"So, you've come. I would say it's good to see you, but I would be lying."
The Forgotten Savior stepped into the chapel, his spear already summoned to his side, "I should've known you wouldn't exactly welcome my presence, Amakusa. You always were a bit more preoccupied, hm?"
"You could say that, I've never known just how… ugly Humanity is, Jacob. But she helped me to see it, they're all parasites on this world, and we, Servants, have the power to change it! To make it better! All that needs done is dealing with these children who think they can make a shadow of a difference compared to us!"
"…Amakusa, this doesn't sound like you." Jacob replied warily, his eyes flickering between the priest's face and the Black Keys he knew were barely inches away from the man's hand. Amakusa grinned widely, almost laughing.
"It doesn't, hm? Then perhaps I simply got tired of giving everyone a free out for their crimes, trying to forgive everyone." The priest snarled, glaring at the Crypter, "With you chief among them, Jacob Landark."
Jacob's grip tightened and he retorted, "You know I always did what I could, no matter what." The priest barked a laugh and cut him off, "Hahahaha! You 'did what you could'?" He mocked, "Such insolence! Quit making excuses, you selfish, worthless bastard!" Amakusa roared, a quartet of red-hilted blades flying toward the Crypter's face; Jacob lunged backwards, the Keys bursting into flame as they struck the ground in which he'd stood, pulling his spear up as the Ruler leapt off the chancel down to where Jacob stood, drawing his sword.
"I'll offer you a small amount of mercy, if you wish. Your death shall be swift, Jacob."
"Oh, how comforting, thank you very much for the thoughtfulness of my time to live, very considerate of you." Jacob retorted, ice already growing along the spear's blade. Amakusa snorted and lunged, thrusting forward before his blade was batted aside. Jacob grimaced inwardly, slashing for the Ruler, but only catching his blade. The Crypter cursed and ducked another set of Black Keys, trying to thrust his spear forward before Amakusa grabbed it, throwing it aside.
"It would seem you are without a weapon. How sad," The priest mocked, his sword at his side again. "But I do intend to keep my bargain, Jacob. Do take comfort in that."
Amakusa smiled, but the mirth of such a gesture never reached his eyes as he drew his blade along Jacob's neck with the speed of a striking serpent. Jacob's eyes widened at the sudden fiery burst of pain and the sudden loss of heat within his body leaving it frigidly cold, even as hot, scarlet blood ran down his collarbone. He reached up, his fingers brushing the slash gently as he let out a soft sigh.
Jacob gripped his neck, his hand cold as his Magecraft activated, unnoticed as Amakusa turned away, he drew his hand along the slash, freezing the skin together and muttering under his breath to activate a Talisman.
"Wu Er Da - in other words, No Second Strike, my prized technique, Jacob" Li had said, "Performed properly, it won't kill a Servant, you simply don't have the physical strength to reach such a level, but train it well, and it should suffice."
Jacob steadied his hand and lunged, planting a foot forward as the Priest whirled in surprise, his blade already swinging as the Crypter's fist shot into Amakusa's chest with the force of a cannon, sending the man flying back and slamming into the podium with a heavy thud.
"Ghh… more resilient than you all were given credit for." Amakusa gasped, "Surprising, to say the least."
Jacob grimaced, tossing up another Talisman to stitch up the rest of his neck and recalling his spear to his hand but strapping it to his back.
"No more games, Shirou Amakusa, I don't know what the hell is going on with you, but nevermind blade against blade. You get my meaning?"
Amakusa nodded slowly, then a second time and then one more time. "Fine then, as you wish." He stood up and threw his sword aside, curling his fingers.
"Come then, it's your move."
Jacob dashed forward with a side on kick, his foot caught and a punch to his gut reciprocated, his body thrown back into a pew and splitting the bench into wood chips. The Crypter growled and popped his neck as the Priest rushed in, whiffing his next strike as Jacob dropped to one hand, reeled and kicked Amakusa clear in the chin, sending the man stumbling as Jacob came to his feet and sent an elbow into his windpipe. Amakusa's eyes blazed with rage and he roared,
"ENOUGH WITH YOUR FOOLISH GAMES, LANDARK!" The Priest raised his arms, orbs of blue and purple appearing in them, rapidly growing,"
"Heaven's Feel begin, an end to all things-!"
