This chapter has a lot of action in it! I'd appreciate it if you let me know how that comes off to you? Sometimes, the 'fights' I write turns out a bit odd, and while I'm pretty sure this one turned out good, I'd like to know if how I'm doing it is alright, or if I should work on it more.

-x-

Two warriors stood opposing the other, one with a sword of unknown length: its properties distorted and hidden by a turbulent wind that might be a noble phantasm by itself, while the other wielded two spears of crimson, each held firmly in both hands.
The first few blows had already been exchanged and so far, neither participant had an obvious advantage over the other. In fact, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne suspected that his opponent was the superior combatant to a degree and the mere prospect amazed him. They were both around the same strength, but he was faster and had a better range and ease of movement. However, her awe-inspiring mastery of the blade more than made up for it, and that was without considering the nauseating amount of mana she wielded with impunity. His opponent used it in bursts to keep up with him in bouts of speed and strength that was almost overwhelming. If he was a lesser warrior, he would have been felled by now. But no, the idea of fighting such a powerful and honorable opponent (and another knight no less!) just served to excite him even further. That she was a woman who was able to resist his curse was a blessing in itself! He rarely had an opportunity to clash blades with female warriors without the damned love spot interfering in one way or the other, so he was able to savor the opportunity for what it was. - It was a fair battle.

A battle which was more than enough to serve his purposes. He would regain his pride as a knight by winning the holy grail for his new lord, and what better way to do it than to defeat the strongest servant knight class in honorable combat! Though he had difficulties finding an opponent so far, the wait was more than worth it as he could now cross blades with an opponent that could understand him more than any other! Now, if only his master was of a more honorable sort himself… Diarmuid let out a breath. Then again, it was to be expected of magi to scheme and strike from the shadows. At least he was honest with his intentions, even if it was by not showing his face and insulting everyone who had the displeasure of knowing him with his attitude. In the end, he was his master and lord, and it was Diarmuid's duty to uphold his virtues. He would not allow anyone to tarnish his honor.

The dust cleared and he saw that Saber was still able to keep her eyes on both his spears without pause. He smiled in approval. Using two spears in combat was extremely unorthodox, and it was something most warriors were unaccustomed to facing.

Diarmuid rushed his opponent, closing the distance between them, recommencing the battle with a series of thrusts, all of which were either avoided or deflected.

He did not retreat. Instead, he extended his longer weapon while at the same time, drawing back his arm, readjusting his grip further down the shaft. His grip on the spear was now closer to the end of the shaft, so it took far more effort to wield. However, the sudden increase in reach was something that could startle Saber enough to force her back. It took a great deal of strength and agility to pull it off, and even more skill and practice to make it viable in combat, but it was a fighting style that was tailored to suit him. Most spear-men couldn't do it without a small shield, or something of the like added to aid in defense. In fact, most spear-men couldn't manage using two spears at all.

He wasn't most spear-men though, and sometimes offense was the best defense. A fact that was made evident by how Saber was now on the back foot, retreating to avoid the long swipes that now accompanied the shorter thrusts from his smaller, golden blade.

But this was a fight amongst Servants, and that added more dimensions to a battle. Even now, the female knight avoided his swings, dancing around his strikes, even leaping and somersaulting mid-air in order to reorient herself to face him as she avoided a particularly low sweep that carved the earth.

She deflected the thrust that came right after it but overextended as a result of the force. It allowed Diarmuid to take advantage and follow up with an overhead swing but Saber was fast and skilled enough to recover in time and deflect that as well.

It was impressive, especially with how she had to be careful with their exchanges. His greatest advantage at this moment was that his opponent didn't know which among his two spears was his 'true' noble phantasm. Diarmuid was more than glad to keep her guessing until the time was ripe to exploit that uncertainty and deliver a decisive blow. With such a powerful opponent, that was an advantage he could not afford to give away. She had yet to commit to strike yet either. A cautious one, she is.

"What's wrong, Saber? You're on the defensive!" He taunted, but she just stared at him stoically.

They rushed back towards each other once more, and more blows were exchanged. Then they disengaged, with Diarmuid ducking under a powerful swing. He made space between them, and his eyes were fixed on the invisible sword which Saber held firmly in a high stance.

'Curse that blade of hers' he thought as he noticed a small graze on his cheek. That was uncomfortably close. 'Without knowing its exact length, I cannot get close enough to strike.'

