, she gave him something that wasn't an insult.

You're strong, Berserker.

And for someone like her, so small, who had no one. Berserker knew it meant everything. So he took it, used it, protected her with everything that he had. It worked, for a while. He was able to take her places she wouldn't have been able to go.

And then, he was gone. His lives, stolen by a little girl king and two puny humans. Did his Master fall to their hands as well?

He wanted to stay, to be there for Illya. He wanted to make sure such a tortured soul had the chance to live without restraint. To be free from the chains that left her captive all because of a family name.

And he'd be damned if he let poison air keep him from that.

Heracles hefted his weapon, and swung it in a full circle, instantly levelling the surrounding terrain. It took the enemy by surprise, but the woman in the skull mask only stood still for a second before launching an array of weapons.

They pinged off the demigod's skin like pellet bullets off an armored car. It tickled, really, and the hero would have laughed if it wasn't for the toxic gas. But, as it was, Heracles had used up all his patience trying to evade the air, and in all his divine glory did not want to give more. He expected more from the foe, but as it turned out poisonous gas was their only trump card, for no weapon of man could ever pierce his skin.

Realizing her mistake, the white-eyed fool tried to run for the shadows, but Heracles was far faster, far bigger, far more of a danger than she could ever hope to be. Blood-curdling screams cut through the air as her legs contorted in Heracles's fist, her arms shortly following suit, but all his cries were on deaf ears. Slowly, to prolong her agony, the hero twisted his wrists, just like one would wring laundry, til all the black blood in her body scattered on the floor.

He tossed the mangled carcass aside, its bones broken and piercing out of the skin like the sickest idea of a human porcupine.

Heracles finally took a breath of fresh air.

Arturia choked on her own blood.


Hello everyone! Please leave a review so I can see what you think! i do go through them quite regularly.

Any guesses on what characters the enemies are? :) Theyre from the fate Franchise tooooo~

-akampana