Fate/Broken Order

Chapter 15

-Singularity 1 – Orleans-

Part 4: Of Couples and Curses

~ʘ~Ω~Ʊ~Ӝ~Ʊ~Ω~ʘ~

"Haha! Woo!" Gillian cried out now that it was safe to express her relief and joy. "Chaldea is back in action, our enemy is running, and we have a god damn Dragon on our side! Hell yeah!"

The finally reconnected forces of Chaldea had all reconvened at the nearest Leyline, and most were holding their heads high due to their first major blow against the apparent enemy of this Singularity.

Well, not literally in the case of the Second Fafnir, who kept his head low to the ground to not be too imposing. It might also have something to do with the tiny woman with a stranglehold on his lower jaw.

"A double you might be, but you still bear semblance to the Evil Dragon he slew with his blade, and whose blood he bathed in," Kriemhild spoke at the so titled Evil Dragon(to differentiate him from the enemy Fafnir). "So it gives reason that you bear that connection too, yes?"

"Erm...well...if I understood things right..." The Evil Dragon's voice rumbled, seeming really nervous of the tiny lady Berserker to utterly comical effect. "While my connection to that person is not...that, I do sense his general presence, yes."

"Good," Kriemhild spoke in a tone that brokered no alternatives or objections. "You will lead us to that bastard's location and then I'll give his useless self a piece of my mind!"

"...R-Right," The Evil Dragon muttered. He almost felt bad for what he was about to be accomplice to.

Astolfo gave a low whistle from his current seat. Which happened to be the massive Dragon's head. "Man, if my hunch about what that is about is right...Hehe, I hope this lady shows some mercy. We might need that guy's help to deal with Fafnir, after all!"

"Help me, Rider!" The Evil Dragon tried to stage whispered, which did not work at all due to how his voice rumbled.

"Nah, you're fine!" The effeminate Rider easily dismissed any concerns. "Cool to see you again though, buddy! Weird that you're a Dragon but it's always nice to meet an old pal."

"You...know this Dragon?" Charlie asked his Paladin in mild bafflement. "Since when?"

"Grail War stuff," Astolfo answered in a way that avoided putting in more effort. "Anyway, once we get Saber of Black, we'll be all set to deal with this thing once and for all!"

"Are you kidding?!" Gillian cut in with mild disbelief. "Did you hear how hard they got rocked? Team Aldia utterly wrecked those guys! And look at how many of us there are! We could totally rush the Dragon Witch right now and just bulldoze over them with numbers alone!"

"Not to sound like a downer or anything," Ritsuka spoke up, "but that sounds way too easy. I don't like how simple this whole thing seems all of a sudden. Call it a gut feeling."

"Well," Dr. Roman, finally conscious again, mused through the holographic display, "it might sound a bit foolhardy, but Gillian is right. The amount of allies you managed to gather collectively, as well as your own individual strengths should allow us what we need to overpower-"

"Ain't gonna work."

"Huh- Wait- WOAH!" Roman was bodily picked up and raised out of his seat. A moment later Blackbeard of all people sat in to fill the spot.

Gillian's look turned puzzled. "Teach?"

"It ain't gonna fly like you make it, Gilly," Blackbeard stated with utter severity. "What you've gone and done is show your full deck to your enemy. And now with grave losses from the initial encounter and facing greater odds than they were prepared for...all you've gone and done is drive them to a corner." The usually jokey man's brow furrowed, his eyes razor sharp. "And like all we who've fought for our lives know, ain't nothing more dangerous than a cornered foe with everything to lose."

The Masters thought of the man's words in grave silence, while many of the present Servants had to agree with Blackbeard's assessment.

"My point is," Blackbeard continued, raising a finger in grim emphasis, "now, of all times, is the worst time to strike. Take distance. Allow 'em a moment to recollect themselves, to think they're in control of things once more and loosen their guard. And hope to God that the enemy ain't got any unknown elements hidden away that can ruin your day."

Gillian frowned, but did not ignore the pirate's words outright. How could she, when her bestie was putting the jokes away to warn her? Idly she looked to the outskirts of the group, where Aldia was seated on a felled tree, removed of her long coat with her sleeve rolled up as Olga and Irisviel worked on the four holes in the woman's right arm. To the side, Carmilla watched the proceedings with an annoyed look.

"Honestly, of all the reckless things!" Director Olga hissed as she put all her knowledge of healing Magecraft to the test. It was not going as well as hoped, even with Irisviel's help. Something about the Noble Phantasm used resisted healing to a degree. "Tell me again, what the hell were you thinking engaging a Servant in direct combat?!"

Aldia averted her eyes, seeming embarrassed of all things. Though it had less to do with the question and more that she was showing more skin(scarring) than she'd prefer. "...I was first on the scene. Best equipped for it. It made sense to act."

"Uh-huh." Olga did not sound like she believed her in the least. "So your bright idea was to take on Vlad the Impaler? On your own?"

"...Wasn't alone..." the tall woman mumbled almost meekly.

"A Caster utterly inept at combat hardly counts," Carmilla did not miss her chance to diss the female Prelati.

Speaking of the rat...

"Oh, I cannot put into words how long I've waited for this!" Francesca squirmed and grasped her flushed cheeks as her obscene joy escaped her unabated. "The Maid of Orleans, here before me! The Holy Virgin my dearest friend would laud as the purest soul to ever walk this wretched sinful earth!"

Jeanne was feeling more than a bit uncomfortable at the intense gushing from the petite woman in such... unique and risque garb. Not to mention that even Jeanne could sense the staggering amount of horniness on display.

"I cannot deal with this!" Francesca suddenly screamed out, clutching her head as if in pain. Though the true reason did not remain a mystery for long. "The source of my desires is right before my eyes, and this damnable end of the world scenario dares stand in the way of my wants! Why are we all here? Just to suffer?! I refuse yield my spirit!"

The next second Jeanne's face flared crimson and the saint squeaked in mortification as one of her breasts was shamelessly groped.

A rock struck Francesca in the head like a cannonball and sent her tumbling into the dirt. "Uugh..."

"Don't sexually assault Jeanne d'Arc," Aldia droned forcefully, glaring at the Caster even as a furious Olga punched her in the back of her head(to zero effect).

"Don't suddenly move your arm, you idiot-SEE! It's bleeding again, we just got it to stop!"

Francesca rubbed the side of her skull as she spat out dirt and rolled to a sitting position, furiously pointing at her Master in a borderline immature display of anger. "You don't get it, you emotional eunuch! I see this pillar of Purity and Wholesomeness, standing there so...so lasciviously! All my being, my heart of hearts, is screaming at me to violate such a creature of sanctity, AND I CAN'T BECAUSE YOU MORALIZERS KEEP REPRESSING ME! The least I deserve is a single God damn handful!"

Jeanne grew redder and more mortified by the second.

"Don't. Sexually assault. Jeanne d'Arc," Aldia reiterated, as frigid as the uncaring northern winds.

"ARRRRGH!" Francesca started rolling on the ground almost comically, screaming her head off. "This is torture! Simply torture! Why couldn't you leave me to burn for all of eternity along with the rest of Humanity if this is the alternative?! I refuse to let your sanctimonious views white-wash my being into a redemption story!"

"I'm not going to enable your fucked up fetish, Francesca," Aldia called out, seeming to grow quite irritated.

"God damnit!" Francesca hopped to her feet and continued to angrily point. This time at Carmilla. "What the fuck about her, huh?! I bet old Blood Countess there is into some fucked up bondage and, I dunno, biting or blood-play or some shit! So why the hell are you kinkshaming me?!"

"Because if that's what Milla is into that's her private business and she keeps it that way!" Aldia stated, actually sounding a bit mad at the turn the conversation had taken.

Unnoticed by either of the arguing party, Carmilla actually flushed in embarrassment at having her new private pet name being used in public like that. Then, to her added mortification, she noticed Irisviel looking at her, her mouth rounding out in a silent, "Ooh~" with delighted sparkles in her bright red eyes.