At least, not without unintentionally skewering himself on her sword. He was not inclined to take that risk either, since he had more battles yet to fight and a master to protect. Both goals which would be heavily jeopardized if he were to take a serious injury now.

'The fact that she is able to repel my strikes so easily… must mean that she herself is a master swords-woman as well.'

There was no use pondering on it, so he merely readied himself once again. Then they met each other once again in a blur of sparks and clashing blades. And that was how he found himself genuinely enjoying the thrill of battle after so long…

His curiosity finally got the best of him, and he tried to disguise it as a complement. "There is no honor in a battle fought without an exchange of names" he said, and it was true. Diarmuid wished to know the name of such a formidable opponent, so that if- no, when he was able to win, he would remember her in death. It was futile however, since no Servant would ever give away their strengths and weaknesses that could easily be revealed by doing so. For the history associated with their name was the very foundation of their power.

"But allow me to offer my regards, it is quite impressive for a woman to fight so hard without breaking a sweat." And it was, the sheer stamina the golden-haired knight possessed was inhuman. The ability to maintain that same level of energy even through the entirety of their clash without the slightest of differences was daunting. If it went on, she would most likely outlast him, something that was impossible to tell at first glance, considering her petite and 'fragile' appearance.

A small smile adorned Saber's face, accepting the compliment for what it was. "You needn't be so humble lancer. Even without knowing your name, those words from a master of the spear do me honor. I gratefully accept them" Diarmuid smiled back.

"That's enough fun for now, lancer." An arrogant voice announced from a distance, the voice echoing across the battlefield. His voice was amplified through mage-craft to carry the words throughout the area. "Do not allow this battle to go on. That Saber is a formidable opponent. Eliminate her at once." He commanded. "You may use your noble phantasm." He sighed. As much as he enjoyed this battle, he agreed with his master.

He turned to Saber and smirked. "Yes, my master." He said, preparing for the most decisive moment of the battle so far. He dropped the golden short-spear, laying the trap, for that was what it was, and then grabbed hold of his two-meter spear with both hands and allowed the wrapping around his noble phantasm to unravel. Thus, he exposed Gáe Dearg, the Crimson rose of Exorcism, the blade that severs all ties with magical energy.

"Saber, are you focusing wind mana to keep your blade concealed?" She remained silent, but her eyes were drilling into him. It was confirmation enough. "I see, you have a reason to conceal your sword. My guess is that your sword reveals your true name" Diarmuid voices his thoughts aloud. While there were many swordsmen who had famous weapons, there were very few whose swords themselves were famous enough to instantly expose them.

"How unfortunate, Lancer. You will never know the name of my blade." She replied impassively. "I will finish this before you get a chance." She finished, and readied herself.

"We'll see about that. I will discover what you hide, Saber." He spoke, his voice reflecting the knowing grin on his face.

Then they clashed again, only, there was a difference this time. Wind buffeted both combatants, as the blade that unraveled magic met with a magical cocoon of wind that hid a golden sword. The illusion was fading.

'Ah-ha!' Diarmuid smirked victoriously, finally comprehending exactly what the revealed sword implied.

'Excalibur, huh.' He thought. 'So, King Arthur was a woman. I wonder how nobody noticed. Wait, if that was the case, how did Mordred happen?' Diarmuid shook himself out of his thoughts.

"You've exposed your sword." Diarmuid said in a mocking tone, having fun witnessing the distress on Saber's face. It was the first bit of emotion he had seen from the stoic woman, and he was enjoying every moment of it.

"Invisible air is disintegrating?" She muttered, eyeing his spear cautiously. Diarmuid only smirked before rushing back in to meet her with a flurry of slashes.

"I have the length of your blade now! Now I need not worry about being struck, Ha!"

Each clash chipped away at the illusion that hid the sword, exposing flashes of the holy sword beneath.

Diarmuid smirked as he saw Saber trying to find a way to counter him without exposing the blade any more than it already was. His smirk only widened seeing how she left an opening in her guard, baiting him into striking her Armor so she could retaliate. Diarmuid knew that his strength would allow his spear to pierce through most metal plates, but excessively heavy Armor could still cause an issue. However, he also knew that Saber's Armour was supported by some sort of enchantment, which might mean that most of the protection it offers is magical in nature. If that is the case, then the Armor itself shouldn't impede him much. When the blow struck, it surprised him that his spear passed though the Armor without any resistance whatsoever, but he didn't prevent his surprise from committing to the attack, thus landing the first decisive blow in the entire battle. He had a grin on his face, seeing Saber's shock and confusion, even as she retreated to assess her wound.

