FATE/CATBOX FICTION

Chapter 18: Shrine of Manoa

The Shrine of Manoa was dark, empty, silent, and oppressive. No lights had been turned on, save for a few sconces way in the corners of the vast chamber. The only occupant to be found was a single man sitting upon a chair atop the main altar. He kept his eyes closed and concentrated on shallow breathing. The world around him felt so isolating that it almost resembled tumbling about in the deepest depths of outer space. The eerie stillness was inviting to him since he wouldn't be bothered with human beings and their pathetic sins, yet it was incredibly lonely since he was unable to leave this place.

As the man was lost in his thoughts, he heard a stone door slide open way over on one side of the shrine. He opened his eyes and tiredly glanced over to see what was happening. The shrine was connected to one of several hallways within the immense labyrinth of Akakor. This particular entrance allowed for someone else to walk through and approach the apathetic man.

"Pardon the interruption," a woman's voice said. "Are you Avenger of Akakor?"

"… What if I am?"

"I am Berserker. My Master ordered for me to assist you in defending this shrine."

"No need. I have things well under control."

"The situation has changed. The Mages have heard some vague rumors of a group of foreign Servants infiltrating Akakor."

"So they sent you here to ensure their precious Parallel World Gates won't be threatened by some mystery group that may or may not exist? Typical. Their obsession with preserving the Second Magic is the very definition of insanity."

"At the very least, I'm here to verify the veracity of these rumors," the woman said, then circled around the throne. The man barely looked at her as she inspected him. After a couple of minutes of uncomfortable pacing, she stared at him before asking, "Have you and I met somewhere before?"

"Can't say I know you. The sound of your voice tugs some faint memory in my mind, but it is not clear enough for me to be certain."

"… Well, that's fine. If we have some kind of history together, then it'll make things easier in the long run. I know you don't like having people around, but just bear with my presence until this matter is resolved."

"Very well," the man muttered, then tried to close his eyes again.

"Although," the woman murmured and glared away forlornly, "I don't like any of this."

"What don't you like?"

"The fact that a dead child Servant is functioning as the keystone for the Gates."

"So your Master informed you of the truth?"

"He did. Even though he knows my True Name and history, he still had the gall to command me to protect this place with you. If it were up to me, I would go straight to the Preservatorium and set that poor girl free. I'd never wish such a fate even on my worst enemy."

"Believe me, I've been carrying that exact sentiment for 50 whole years. I'd do anything to rebel against these oppressors and let the little miss rest in peace. My orders to defend this shrine take precedence over all else though, so I can do naught but sit here and agonize. Shielder and Ruler feel the same way."

The woman sighed despondently. There really wasn't much else they could say to each other. They both wanted to mutiny against the Mages and this twisted system they devised for themselves, yet were unable to do anything to ease Lancer of Akakor's suffering. They felt so pathetic, making the same excuses over and over again. They remained in this uneasy silence for several more minutes. Then the woman's feline ears twitched, and she looked over at the main entrance to Manoa.

"What is it?" the man wondered.

"… I hear voices."

"Intruders?"

"At the very least, I don't recognize any of them."

"Hm. Stay alert then."


Cuchulainn's group continued further south into the labyrinth, having now reached Bolivian territory. Da Vinci's map told them that it wouldn't be long before they reached the shrine, so both Cuchulainn and Izo were getting mentally ready for what they expected to be an intense fight. Cuchulainn kept carrying Connla during the trip though, and she was so perplexed that she said, "Um, you can put me down now. I'm fine, really."

"Hell no," he retorted. "You fought Rider, then had such a powerful a nightmare. You must be practically running on fumes at this point."

"But I don't want to make you waste your energy carrying me around."

"How many times do I have to say this? Gae Bolg actually weighs more than you do. This might just be me, but I don't think you're eating enough meat. You've been wolfing down so many of those disgusting vegetables that you're not gaining any muscle."

"I can't help it. Vegetables were the only type of food that Mother wouldn't punish me for eating."

"Well your mother's not around, is she?"

"No, but… um…"

"When we get back to Chaldea, we're going to go on a real hunting trip so I can help you get over that fear. You shouldn't have to associate eating good food with that wild woman's physical abuse. That's precisely why your physical development is so stunted. Seriously, I'm surprised you haven't been mistaken for a toddler yet."

