FATE/PARALLEL COLORS
Chapter 9: Endangered Little Guardian
Two days later…
Deep in the Stormy Sea Palace region of SE. RA. PH, two men were surrounded by hundreds of various Attack Programs. They stood back-to-back, pointing their weapons at their opponents to keep them at bay while desperately thinking of a strategy.
"Uh… Hate to break this to you, Boss, but we're in pretty deep here, aren't we?" an orange-haired man wearing green clothes and an equally viridian mantle grumbled to his partner.
"Don't gotta tell me twice," the second fellow replied as he hunched into a low combat stance with his crimson spear. "Frankly, I'm amazed at the speed that Rex Magnus guy managed to assemble so many troops. Still, these chumps are nothing but a workout for me. If you wanna bail, Archer, you go right on ahead. I know these intense battles aren't exactly your forte, and an ally who only slows me down is just as bad as a formidable opponent."
"Hey, don't kick me in the nuts like that. A skirmish like this isn't enough to chase me off. Besides, I've seen plenty of those kinds of leaders in my time, and they just piss me off. They pick any reason, like justice, love, salvation and all that bullshit, while completely ignoring the ordinary people who just want to live their lives quietly. It's for folks like them that I'm willing to step up and knock these idealists down a peg. It'd be easier if Rex Magnus didn't actually believe his own hype, but he's practically made a religion all for himself. Sucks for him."
"Hmm… I gotta say, I don't mind realists like yourself. You may act all cynical and dismissive, but at least you've got a head on your shoulders. Guess that's how we've managed to stick together and survive for so long. Well, let's just keep going and see where it takes us, huh?"
Just then, a woman's sharp voice cut through the air like a blade, as she retorted, "Looks like you're still the same old troublemaker as always, Setanta. Didn't I teach you a thing or two about this little concept called manners?"
The spear-user, Cuchulainn, widened his eyes as he spotted a familiar maroon-haired lady standing atop a cracked pillar. However, she wasn't wearing her usual skin-tight purple bodysuit. This time, she was garbed in a white military uniform, white gloves, a black skirt, black thigh-length leggings, and white thigh boots. Truly, she looked like a general commanding an indomitable army. The sight was rather jarring for him, since he knew she wasn't the type to fight alongside others.
"You… Why are you with Rex Magnus, Scathach!?" the Lancer angrily shouted at her. "Have you been Oraclized too!?"
"What does it matter? I'm here to impede your progress. What else do you need to do but take up your spear and fight me to the death?"
"Hah! If you're so weak-willed that you allowed yourself to be brainwashed into one of the emperor's flunkies, then sending you to hell will be a piece of cake! Hope you enjoy it, Mistress!" Cuchulainn taunted, but quickly thought to himself, I might talk big, but she's still got that same murderous aura. Guess this Oraclization business really does keep a Servant's core values intact. Shit, I'm going to be pushed beyond my limits, aren't I?
Just then, the orange-haired fellow interrupted them by calling out, "Sorry to butt in on your battlefield romanticism schtick, but it looks like we've got backup."
The trio spotted three Servants running toward them – one male, two females – accompanied by a rather plain-looking brown-haired young man in brown combat clothes. The armored male Servant called out to them, "Sir Cuchulainn and Sir Robin Hood, I presume!? We are Servants of SE. RA. PH's Master! We've come to rescue you from Rex Magnus' army!"
"Whew, we're saved," Robin Hood whistled in relief. "Taking out small fries is one thing, but going toe-to-toe with a battle-crazy vixen who's also the Queen of the Celtic underworld is where I draw the line with my bravado."
"Don't you worry about Scathach – I've got her covered. Knowing her, she'll just see you guys as a way of evening out the odds," Cuchulainn assured. "The rest of you go clean up the grunts."
"Got it, Boss. I'll tag along with them then."
With that, the Archer ran off to meet with the newcomers. Cuchulainn never took his eyes off of Scathach as she elegantly spun her spear until she got into her combat stance. She then taunted, "Come on, Setanta. Show me if your bite is as vicious as your bark. If you manage to survive this, I'll tell you something interesting."
"Is that some half-baked attempt at pissing me off?" Cuchulainn snarled. "Trust me – you already did that when you showed your face to me!"