"CUT OFF YOUR NOBLE PHANTASM! THAT'S A FUCKING ORDER RULER!" Jacob screamed, lunging for Amakusa and tackling him to the floor, the priest's head slamming into the hardwood, seemingly in a daze.
Jacob drew his spear and pressed the cold edge to Amakusa's throat, heaving in relief. "Jesus fuck, Shirou! What the hell are you doing?!"
Amakusa looked up unknowingly, "Master… what has happened? Where… are we?"
The Crypter, momentarily shook, removed the spear from the Ruler's throat, his icy eyes finally fading back to their original color, regarding the Priest with wary civility.
"You don't remember we were fighting?" Jacob asked, "All that talk of destroying Humanity? Knew that wasn't you when I heard it."
"I said that?… Of course… That woman." Amakusa muttered, taking Jacob's offered hand up. "That woman showed us… why humanity deserved destruction."
"And I assume you went along, unwillingly,"
"Of course," Amakusa commiserated, "We all did, it's not like we want the destruction of Humanity, we're Heroic Spirits,"
"There's more of you?" Jacob asked, already knowing the answer and nodding to himself, "Of course, Goetia, then that leaves… Muramasa and Sith to be found and returned to their senses."
"I see," Amakusa mused, retrieving his sword and sheathing it calmly, "Then, Master. It may do us well to not dally; Idle hands are the devil's tools."
"Why do you think I was always working?" Jacob joked, limping out of the chapel with a muttered curse.
Hassan stood glaring at the door, about to slit the Priest's throat if not for Jacob's presence, even then, he was curt in his usual manner.
"Contractor, art thou injured? And is thine companion an ally?"
"No more than usual. Hassan." Jacob answered, trying to placate the skull-faced Grand Assassin's rage, the Grand Assassin slowly nodded and Constantine slowly came forward, his horse lowering itself slightly to allow Jacob easier access. The Crypter mounted, groaning in pain, "I hate having to fight Servants on my own." He grimaced, feeling a heavy coat being draped over his back.
"Proper rest after a battle is important, then." Li Shuwen spoke, pushing his glasses onto his nose. "Forgive us for not coming to your aid, Ruler had some kind of Bounded Field we were unable to enter." Jacob nodded in understanding, "It can't be helped, Magecraft can't really be superseded at such a level."
Jacob soon reached the Crypter's dorm, meeting Junko in the hallway. The Ashen Swordsman raised a hand and entered after him,
"Where were you," The Savior asked, "I'll tell you… later." He trailed off, skimming a paper obviously written by Noroi.
"Ozpin knows more than he is letting on, meet me and Ewan in his office. This isn't continuing."
"Oh fuckin' great… I need a drink." The Ashen Swordsman growled, taking a swig of that dark viscous concoction. "We may as well go, huh?"
"Let's make a house call then." Jacob joked, following Junko outside.
"So what you mean to say is, this, "Salem" has control over 3 Heroic Spirits, one of which is a Beast of Humanity?!" Noroi roared, "Goetia nearly wiped our Humanity out! There's no telling what would happen to Remnant! We need to find them and recontract them now!"
"Hold!" Ozpin retorted, "If you go now, we lose the element of surprise."
"And more people die," The Hero of Humanity snarled, "Because you have no real fucking idea what even normal Servants can do! So shut the hell up and let us do our job! Crypters, we're leaving!"
Ewan wrapped his chain round his arm, Jacob slung his spear over his shoulder and Junko drew his cloak tighter around him, dark steel flashing under it as the four took their leave, Ozpin speechless behind them.
"Glynda, do not let them leave. If they get to Salem, she may learn our plans!"
The Deputy Headmistress rushed the four, Junko's Assassin and Saber appearing before her.
"I wouldn't do that. My finger could slip, or the Dragon Slayer's blade might just fly out on accident."
"Move aside," the woman growled, attempting to flick them aside with The Disciplinarian, to no avail. Assassin calmly stowed his Calico, instead drawing the Thompson Contender and aiming between Glynda's eyes.
"Let them do as they must and no one will be harmed," Assassin spoke up, "We intend to harm no one undeserving." Sigurd continued. "But my Master and his allies must continue their work, that you all agreed to, mind, else you risk everyone here losing their lives."
"It's one of the worst ways to die. I know my own Servant's Noble Phantasm well enough to know that. If your mysterious spooky lady somehow figures out what it does… I shouldn't need to spell it out." Junko interjected, "Trust us. Saving the world is kind of our thing, you get me? Whatever 'Salem' can do? We deal with that every day. Dawn to dusk. Magic is second nature, office work."