Dammit, that Gillian girl was already stalking them for some weird reason, they didn't need more!

A resonant GROWL broke through the tense air, and the arguing Master-Servant duo turned to look at the Evil Dragon, who was glaring very intensely at Francesca in obvious disapproval. Also, at some point Jeanne had just completely lost her composure and was now quite literally standing in the Evil Dragon's shadow, hiding her infernally red face from the world.

Upon seeing Francesca notice her, the Evil Dragon shifted his tail to hide the Saint from all prying eyes, narrowing a threatening gaze at the female Prelati.

Perhaps finally realizing just what kind of fire she was playing with, Francesca decided to continue choosing life. She dusted her clothing and began taking distance from everyone. "I'm going for a walk. Need to...cool off."

"...You do that," Aldia responded lamely, now far more sedate as per normal.

Having witnessed the entire spectacle(it was hard for anyone not to) Charlie sucked in an breath of air through his teeth in a slight hiss. "That's...some folks you guys have."

"Yeah..." Ritsuka said, awkwardly rubbing his neck. "Francesca is...okay, even I can't be that nice. She's the kind of person to whom morals are more of a..."

"Guide book that needs to be burned in a pyre built of all her victims?" Artoria straightfacedly offered, seeming to be only half-joking.

"Yeah, that works I guess," Ritsuka accepted, sounding a bit disappointed in himself. He didn't like thinking bad of others. Even if in this case it was pretty warranted. It just wasn't him.

"Well...putting that aside," Charlie turned his attention back to the young male Master. He stroked his chin as he took the young man's features in. "Hmm...yeah, I can see why your Director reacted the way she did," he stated with a nod. "We do share a number of features."

"It is uncanny, Senpai," Mash agreed. The poor girl had almost had an existential crisis upon first seeing Ritsuka and Charlie side-by-side.

"Yeah, that's..." Ritsuka searched for the words for this, "...a bit weird."

God, that was lame. But, like, what could he say when it turned out he held an uncanny resemblance to King Charlemagne in his youth?

"...Say, Ritsuka, was it?" Charlie asked, seeming to be coming to some potential conclusions. "You got any foreign blood in your family?"

Ritsuka's first gut reaction was to say 'no', that he was as Japanese as he could be...but, upon thinking about it, he did start to remember an old, obscure memory. "...Actually...maybe?" He dug as deep as he could. "I think...I might have had a great-granduncle who was western that I met once when I was a little kid."

Charlie's brow quirked. "European?"

Ritsuka, truly bereft of such knowledge, could only shrug sheepishly.

"Well...that does open the possibility, the very slight possibility," Charlie emphasized, "that you might be one of my modern descendants."

That threw Ritsuka for a loop. "Huh?" Mash had a similar reaction. The two were perfectly in sync.

"Hehehe," Charlie chuckled. "Well, it's what my mind went to. Really, if I wasn't cut off from the cycle of reincarnation, I'd have pegged you for my second chance at life instead!"

So...he could be very, very distantly be related to the once Ruler of Europe?

...Whoa.

Before Ritsuka's brain could melt from such a possibility, his bracelet communicator beeped at an incoming transmission to him specifically.

"Yo, chief!" The young man blinked, and the hologram of Cu Chulainn came into his attention. "Hope I don't push my place or nuthin', but mind if I make a request of ya?"

Ritsuka frowned slightly at the odd question from the Child of Light. "Don't see why not. What's up, Cu?"

"Could you tag me in?"

Ritsuka blinked. "Err, I mean, I don't see why not? But, any particular reason for this?"

The Caster stared at him through the camera, eyes harder and more severe than his usual easy-going. "That's...something I can't really explain. But I got this feeling, see?" He thumbed his chest. "Call it a sixth sense, or whatever. I'm getting the feeling that I ought to be there with y'all. Just this nigglin' feeling I got."

Ritsuka's frown deepened, trading a look with Mash who looked equally worried by the tone the Celtic druid was carrying.

"...Do you truly think something is so off, Hound of Chulainn?" Artoria was one to ask, taking her fellow Servant's words as seriously as she could.

"Ain't like I can point at something and go, 'that's the thing'," Cu complained without much cheer. "As a warrior yourself Saber, you ought to know what's up better than most."

The King of Knights took a moment to think, before facing Ritsuka. "I'm willing to put stock in Caster's intuition. You may trade my spot for him, Master."

Ritsuka blinked, and couldn't help but ask, "Are you sure, Artoria?"

The Saber gave a wry smile. "In all honesty, if previous battles are anything to go on, Assassin will be more than sufficient when it comes to wyvern slaying. It pains me a bit to admit, but I likely wouldn't compare." She gave a resolute nod. "I'm willing to entrust your safety to Caster."

"Nonsense!" the voice of the aforementioned samurai rebuked harshly, approaching the group. "Your lack of faith in your skills does not paint you well, Saber."

"It's true!" Artoria insisted. "The proof is evident in several large piles, Kojirou."

"Ah, but you focus on the wrong things," Sasaki rebutted calmly. "While it is true that I can swat airborne pests, what our Master needs to truly rout our enemy is the sheer power only you can provide." The man chuckled wryly. "Shamefully, finesse is all I have. A simple sword technique can not compare to the true might of the Holy Sword Excalibur."

"Now who's downplaying their skills?" Artoria asked rhetorically, but bearing a slight smile.

"Touche," Sasaki admitted, addressing their Master. "If the Hound wants to go out to play, I will gracefully step aside and let him wag his tail for a while."

"You get one," Cu quipped warningly.

Both Ritsuka and Mash regarded the legendary swordsman for a moment, before sharing a look and a nod. "Alright. We'll do the switch while we're still at the Leyline."

"In that case, I better go get ready!" Cu said as he stepped away from the screen as comms cut off.

~ʘ~Ω~Ʊ~Ӝ~Ʊ~Ω~ʘ~

The plan on how to proceed proved actually two-fold. As it turned out, there was not just one, but two Dragon Slayers in the Singularity. Namely, Siegfried(whom Kriemhild, his wife, was extremely intent on finding) and another Saint, Georgios(whose existence was learned from Kiyohime faintly recalling meeting him before running into Elizabeth).

It was eventually decided that the Chaldeans would split into two groups to seek out both simultaneously.

Their own Evil Dragon stated that they held some form of connection that they could use to track down Siegfried's general location. So Team Aldia and Team Gillian(because Kriemhild would not allow anything but), along with Jeanne, Astolfo, and Kiyohime(she refused to part with her Anchin-sama), would ride the Dragon to seek him out.

Team Olga and Team Ritsuka, plus Marie, Mozart, Charlie, and Elizabeth(she refused to travel with her future self) would have to traverse on foot towards the town Georgios had last headed towards.

Which was why Kriemhild now stood atop the Dragon's head, her Demonic Balmung planted to the surface beneath her so she could dramatically stand in the breeze as they flew while glaring at the bastard/goal somewhere in horizon. The Dragon himself would be sweating bullets if he were able, what with the Dragon Slaying Sword nearly digging into his scalp.

In one of his claws, Francesca pouted irritably as she was being held just a mite too tightly in the Evil Dragon's massive grip, the Dragon unenthused to let the petite lady ride atop him. Or more specifically: be anywhere near Jeanne. The Dragon had a bizarrely protective streak for some reason.

Jeanne, along with Gillian, Kiyohime, Emiya, Aldia, and Carmilla were much more pleasantly situated between the Dragon's wings. There must've been some Magecraft going on because despite the speed they were traveling at the air wasn't buffeting any of them, sans Kriemhild who seemed to will it to be so for the sake of dramatics.

"By the way, I was wondering," Gillian asked the question that had been bothering her for a while now, her voice carrying well despite the winds, "where's the other Prelati? Cause, my brain isn't getting confused about what gender they are, so they can't have fused."