Scathach barely appeared fazed by his quip as she leapt over him faster than a normal human could perceive her. They thrust their spear tips at each other with such force that a halo-shaped shockwave blasted the surrounding area. The dance of carnage that followed was both poetic and horrifying for any mortal to witness. Even more frightening was Scathach's persistent smile as she reveled in the chaos of combat. Cuchulainn clearly wasn't having as much fun as her, since he fully understood how dangerous she was. Luckily for him, their spear skills only had a marginal difference, with Scathach only being superior because she relied on two Gae Bolgs for her more devastating attacks, whereas Cuchulainn always fought with just one. The real question was who would be the more tenacious and skilled warrior.
"Come and get it!" Scathach shouted, kicking her spear up high, then leaping and performing a backwards flip to kick it at her student with deadly force.
"Hragh!" Cuchulainn snarled as he dashed and bounced with athletic prowess, narrowly missing the spear as it struck the ground and exploded with a massive crimson burst. The shockwave hurled him closer to his teacher, and he got in a good kick to her solar plexus while she was momentarily upside-down. She winced in uncharacteristic agony, which he found rather strange. Despite her lithe and dainty appearance, the Queen of Dun Scaith was as sturdy as a Norse Jotnar. Such a kick wouldn't even faze her under normal circumstances. He knew something had to be wrong with her.
Mistress…
He grit his teeth and steeled his nerves, becoming more determined to end this quickly and find out what was going on. They sailed in an arc toward a nearby wall, and he fell upon her while twisting his body to slice his Gae Bolg at her chest. She responded by summoning her second Gae Bolg and blocking it while simultaneously planting her feet against the wall. She pushed herself off and violently tackled him to the ground. He dared not allow himself to get pinned under her, so he actually rolled backwards enough to throw off her balance, and he heaved her off him with his legs. She twirled and landed elegantly several feet away.
"HAAAH!" Scathach roared, vanishing in a flurry and swiping her spear left and right in multiple wide arcs.
"Too slow!" Cuchulainn retorted. He was much quicker than her, disappearing as a streak of bright red wind that zig-zagged at random intervals, easily dodging her assault while also lacerating her at every opportunity he could get. He finished with an intense thrust while howling a battle cry, tossing her afar like debris caught in a fierce storm. He wouldn't give her the chance to recover, readying his lance in a throwing position before shouting, "This is gonna smart!"
"Ungh!?"
Without mercy, he threw it straight at her chest. The pain was simply too intense for her to bear. She didn't even register the chaotic tumble she endured before sliding to a complete stop on the opposite side of the arena. A terrifying amount of blood seeped out of her, forming a grotesque puddle around her. The dark aura that always surrounded Oraclized Servants dissipated, indicating that she had returned to her senses. All she could do was lay on her side and watch as she saw her student running toward her.
"Mistress!" he cried out, then kneeled next to her and cradled her head on his arm.
"S… Setan… ta… Y-You've… really grown…"
"'Course I have. I can't be a snot-nosed whelp forever."
"Heh heh… How right… you are…"
As the two Celts remained there, Hakuno and the other four Servants returned to see how they were doing. They had already defeated Scathach's army of Aggressors and Facsimile Servants, so it was just a matter of ensuring the leader's defeat. When they saw Cuchulainn hunched over the fatally wounded Scathach though, they knew the battle was won.
"Whew! Gotta say, that was a close shave, Boss," Robin said to him. "To be honest with you, I thought we were totally screwed once I saw Scathach show up."
"We probably would have been…" Cuchulainn admitted. "But… something's not right."
"What do you mean?"
"Mistress… Tell me. Did you already fight a huge battle before challenging me here?"
"Ngh…" Scathach winced in agony, resting her hand over the gaping wound on her upper chest. "So you noticed."
"I knew it! If you were Oraclized, then that means you fought Rex Magnus, didn't you!?"
"Yeah."
Cuchulainn became visibly frustrated. "This isn't right. This isn't right at all! If I'm going to kick your ass for good, it's not going to be after you've already sustained such heavy injuries! Don't tell me you lost against him!"
"Hmph… Loathe as I am to admit it, even Top Servants are powerless before the emperor's unfathomable power. He literally has the heavens on his side. The only reason he wasn't able to fully Oraclize me was because I shielded my mind with some Runes in advance. I had to stay rational, if I wanted to pass on my message to you."
"Right, you said that before, didn't you? So, what is this 'message' you've got to tell me? Oh, I know! This is the moment when you declare your love for me that you've been holding back for so long, is that it!? What a predictable twist that would be! Not that I would be opposed to it, mind you!"