"Is it that bad?" Connla murmured.

"Yeah, it is," Cuchulainn muttered. "Is that the reason why you don't like sweet foods either?"

She frowned hard and glanced away from him. She didn't want to tell him the story she told Jack and Nursery during their summer trip – that Aife had force-fed Connla so many sweet-tasting foods like fruit, berries and honey that her stomach nearly ruptured and she had to throw up multiple times. She shuddered and gasped nervously several times though, which immediately told Cuchulainn that his daughter had some kind of harrowing experience involving Aife and sweets.

"Bein' forced to eat only vegetables, huh?" Izo wondered. "If it were me, I'd commit seppuku right then an' there. Even the smell of vegetables makes me nauseous."

"I see," Connla said. "Then you might have a lot of trouble if you found out what I like to eat."

"Hmmm… I ain't gonna like it, but this curiosity's gonna bug me like an' itch I can't scratch. What do ya eat a lot of?"

"Brussel sprouts are my favorite. I also like kale, lima beans, zucchini, cauliflower, broccoli, raw tomatoes, cabbage and beets, to name a few. As for meals, I prefer things like Irish coddle, haggis, borscht, pickled herring with onions, and especially tripe soup."

"Tripe soup?"

"A broth cooked with the cleaned stomach of an animal."

Izo coughed and retched a couple of times. Connla didn't seem to notice this as she asked, "Oh, I should ask you – are there any meals native to Japan that I should try out?"

"Are ya fer real!? What are ya supposed to be, a human or a rabbit!?"

"Huh?"

Her innocent, puppy-like gaze dissuaded Izo from yelling at her any further. He instead grumbled, "Damn it… Well if yer into that kinda thing, ya might wanna try natto sometime. I dun recommend it, though – it's the textbook definition of nasty."

"Natto, hm? What is that supposed to be?"

"I'll tell ya later. I think we're gettin' real close to our destination."

Connla glanced over and discovered that they were just several feet away from a flight of stairs that led straight up for about ten stories. Ancient Mesoamerican illustrations were painted on both walls, though none of them could discern what was being depicted beyond a bunch of deformed humans, animals, and people with disjointed animal features.

Cuchulainn took a quick glance at the map, then announced, "This is it."

"The Shrine of Manoa…" Connla whispered. She was both curious and fearful about which one of her friends from the Nevada Singularity they were going to face as an enemy.

Her father noticed the look of trepidation on her face, so he replied, "Let's just get this over with."

"Mm."

The group headed up the steps in total silence for several minutes. Eventually, they reached the top. The sight that greeted them was a fantastic one – a huge altar room lit with numerous sconces, walls painted with lavish murals of Mesoamerican deities, and a single throne perched atop a stone chancel that was barely lit, so they couldn't make out the two figures hiding in the shadows. There wasn't much else in the way of furnishings, but considering that this shrine was home to just one Servant, there didn't need to be anything else.

Connla stared at the painting high above the throne, which depicted a black-skinned humanoid wearing a heron feather headdress, a loincloth, knotted sandals, bells around his ankles and wrists, a shield attached to his back, and a spear in his right hand. His right leg was replaced with something foreign – a snake, or a deformed bone perhaps? She blinked in awe, yet felt kind of nervous looking at the illustration. She used the transmitter to speak with Sigurd, and she asked him, "Do you know what this is supposed to be?"

"I have it on my feed, so give me a moment," the Saber replied, then analyzed the mural. "Well, I'll be. This looks to be a depiction of Tezcatlipoca."

"Who is that?"

"A central yet elusive deity in Mesoamerican culture, said to represent many things like the night sky, obsidian, destiny, war, temptation, and jaguars, just to name a few. There aren't many illustrations of him in existence, but this one seems to match what I found in Chaldea's records. Could this mean that he is one of the Former Masters that the Ugha Mongulala worshipped? Their religion was different than what the Aztecs believed in, but there could be some potential overlap. Most curious, indeed."

"Is that what we should be debating right now?" Cuchulainn grumbled. "I'm more interested in knowing who those Servants are."

"Yes, of course," Sigurd agreed. He called out to the two hiding figures, "Do you intend to obscure your presence from us, or will you introduce yourselves properly?"