"Francois is running some errand," Aldia replied casually.

Francesca took exception to that, though she actually had to yell to be heard. "Don't reduce it to such basic terms! My Other is on a top secret mission to hunt down a specific object that could help all of us out immensely!"

"Probably just some sentimental trinket," Carmilla dismissed coldly, utterly unsympathetic to the Caster's plight.

"The nerve!" Francesca took exception to that, immediately discarding the 'secret' part of the mission out of spite. "My Spellbook is no mere trinket, you hussy! I'm still alive in this time period, meaning the Me of this Singularity has the tome that once I obtain it can give me access to my lost Noble Phantasm!"

"You lost a Noble Phantasm?" Gillian asked, more surprised than anything.

"What a despicably forgetful girl," Kiyohime lightly mocked, embracing the side of her beloved. "Utterly unmarriageable."

"Oh, don't you start with me you delusional serpent!" Francesca shot back in irritation "That text is wholly unique, it can't be reproduced! There can be ONLY ONE of it, so I had to entrust it to someone I knew could keep it safe for a time back in the day! But then Gilles had to go and get caught and executed and my Spellbook went with him to the Throne of Heroes, where I can't reach it! You hear me?! This loophole is literally my only shot short of having Gilles' Servant-self relinquish it to me in person to get that thing back!"

Carmilla gave her Master a dry look. "I think she's making excuses for her poor planning at this point."

"Be nice," Aldia chided with barely any effort in it.

"Hahaha!" Astolfo laughed merrily, flying beside the Dragon on his Hippogriff. "Yo guys are a riot! I'm glad I chose to follow you guys!""

"I refuse to remain as that one Caster who's just good for falsifying images upon reality!" Francesca raged impotently. "I want my combat ability back!"

"Are we there yet?" Kriemhild asked briskly, utterly ignoring the screaming going on.

"We're close now," the Evil Dragon spoke, inclining his head slowly. "Over there. I see a town in the distance. Ruined, like the rest the Dragon Witch has attacked, but I feel his presence still there."

Kriemhild's face twisted unhappily. "Knowing that bastard, he's probably flagellating himself on the graves of the ones he failed," she spat coldly.

"..." The Evil Dragon's better judgment told him to keep his thoughts to himself. But... "...Please, do not mock that man."

Kriemhild's brow furrowed in agitation, and the Dragon could feel the pressure on the blade tip on his scalp increase a bit. But still...he felt like he needed to say this. He owed it that man to say something.

"...Before I ever was this Dragon, I was a hollow vessel fated to be used as battery, not even a tool, and then die," The Dragon spoke, undeterred by any potential stabbings. "But through happenstance, or perhaps fate, as well as the kindness of strangers, I was allowed something I could have never even imagined." The memories, of allies, enemies, friends, and battles rushed to the forefront. "A chance to find out: What did it mean to live?"

The Evil Dragon could feel Kriemhild's eyes bore into his skull, but at least the pressure on the blade wasn't getting worse. "But before I could even chase that inconceivable dream, it seemed like I was fated to die anyway. My heart was ripped from my chest," the Dragon continued his tale. "I had scarcely begun to conceive what it was like to dream, to be free, and already it was about to be snuffed out. But then, a kind soul offered me their heart, to allow me to live. To save who was supposed to be 'an enemy'."

Ow, there was the pressure increase! He could feel the Demonic Blade shake with agitation along with Kriemhild's hands. But still...the Dragon felt he should go on. It felt right.

"His heart, or a version of it, beats in my chest now, giving me life. That is our true connection," he stated solemnly, recalling meeting the man himself in his own dreams. "With the time I was gifted, I helped people, my friends, and even stopped a deeply misguided man from committing a grave mistake upon mankind. But it cost me my form, as the power of the Heart consumed my original shape after the great struggle was over. That is why I am now this Evil Dragon."

That is why he recalled meeting a very special girl again, on the Reverse Side of the World. And even if she didn't remember or recognize him now, that was fine. He was just glad to be able to help her once again.

The blade shook even more as did Kriemhild's hands, but the pressure had ceased its build-up. And despite his thick hide realistically making it impossible, he regardless felt the tiny, almost imperceptible impacts upon his scales.

"...Of course he did," Kriemhild hissed, sounding like she was barely keeping her voice from screaming out. "Of course he has to be so damn selfless, doesn't he. That's just who he is, isn't he. He just can't help himself...can he. That...worthless...inconsiderate jerk..."

This time the Evil Dragon could say nothing. What could he possibly say to a woman who was shedding broken tears while desperately withholding her rage?

What could possibly soothe the soul of a woman so torn in two directions by a single person? The Dragon didn't know.

So he simply continued to fly. And as he did, he spied a distant contingent of soldiers. They seemed to be marching towards the town, but were still ways away. They should be able to leave well before they arrived. The Dragon would doubtlessly cause a panic with his presence.

The tip of the blade and the pressure left his cranium, as he felt the woman on his head dematerialize the weapon and tucking her knees to seat herself properly. About time, but he did not say that out loud.

"...Dragon," Kriemhild soon asked, her composure mostly restored, "what...was your name?"

He blinked. He hadn't expected anyone to actually ask, and Astolfo seemed keen to keep it a secret as long as he could get away with. But it felt improper to not answer. As thanks for no more head acupuncture, of course.

"...I was never given a name. I later chose one for myself," he answered. "I called myself Sieg."

"A name fit for those who rush to their deaths. It's horrendous. Change it," Kriemhild replied mercilessly. Sieg...kept his trap shut about how coincidentally accurate that was to how things played out. "...It's a homage to him, isn't it."

A statement. Not a question. He answered anyway.

"The man who saved my life and gave me a future. My very first friend, before more followed. Of course."

"...I see." Kriemhild tone was neutral. Sieg could feel a hand move over where the blade had pierced slightly, caressing the small crack in the scales. "Another soul that bastard left behind with his nonsense...utterly shameless..."

Unlike before, the words now came out more melancholic and sad than angry. Sieg didn't know the full history between Kriemhild and Siegfried, his knowledge was rather shallow on that front. But it sure seemed more complex than he'd initially thought.

He focused back on task. He raised his voice so all his passengers could hear. "We're near! I see a place I can land nearby."

Kriemhild's touch lingered on his head for a moment longer before she stood resolutely again. "Do so...Sieg."

"About time!" Gillian cried out with great enthusiasm. "Let's go get us a Dragon Slayer!"

Sieg landed in a clearing near the city, allowing his passengers to get off at their leisure. Except Francesca. That one he just unceremoniously dropped into the dirt, utterly uncaring of her muttered complaints.

"I'm afraid I'd only be a hindrance in such limited space, so I'll wait for you here," Sieg told the others.

"Aww," Astolfo whined playfully. "You sure you won't get lonely?"

"Get going before I bite you," Sieg threatened in a way no one took seriously. As was intended. Astolfo laughed regardless.

"Don't threaten me with a good time!"

Sieg flicked the Rider with a single large claw, sending him through a tree. He refused to feel bad about it.

~ʘ~Ω~Ʊ~Ӝ~Ʊ~Ω~ʘ~

"Of course it's zombies," Aldia groaned as she casually backhanded the head off an undead and with a powerful shove with her foot sent the undead's body into another small grouping, breaking those bodies with that body.

In short, as many undead as there were in the streets of this dead city, this was trivial for the last of the von Grimm.

"Yeah, it just becomes kind of a chore once you got the numbers to just wreck them," Gillian agreed as she shot an empowered Gandr to cause a zombie's head to explode into mush. "Boom, head shot." There was an utter lack of enthusiasm in her tone.

Kiyohime just glowed as she watched her beloved work as she tailed her Anchin-sama, Gillian having enough foresight to request she not use her fire unless necessary. No one needed zombies on fire right now.

"Am I the only one who's just happy that there's nothing too insane to deal with here?" Emiya asked, throwing copies of Kanshou and Byakuya at some skeleton archers to show them who's boss. "Because I feel like that should be a more prevalent mindset."