Scathach coughed up blood. "Ngh… Setanta… I'm not joking around. I need you to listen to me…"
Cuchulainn grew perplexed by his teacher's somber behavior. "What's wrong? You sound mighty serious all of a sudden, Mistress."
"There is much I need to tell you… but I do not have the time. I will say this though… she is in serious trouble."
"She? Who are you talking about?"
"My final pupil… My soft-hearted fool of a niece…"
Cuchulainn's expression suddenly turned to absolute shock… no, more like terror. Neither Hakuno nor any of the other Servants present ever witnessed him look so frightened before. Without elaborating to the others as to why he was so stunned, he yelled at Scathach, "What happened to her!?"
The violet-haired woman gasped a few times in sheer agony, then moaned, "Rex Magnus told me shortly after he Oraclized me…"
The previous day…
It was a beautiful day in Erin's Expanse. Granted, SE. RA. PH pretty much programmed every region to have perfect weather unless it was specifically designed to have a gloomy ambience, but it just felt especially peaceful and calm on this day. Connla woke up that morning and discovered that Scathach was nowhere to be found. Just as she promised, she had left for the more populated regions to resolve whatever war was going on. Connla was left on her own, and while she did have some instructions ("homework", as Scathach called it) and a training regimen to follow, she was free to do as she wished otherwise, so long as she didn't leave the region.
One of her duties involved mapping out the Expanse so that NPCs could eventually move into this humongous green wilderness in the future. Connla figured that these lands would turn into farms, and she could easily imagine the countless rows of wheat, corn, potatoes, pumpkins, and other crops practically decorating the earth with their vibrant colors. This sort of rustic lifestyle was exactly what she preferred. Cities and urban areas felt overly stifling and constricting for her, especially when people heaped too many expectations onto her. Here, she could run around and learn the lay of the land at her leisure.
Alas, before she could partake in some recreation, she had work to finish for the day. During the night, the Expanse increased its territory to include a waterfall reminiscent of Ireland's Clare Glens. She knew it would make for an excellent tourist destination, but she needed to make sure it was safe first before registering it in the Moon Cell's database. She packed up her belongings and headed into the woods. After several hours of aimless scouting, she finally found the Clare River replica.
However, what caught her eye wasn't the rushing water battering the rocks – it was the sight of two unusual men lurking around at the river's edge. One was a pale-skinned fellow with bulging eyes, garbed in a rather distinct and distasteful set of robes that looked like it had striped tentacles wrapping around his shoulders. The other's features were impossible to distinguish because he was clad from head to toe in onyx knight armor, with the helmet's eye slits glowing red. Truth be told, Connla was incredibly uncomfortable seeing them there. Although it was rude to judge someone by their physical appearance, her instincts told her that they were up to something suspicious. She would have preferred to leave them be, but as the Expanse's assigned guardian, she needed to protect this region.
The child Lancer swallowed hard, then approached the men. Her footsteps scraping on the earth attracted their attention, and they turned to face her. She then said, "Good day, sirs."
"Good day, my child," the robed fellow replied in a shaky voice. "Lovely weather, isn't it?"
"Mm…"
"Pardon me if I'm being a little ostentatious, but am I to understand that this is a brand new region that SE. RA. PH generated just recently?"
"Yes, it is. It has been dubbed Erin's Expanse, a replica of Europe's Celtic territories."
"I see, I see. My goodness, the nature here certainly is one of a kind. As a man with an eye for art, I must say that this is simply too breathtaking for me to put into mere words. My partner here also agrees. He has a particular fondness for bodies of water such as lakes and rivers."
Connla glanced at the armored man, who never uttered a sound during the conversation. The robed man continued, "It is the perfect canvas for me. Such a pristine and clear picture is ripe for blaspheming and defiling. Oh ho ho ho, I can hardly wait!"
Her expression became terse and she narrowed her eyes. "Blaspheming?"
"Oh, pardon me. I have a bad habit of getting ahead of myself. I am Caster, Gilles de Rais. My partner here is Berserker, Lancelot du Lac. We are here on a conquest in the name of our Lord and Savior, the almighty Rex Magnus. Naturally, we have every intention of seizing this masterless region, so that we may gain a territorial advantage over the insurgents who struggle against the emperor's will."
Now she was angry. "You certainly make some bold claims. Unfortunately for you, the Expanse is not as defenseless as you think."