"What is your point?!" The woman snapped, "You cannot certainly understand what she is or what she does-"
"We know she does magic, literal magic, the best analogue of which we have from the Age of Gods, when Mana was bleeding from the earth like a river running into an ocean," Jacob interjected, "When your stories of heroes and deities were first penned as they had happened, with the very same people there to tell such tales. With Magi blessed by such deities to perform Magecraft and True Magic, for the lucky few that knew amongst their time."
"We aren't fools, ye daft bastards." Ewan spoke up, his brogue rather evident by the annoyance in his tone, "We know our way about magic, one form or another it may be."
"And we know a hell of a lot more than you, I'd imagine." Junko added, taking a swig of his dark liquid and wiping the black fluid from his mouth. "If we have to leave in order to pursue magical entities that ended history once before, then so be it. We won't be damned twice for your grudge, Headmaster."
"You will do no such thing." The Headmaster said, entering the hall, leaning slightly on his cane. "If you attempt this foolishness, Salem will destroy everything anyway."
Junko stared hard at the Headmaster, deferring to Noroi for a moment, who raised his head, nudging it upward.
"We aren't stopping." He said, "And by the looks of things, neither are you. You'll have to forgive us."
"That won't be necessary. This allows me the chance to see your skills myself. Hold nothing back."
"As you wish." Junko spoke, "No hard feelings after this."
Ozpin readied his cane and made to lunge forward as the Ashen Swordsman simply stood there, not even drawing his sword. Pain exploded in the old man's shoulder, some kind of bullet ripping through his Aura as if it weren't even there, blood spraying the floor as an array of blades surround the Headmaster.
"First unofficial rule of a War, you let your soldiers do the fighting. A Master is in essence, the tactician, never the warrior. Not if they're smart. And me? I have several, quite loyal I might add, soldiers under my command."
"Headmaster!" A voice yelled, "We heard gunfire-ACK!" One resident blonde noodle was yanked aside and pinned to the wall by Jeanne Alter, EMIYA Assassin reloaded in a flash, keeping his smoking Contender trained on Ozpin. Beowulf stood, blades over his shoulders, glancing between the assembled RWBY and JNPR teams; he sighed in exasperation, clearly annoyed at the situation.
"Stay out of this, this is between us and him. I highly doubt you want my fist cracking your face open, do you?"
"What's even going on!? Why does Headmaster Ozpin have a bullet in his shoulder?"
"That," replied the Savior, "is an excellent question Ruby, why don't you answer it, Ozpin?"
The Headmaster grimaced, his leftover magic already healing the gunshot wound as he sighed, his plan would be accelerated, and there was nothing to be done.
"Miss Rose, do you know the story of the Four Maidens?"
Goetia, the leader of Solomon's 72 Demon Gods, sat alone. Well, alone was an understatement for him, the Demon Gods were always talking amongst themselves, and the King of Humanity allowed them to do so at their leisure. But now… He was doubtful, to say the least. His last encounter with that swordsman, his "Master" was eating at him. It was something he knew, someone, but the memory would not come, as if it were bathed in the fog of forgetful bliss.
"Your audience has been requested, my lord." That detestable scorpion thing had returned to him, acting as her messenger. Goetia was not aware of what she was, not at this moment, but he had his suspicions; his Demon Gods had analyzed her every movement, inside and out, determining she was a form of mage, for certain, albeit a weak one, though skilled in many different forms of Magic.
Magic… a universal tool of all Magi, once lost and partially regained in the form of Magecraft. Goetia studied, in a sense, under Solomon for decades, learning the intricacies of the first true Magecraft. The use of Humanity, to destroy itself. The power of God's Will. To destroy and rebuild was its purpose. This Goetia knew well, he had once attempted to do the same, he had attempted to destroy Humanity.
Hadn't he?
The King of Humanity, the first of the Beasts stood up, exiting his abode and following the Scorpion, coming into her throne room, alongside those other two Heroic Spirits.
"It seems our friend has left us, supposedly killed in the line of duty. This is of no consequence… Goetia, you will be tasked with dealing with these Crypters as soon as possible. Should they not join our fight. Be sure to dispose of them."