Soon, the man seated on the darkened throne murmured in a deep, bitter tone, "My apologies. I was so taken aback with seeing the little miss after so many years that I nearly forgot myself."

Connla inhaled sharply and thought, Little miss? Then the Caretaker here has to be…

The man snapped his fingers, and two large flames lit up in a pair of braziers flanking the throne. Now properly illuminated, the Chaldeans could finally see their opponents. One was a grey-haired woman with feline ears and tail who literally wore a giant boar's head on her right shoulder, and donned bits of black and white fur over her breasts, waist and legs. Thanks to her dream of when she was in the Minotaur's labyrinth, Connla recognized the sharp-eyed lady as Atalante Alter. The child Lancer grew particularly disturbed when she saw Atalante's gaze seemingly fixated only on her.

As for the man, he wore a plumed silver helmet with the design of a horse in the front. Normally his eyes would be grey, but they shone a peculiar hue of red through the helmet's eye slits. Instead of his chalky grey skin, he now had flesh as pale as snow, and his blonde hair had turned grey. His blood-red mantle was tattered and his armor cracked in various spots, indicating that he had fought numerous battles to defend this place in the past. Various scars covered his torso, arms and legs, although he didn't seem to regard them as marks of honor like he usually would.

Connla swallowed hard, then moaned, "Spartacus…"

"It has been a long while, little miss," the Thracian gladiator greeted his former compatriot, then stood up from the throne and purposefully stepped down the altar while staring intently at the trio. "It is regrettable that you have chosen to oppose me though. If it were up to me, I would have convinced you to return to the world whence you came. However, it appears fate has decided this battle for all of us."

"I'm sorry, but I can't turn back now. I have to see Lancer of Akakor in person."

"I can tell. I know how much conviction you possess, regardless of which world you are summoned in. Unfortunately, my sworn duty is to keep any and all oppressors away from my dearest friend so she can rest quietly. Even her counterparts are considered enemies that I must dissuade from entering any further."

Cuchulainn smirked. "Interesting. Usually you're the one running around hunting oppressors. I never pegged you as the type to wait for them to come to you. What's with the about-face all of a sudden?"

Spartacus closed his eyes and sighed sullenly. "Probably because I lost my status as a Berserker on the day Lancer was executed."

"You 'lost' your class?"

"From that moment, I was warped into Avenger of Akakor, and one of the Three Caretakers."

"What made you become an Avenger?"

"Do you understand how soul-crushing it was for me? I was under a Command Spell not to defend Lancer's honor in any way. All I could do was accompany her to the gallows, all while the crowds screamed for Lancer's death like she was some kind of pariah. After she was strapped to the guillotine, Leonidas and I held her hands and waited for Sanson to finish the deed. I remember it so distinctly; I gripped the poor girl's left hand, while Leonidas held her right hand. We were practically begging Sanson to make it as quick as possible. And yet… And yet, those Mages were in a hurry to take that basket over to the Grail Terminal. No matter how merciful Sanson was to her, we knew she was going to be forced to stay alive in such a brutal state."

"…"

"We barely had any time to reconcile with what just happened. We felt the remainder of the girl's body disintegrate until we could no longer feel her hands. All I can remember from there is the shouts of joy echoing from the crowd…"

Spartacus couldn't bring himself to say anything further. He was so choked up by the awful memories that he had a difficult time speaking. Connla wished she could say something to comfort him, but nothing came to her. How could anyone remain rational after being present for their friend's execution? It didn't help that Marquis de Sade's words kept haunting her; that he had the Caretakers summoned precisely so they would agonize about their failures for the rest of their lives.

Izo suddenly interrupted them by asking Connla, "Hey, I dun mean to butt in durin' this 'motional time, but can I ask ya somethin', kid?"

"Hm? What is it?"

"Sanson's the guy who invented the guillotine, right?"

"Yeah."

"An' he was the one who executed yer counterpart, even though she's still alive?"

"That's right."

"T-Then yer sayin'… he used the guillotine on her?"

"Of course he did. That's what he's infamous for."

Izo's eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he raged, "Are ya tellin' me yer counterpart's been livin' as just a head!?"

"Ah… Um, well…" she uttered, shocked that he was so furious.

"Why the hell didn't ya tell me this!? What kinda demented freak goes around keepin' Servants alive as just their heads!? Not just any Servant, but a CHILD SERVANT too!? AN' FOR FIFTY BLOODY YEARS!?"