'And now, first blood has been drawn!' Diarmuid crowed within his mind.

-x-

Arturia Pendragon grimaced at the pain. She tried to feel out where the damage was, hoping that the Armor was intact enough to still remain functional and not leave chinks for Lancer to exploit. Only, her hand met undamaged Armour. She was confused for a long moment, before realization dawned on her. 'The blade can nullify mage-craft' she realized. She berated herself for her carelessness even as she felt Irisviel's mana repairing the wound closed. 'I should have known it when he managed to chip away at invisible air. No use introspecting now, though. What should I do about it?'

"My thanks, Irisviel. I'm fine, the healing is working." She informed her worried partner.

She was just about to unsummon her armour and charge in once again when Arturia noticed an oddity. It was a box- a crate to be specific. It had just rounded the corner and was slowly crawling its way towards the battlefield.

Saber was confused.

It appeared to be a perfectly ordinary crate, but the fact that it was moving gave credence to the fact that it was in no way normal. Then it passed by the worried visage of her pale master, and proceeded to approach the two servants. At that moment, Saber felt horrified, knowing that she had nearly failed to protect her friend and companion, and that she was in fact spared by what she assumed was another servant.

A theory that was vindicated not a moment later, when the illusion fell away into motes of gold, revealing the grinning visage of an armored warrior. A warrior whose presence was now broadcasted for all to observe.

The woman's face was split into an expression of childish glee as she stalked towards them with the grace of a predator on the hunt.

'A servant' Arturia realized. 'Even though there's something strange about this one. Whatever the case, there is no mistaking the noble phantasm in her hand.'

"So, how's it been for you folks? I hope you don't mind if I join this dance of yours, would you?"

Arturia moved quickly, unleashing a mana burst to circle around the new Servant and stand between the interloper and her own white-haired master. The new Servant only watched her with curiosity as Arturia took up position and made no move that would startle her.

Arturia glared at the interloper. "I am forced to doubt both your honor and your capacity for rational thought if that is the first thing you say after interfering in our duel." Arturia glanced at Lancer, only to find him not having moved from the position they clashed at. Her eyes refocused on the female Servant. "If you were looking for an honorable battle, you would have waited and not turned this duel into a brawl. If you had wished to eliminate the both of us, you would have waited for better opportunities. As it is, I find no logic behind your actions other than to cause chaos." Arturia finished. "Thus, I ask you, who are you and what your intentions are? "

"Heh." The disruptor had the nerve to snort! At her! "Ya sound like the boss lady." She answered, with a tone that seemed entirely at odds with her tightly controlled and still posture. "As for little ol' me?" The woman performed a curtsy, her expression both polite and mocking. "…Servant Foreigner at your service, ma'am. And you wanna know what I want?" An excited grin split her face. "Chaos sounds about right. I want to fight worthy opponents, and if there's already two of them here? The more the merrier I say!"

Then she snorted. "You know, you sort of remind me of lord Godfrey. Well, at least before he devolved into Horah Loux. You have the whole noble kingly aura thing going on. At least you don't have a ghostly lion gnawing on your shoulder." Saber… didn't really know what to make of that, so she ignored it.

Well, that answered that. Arturia wanted to write her off as a battle hungry savage, but there were simply too many contradictions for the Saber to come to a conclusion about the interloper. And she was Servant 'Foreigner'? The implications of there being more than seven standard classes had interesting implications. Most importantly, that there was more to the Grail than it saw fit to inform her of. Arturia glanced at Irisviel and saw her to be both surprised and extremely concerned.

"Irisviel?" Saber asked, hoping for an elaboration.

"It's supposed to be impossible." Irisviel replied through their Master-servant bond. "It is true that there are 'extra' classes, but while it is technically possible to do it, the conditions for summoning them are supposed to be very difficult and extremely specific to perform. And 'Foreigners'… I don't know much about them, only that they're potentially considered a 'Threat to humanity.' so their summoning is usually blocked by the grail. I don't know why it would allow such a thing now. I need to investigate this."

Nothing helpful right now then.

Arturia focused on the strange Servant as the woman stood there observing both herself and Lancer, hoping that her appearance would give some insight into what Arturia was potentially going to face. What she found was… strange.