"Oh? Are you implying that you're this region's guardian? My, how charming! I should be insulted with your insolence, yet my heart is aflutter with your innocent charisma! You're certainly no Jeanne, but you exude a similar courage to hers! Ahh, I've decided! I must bring you back to the St. Metropolita! Rex Magnus would be thrilled to Oraclize someone as brave and naïve as you! Then you and I could venture forth and further contaminate SE. RA. PH with his boundless love!"
Connla grit her teeth as she thought, These must be the invaders that Teacher was talking about. I can't let them run rampant like this. I have to stop them, for her sake as well.
Gilles frowned when he saw her furious expression. He sighed and murmured, "Am I safe to assume that you have no intention of joining the New Holy Empire?"
"I cannot. Or rather, I must not. I'm tasked with guarding the Expanse from anyone who would attempt to besiege it."
"Then you leave me with no choice, little one. Come, Lancelot! Let us show this child the summit of her folly!"
The ground beneath Gilles' feet blackened with a sickly ichor, and several writhing tentacles protruded through to carry him away from the impending battle site. At the same time, a similar black aura engulfed Lancelot's armor like onyx fire as he transfixed his gaze squarely upon Connla's eyes. She conjured her spear and got into her combat stance, returning his stare with a fierce look of determination.
Neither of them moved for what felt like the longest time. She didn't want to strike him first. Although Lancelot was born many centuries after Connla, her summoning into the Moon Cell allowed her to gain knowledge of so many famous Servants. She knew he was probably one of the greatest medieval knights in human history. She wasn't going to take any chances from just messing with him. She needed to gauge what his capabilities were first before exploiting any potential weaknesses, and to do that, she needed to be on the defensive.
Even though she waited a long time for him to move first, she could tell that something was wrong. Both of them knew she was giving him the opening. Why wasn't he taking the bait? It wasn't that he was unaware of her tactic. Even with Madness Enhancement, he understood what her plan was. The trouble was more emotional rather than logical. In his eyes, Connla's face kept superimposing with two people – a blonde-haired girl in heavy armor wielding a large lance, and a forlorn woman who always stood in the background while being harshly judged by everyone around her.
It was weird. In one world, Lancelot confused Connla for Guinevere due to her forlorn countenance, and he struggled to tell her to smile. Here, he was mistaking her for Gareth, the wide-eyed Knight of the Round Table who looked up to him so much and had been horribly betrayed by him in the very end. What exactly was going on? Why would he mistake the same Servant for two people he knew in his lifetime? What made this time so different?
In all honesty though, that moment which ruined Lancelot's life was forever etched in his mind. Guinevere's tears flowed as she watched him rampage for her sake, all while being sent to the gallows herself for her betrayal against King Arthur. Gareth also cried, as she tried to defend her queen from the man she idolized, and was rewarded with her skull being crushed in. It was all much too tragic for him to bear. And Arthur had the gall to forgive him for such sins!? He murdered so many people around him! Why would the king forsake his traitorous queen and fallen knights so easily!?
As he stared at Connla's panicking face, those thoughts kept racing through him. Arthur was not around for him to kill, but there was a substitute for both Guinevere and Gareth to let his frustrations out upon. Yet, he knew the unknown Lancer didn't deserve it. It wasn't her fault that she reminded him so much of two such important people in his life. What else could he do but rage and howl at the unfairness of it all?
Or perhaps… it wasn't just Arthur that he sought punishment from. Guinevere and Gareth also had a right to vindicate themselves. If neither of them were there to smack some sense into him, then perhaps he was looking to this girl to do it in their stead? She certainly was a talented knight despite her age. If she could hold her own against him in his maddened state, then maybe… just maybe…
The anguish drove him crazy, and he tried to utter something.
"Ga… Gar…"
Connla widened her eyes and murmured, "Huh?"
"GAAA~AAAREEE~EEETH!"
Lancelot finally summoned a gatling gun upon his hand, possessing it with his pseudo-Noble Phantasm, Knight of Owner. He fired countless rounds of bullets at Connla, and she immediately fled the area to avoid being repeatedly gouged to death. He kept his aim focused on her, and the incessant volley pursued her as she kept hiding behind any thick trees she found. She tumbled into a small ditch for cover, then took out some blank Runestones and charged them with Ansuz spells. She spent a few seconds observing the bullets' trajectory to gauge where Lancelot was. When she found a gap in his fire, she tossed the stones so they would explode like grenades around him.