"LIKE YOU WOULD BE ABLE TO HANDLE US, HERETIC WITCH!" One Demon God spoke into the hive mind that was Goetia's brain. Other Gods began to chime in, mainly the ones not busy attempting to banish this mental fog from his mind, all retorting with vitriol for this woman they deemed heretical for her use of Magic. Even so, the King of Humanity inclined his head departing Castle Evernight, Salem's domain, in a flash of blue.
The King of Demon Gods had a job to do, and he intended to do it, on his own terms. He looked up to the sky, sighing deeply as he began to advance into Beacon's courtyard.
Senji Muramasa growled, sitting at his forge was yet another imperfect blade now shattered in two from a singular strike. Despite the Servant's mental age, however, his body persisted; The small voice in the back of his mind that he had grown to believe was this body's original owner comforted him with a few words of encouragement, causing the old swordsmith to sigh.
"Any luck with that damned fog in my mind, it's starting to worry me, what's behind it?"
"I don't know, I'm trying everything I can think of to get through, or cut it away, but the best I can offer is we either remove ourselves through some means, or we ask that scary lady to get it out of us."
"Scary lady? You're a third rate mage at best and even you could take her on, even without my smithing. Just… keep trying, I'm needed."
Senji cut the link between them at that, following the scorpion man out, a spare blade slung at his hip.
His orders were simple. Take the small one, and find the Crypters, join Goetia if possible.
And kill Noroi Kanshu.
So there he was, awaiting his target's movement, Sith was gone, off to find her own target and so he was alone. With nothing but his thoughts.
The man was supposedly his Master, and he was a Servant. He knew this,
So why in hell was he doing this. This went against his very being, and yet still he continued.
He spied the Hero of Humanity exit the building he was in, seemingly for fresh air, leaning on the wall as the smith began to advance, his hands falling to the hilt of his sword, drawing the long blade with a yell as he lunged.
Junko paused his pacing with a visible shudder. His newly forged blade sat in a vat of water, the mana infused liquid cooling the molten metal and binding the Phantasm Catalyst into the blade. Runes shown along the blade, courtesy of Jacob's intervention to stabilize the volatile magic within the sword. Slowly, he drew the sword from its bath, taking a cloth and wiping it down absentmindedly.
"Hello, old friend. Forgive me for pushing you as hard as I did to shatter you in Jerusalem…" he spoke quietly, patting the weapon as if it were his child. Unlike Izanagi, Noroi's own sword, Poeintet held no such soul. The Blade of Retribution was just that, a blade, despite Junko's ministrations over it as if it were a little kid. Junko tightened the sheath of his greatsword around his shoulder, stowing the blade for the moment, pulling it out once again and moving outside.
His grip tightened as he came upon the King of Humanity once again, the blonde man smiling slightly at him, devoid of warmth. His hair shined like fire in the slowly fading sun as Team RWBY were coming inside from an outdoor training session, unaware of the Beast's presence. The Crypter growled, his blade already held ready.
He lunged forward only to be grabbed and pulled into an embrace.
"You… I do not remember you, you must die now."
"Goetia." The man replied, unafraid, seemingly curious, "What all do you remember?"
"I… why should I tell you? You'll be dead soon."
"Then might as well answer the question for me. Won't matter in a few minutes,"
"……Very well…"
"The boss can't remember anything!" One Demon God blurted, causing the King to grimace in annoyance.
"You can't remember anything? Nothing from Jerusalem? The Temple of Time's collapse? Nothing at all?"
Goetia restrained his wandering hands, attempting to wrap around the Crypter's neck, grimacing. "It is… lost to me, as if distant." His mind was screaming at him to not hear this, to reach over and snap the Crypter's neck, damn his soul, damn them all and destroy this world-
"Goetia. You wanted to save Humanity. You wanted to remove death from our equation. You were stopped by Mash Kyrielight and a Master of unknown renown. You had seen the suffering Humanity went through and in a bid to save us, attempted to destroy our history, in order to write one without death. That was what you did."
Goetia stared at Junko and Junko stared back, "This isn't you. Is it? You can't remember… let me see. By my Command Spell, remember yourself, Caster. Remember why you fought, why you died!"
The fog receded as if taken by a vacuum, and the King of Humanity remembered, Salem's magic overwritten by the stronger magic of the Command Spell. He stared at Junko and his Master returned his gaze. "Master. It seems I have failed you…" Goetia knelt in shame, "I allowed myself to fight against you, to harm you to near death."