She tensed up, realizing that neither she nor Cuchulainn had actually explained any of this to Izo yet.

Upon hearing this, Atalante stepped next to Spartacus and replied, "It's true. I was only recently summoned to help him defend Manoa, but my Master told me everything. The Mages concocted a conspiracy to have Lancer of Akakor trigger the Extinction, all for the purpose of eventually turning her into the Terminal. They shielded the truth behind a convenient narrative - the evil witch who exterminated half of the world's population was thus given a punishment fitting of her grave sin. Yet, it is that same evil witch who sustains this society where the Second Magic is used as a tool for commerce among Mages."

Izo could barely contain his rage any longer. "A 'narrative'!? You call this a bloody 'narrative'!? What the hell is wrong with ya people!? Didn't anyone ever stop to think that they were executing a CHILD!? Didn't anyone question that something smelled funny 'bout this whole thing!?"

Atalante grit her teeth, and tears streamed down her face as she likewise shrieked, "I don't like this any more than you do!"

"Wha-?"

"How dare those Mages use such an innocent girl like this! I know what it's like for my family to toss me away, but for the entire world to abandon Lancer so easily!? And on top of the tragedy she went through in her original legend! I… I can'tI CAN'T ACCEPT THIS!"

"Quit yer whinin', bitch! If ya dun like it, then come with us! We're tryin' to put her outta her misery!"

"My Master commanded me to defend this shrine with my life! He's making me abide with keeping that girl alive, whether I like it or not! All my Master cares about is making sure the Gates remain functional so he can procure rare alchemy materials from other worlds! I don't want to do this! I don't want to do this! I don't want to do this!"

Izo cringed when he realized how much agony Atalante was in from her conflicted emotions. Her Master's orders were absolute, but he obviously ignored what his Servant's feelings were on the matter and shipped her off to perform a task she absolutely hated. He quietly unsheathed his katana, then got into his combat stance and declared, "All right then. If yer in no position to wreck the Terminal, then I'll cut ya down and do it in yer place."

"Agh… AAAAA~AAAAAA~AAAAAAAA~AAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Atalante howled and rushed at Izo without warning. Cuchulainn jumped back with Connla in tow to get them away from their battle. Both the ronin and huntress took their fight to the opposite side of the shrine so that they wouldn't interfere with Spartacus and the Celts. Despite the emotional argument that Izo and Atalante had, Cuchulainn never let his eyes off of Spartacus, who simply remained standing there in silence.

Cuchulainn set Connla back down, then summoned Gae Bolg in his hand and implored to her, "You go help the punk. I'll deal with this guy on my own."

She didn't know what to say. Having to watch her father fight the very first Servant she ever met in her maiden summoning was far too difficult for her. She knew it had to be done. Her mind was certainly made up on the matter. It was just so annoying that her heart was far slower to accept it. Without a word, she ran off towards Izo's battle to see if she could assist him.

Satisfied that Connla would not be caught in the crossfire of this impending battle, Cuchulainn pointed his spear at Spartacus and declared, "Let's end this quickly."

"Agreed," the gladiator muttered, then equipped his gladius.

Once both men bore arms against each other, they succumbed to the rush of combat and immediately engaged in a duel of brute strength. There was nothing graceful about their fight as they swung, thrust, and parried in distinctly powerful motions. Several stray blows carved into the walls and floor around them. Cuchulainn spun Gae Bolg over his head, then thrust the blade downward as hard as he could over Spartacus' head, as if trying to pierce a fish out of a lake. Spartacus twirled on his heel and practically blasted the crimson spear out of Cuchulainn's hands with a monstrous strike. Cuchulainn thought his arm was going to be torn off from the sheer force alone. While he was caught off guard, he glared at Spartacus as the gladiator pointed his sword at his exposed chest and thrust toward his heart.

Suddenly, Spartacus' chin snapped back after receiving an unexpected rising kick to his face. Even the tip of Cuchulainn's spiked heel split his bottom lip. The Celt raised his arm and commanded to Gae Bolg, "Come!"