"GWAH!?" the mad knight howled in shock, not expecting her to use magic like this. He glared at the inferno raging before him, expecting his opponent to dash out from one side. To his surprise, she actually burst through the flames and cleaved her spear through his gun multiple times, slicing it into useless pieces. She then planted one foot on the top of Lancelot's helmet and leapt off him like a platform, further increasing her distance with some aerial platform Runes of her own. The enraged Berserker took chase after her from the ground.
That should take care of any potential long-range attacks, she thought. Even if he can turn anything he wants into a weapon, this forest shouldn't give him any options for sniping me down from a distance. He would have to come in close to strike me down, but I can definitely outrun him.
Not only did Connla have to worry about Lancelot, there was also the problem of Gilles taking off for reasons unknown. She brought up a digital readout of the region – a handy tool that the Moon Cell gave all Servants – and analyzed where Gilles was hiding himself. He was in the opposite corner of the forest, and the readout indicated that he was preparing for a long-range attack of his own. The range he could cover was far more impressive than Lancelot's gun though. If Connla stayed in one sector for too long, Gilles could send oceanic demons to swarm her while she was busy dealing with Lancelot. She wasn't going to let Gilles get the slip on her, but she needed to conserve her energy as well. After all, if she didn't finish the Caster quickly enough, she was going to be overwhelmed by two Servants.
To distract Lancelot, Connla rained down some more enchanted Runestones and let them explode one after the other around him. They didn't cause any damage to him beyond him losing his hearing momentarily, but the important thing was that they provided a smoke screen for her to escape with. With this opening, she found the nearest flight tunnel and soared through it to the next sector. She made a mad dash through the empty area and found the next path forward. She kept doing this several times, each time avoiding a mass of dark energy that was fired upon each sector she fled to, until she reached Gilles' sector. He stood before a sizeable lake, where a hideous growth of tentacles wobbled within the water and turned it completely dark.
Rather than expressing frustration with her tenacity, the Caster raised Prelati's Spellbook before him and mirthfully chanted, "Welcome… to our sacrilegious banquet!"
If she wasn't upset before, she was outright livid with him now. She wouldn't forgive him for turning this beautiful lake into a den of nightmarish ghouls. She had no retort for him as she charged headlong toward him, frantically swiping her spear everywhere to slice through a multitude of tentacles that assailed her. Each step she took brought her closer to the madman, and she twirled on her toes before delivering a wide swipe to his face. He floated backwards on a spinning sea creature to avoid it, then flew around on it like a discus until he descended upon her, all while bellowing a manic laugh.
"AH HAH HAH HAH HAH HA HAH!"
Countless tendrils slapped her small body repeatedly, causing her to spin uncontrollably and crash onto the grass. Her eyes felt like they were spinning in her head as she struggled to look back up at him. Dizzied or not, she needed to keep fighting. She bounded onto her feet and struck her blade against a row of sharp pseudopods. What followed for the next few seconds was a fierce duel between them as they swung, thrust, dodged, and shouted at each other in a total frenzy. Connla managed to emerge the victor from this brief tussle, and she kicked him away with all her strength.
"You'll regret this! I'll drag you down into the depths of Hell!" he shrieked.
She ignored his provocation and performed several gymnastics flips before somersaulting above the stricken man. She aimed the soles of her feet at his face, and she stamped on him with so much force that it threatened to snap his neck into pieces. He couldn't even utter a sound as he helplessly fell onto his back, his mind blank and his jaw agape with shock. All he could do was stare at the sky, unable to comprehend what just happened to him.
Connla landed near him, and she observed as the sea demons lost their will to fight and retreated back into their dimension. She panned her eyes around as the landscape returned to its normal vibrant green color, and she thought, Good. That takes care of Caster's backup fire. Now to do something about Berserker…
That was when she heard some sort of tinny whirring sound. She didn't know where it had come from, until a flash of red zipping in the sky caught her attention. She squinted her eyes to try and discern what it was. Eventually, it came close enough for her to make out the shape of a black jet fighter. The sight was unusual at first, but then she noticed a black knight kneeling atop the plane and fusing his armor with it so he could control it as the pilot. Her eyes widened in sheer horror as she realized what was going on.
Is that his… Noble… Phantasm?
Once Lancelot spotted Connla way below him, he unleashed an inhuman roar and manipulated the F-15's turrets to fire a volley of AIM-7F/M Sparrow missiles at her. In blind desperation, she tumbled on her feet and scrambled to get the hell out of there.