"I would tend to agree," Carmilla, casually decapitating some zombies with some blood sickles, while another got flattened under an iron maiden. "However...it is quite dull."

Jeanne frowned, even as she vanquished her own set of the walking dead. "Please, I know that there is little we can do for these people but lay them to rest, but do show some regard for them."

"Aren't even doing anything..." Francesca grumbled under her breath, firing off pretty basic blasts of Magecraft from her fingertip, not unlike the Gandr spell. Unlike Gillian's empowered blasts, the female Prelati still needed multiple shots to down even a single undead for good. "I swear, if I had my Spellbook this would not be an issue. Urgh, so frustrating!"

"RAAAAAGH!" The scream came from some distance ahead, where Kriemhild was wading her way through the greatest undead concentration, her untrained and slow swings of the Cursed Balmung still enough to massacre a swathe of undead with a single swing. "Get out of my way! Where is he?!"

Astolfo had been flying overhead on his Hippogriff, acting as a sort of scout. While everyone else was moving through the undead filled streets, the Paladin had it easy. Even if it was a bit boring. Still, if he were the Saber of Black...where would he hide away?

'Knowing that bastard, he's probably flagellating himself on the graves of the ones he failed.'

Recalling the cold words from Siegfried's wife('whipped', his mind childishly tittered) he'd managed to overhear, a light bulb lit up in Astolfo's disorderly noggin. Maybe not a graveyard, but with the dead walking around the next best thing would do! He guided the Hippogriff higher to get a better view and paid close attention to where the highest concentration of undead were.

And lo and behold, he did see a lot of activity near the still mostly intact castle

"Yahoo!" Astolfo cried out loudly as he descended back near the ground group. "I think I found it! There's a load of zombies concentrated around the castle that-a-way!"

Kriemhild was charging ahead the moment she's been given a direction, her internal fury fueling the Demonic power of her Balmung to help her destroy any horde that got in her way.

"And there she goes," Gillian commented as she began running after her along with everyone else. "Gotta give it to her. Woman's determination given form."

"Admirable, in a way," Aldia admitted, shoulder checking her way through a horde that got in her way. Thanks to her Mystic Code and some potent Reinforcement even if some bit at her or swung their weapons at her, most attacks just bounced off of the tall woman's frame.

ʘ A figure dashed in from a nearby alleyway on Aldia's blind right side, and a clawed hand swiped out and deeply slit Aldia's vulnerable throat in a single stroke. ʘ

A figure dashed in from a nearby alleyway on Aldia's blind right side and Aldia simply raised her right hand to catch the arm attached to a clawed hand, rapidly pivoting in place and throwing the attacked into and through a nearby building.

"We have an Assassin!" Aldia called out, far too casually for someone who just foresaw their own gruesome death. Sometimes it struck her just how damn sad that was, but at this point she was just past the point of caring anymore.

"God damn it," Emiya cursed, his twin blades at the ready. "I just had to jinx it."

"Well, they sure picked the wrong target to start with," Carmilla commented, also preparing for battle.

"Wait, you're implying I should've been attacked?!" Gillian yelled out, lightly incensed. Sure, it was common sense to target the Master, but come on!

"Am I to understand that you just wished for the demise of my dear Anchin-sama?" Kiyohime asked in an absolutely frigid tone while wearing a chillingly polite smile. "If you did, that would be very improper..."

"Do not be so dramatic," Carmilla dismissed the accusation. "Even if it had been so, the fault would be yours for failing to protect your so called 'dearest'."

Kiyohime almost visibly flinched at the harsh words, even more so because she could not help but find that the woman had a point.

"Ah...this pain...my heart aches from this failure..." The droning, melancholic words rang out as the Assassin stalked out of the dust and rubble. A man of sophisticated appearance, sans a wicked half-face mask and the horrid hands ending in knife-like claws. "My Master must loathe me so for such a lackluster performance. Oh, Christine, my Christine..."

Aldia's brow quirked as she actually recognized the reference and thus easily identified the enemy Servant. "Oh. Phantom of the Opera. Neat."

"I feel like you're taking this far too casually," Emiya remarked.

"Eh," Aldia grunted with a one-armed shrug.

The Phantom of the Opera's melancholic gaze traversed his foes, before landing on Jeanne. There he stopped, his morose expression lifting into a manic joy. "You, I know you! You flawless angelic features, your shining hair fine as gold!"

"Eh?!" Jeanne yelped, once more flustered at praise sent her way.

"Oh, come on!" Francesca groaned in despair. "I don't need to be reminded of all the reasons for my deepest desires that I can't act on!"

"It is true, for you must be her! None other could compare, my Christine!" Phantom continued to laud with theatrical flair, seeming to forget his intent to kill them for the moment as he lost himself to his delusion. "Such divine grace, even amid a field of death, shining bright upon this bleak tomb! Not a brute like the ogress that rebuked my gift, but a true lady most fine!"

Everyone sweat dropped at the delusional spiel, save Francesca who was turning a frustrated shade of red from being reminded how...'desirable' Jeanne was, and Jeanne still could not deal with being lauded so generously. Except Carmilla, who side-eyed her Master with an expectant raise of her brow, knowing that the Phantom had just casually stepped onto a verbal land-mine.

Vivaldia von Grimm's brow was deeply furrowed in barely subdued fury, her eyes had taken on a dark edge, and a vein pulsed on her forehead.

She flexed her lone right hand, cracking each and every joint with a murderous aura.

~ʘ~Ω~Ʊ~Ӝ~Ʊ~Ω~ʘ~

Back in the overtaken palace at Orleans, Jeanne Alter was busy plotting her next move, but something kept niggling at her in the back of her mind.

"...Why do I feel like I'm forgetting something?" the Alter thought out loud to herself.

...Eh, it probably wasn't that important. She had to focus on how to eliminate these insurgents that dared to stand in her way. Now that she thought about it, Gilles should be about done with summoning new Servants to bolster their ranks. He'd better summon some strong minions, but if there was anyone in this wretched world Jeanne Alter felt she could trust anymore, it was Gilles.

('Just him? Specifically? Isn't that strange? the voice asked)

"Shut up," Jeanne Alter snarled under her breath, wincing at the stab of a migraine. It was becoming more frequent for some reason and it infuriated her. She hoped Gilles had good news to balance out all this bullshit.

"I have returned, Jeanne!" Speak of the Devil himself, here he came. "My preparations have been completed, and our ranks swell once more!"

"Good work, Gilles," Jeanne Alter said with a vicious grin. "Once we've gotten a proper handle on our new minions, we'll prepare a plan to utterly eradicate those wretches."

"Of course, my lady. That is why it was important to recall Assassin from Lyon to rejoin our efforts proper."

The Alter stalled at the deranged Caster's statement. She was glad she was facing away from him, because she'd never let anyone see the panicked look on her face.

'...oh shit, that was the thing!' she now realized what that little niggling had tried to remind her of.

"It is imperative we regain control of our forces," Gilles continued, ignorant of his lady's current mental state. "Especially since...well..."

Jeanne Alter schooled her features the best she could, slowly turning to face her adjutant. "...Since what, Gilles?"

Gilles looked both frustrated and apologetic, all but prostrating himself at the Alter's feet. "My deepest apologies, my lady, but it seems like the most recently summoned Berserker is proving...more difficult to control than usual. And that is not even to mention that one of the Servants manifested in an unusual Class that turned out to be quite resistant to the Madness Enhancement's controlling effects."

Jeanne Alter opened her mouth to ask him to clarify, when a loud crash shook the castle, accompanied by the rapidly distancing roar of what no one present could properly identify as jet engines. What overwhelmed either sound however, was a singular, near-incoherently furious scream.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

But even it could not drown out the resonant, vengeful declaration that echoed across great distance even as a whisper, before booming in furious crescendo.