The woman wore a snug but sturdy leather outfit that was fitted out with metal plates fixed in certain key locations. A large number of belts and pouches were wrapped around her midriff all the way down to her waist, from below which a large billowing cloth the color of wheat hid long legs that were armored with something akin to petrified wood. Also, she only wore a single golden gauntlet on her right arm, which too was unusually shaped; with fingers far too form fitting for it to ever be moved naturally. At first, she mistook it for a delicately designed prosthetic, but no, it was simply strange… unnaturally so. She also wore a black shawl which was wrapped around her head while leaving her face open, only for it to be covered, crowned by the visor of a conical, ornate helm made from a dark metal she couldn't identify. From behind the helm, a massive plume formed a mane of silver which billowed in the wind. All in all, she was aesthetically striking in ways that were similar to most servants but there was no consistency to it. The mismatched combination was odd, but with how distinct the individual pieces were, it felt as if each and every piece of equipment on her body was a… trophy of some sort. It made Arturia cautious. And that was without considering the lance she wielded; a jagged, crude and cruel thing sculpted out of bone with a yellow mineral-like core that thrummed with energy.

The new Servant, the Foreigner, adjusted the weapon and crimson lightning danced along its edges. Lightning that was far too familiar, having faced it's like while battling her… son, Mordred. While there were many superficial similarities, there were also as many differences. This wasn't a product of hatred and pain, rather, this particular iteration of draconic lightning seemed ancient, for lack of a better term. As if it was something beyond time. Lancer, the fool, just stood there with that same annoying grin plastered on his face, as if he couldn't sense the danger their new opponent posed. Did the fool need an overwhelming show of power every single time to take this seriously? Perhaps only she could sense the conflicting nature of their new foe, in which case she couldn't blame him but it annoyed her nonetheless.

But there was no mistaking the aura the blade projected. It was a weapon made from the corpse of a true dragon. The woman herself was also somehow heavily associated with dragons too. The latent instincts of a dragon that stemmed from her magic core screamed at her to take this strange woman as a serious threat, both as a competitor… and as a hunter. Somehow, this woman was both heavily associated with dragons while also being a dragon slayer. The conflict in nature was probably why she didn't seem to possess the overwhelming magic associated with either of their kinds. It was not the strangest of things for a servant to be, but it was still something exceedingly rare. Which made things even stranger because nothing about 'Foreigner' seemed recognizable for such a figure. Then again, she was not one to talk, having been able to hide her gender from the general populace for the entirety of her reign.

The strange servant had apparently finished observing Lancer and seemed to have come to a decision. Angling her body, the bloodthirsty woman launched herself towards Arturia. Having expected the attack sooner or later, Arturia was prepared to intercept her, only for the 'Foreigner' to dive to the ground shortly before she reached Saber's position. Startled at the abrupt action, Saber swung down, trying to catch her opponent in the midst of the oddly vulnerable movement, only for the Servant's body to twist like a serpent, curving her entire form around the Knight. Landing behind her opponent, the helmed warrior swung back, even as her feet slid around the ground like it was ice.

Finding herself unable to defend from such a position, Arturia released her mana in a burst of magic, blowing away everything around her even as her body was propelled into the air. The strange servant didn't even bother to pause as she followed her parabolic arc in the air, jumping to intercept her. It was an odd move, and with messy results and both the enemy and Arturia herself clashed mid-air before their combined weight threw them both headfirst into a shipping container. Arturia was quick to recover, and retreated, just as a bone white lance pierced through the cloud of dust in an attempt to skewer her.

Arturia had already made distance, however. So, she merely observed the Servant rising up from the beat-up container with a feral smile on her face.

"Oh yeah, you're good." She complemented. Arturia was about to reply when her instincts screamed at her to duck. And she did.

It was a good move, all things considered as she noticed the glint of a dagger as it flew past where she had stood mere moments ago. The 'Foreigner' followed up with a thrust, gliding across the floor with her body low to the ground. Her movements possessed a strange flowing grace that was impossibly agile, with her body being able to dodge and contort around any incoming attacks.

In fact, her entire fighting style was strange. Arturia was thrown off by how her opponent fought, since unlike normal warriors, the 'Foreigner' didn't even attempt to block or parry her attacks with her lance. Instead, she seemed to prefer avoiding interacting with her blows entirely, dodging, ducking and weaving around Excalibur with a dexterity she had never imagined a human to possess.

The 'Foreigner' seemed to analyze her fighting style and tried to pick apart patterns in her movement and then closed the gap between them in bursts to try and get a thrust in. The amount of patience and strategic timing she displayed with the few attacks she did perform was something Arturia noted. However, none of it was as intimidating as the fact that with each passing moment, the dark clad woman seemed to be getting better at avoiding her attacks and retaliating in turn.