Sadly, it was too late. The last thing she could remember was a vicious firestorm that incinerated the entire sector, swallowing her in a rush of unrelenting flames. She was sent flying far away, her body spinning against her volition before she collapsed onto the scorched ground unconscious. Once she was down, she didn't move again. Lancelot dismissed the jet fighter and leapt off, landing several yards away from the fallen Lancer.
Once the cacophony died down, silence soon returned to the region. The earth was pockmarked with dozens of burning explosion craters. Strangely though, none of them had been on Connla's path as she was running away. Lancelot did not actually intend to kill her – his goal was to only incapacitate her with the shockwave of the detonating missiles. He wasn't sure if he had gone overboard with his assault though, so he kneeled over her and checked her pulse to make sure she was alive.
"Oooh… Oh, what agony…" the Berserker heard Gilles complaining as he stumbled back upright and craned his head several times to snap a knuckle in his spine. "Oooh, that's better… Damn it all. For all her charm and innocence, she certainly knows how to put up a good fight. Maybe I ought to re-evaluate my assessment of her…"
He approached Lancelot and said, "Good work, Berserker! Our Lord will be most pleased with this success! Now, now, hand the girl over to me, and I will subject her to the most blasphemous death imaginable!"
"MWAH!" Lancelot suddenly shouted and stood between them, stomping his foot in a bold gesture. "St-Stay away… from… Ga… Gareth!"
Gilles' eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as he screeched, "What are you doing, Mad Knight!? Why do you protect that whelp!? Do you intend to betray my Lord!? The child has sinned against Rex Magnus! Death is the only way her tainted soul may be cleansed!"
"MRAAAGH!"
Before their argument could potentially escalate into heated infighting, a bold yet calm voice bellowed over them, "That is enough."
While Lancelot remained on edge, Gilles calmed his fury and turned to face the newcomer. He was a hulk of a fellow garbed in gold armor, black-and-white clothes, and a platinum crown. His long white hair curled inward at the tips, and his beard was shaved to portray a Christian cross. Gilles was astonished to be in the presence of this man, and he prostrated while yelping, "Emperor Karl! How your divine presence humbles me to the very core!"
"Gilles," Karl der Große sternly spoke to him. "You must learn to restrain your violent impulses. I fear my teachings of unequivocal love and acceptance may be lost upon the people when you spout such nonsense like death being one's salvation. The insurgents may be one thing, but I do not want the masses to become confused with the message I am trying to spread."
"Y-Yes! Forgive my insolence! I shall exercise due caution next time!"
"Lancelot," Karl then murmured, turning his attention to the black knight. "You must control yourself. That is not your fellow knight Gareth. She is a wholly unrelated Heroic Spirit whose skills and countenance simply remind you of your former ally."
"Bwuuuh…" the mad warrior groaned quietly.
"Now then. Since this Servant has already been subdued, it is only proper that I induct her into my empire," the emperor said as he kneeled before the unconscious Connla. He raised his hand over her and began the process of assimilating her with his Oraclization process. He closed his eyes and concentrated on using his True Name Discernment to see what her identity was. Knowing who the Heroic Spirit was made it much easier for him to distort their Spirit Origin without tampering with their own inherent values.
"… Hm?"
He paused, suddenly appearing uncertain. Gilles asked, "Is something the matter, my Lord?"
"I cannot see it… I cannot see this one's history…"
"I beg your pardon?"
"There is a powerful haze surrounding her Spirit Origin. Could this be some sort of unique skill?"
"I do not quite understand. Does this mean the Oraclization will not work?"
"Hmm… Troubling… Very troubling, indeed. Gilles, did you happen to ask this Servant what her name was?"
"Oh. Now that you mention it, such a question completely slipped my mind. Well, I don't believe you should concern yourself too much, my liege. Though her identity may elude you, she is but a stripling compared to the Servants under the Master's command. Oraclized or not, she shouldn't pose any sort of threat to your empire."
"That kind of complacency is what leads to defeat," Karl berated the Caster. "I suppose there is no choice. I will have to convince her to join us through alternate means. Gilles, you are to inspect the Replication Furnace and replace the Servants we lost in our latest battle. Lancelot, bring the Servant to the St. Metropolita's dungeon, and make sure she doesn't escape. I wish to speak with her once she regains consciousness."
"Bwah!" Lancelot grunted, then hauled Connla beneath his arm and leapt away.