"I sense you...I'm coming for you...Wait for me...My enemy dictated by history...I will ruin you, AMADEUS!"

~ʘ~Ω~Ʊ~Ӝ~Ʊ~Ω~ʘ~

"AAAAAUUGH!" The Phantom of the Opera wailed as his body was flung about by his ankle like a doll, being slammed into one surface after another like a mallet being used for an intense game of whack-a-mole.

Gillian, who was being actively reminded of a certain scene from that one superhero movie, was sharing in the awed/unnerved looks she and the present Servants had as Aldia was utterly manhandling the enemy Assassin like a child throwing a tantrum does to the favorite toy of the one they're mad at. Aldia's lack of obvious signs of anger(she was unnervingly quiet and coordinated) only served to be more unsettling.

Note to self, never, ever insult or bring Aldia's womanhood into question.

One final overhead swing slammed the Phantom into a crater made just for him, where he lay wheezing even after Aldia finally let him go and walked away.

"Did you get it out of your system?" Carmilla teased, far more casual than the others who kept giving the tall woman nervous looks of varying levels. In fact, she almost looked pleasantly impressed.

"Yeah," Aldia stated easily enough, as if she hadn't just brutalized a Heroic Spirit.

Within his personal crater, the Phantom whimpered, "I don't want to be here anymore, Christine..." As if on command, his Spirit Origin gave out from the previous beating and he vanished into glowing particles.

Jeanne, true to herself, sent the Phantom's departing a silent prayer.

Francesca got over it the fastest. "Well, that was kind of cathartic to watch, but let's just get this trip over wit-"

She was cut off when a crash and a plume of dust erupted from the direction of the castle.

"...We should go," Aldia spoke up and took off, the rest following after her.

~ʘ~Ω~Ʊ~Ӝ~Ʊ~Ω~ʘ~

A little earlier...

Down in the castle dungeons Siegfried the Dragon Slayer lie, slumped against the wall of the dark cell he'd been shoved in after his loss to the Dragon Witch's forces. A spot he'd hardly moved from since.

The Hero of the Nibelungenlied had sworn to protect the Town of Lyon from the threats of the Dragon Witch and her wyverns. He'd fought with his all, but even a famed Dragon Slayer could not single-handedly stall a horde when faced with multiple Servants and even his nemesis, Fafnir. He had been bested. The town was laid to ruin. It's people slain, only to be risen once more by a vile Curse of Undeath.

He'd failed. Wholly. Utterly. And innocents had paid the price for his failure.

It was part of why, even after being wounded by a potent Curse, he'd been so simple to capture and imprison. At that point there simply wasn't any fight left in him.

While wallowing in his shame and self-pity, Siegfried registered the sound of heavy steps, running in his general direction. 'Oh,' he thought, 'perhaps they've finally decided to simply be rid of me.'

He felt torn. On one hand it felt only proper. But another part, who still was a Hero of the people, did not desire to yield quite yet. And on that instinct of a Hero, the man who bathed in the blood of an Evil Dragon took support from the cell wall and slowly got to rise, Balmung in hand.

"SIEGFRIED!"

The loud, echoing, not to mention furious shrill scream stopped him mid-way. His eyes widened as he realized her recognized that voice.

Then the source rushed into view through the bars, wrenched the door off its hinges with almost casual ease and threw it aside. Then, for a moment, she just stood there, panting heavily and staring the Dragon Slayer dead in the eye with intensity that could carve a canyon into a mountainside.

Then she started taking slow, measured steps towards him.

Siegfried blinked away his confusion and surprise at seeing his wife in the least likely of places. "Kriem-"

He was interrupted by a brutal uppercut to the jaw that sent him flying up and crashing through several layers of stone, until he finally crashed into a pile of rubble. On the upside, he could finally see sunlight again! On the other, despite his Armor of Fafnir blunting any chance of injury to close to nil, that uppercut still hurt.

Turns out his wife could throw a mean punch when she set her mind to it. Despite not being the best at reading the atmosphere, somehow he had an inkling he'd deserved this somehow.

Getting back to his feet while groaning at how his cursed wound ached, Siegfried managed to lean against a nearby wall that he'd crashed through just before Kriemhild leapt up from the holes he'd left in his wake.

"You," the fuming woman dressed for a funeral hissed, taking excruciatingly slow steps towards him. "Wallowing in a dark cell, which you could easily escape if you only cared to. Of course you would..."

The moment she was within range, Kriemhild's tightly clenched fist struck him in the side, sending him stumbling back. "Of course you'd rather wallow in insipid self-pity in some dark...hole...you..." The woman's incoming rant halted to a crawl as she noticed something.

Siegfried realized he'd failed to properly hide the agony a strike so close to the cursed wound on his body caused, now having inadvertently drawn attention to the truly horrendous gash on his torso that simply would not heal.

Kriemhild beheld the terrible wound on the side of the man who was supposed to be invulnerable. Her rage for the moment replaced with shock, the woman took slow steps forward before gently laying her gloved hand on the wound, utterly uncaring if it were stained crimson. This time Siegfried succeeded in not reacting.

"...What happened?" The Princess of Burgundy questioned the air with a tone of disbelief laced with genuine concern, her wide eyes trained solely on the damaged flesh. "This wound...what could have possibly..."

Siegfried's face fell solemnly. "The Dragon Witch's curses are potent. A decisive strike was one that could pierce even the Armor of Fafnir, and forever taint the wound." The man lowered his head. "I got injured because I was careless. I'm sorr-YE!"

The Hero of the Nibelungenlied yelped and doubled over slightly as the once gentle hand over his injury suddenly clamped its grip on the area. Painfully.

"...Sorry?" Kriemhild snarled through gritted teeth, her anger reignited. "Why...is it always that word? Always 'sorry' this. Always 'sorry' that! WELL WHAT THE HELL IS THE TO BE SORRY ABOUT BEING HURT, YOU ABSOLUTE JACKASS!"

Siegfried was not caught off guard by the sudden scream of frustrated rage. He'd sort of expected that. The wild, furious tears streaming down his wife's face, however, very much did the trick. It was almost enough to make him ignore the vice grip on his injury.

Almost.

"...Why are you like this?!" Kriemhild screamed at him, her rage mixing with a desperate need for an answer to a question that had plagued her for ages. "It's always the same! Something bad happens, and never, not once do you just think about yourself, youselfless bastard!

"When someone asks you to help them, you do it. When someone slings insults at you, you just accept it! When someone tells you to die for some fucking stupid reason, you just let it happen!" The last scream was accompanied by a distressed sob, as she loosened her grip and wrenched her hand back as if burned, taking several steps back as her whole body shook from the sheer overflow of emotion.

Siegfried could only stare in shock as his wife hugged her shaking body with equally shaky arms, exuding an aura of misery.

"So much bloodshed...so many slaughtered. Cleaved apart, stabbed to death, poisoned, beheaded, burned alive?" Kriemhild spoke with a voice wavering with repressed rage. "Years of scheming, power plays, assassinations, warfare, and so, so much killing! All for...for a wife wanting to vengeance for the murder of her husband! Only to find out that he allowed it to happen...no one was to blame...everything, the bloodshed, death, throwing away every shred of decency, dignity, and honor... for nothing..."

Siegfried felt his mouth go dry. He couldn't think of what to say to this outpouring of despair and shame. All he could do was watch and feel his spirits shrivel as his wife spiraled, feeling his fault in any of this happening in the first place.

"...Was it because of me?" she asked in the tiniest, most fragile voice he'd ever heard leave Kriemhild's lips, her hair hiding her eyes even as she continued to visibly cry. The question chilled Siegfried's blood. "Was I such a bad wife...were you that unhappy with me? Tha-that you'd rather die than stay with me? Leave me behind just asking...why?"

Her shaking intensified, her jaw clenched tightly, almost to the point of breaking teeth.