The Barbed Spear rose off the ground and spun in midair toward its owner. However, Cuchulainn actually planned its trajectory so that it pierced Spartacus' shoulder. The spear suddenly injected a series of spikes through the limb that exploded outward, making it resemble a blood-red cactus for a moment. Gae Bolg retracted the barbs as quickly as it produced them, then finally returned to Cuchulainn's hand.

He sneered, "If you want to stop me, you better have a Holy Grail or two on hand."

Spartacus stood tall and stomped his foot defiantly. His flexed his wounded arm, and Cuchulainn noticed that it was gradually healing. The gladiator retorted, "No need. I already have the Grail Terminal's blessing."

"Hoh?" the Celt muttered when he noticed a peculiar glow emanating from the one eye visible on Tezcatlipoca's mural. He sensed some kind of magical energy flowing from it into the Thracian. He figured it was actually an extension of the Terminal that fed power directly to Spartacus.

So it's not a matter of just overpowering him. I have to find a way to sever his connection to the Terminal before actually killing him, he realized.

That was going to be problematic. Cuchulainn had no idea if there actually was a physical connection between Spartacus and the Grail Terminal. If he couldn't find some obvious weak point, the next best option was to destroy his brain. He knew Spartacus would be aware of this tactic too, but as long as he wore him down enough, he would be able to find his chance. He wasn't able to think of any good strategies since Spartacus descended upon him like a violent storm. All Cuchulainn could do was fight like a madman and never yield.

After several minutes of intense fighting, it was Spartacus' turn to land a deadly blow to Cuchulainn. The gladiator purposefully knocked aside one of his opponent's spiked heels so that he would lose his balance. He then wielded his gladius at a low angle and swung upward, carving into the Celt's right torso and shoulder. Luckily, Cuchulainn already had healing Runes activated before the fight even began, but he still clenched his shark-like teeth in repressed agony. If the deep cut wasn't painful enough, the effect of the Runes instantly repairing his ghastly wound was downright excruciating. He almost lost his grip on rational thought as he raised Gae Bolg and smashed it upon Spartacus' helmet, destroying the metal headwear as easily as breaking glass.

The shattered helmet fell to pieces around Spartacus' feet, and Cuchulainn could get a better look at his opponent's face. Usually the gladiator would have a wide smile constantly plastered all over his face. That was not the case here though. None of his typical mirth was present, now wholly replaced with a tired look of apathy and stoicism. He probably hadn't smiled in decades, and his languid face was covered in deep wrinkles.

They continued carving wounds into each other, sending blood flying all over the place. Spartacus swung his gladius down upon Cuchulainn, but the Celt effortlessly stepped back. He spun Gae Bolg in his hand before swiping across at the Thracian's chest, carving into his armor so much that his scarred chest was exposed. Before Cuchulainn could attack him any further though, he froze and widened his eyes in shock.

Beneath the gladiator's breastplate was a pink bauble with a bundle of lavender hair attached to a chain necklace.

Connla noticed it as well and gasped. It looked exactly the same as her ponytail except that the hair at the top was cut evenly, as if a single blade had sliced it off in one clean motion. It could only mean one thing to her; it was the remnant of Cliste's ponytail when she had been beheaded. Spartacus kept it with him as his treasured memento - to remind him that he needed to stay strong and remain by his tormented friend's side.

Even though Cuchulainn regarded Spartacus as an enemy, he still understood what was going through his mind. Neither man enjoyed the thrill of combat any longer. They were simply machines flailing their weapons about at another's orders. For all of the great deeds they accomplished as heroes, they still couldn't prevent sorrow and tragedy from occurring to those around them. They escaped from the hate of watching their loved ones suffer by discarding their original identities and mechanically carrying out their missions. Compounding things was that both men loved the same person so deeply that they would slaughter anything and anyone who hurt her, including each other.

Seeing such a little girl carry so much on her small shoulders, while simultaneously being tormented by petty motives, extreme ideologies, and even the whim of fate itself… was too much for them to bear any longer.

If they were fighting for anything, it was the privilege of carrying such a great hero on their own shoulders. Sadly, there was only one girl, and neither were willing to relinquish her to the other.

Once Cuchulainn saw that severed ponytail, Connla knew what was going to happen next.