"You think I don't do that myself? I'm lucky to be breathin' and still straining myself like this."
"Same as always then, how forgiving you were." The Caster smirked lightly, placing a hand on his Master's shoulder, concentrating and inhaling sharply with a muttered curse. His hand glowed green and Goetia began to mutter thaumaturgies in Latin. The Abyssal Flames consuming the Crypter's soul receded and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd held in. With a light, easy sigh, Junko shouldered Poeintet alongside his reply,
"We've all fucked up in our lives, depends how we use our mistakes, to help us grow better, or recess back into the same state."
The Caster slowly nodded, clothes melding over his form as he tied his fiery hair back, "Let us go, then." Junko shrugged and followed Goetia who was walking back inside, the Crypter slinging his greatsword over his back. He paused as the ringing of steel came to his ears, sharp and angry sounds floating on a far off wind.
"Damnit… there goes taking a rest. Let's go, fast!"
Meanwhile, Noroi was fighting for his life, Muramasa may not have been a swordsman by occupation, but the Saber was certainly no slouch when it came to duels of the blade. He cursed in his native Japanese, shoving Senji's sword aside and slashing through his wrist with a spray of blood.
"Agh, Damned boy! Quit… fighting me, for Amaterasu's sake!" Muramasa growled, his blade falling to the ground as his voice died and he began to argue back and forth, seemingly with himself.
"What do you mean, "We know him."? We hardly know anything about him past his-!... name."
Senji paused for a long moment, slowly picking his sword up again and flicking leftover blood into the cracks of the stone walkway.
"So be it, we'll do what we have to, boy."
Muramasa made to sheath his sword, the Mad Bladesmith glancing at Noroi before striking out like a snake, cutting the Crypter across the face, before gunfire tore Muramasa's blade from his grip and an angry Kitsune lunged and pinned him to the floor.
"Damnit Senji! Control yourself!" Noroi barked, his Command Spell activating with the sharp pain spreading through his face.
Muramasa thrashed, growling as his amber eyes bulged in rage, throwing Koyanskaya off and summoning another blade, swinging down toward Noroi's head. The sword paused above his skull, held fast by the swordsmith's grip as it slowly came down, sheathed at the man's hip. The bladesmith sighed, sitting down.
Noroi sat with him, leaving the air tense but ebbing as he withheld Koyanskaya's rage. Muramasa stared at the grass for a few long moments, refusing to speak; his hair shook in a light wind, and the cloth at his hip flew back, flapping in the air as he began to speak softly.
"I ask of thee, where doth lie Hell?"
"I do not know. Such is not the proper way to atone, neither should seppuku, Muramasa."
Muramasa stood up, walking off. Noroi made to follow only for a blade to slide under his chin. Muramasa glared, but not in anger. The swordsmith sheathed his sword, breaking Noroi's gaze and walking away.
The Hero of Humanity sighed. Standing up himself and walking back inside, greeted by Ewan. Who leaned on a wall outside of Team Reikland's dormitory. The Eldritch Lord drew a flask from his coat, taking a swig and growling.
"So you all get yours back, where the hell's Sith, Noroi?"
"If we knew we would go after her, trust me. But we don't and I hate to say it like this, one Servant is not worth risking all of us. Goetia and Amakusa could've destroyed this world if they wished, we had to act fast you understand."
"Rrrr…" the man growled, sighing, "I know… but I can't help but worry about her…"
"I know," Noroi replied solemnly, laying a hand on Ewan's shoulder. "We'll find her in time, but for now, we have other matters to attend to. I'm told there is a… field trip, coming up. We've been requested to come along as guards for the students."
"Guards, ach, typical of our dleasdanas then." Ewan's expression soured, voice slipping into his native Gaelic for a moment. Noroi had the graciousness to look pensive, "We're doing this to remain within the Headmaster's good graces. It's a necessary step in negotiations."
Ewan snorted, "Go after Muramasa, you need to distract yourself from trying to help me, Noroi."
Noroi let out a breath, clapped Ewan on the shoulder and strode off to find his Saber. A faint wind brushed loose leaves into the air, letting them fall to the ground as the Crypter's coat followed suit, blowing into the air like a flag, Noroi then began to follow Senji's path trailing behind him slowly.
Jacob watched from the window as Noroi advanced on Muramasa, the latter turning to meet the former. Silently, Jacob pushed off the window, laying down and soon drifting off in a haze of sleep.