"Did I mean that little to you? "

That one, small, fragile question. It was Siegfried's breaking point. He could not just watch any longer.

With his great stride, he closed the distance in just two steps, reaching out with his hand.

Kriemhild recoiled violently. "NO! Don't touch me!"

Siegfried pulled her into his chest for an embrace regardless, holding her tightly even as she tried to desperately escape for reasons that escaped him. In his heart, Siegfried felt that letting go now...would be a mistake he could never take back.

"I cared for many thing," he spoke, ignoring how Kriemhild grunted and snarled and punched at his injury to make him let go. "For the people. For the kingdom. For their peace, and prosperity. I cared so much for all of this...so how could I ignore when any of them needed my help?"

The struggling lessened, just a bit. A mercy on his side, perhaps, but mostly a sign that his words were being heard instead of ignored.

"I was too strong. Too untouchable. And for that, I was asked many thing, to which I complied. As only I could," Siegfried continued, hoping his heart would guide the right words to him. "Perhaps I helped too much. Because of me, our country, our people were in danger of a war easily avoided. All that was needed...was for my death."

He strengthened his loving hold as Kriemhild's resistance waned more and more.

"...It was all I could think of to protect our home. Our people," he spoke with clear conviction in his next words. "To protect the woman who I loved more than anything else in this world, for who I would sacrifice everything to keep safe."

He could feel the tremble of her form, the wetness against his chest where her head went to lay. He could see how her gloved hands clenched so tightly it would not be out of question she could draw blood if not for the covering. He could feel how his beloved wife was waging a war within herself.

"...Idiot...You utter fool..." Kriemhild spoke between an angry hiss and a sob. "...Just once...why can't you just be selfish for once, you miserable bastard..."

Slowly, ever so hesitantly, her arms raised as her hand unclenched themselves, though they still shook with emotion. At the cusp of willing herself to commit to an action her heart desperately yearned for.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

And then a piercing scream of absolute agony shattered whatever moment could have happened at that time.

~ʘ~Ω~Ʊ~Ӝ~Ʊ~Ω~ʘ~

Far away, Francois Prelati had broken into his own mansion that lay abandoned at this time. And if his instincts were right then his Living Self would already have clued in on the fact that something was wrong, and would have taken certain steps to safeguard his domain and Workshop.

Yet...strangely he found little in the way of those defenses. Heck, he could hardly find any of the regular defenses he'd set in place in case of intruders.

But strangest of all was that these safeguard did not seem so much absent as...purposefully disabled. Which confused Francois. This didn't fit with what he would normally do in these kinds of circumstances.

Still, better not look a gift horse in the mouth. If this wasn't his handiwork, then with any luck his Spellbook would still be in the hidden space he'd made specifically to hide it away.

As he continued to walk towards his private study, Prelati found signs that spoke against his previous hypothesis. A security feature that had been activated, right in front of the door to his study. In front, smeared against the opposite wall, a red-colored, chunky stain that seemed, by his approximation, at least a day old.

So his defenses hadn't quite simply been disabled by his own hand. Someone else had done that, only to fall victim to perhaps one of his more vicious ones. A trap that overloads an invader's body with a Curse that causes their flesh to boil and burst violently.

He idly inspected the stain and the pieces of remaining flesh and bone that weren't immediately vaporized. He focused on a spot and peeled off what seemed to be a patch of still intact skin. A darker color, a brown hue from...around western Asia? On the floor he eyes the remnants of a long strip of cloth. A turban, if he visualized its complete shape right?

The remnants of a person of likely Arabian origin? Here? In this time period? In his home?

Strange, Francois noted, but ultimately shrugged. Whatever. The intruder had already perished trying to enter his study, like a fool.

Getting around the defense mechanism was child's play to the one who made it, so Francois could open the door without issue and step in. He spent a moment just drinking in the familiar sights of his study. The desk he read profane texts and scribbled magical formulas. The bookshelves filled with both research material and notes filled with 'entertainment'.

Yet, when he walked in to caress his desk, he stilled.

The activation sigil for the hidden door in his desk had been activated, and the hidden compartment in the middle of it was open. And within laid the yellowed, skin-bound tome with the grotesque image of a blindfolded face slightly rising from its cover. His Spellbook, The Textbook of the Sunken Spiral Castle. The Mystic Code he'd constructed by binding knowledge from beyond the stars and deciphering the Texts of the Sinking City, sealing a link to its source of power into physical form.

And it was out. Someone had left it out!

But the intruder had perished before entry, so how could... they have...

...

Thought slowed. There was only the book. It beckoned. Called. Wanted to be picked up.

And, foolishly letting his guard down in his own abode, Prelati was powerless to stop it as his mind was entranced by a singular want. All too late he'd failed to realize the truth.

This had been a trap all along.

Francois reached for the tome with his hand...and through the haze of entrancement, through a link shared between two bodies...the object his hands touched blurred and changed to a different dark and malevolent tome bound in profaned hide of Man.

~ʘ~Ω~Ʊ~Ӝ~Ʊ~Ω~ʘ~

"-AAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Francesca Prelati screamed in agony, desperately clutching her head as she fell to her knees. In an instant Aldia and not too surprisingly Jeanne were at her side, Francesca's entire body starting to convulse as the agony only intensified.

"What's happening?!" Jeanne asked, trying to hold Francesca in place so she didn't hurt herself.

"I don't know!" the woman hissed through gritted teeth, attempting and failing to call out to her Caster through the mental link.

Francesca was purposefully cutting her off, blocking any attempt to establish direct contact.

"NOOOOOOO!" The petite woman screamed out with a maddened look of excruciating torment. "NO! THAT'S THE WRONG BOOK WHY IS IT THERE?! WHYWHYWHYWHY?!"

Francesca's form started to emit magical energy in vapor like waves as her boy was wracked by something. When Aldia placed a hand on her body to properly Analyze her condition with her Magecraft, she was horrified to learn that her Spiritual Body was leaking. Her Physical Body was deteriorating. Francesca's Spirit Origin was cracking apart!

"NO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING STOP IT STOPITSTOPIIIIIT!"

ʘ Francesca Prelati continued to scream, even as her Soul was siphoned out of her vessel and her flesh began to flake off and decay at a rapid rate. Partially a Living Human Being, her material broke apart into a red sludge in Jeanne's arms that soon blackened with rot until nothing resembling humanity remained to observe. ʘ

Thinking quickly, the Aldia focused and externalized her Reinforcement, pumping the spell into Francesca, fighting desperately against whatever was trying to tear her very being apart by its foundation.

Even while pushing herself, even when tapping into her Limit Break, it was barely enough to stall whatever was happening. And Francesca just kept screaming and convulsing in agony the entire time.

"O Lord who art in Heaven, I ask for your guidance," Jeanne prayed as she continued to hold tightly onto Francesca as if her life depended on it, which it actually might. "This soul is a sinner in Your name, but deserving not this undue suffering. Grant this sacrilegious soul Your protection from what defiles the sanctity of her soul, for even a sinner is one of Your flock and deserving of mercy and succor."

Empty platitudes from most. But Jeanne d'Arc was a true Saint. Her prayers held very real power. Her form began to glow and seep into the writhing form of Francesca Prelati, and through her Analysis Aldia could sense that her efforts were being assisted by Jeanne's divine power.

And yet, while her very being was kept from a truly horrendous fate, Francesca's screams refused to yield.

And worse still, all the noise was getting the attention of all the undead in the area.

This is the madness that Kriemhild and Siegfried arrived to. Emiya danced around the undead with a copy of Excalibur in one hand and in another a similar looking blade, Caliburn, holding back the dead with the power of two Holy Swords. Carmilla was sending out sickles of blood and using her iron maidens for some light crowd control. Kiyohime was setting swathes of undead on fire with her abilities, Gillian having accepted that the situation was truly dire enough to warrant it, while Astolfo was using Hippogriff to create bursts of powerful winds to create more space when the undead on fire inched too close for comfort.