As the seconds passed, the 'Foreigner' got better at weaving around her swings, she got better at closing the distance to exploit even the lightest of openings and worst of all, she got better at predicting the knight's movements. Arturia found that her opponent was getting better at preparing a counter to her efforts with increasing frequency and it was a worrying notion.

It boggled her mind. As strange as it was, Artutia was still the better swords-woman. In fact, she would go on to say that her opponent had around the same skill with her blade as one of the more experienced knights that used to be in her employ, but it wasn't something that would put her anywhere close to the level of skill one would expect of a knight of the round table to possess.

But no, despite being far less skilled, the 'Foreigner' was evidently far superior to Saber in 'combat'. It was her ability to adapt to any situation that posed the biggest threat.

The deciding factor in this fight was time, Arturia realized. The only way for her to defeat her opponent was to go in with full force from the very beginning, before she could get the opportunity to study her. If this was allowed to continue, Arturia's chances of victory would get narrower and narrower until she ended up dancing to the 'Foreigner's tune. She came to the cold realization that she couldn't last a lot longer at this rate.

The enemy was no expert weapons-master. Her form was decent enough and her attacks had more power and speed behind them than what one would think, but that was all overshadowed by her capacity to adapt to the flow of battle. It spoke of an individual who was used to fighting opponents vastly stronger, faster and larger than herself where even a single blow was enough to be fatal. It spoke of an individual who regularly faced odds beyond reason and tangled with death again and again and again with a suicidal drive to win, no matter it cost her to do so.

Arturia managed to cut into the woman's abdomen, only to nearly get skewered on her opponent's lance as she used the opportunity to her advantage. The insane woman did not even bother to give consideration to what would have usually been a 'fatal' wound. Even as a servant, it was difficult to ignore the instincts humans had developed in life to avoid death. Emotions like fear existed for a reason, and in battle, the tarnished showed none of it. She had deliberately allowed her to land a potentially fatal hit so they could merely 'trade' blows.

Arturia shuddered.

There was no hesitation, no fear of failure, no fear of death. This was an entity to whom the only outcome was either victory, or death. At first, she believed that she had something akin to an 'Eye of the mind' skill. But no, it was not an instinct to protect the self from danger, nor was it the product of experience, discipline and skill. This was the product of insanity, to crash against an insurmountable wall again and again without rest or pause until the wall crumbled. This was a monster who treated the possibility of her own death as a learning experience. It was almost like fighting a dead apostle, one of the older ones who could rewind time to restore their bodies. Arturia eyed the wound she had inflicted upon her foe and saw that it was still there. No, she didn't have any miraculous regeneration to save her either.

So, her fighting style was indeed completely and utterly suicidal, with no consideration given for herself or even the mere idea of death. It was truly the height of insanity, of inhumanity.

Arturia was worried that she would end up losing the grail war before it truly began. At this range, she couldn't unleash her noble phantasm either, not without dying in turn to her opponent's blade.

As each moment passed, those 'simple' attacks got better at honing into each and every one of her weaknesses as if fate itself was guiding her blades towards its destination

Then came the fateful moment. The lightning clad lance was already making its way towards her, so Arturia didn't notice the sleek parrying dagger that suddenly materialized in the 'Foreigner's' hand. Not until it was far too late, when the unassuming dagger somehow caught Excalibur, still clad in invisible air, mid swing and then somehow redirected it upwards. Her blade being suddenly jerked away in another direction unbalanced her. Under normal circumstances, Arturia would have, and could have easily recovered. But the sheer abruptness of the action caught her off guard, and the Servant was far too close.

Arturia realised that she wouldn't be able to recover in time, and so prepared for the worst. Only, it didn't happen.

A red blur intervened and the 'Foreigner' was thrown back with a loud clang of noise.

Arturia turned, and saw Lancer positioned next to her, the cocky smirk still present on his face but she could see a hint of wariness in his eyes as he observed the 'Foreigner'.

Said servant merely dusted off her clothes and studied the both of them. Arturia and lancer stood closer than they normally would, an unspoken truce forged to deal with this troublesome opponent.

"Huh. Well, it seems like I'll be having more time to fool around yet."

Diarmuid snorted. "I think not! You have interfered in our battle long enough, and I shall not see Saber dead before our duel has reached a conclusion. If you are adamant about interfering, I shall see to delivering you your end myself."