Both men completely lost their minds. Riastrad instantly dominated Cuchulainn's sanity, and his eyes turned blank with fury as he roared and charged at Spartacus. The gladiator was likewise lost in the throes of insanity, unable to block out the memory of watching Cliste suffer in silence. The air reverberated each time their weapons struck each other. They swung their blades with such incredible ferocity that the shockwaves alone could decimate an ordinary human. They screamed and howled at each other like wild animals as they struggled to overcome the other. Neither wanted to give their opponent a chance to fight back. They wouldn't even let the other breathe. They were now a storm of mind-numbing fury and violence, unable to stop themselves as they wailed and battered each other without mercy. There was no grace or honor in their attacks. They weren't warriors anymore; they were blood-soaked monsters.

Connla could only watch the carnage unfolding before her in utter despair. Here were her father and her friend tearing into each other like demons, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop them. If she tried to jump in, she would be eviscerated. A pointless death like that would only intensify their madness even further. She couldn't turn her eyes away from this chaotic spectacle though. Even if one were to emerge victorious, she would still mourn the other's loss immensely. The thought alone was just too devastating for her to bear.

A black tendril sailed past her and exploded several feet away. She turned her gaze back to the other battle just as Izo managed to deflect Atalante's arrows with his katana. The huntress howled, then got down on all fours. The boar pelt on her shoulder enveloped her entire body until she transformed into the Calydonian Boar itself.

"I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOOO~OOOU!" she shrieked and barged at Izo with the speed of an oncoming train. The ronin rolled aside and slashed his blade against the boar's side, causing violet blood to burst out of a deep horizontal wound. Atalante shrieked from the sudden flare of pain and tumbled along the ground until she smashed against the opposite wall.

Her transformation subsided, and she wielded her bow and arrows once more. There was now a fresh cut stretching along the side of her belly, but she ignored it. She noticed Connla's agonized expression and declared, "Don't worry! No matter what it takes, I'll save you! I won't let anyone have their way with you anymore!"

"Lady Atalante…" Connla moaned.

Izo let out a fierce battle cry and rushed at Atalante. She fired more black arrows at him, but he activated his skill Mind's Eye to enhance his perceptive abilities to superhuman levels, allowing him to see the projectiles coming at him. The world around him practically slowed down as he either dodged or deflected the arrows, allowing him to rapidly close the distance between him and Atalante. He clenched his teeth and raised his sword in a stabbing motion, intent on running it through her heart.

Suddenly, he heard Connla shriek, "IZO! BEHIND YOU!"

He glared back when he noticed several black streaks curving around and aiming themselves for his back. If he continued on his current trajectory, he wouldn't have enough time to stop the arrows from puncturing him to death. He had no choice but to turn around and brandish his second katana before striking the oncoming projectiles with all his strength. The force made him skid back on his feet and lose his balance. This gave Atalante the opportunity to wrap her arm around Izo's neck and hold him hostage. Connla had no time to react to this sudden reversal.

The huntress cried out, "That's enough! You don't need to be influenced by these savage men anymore! Throw down your weapon and come with me quietly, or else I'll do this!"

She dug a miniscule wound into Izo's neck with her claws. The child warrior couldn't think coherently. She simply tossed her spear onto the ground and took a few steps back.

"A-Are ya an idiot!?" Izo objected. "Never mind me! Just kill this crazy bitch already!"

She couldn't respond. Total despair clouded her judgment as she realized what was inherently wrong with this battle. While there were plenty of heroes declaring that they would protect their most cherished ones, there were no villains around threatening to take such important things away from the heroes. It was little more than a clash of heroes struggling to determine whose heroism was more worthy than the other's. In other words, simple concepts like 'hero vs. villain', 'black vs. white', or 'right vs. wrong' did not exist here. The idea was just too tragic for her to comprehend.

And yet… she needed to do something.

Worrying about 'right' or 'wrong' could come later. For now, Connla had to save Izo.

"Good girl," Atalante said. "Now, get out of the shrine and wait for me. Once I have slain our enemies, I'll come get you. Just be good and wait patiently for-"

Connla's head felt heavy and light at the same time. Her expression became vapid. Her thoughts ceased to make sense. She was a disoriented marionette, unable to focus on anything but Atalante. She reached into the pocket of her skirt, took out her slingshot, and equipped it with a Runestone. She placed the stone into the rubber strap.

Life slowed down. Everything turned silent. None of the noise and bedlam surrounding her registered in her mind.