And the tide of dead still kept coming, seeming almost inexplicably endless to the eye.

"You found him, great! Sgaradh Dorcha!" Gillian yelled out, firing out a dark beam to cut a path for them to join the group, which rapidly filled right after them.

"Master, he's got a cursed wound!" Kriemhild screamed out as she joined to strengthen their defensive perimeter, tearing undead apart with clumsy swings of her Demonic Sword.

Siegfried drew his own Holy version of Balmung at the ready with a wince, but knew his injury would hamper him greatly. "I'm sorry, but I can't truly-"

"Say no more!" Gillian cut him off, rushing to kneel by his side. "Can't do shit to help that," indicating Jeanne and Aldia busy working on a howling and convulsing Francesca, "but I sure as shit can do this!"

Siegfried was baffled when the young female Master firmly pressed her lips against his wound. "W-wait, I'm married, this is highly improper!"

Kiyohime instantly pivoted in placed with a look of utter fury, utterly forgetting about the undead(Astolfo had to act fast to compensate for the sudden hole in their defenses). "How dare you try and seduce my Anchin-sama! Homewrecker!"

"N-NO! I swear to you milady, I'm not-"

"Quiet, both of you!" Kriemhild screamed out an absolute command, using her anger to fuel her strikes. "Let her work! Everyone, we need to buy them time, so if I catch any you slacking I'll enact vengeance upon your corpse myself!"

"Wouldn't dream of it!" Emiya called out as he blurred and cleaved undead apart with the two Holy Swords, almost as if he were a Saber in disguise. "But a bit of hurrying the hell up would be nice!"

Kiyohime looked incredibly pissed off at being ordered around by anyone not her beloved Anchin, but the presence of overwhelming danger to the life of her love forced her to swallow it down and return her fury ten-times as hot upon the hordes. Siegfried was just confused on why a young lady was kissing his bleeding injury!

No, wait, it was weirder than that! The young lady was suckling on his bloody injury!

But then Siegfried could feel the beginnings of a change. The unending ache from his torso began to...lessen. His attention came to his injury, as the flesh slowly started to heal again. All the while Gillian continued her strange but seemingly effective ministrations, which continued for a few more second before,with a light show of physical effort, Gillian pulled away her blood smeared mouth from the rapidly closing wound, something dark and wriggly held firmly between her teeth as it was pulled out of Siegfried's body.

"Dwn t' h'ch!" Gillian mumbled past her teeth as she threw her head back and sucked the writhing thing inside her mouth like a particularly temperamental string of pasta and swallowed.

And then her form exploded with a visible dark haze of power as her Magical Power skyrocketed!

"Haha...HAHAHAHAA!" Gillian cackles suddenly, eyes opening wide with a manic, almost animalistic gleam to them. They looked different, unnaturally slitted with a purple shade around the ring of her light orange eyes. "Wow, that was some high-grade stuff! A little Curse is food for The Heart, and I'm feeling STUFFED!"

The star-shaped ends of the Tàirngean Mallaichte fluttered as a dark Black Sludge burst out from Gillian's hands, enveloping them entirely and filling the flared ends of the Mystic Code sleeves to the their limit as the Black Sludge solidified into a pair of proportionally far too large beast-like claws that oozed malevolence.

"Say, these are undead born of a Curse of Undeath, now that I think 'bout it," Gillian said with a far too wide, feral smile, showing that her teeth too had grown sharper, like those of a carnivorous beast. Her every muscle tensed as her new large claws flexed excitedly. "That sounds more like a buffet to me, SHUCKY! HAHAHAHAHAA!"

With a feral glee of a wild animal lunging at its natural prey, Gillian Kelley rushed right into the sea of undead, her malevolent claws ripping and tearing their bodies apart with wild abandon and frightening ease. To Siegfried's disgusted horror it seemed that occasionally the young woman would tear into a zombie with her teeth like a feral animal, tear off a piece of rotting, cursed-riddled flesh and devour it, as well as lapping up any blood and viscera that splattered on her face with an unnaturally long and flexible tongue.

All while smiling and howling like a woman possessed, which at that point Siegfried was beginning to believe was the case, and seeming to grow only more energetic and destructive with her slaughter of the cursed dead the longer she went on.

"Yup, that's freaky alright," Emiya commented, confirming that the Dragon Slayer wasn't the only one with such a reaction, "but maybe don't gawk right now and swing that sword around!"

That finally got him out of his daze, remembering that apparently the currently rampaging mad woman had somehow sucked the Curse right out of him and eaten it. So he grasped his blade and moved to fight side by side with his wife in battle.

With the addition of Gillian wreaking utter havoc outside of their defensive perimeter the Servants finally managed to gain both ground and breathing room. Actually, Gillian's sheer inhuman effectiveness was frankly far more terrifying than the undead at this point. It was like watching a genuine Phantasmal Beast from the Age of Gods wreak havoc on poor mortal foes, utterly unable to withstand their ferocity and might.

And Gillian's Magical Power just kept rising the longer she massacred the undead and devoured bits and pieces here and there and every Servant could feel it.

Eventually, after a battle that felt like hours but only lasted for five minutes began quieting down as the undead presence dwindled to a near halt, allowing for everyone a moment to relax and collect themselves.

Francesca had at some point stopped screaming and passed out, and whatever influence had been trying to eviscerate her being had also mercifully receded, finally allowing for Jeanne and Aldia to relax their efforts.

Aldia immediately fell backwards, just barely caught and kept sitting upright by Carmilla. Her entire body was releasing an unhealthy amount of steam, her skin visibly reddened from the myriad of minor blood vessels which had burst from the strain. Even her eye was releasing vapor, looking intensely bloodshot and dangerously close to dehydration. She'd kept her Limit Break Continuum going for those five, long minutes, far past her soft-limit of two. And it sure as hell felt like it.

She couldn't move so much as a finger, barely able to breathe in and out which sounded like heavy heaving, and it felt like there were needles embedded inside of her skin. A sensation she could tragically confirm was really accurate to the real thing.

Carmilla had the initiative to grab the portable Compressed Liquid Container(a da Vinci original) Aldia carried on her person to pour some water on her both to start controlling her wildly out of control body temperature and giving her eye some desperately needed hydration.

Jeanne kept cradling Francesca, even after the danger had passed, still murmuring prayers just in case. Despite her...perversions when the she herself was concerned, Jeanne could not abandon even such a misaligned soul.

The other Servants, when not keeping an eye on the perimeter for any nasty surprises, were shooting wary glances towards a veritable mountain of eviscerated undead bodies, atop which stood the hunched figure of a seemingly still feral Gillian, her body moving in tandem with the heaving breaths she took.

Emiya was the first that dared to say anything. "You, uh...doing okay, Master?"

"Hehehaa," the near feral woman giggled, almost as if driven mad, but quickly disproved that with a slightly more coherent response. "Oh...brilliant! And so full~...just...coming down from a high...you know?"

"I swore off drugs after 'The Aristocrats'," Emiya stated severely, desperately trying to ease the serious air by saying something relatively dumb.

"HAH!" Gillian barked a little too quickly, wearing a wide grin that showed a lot of sharp teeth. "Haaah...that's funny. You're funny, Eminya~..."

"Fuck off," Emiya said almost on reflex. He turned to the others. "Yeah, she's fine. Give her a few."

Gillian started hopped down with inhuman agility and grace, and started to lazily saunter to rejoin the group as the Black Sludge lost cohesion and fell off her hands, splattering on the ground in her wake. Her hands had visible laverations from which the substance had burst out of, though more of the black sludge-like fluid slowly dribbled out instead of blood. Another concerning thing to add to a suddenly very long list..

"...Anchin...sama...?"

Gillian stopped at the hesitant words, turning her neck(and only her neck) in an eerie manner to look her way, seeing that Kiyohime was looking straight at her with a peculiar, almost frightened expression. A look that said 'I don't recognize you anymore, and that scares me'.