Several hours later, the child Servant stirred awake. She realized that she was in a bed, which was odd since she knew she was previously in the wilderness before passing out. She tried to sit up, but her abdomen was so sore that she could only roll into a sitting position and press her hand against her stomach.
"Unnngh… Agh!" she moaned, practically on the verge of puking. She managed to keep her composure though, and she glanced around at her surroundings. She was inside a cell made out of thick iron bars and rows of black brickwork. While it wasn't as decrepit and aged as many dungeons were portrayed to be, it wasn't any less gloomy. Some light filtered through a small window nearby, and she stumbled over to take a look outside. To her surprise, she saw that the ground was far, far below whatever this place was. She could only assume that she was in some sort of flying fortress or castle, which baffled her as to who would possess such military might and how they accomplished it. Was it something SE. RA. PH created and the enemy took it for themselves? Or was it someone's Noble Phantasm that they could control at will? She had no clue, and the lack of information greatly bothered her.
Satisfied that she knew what the outside was like, Connla hobbled over to the cell bars and craned her head enough to see what was in the dungeon halls. There wasn't really much other than more cells identical to hers, plus the hallway leading to a set of ascending stairs. Her cell was right next to the stairs though, so she could hear people as they walked by. She spotted an armored figure standing guard at the top of the steps, and she quickly recognized the man as Lancelot.
Ugh… Guess I'm not breaking out of here anytime soon, she thought despondently. She could easily use some small Ansuz fireballs to destroy the iron bars, but it would be a terrible idea when she knew the Berserker could just incapacitate her again while she was weakened. She had to exercise patience and see where things would lead for her.
The Lancer sat back down on the bed and let her mind wander for a while. She worried about what was happening with Erin's Expanse, now that she understood that she failed in her duties. Would Scathach punish her for being too weak to do her job? She knew Aife would have. Her mother was way more strict than her teacher was, believing any sort of mistake to be an insult that needed to be rectified. Alas, Aife was not here, which gave Connla some semblance of relief. She didn't think Scathach would react with such intense violence, but there probably would be some degree of disappointment. Connla felt that was as equally demoralizing as her own failures, and she didn't know if she could emotionally handle letting Scathach down.
Deep down though, Connla had to remember that she was only a trainee, not a full-fledged Servant. It wasn't that she was too weak – her opponents were simply too strong. She had to keep that critical difference in mind if she didn't want to depress herself too much. She kept telling herself that she did her best with everything she had in her arsenal. It wasn't her fault that her experience and skills had been insufficient. It was exactly the same as when she lost her battle against Cuchulainn in her previous life.
Father…
She kept thinking about him. She hadn't met him yet in this world, so she only had memories of him when they fought that destined battle. Then a new realization struck her:
What'll happen if he finds out the invaders have captured me?
If Scathach was capable of slaying gods, evil spirits and demons with a rational mind, who knew what Cuchulainn would do when he was lost in his notorious warp spasm frenzy – the byproduct of his Fomorian lineage through his father Lugh. She didn't want to imagine the carnage he would bring upon these people, nor of the hideous figure he'd become when his mind fully succumbed to riastrad. She remembered that grotesque form he took upon during their fight – the multitude of extra eyes, mouths and limbs that protruded on Cuchulainn's face and body practically made Gilles' bulging eyes look normal in comparison. It was only due to her emotions being suppressed that she didn't go mad from the sight herself, actually finding some sort of demented courage to compliment it instead.
Connla sighed forlornly, swinging her legs back and forth over the edge of the bed. What was going to happen? That was the question that kept looming over her. She wished she could just find out already so she could ease this tension weighing her down. Soon though, she heard a familiar man's ghastly voice echoing from above, and she peered through the bars again to get a better listen.
"Has the young lady awakened yet, Lancelot?" Gilles asked the black knight.
There was no response. The Berserker just stood there, fully barring the Caster entry into the brig. Gilles implored, "Come now, I mean no harm. I just thought it would be prudent for me to be more acquainted with the little one, since through means fair or foul, she will become one of our allies eventually. I figured I could spend some quality time with her in my special chambers, muh hu hu hu hu hu…"
"…"
"What is this? You would deny passage to the Empire's second-in-command, mad knight?"
"Mwah," Lancelot grunted in the affirmative.
"Why? Is it on our Lord's order?"
"…"
"Well? Is it, or is it not?"
"…"
"Or could it be that she reminds you of your fellow Knight of the Round Table? Is that a tinge of useless sentiment I detect in your deranged eyes?"