"Oh?" Foreigner asked, amused. "And how will you do that… "She suddenly cut herself off, much to Lancer's surprise. The Foreigner was staring at Lancer intently. Specifically, at his face. For a long moment, no-one spoke. Then, a slow chuckle broke out from the 'Foreigner'.

"Oh my." She spoke, her voice sounding odd. Golden slitted eyes stared at Diarmuid's form with possessive greed and something… indecipherable.

A wicked grin spread across her face and for some reason, Diarmuid felt a shiver run down his spine.

"I'll make sure to deal with you, with enthusiasm." The antagonistic woman practically purred the last word, and it was at that moment, that Diarmuid was reminded of his 'curse'. Looking back at the blazing golden eyes of his opponent shining madly with draconic greed, Diarmuid could only say one thing. It was a crass phrase he picked up from this modern era, but one that suited his situation perfectly.

"Well, shit."

-x-

Ivolethe indeed had kept some of her attention focused on the Mimic to observe the mess she made down below, but most of her attention was focused on the shadowy figure perched atop the crane by the warehouses. Its garb, posture and behavior were far too close to what she knew of the black knife assassins for Ivolethe to ever be comfortable in moving around while it was still in the area. While observing her to-be opponents first hand would have been nice, eliminating a potential 'random backstabbing scenario' took precedence over everything else. Ivolethe only managed to spot him now by blind luck, and she was unwilling to let go of the opportunity to eliminate a threat that was able to nearly escape her notice entirely.

Keeping her eyes trained on the assassin, Ivolethe quickly drew the sleek black ornate length of the Lion Great-bow, and notched one of Radhaan's spears on it, the gravitational taint of his blood distorting the very air around it in a sphere of Gravity sorcery's signature purple hue. The illusion cast by the mimic veil silently fell away into golden motes as Ivolethe took aim.

The thing about the mimic veil was that visual and auditory cues were the only way to actually notice it. As long as it was not used against her, it was an extremely potent and useful tool that allowed her to position herself in an optimal place from which she had ample time to carefully align herself towards her unaware victim. In this case, the poor Servant barely had enough time to register that something was wrong, before a great arrow- no, a literal spear fashioned into an arrow, pierced its neck. The gravitational distortion only served to twist the neck further into unnatural angles and directions, ultimately severing the neck completely.

Ivolethe sighed in contentment as a potential headache was removed before it became hers to deal with. And just as abruptly, she was startled out of it as a new presence suddenly made itself known on the same rooftop where she was at.

Turning quickly, she saw the golden armored form of an enemy Servant. His armor was reminiscent of the Tree Sentinel's, but was far too ornate, too sleek, too elegant, to ever be considered anything less than an armor worthy of a king. Ivolethe kind of wanted it.

The sheer elegance of his red eyes, golden hair, and striking features were something that could only be matched by the supreme arrogance exuded by every fiber of his being.

The man, who was most certainly a demigod (Ivolethe could tell) was the very same presence she had felt while she was searching for a suitable leyline to settle down by. She was wary of him, but that was a natural reaction at this point, and was something to be expected. She had faced many demigods, and even while weakened, they were never opponents that she would ever underestimate… no matter what.

So, she was understandably thankful that he wasn't immediately hostile.

"It is a rare opportunity to see such a battle, is that not so, puppet?" He asked her, the mocking in his voice evident for all to hear. His eyes were trained on her form and she could see conflicted emotions warring against each other. His expression was… hungry, as if she was something he dearly wanted to add to his collection, but also disgusted, as if the very same treasure he sought after was lying in the muck and he was unwilling to pick it up.

He turned his eyes away from her, and towards the battlefield. "Still, as dull as you are, that trinket of yours is indeed… interesting. Its properties remind me dearly of a friend I once had." He finished. "Although it is of course far inferior to Enkidu, I must commend its creators for the attempt. To even replicate a fraction of a god's power, is something I find endlessly amusing."

Then he snorted, turning around as he left towards the battlefield.

"Be grateful that the True king spared your life, puppet. You won't find the same courtesy from me the next we meet." He informed as his body faded away into motes of light.

Ivolethe just kept staring at the empty spot where the golden servant just stood, and proceeded to rub the bridge of her nose.

"Great, just… great! As if I didn't have enough on my plate to deal with already." She cursed as she made her way to the battlefield as well. Of course, not before she applied the mimic veil to herself once more

And that was how a wooden kennel started to make its way through the warehouses under the cover of the night.

-x-

My Character image links :

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