Still running off on her high, Gillian's already questionable inhibitions loosened enough for her to giggle. "Hehe! Right...I was meaning to bring that up. At some point." The rest of her body turned to face the draconic Princess. "This wasn't no lie, I just didn't think about it before learning of your Story. I do still think you're a very cute gal." The young woman smiled in a manner that was supposed to be reassuring, but just came across as eerie due to the visible fangs and little too wide open eyes. Her being drenched in viscera also did not help. "I'm not, nor have ever been, this Anchin you seek. And I am sorry if I unintentionally lead you to believe otherwise."

Kiyohime looked at the other girl for a good, long while, her expression shifting through different variations of 'lost'.

"...Then," she finally found her voice again, quivering as it was, "who...are you?"

This time the wider, fang-filled smile seemed intentional, if not in the 'is freaky and scary' manner, and Gillian's head tilted a bit to the side. The girl just could not pull off bright and cheery in her current state.

"I'm a Mage working for the Chaldea Security Organization. I have the heart of the Cursed Phantasmal Beast, Black Shuck, within my chest that gives me life and power." The feral smile seemed almost proud as her posture straightened itself to stand tall. "My name is Gillian Kelley, and I'm a Curse Eater who devours curses to gain their power! Nice to properly meet ya, Kiyo!"

Kiyohime looked like her mind was whirling with a maelstrom of inner conflicts.

A sharp inhale of breath as Francesca came to gave everyone plenty to refocus on that. The petite lady's eyes looked around wildly as she drew deep lungfuls of air, finding that even being in the embrace of the Saint of her dark desires did not spark her interests right now.

"Francesca, are you alright?" Jeanne asked, looking down at the paler than usual girl.

Francesca blinked, feebly raising her hand to look at it, her mind coming to grips with what she now sensed. Or rather, didn't.

"...Gone..." She tried to voice her horror, but it wasn't quite there yet.

Aldia strained to sit properly upright, with Carmilla assisting. "Something...was tearing...her Spirit Origin apart from within." Her throat felt utterly parched, and Carmilla thankfully started slowly to drip some water into her mouth. 'Thanks a lot, Milla.'

'Shut up, drink your water, and don't you dare die on me!' came back the harsh mental message. But the tall woman could feel the worry hidden beneath the angry bark.

'Yes, ma'am,' Aldia relented easily, with an undercurrent of amusement. Not like she had a choice anyway. She hadn't felt this miserable since back at 'training' as a kid.

"...No," Francesca said in a hollow tone. "That's not what happened...my Other is...gone."

Aldia and Carmilla frowned deeply. "...What do you mean by 'gone'?" Carmilla was the one to ask.

"...He got to our estate. Got to our study," Francesca narrated in a haunted tone, staring at her own hand with a dead look in her eyes. "He found a book. But...it wasn't my book! It was a trap! My Other got entranced...he...he grabbed hold of the Other Book..." The hand lowered to partially cover her face as her eyes shifted in their sockets wildly.

"Something...The Book tried to possess...to devour and assimilate the Spirit Origin of Francois Prelati..." Every Servant bore a look of mounting horror at the description. "...It devoured my Other...Half...HALF of my Spirit Origin is just gone! I'm..." She paused as her situation finally set in. "I'm a living, mortal vessel, containing a fragment of a Heroic Spirit.

"I'm just like Mash now. A mere Demi-Servant!"

~ʘ~Ω~Ʊ~Ӝ~Ʊ~Ω~ʘ~

Back at the estate of Francois Prelati, the front door opened to allow exit from the one who desired to leave its premises.

"A most risky maneuver," spoke a deep, wizened voice of an older man. "The sacrifice of one's own mortal flesh to make their target lower their guard. Tricky of you, Prelati, to almost see through my ruse. Pity it was not enough. But now, finally! A body of a Servant is mine where my own Legend could not ever hope sustain or manifest one proper."

The newly born Pseudo-Servant let loose a faint smile. A smile tinged with a hint of madness.

He hadn't managed to also assimilate that fragment of the Spirit Origin that had separated into a separate form, as something else had put up a truly miraculous struggle to preserve them and keep it away from his grasp, but that was of little consequence in the end. The overall plan had already succeeded, so no use crying over a minor thing.

Currently, those particular Teams were fleeing the city of Lyon to recuperate as they intended to fly away with the duplicate Fafnir. The other was still travelling, ignorant of the double tides of turmoil coming their way. In the Castle in Orleans, the Dragon Witch was blowing a fuse about two of her Servants going rogue minutes after being summoned, utterly forgetting in her rage that as a "Ruler" she had Comman Seals to enforce such things, and her adjutant was too much of a zealous sycophant to imply that "his lady" would ever forget such an important detail. The Writer, he was in the castle pantry, cooking up cuisine to eat, only caring enough to send his own secret asset to observe the chaos the two escapees would lead to for naught but his own amusement and whims.

And then there was "Him".

"Now then "Lovecraft", or whatever you like to paint yourself as. Let us see where this profane road leads us all. Be it damnation within a waking Nightmare...or salvation from all which binds Man in a succulent Dream," the man spoke, in his hands the Ancient Tome he wrote long, long ago with his own two hand with the innocent blood of virgin maidens, and bound in the skin of the Enlightened. His masterwork not of this Earth, beyond the scope of this Universe itself!

His Kitab al-Azif...

~ʘ~Ω~Ʊ~Ӝ~Ʊ~Ω~ʘ~

Author's Notes:

Aldia canonically has E- Rank Luck. Rule of Thumb: If things ever seem to be going just a bit too well for her...well, that just means there's something worse coming later.

Anyway, let's split the Party! For practical reasons, you see. When you have more people on the roster you get the incredible option to *gasp* speed-run multiple objectives!

Meanwhile Jeanne Alter continues to have a bad time, what with forgetting to recall one of her minions until they get the Hulk treatment, and her newest Berserker having just jetted(*ba-dum-tish*) for reasons a Fate-fan would think obvious, along with another Servant with a bone to pick with a specific individual. Being evil isn't so easy when the enemy is suddenly full of really competent people and you don't have nearly as much control on things as you seem to think you do.

Kriemhild finds her bastard husband, roughs him up a little, gets worried when sees he's injured, beats him up some more when he triggers her with his catchphrase, cries, and finally gets some god damn closure to a question that has haunted her for her entire life. Jesus lady, you need some TLC!

And then Francois Prelati gets their physical body and half of their Spirit Origin hijacked by a really nefarious dude. That's right, the Heroic Spirit Prelati is as of now out of this story! I have juked you all! Only Francesca remains, now reduced to a Demi-Servant of weirdly enough Herself! Mash has a friend! :D

This was totally the plan all along! Absolutely no pants-seating details in as I go, folks!

Of course, this means that we have another new unknown somewhere out there. Can't have things too easy for Chaldea, now can we?

Oh, and Gillian showcases how useful her specialized magical talents can be in a pinch. She also demonstrates why Curse Eaters are seen by the more "polite" Mage Society as utterly terrifying inhuman Abominations. Because they absolutely are. They can mulch most Dead Apostles. Gillian has mulched a Superior Dead Apostle before she hit her teens! The Church even calls them Sins Upon God's Grace and will kill them on sight because they're literally walking time bombs waiting to go crazy thanks to all the Curses they devour to empower themselves eventually consuming them in turn. Gillian's tolerance for Curses just happens to be absurdly high even among her lineage, and even she's admitted that this power will one day lead to her inevitable demise.

Anyway, TLDR: Gillian is straddling a really thin line to revoking her Human qualifications, Kiyohime has a crisis at snapping out of her delusion in the harshest way possible(because there are some things that you just can't reconcile away), and Jeanne Alter has inadvertently given Gillian a considerable power boost.

Nice.

Gillian's theoretical Servant Class would be Berserker. No contest. No alternatives. Just bloody madness hopped up on happy pills.