Appearing offended, Lancelot suddenly brandished Arondight and pointed it at Gilles' chest! The ghoulish spellcaster was startled by this unprovoked action, and he blurted, "What insolence! Put that foul weapon away at once, you heathen!"
"Mragh!"
Back in her cell, Connla was surprised to see Lancelot blocking Gilles' path so fervently. She was just as confused as he was about the knight's motivation. Was he really ordered to keep such a strict watch over her? Or did he actually have a personal reason for keeping the lunatic Frenchman away from her? She had to remember that while Lancelot was now an incoherent war machine who committed a grave sin against his king and country, he still had his fundamental pride as a knight. This was in stark contrast with Gilles, who was once a famed field marshal under Jeanne D'Arc, but discarded his humanity to become an infamous monster who preyed on children not much older than Connla was. Maybe Lancelot knew how dangerous he would be if he got too close to her? Neither Gilles nor Connla knew for certain, but one thing was clear – Lancelot was not going to move.
"Tch! Fine, then! I don't have time for this!" Gilles snarled and stepped back. "I was wondering if our liege was here, but it appears he's not. I wanted to report to him that the second Heroic Spirit Replication Furnace is ready and waiting for our next Top Servant. While the King of Heroes' furnace is churning out Servants at an impressive rate, our forces will fare much better if we were to capture Jeanne and grind her Spirit Origin into fuel as well."
Lancelot said nothing as he stared at his ally. Gilles kept rambling to himself while walking away, "Oh, Jeanne. My one and only Holy Maiden Jeanne. How I long to see your beauty and perfection warped to serve our God's purposes. Just be patient, my Saint. Soon, I will…"
His droning voice was soon out of earshot, and the area returned to silence. Lancelot put his sword away and returned to vigilantly guard his post. With nothing further to listen to, Connla likewise returned to her bed and contemplated what she just heard.
He wants to turn Top Servants into fuel for some kind of reactor?
She wasn't sure what to make of any of this. Aside from how obviously inhumane and unethical it was, she couldn't understand what sort of process existed to turn Spirit Cores into raw energy for some strange device. Alas, she was not well versed enough in the New Holy Empire's war against SE. RA. PH, so she had no idea what kind of technology was developed to aid in this conflict. The only thing that mattered to her was that the ruler of this empire sought for Top Servants, and she was certain that none of them would just surrender without a fight. Since Scathach was SE. RA. PH's Top Lancer, the Empire's conquest had taken some new meaning for her, since she didn't want her teacher to be subjected to something so twisted.
Yet, Lancelot's martial prowess and Gilles' depravity frightened her. If the empire's ruler could recruit people as dangerous as them, Connla didn't want to imagine just how powerful this supposed king was supposed to be. Deep in her heart, she knew she didn't stand a chance against such incredible world-changing forces. She was just a little kid going through her training. What could she possibly do to change any of this?
As Connla sat there in her cell, she heard someone approaching the dungeon's entrance. Did Gilles come back? Probably not, or else Lancelot would have started a fight again. That was when she heard an unknown girl's voice murmur, "Berserker… Can I meet the Servant that Karl captured?"
"…"
"I promise I won't do anything bad. I just want to talk to her."
"… Muh."
Surprisingly, the knight stepped aside and allowed the new visitor to pass through. She bounded down the steps, then stood in front of the occupied cell. She was another young girl probably about two or three years older than Connla. She had tanned skin and long white hair that flowed over her back like a cape. She wore a white leotard, a white miniskirt, and pointed black shoes. Etched all over her body was a large tattoo. She blinked her big red eyes and gazed at Connla with curiosity.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Normally I would apologize for taking so long to write this chapter, but it's been so bloody hot and I wanted to play Fate/Extella Link again to familiarize myself with its characters and concepts that I decided to take a bit of a break. The upload schedule should be a bit more regular once the temperature cools down and NaNoWriMo 2022 rolls around. I'm hoping to finish this entire story and at least begin the eighth story during that time.
Speaking of which, the poll from the end of Catbox Fiction is still open. Basically, it's asking if you want me to do the Babylonia Singularity rewrite or the Celtic Lostbelt dream, since both will be happening concurrently, and it would be WAY too much for me to write them at the same time. So far, the balance is about 60/40 in favor of Babylonia, but the Celtic Lostbelt is really damn close. Get those responses in before around mid-September so I can have some time to plan things out, folks!