She raised the slingshot, and drew the rubber back as far as it could.

Atalante's wild eyes widened with horror. Izo clenched his teeth in panic.

The Runestone shimmered.

CRACK.

The sound of the rubber band snapping out of Connla's grasp echoed all around the shrine.

Less than the time it took to blink, it was over.

A grotesque amount of blood spurted out of Atalante's neck. Some of it got onto Izo's face and clothes as he tore himself off of his captor. He was absolutely startled and confused by what just happened, so he stared at the slain Servant to understand what was going on. The moment the Runestone hit her flesh, it burst like a miniature bomb, destroying her throat and severing her carotid artery. Death wasn't quite instant, but the huntress only had enough time to think of one thing:

Why? I'm… trying to… save you…

Atalante collapsed onto her back, dying before even hitting the ground. Several seconds later, her body glowed gold and vanished in a flurry of particles.

A huge breath of contained air escaped Connla's lungs as she fell to her knees in exhaustion. Her heart throbbed so fervently that she thought it would explode out of her chest. She gasped over and over again as she stared at the slingshot in her hand. Her mind kept wandering back to what she said back when she confronted Salieri:

"The only kind of coward that's worse than a sadist is a murderer!"

Her own words haunted her conscience. If there was anything she despised, it was hypocrisy; the ability to call someone evil for some misdeed, only to turn around and commit that misdeed herself… Not just commit it, but also gloss it over with some flimsy excuse to justify it. She liked to think she was more accepting of others' faults since, while she was given the tools and skills needed to help her survive, she still needed to learn what the real world was like. Yet here she was, murdering Atalante when she declared that killers were worse than sadists. Yes, she knew she had to do it to save Izo, but she still hated it.

Thus, there was only one conclusion she could reach:

I guess… I'm worse than a sadist.

"Hey," Izo blurted worriedly. "Are ya okay?"

"Uh… um…" Connla uttered. "I'm… fine…"

"Ya sure dun sound like it."

"R-Really, I'm okay. W-What about you? D-Did she hurt you?"

"Not a scratch, thanks to ya. That's twice I owe ya my life now."

"N-No, don't worry about it. I was just… trying to… do the right thing…"

Izo frowned. He could tell she was having an extremely difficult time coping with the fact that she had to commit murder to save him. She wasn't desensitized enough to shake off the dark feelings that came with ending another's life. Truth be told, Izo couldn't remember what he experienced when he committed his first murder, but it probably wasn't pleasant. That emotion quickly became numb though, and he proudly wielded his sword as a Man-Slayer who cut down anyone that opposed the Shogun's rule. As he watched Connla shudder like a shaking leaf though, he came to realize that not everyone could be as cruel and merciless as him. Some people desperately wanted to hold on to their virtues despite the world demanding that they make some heartbreaking sacrifices.

Izo glowered a little and muttered, "Look, kid. I was in the same spot as ya before. There was one time when I had to protect my teacher from a gang of assassins. 'Course I killed 'em real easy – they were chumps compared to a genius swordsman like myself. But then Master Katsu berated me by sayin', 'Ya shouldn't take such joy in killin' others'. Wanna know what I said to him?"

"… What?"

"I said, 'If I hadn't gone an' killed 'em all, yer head would be rollin' on the ground now'. Way I see it, this ain't any different. If ya let that crazy woman live, I'd be the one lyin' dead. That means ya'd be one ally short to help ya out with yer mission, am I right? 'Cause ya were brave 'nough to blow that wench's neck off, I can help the big guy take down the Caretaker while ya rest up."

"I… guess so…" Connla murmured.

"Dun let it bother ya so much. We're Servants. We're meant to be temporary lifeforms anyway. It ain't like ya killed a livin' human."

"Mm…"

"'Sides, doin' somethin' is better than doin' nothin', if ya ask me. I woulda been furious with ya if ya just stood back and watched me die."

She nodded, then shakily got back to her feet. Izo's advice served to calm her down enough, but that heavy sensation in her chest refused to subside. She let out a small sigh, then lowered her head and murmured, "Why is it…"

"Hm?" Izo raised an eyebrow. He didn't catch everything she said, so he asked, "What did ya just say?"

She stared up at him with a dejected expression, then mumbled, "Why is it that doing the right thing has to be so difficult?"