February Poll Chapter! Hooray for the new system!
Beta-ed by Draconic
"Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posies…"
They grinned all around, looking through the mists of their hell, watching all the little people scurry about. It wasn't exactly as expected, but that just made it more fun!
The homunculus they'd sent to the knight had somehow turned into a Servant, saving the other strange boy just in time. They couldn't decide if that was cheating or not, but it couldn't last for long, no siree.
The knight would kill him in the end. Then they'd send her to the horsy and let her see him kill the kitty. She'd slaughter him to avenge her ally and then they'd set her on the rest of them, including her own mage. It wouldn't be too hard. They'd just make her see what they wanted her to see. By the time she realized what she'd done, she would be happy to be their mommy. It would be even better if the kitty lived. She was soft, and kind, and weak, and could barely resist them. If the cat lady saw the knight killing them, maybe she'd betray her friend.
Of course, there was that other… problem. The mage that had trapped them in the pretty jewel was still around, along with the other Saber— the one with the sword that wasn't there, but also was. It screamed at them, haunted them, defiled their playground with something icky. It was too bright. Was it… hope?
No such thing. No such thing. Only suffering and pain and death. The sword was a liar, hiding behind weird wind.
That sword… whatever it was, they'd save that for last. Most of them were surrounding that pair, making sure they didn't cause too much trouble, but they'd all have to deal with it in the end. And they would. They'd rip the Saber and her jewel mage apart bit by bit by bit!
Then they'd go back home with their mommies and have that yummy hamburger steak together!
Oh, she almost forgot. There was that boy. The boy who wanted to find justice. The boy who had seen that fire, was bathed in it. He had seen another hell, one different from Jack's. And like they had only their hell, he had only his.
But he was pretending he didn't, that there was something more. That something as silly of justice existed in a world as black and cruel as theirs.
They would show him the truth. He'd be the easiest of all.
There was some trouble, the Sabers and even the horse-Archer were navigating their fog much better than they should've been. Why wouldn't they stop breaking the rules?! Oh well. The game was still theirs. And it would be so much fun.
"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!"
FATEFATEFATEFATE
What the actual fuck was going on?!
First, she killed Assassin of Black. Then, Assassin of Black, seeming not to mind that it had been literally chopped in half, exploded in a burst of more cursed fog that left her wandering around in some hellhole of a city. And to top it all off, despite having been bisected and blown up—however that happened—Assassin of Black still wasn't fucking dead!
It wasn't enough that it trapped her in some sort of void, and surrounded her with a bunch of whining ghosts–probably trying to curse her or something like that–but it had also interrupted her chance at taking revenge on father! Mordred swore that the next time she saw Jack the fucking Ripper, she would kill him again, and this time, she'd make sure it stuck!
At least… she thought it was a him? Her memory was foggy about what Assassin actually looked like for some reason. That was… annoying. Eh, who cared? Dead was dead.
Oh wait, no it wasn't! That was why she was in this ridiculous situation in the first place!
She growled. She really wanted this Assassin to just die already.
Honestly though, she was kind of grateful that her Master had summoned her with a Command Seal. It had interrupted her search for Assassin and father, but it had also snapped her out of her…well… episode. She didn't react well to having things taken away from her, especially not after it was dangled out in front of her. But then, who wouldn't be angry if someone did that to them?
Having thought about it a bit, this actually might be for the best. She'd rather she took a short detour than have her Master die because she wasn't by his side. Just because she needed his magical energy, of course. Nothing was more important than confronting her father, but she couldn't very well do that if she ran out of prana and disappeared.
Besides, it was just one mage. So, what if he could make some fancy swords? She was so much stronger and faster than him that this wouldn't even be funny.
And she was right: The redhead barely had the time to raise his weapons before she'd knocked him onto his back, his swords shattering after a single strike. This was the guy her Master wanted her to kill ASAP?
That said, he'd still beaten her Master, and she'd seen firsthand how skilled a warrior he was. Not a match for a Servant by any stretch, but still highly impressive compared to most. For this Emiya to have him at his mercy, and be confident enough to not only leave him alive, but also to keep the King of Knights' location from her under obvious threat of death… well, it was an unprecedented show of defiance. He wasn't a worthy opponent by any stretch of course, but he was at least worth her time.
At least, he would have been if that other bastard hadn't shown up out of nowhere!
Seriously, where the hell did this gray knight come from? And why was he so intent on defending Emiya? Honestly, telling him to let him handle her? Handle her! Did he really think he could survive Mordred Pendragon, the one true heir of the King of Knights?!
She didn't waste any time charging the bastard upon having the gall to say that, knocking him backwards through the fog. She didn't really mind that she'd lost sight of her actual prey. The poor chump would probably just be lost to Assassin's world anyway. Oh well, with her Instinct skill, she could navigate the mist well enough, so she'd just track him down after she killed this other knight.
Which would have been much easier if her sword stopped grazing off the stupid lug like he was made of metal! Honestly, his swordplay wasn't much to write home about, bar a few sudden lucky strikes, but otherwise it was clunky. Clumsy as a child who'd never touched a blade in his life and was swinging a stick. She'd struck him a dozen times over by the time they'd smashed through the first two rotting buildings, but her sword wasn't leaving a single scratch.
"Bleed already!" she snarled.
If she didn't know better, she could have sworn he mumbled, "I'm sorry." He was managing to mock her by losing! The nerve of the bastard!
He took another swing at her but she lazily batted the claymore aside, nearly disarming him in the process. This was Saber of Black? The great dragonslayer Siegfried? Ha! What a joke! He must have made it to the Throne by relying on that infuriating armor. She wouldn't be surprised if he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.
FATEFATEFATEFATE
If Sieg could have read Mordred's mind, he would have agreed with her immediately. It was both his instinctive reaction as a being designed to servile as well as his logical assessment.
What in the world was he doing?
When Sieg had woken up to find that the Blue Faction had already left for Bucharest, he raced after them immediately, Serge generously providing him with a bus pass for the trip. He'd arrived in the dead of night and wandered around the city searching for his old companions only to be enveloped in the strange fog and transported to some horrifying facsimile of the world, where children were beaten and killed and women were…
This was too much. He wanted to forget. He wanted to forget everything he'd seen in this place!
Was this… was this what humanity was like? Was this insanity, this… this… gratuitous cruelty humanity's true nature?
He wished he'd never left the citadel, that he had just died in that tank like all the other homunculi that were being farmed for prana. Better to be used up and thrown away in an instant without having a life than to have a mockery of one such as what he'd seen in this horrid city.
There were spirits all around him, little children laughing at him from the darkness. He raised the sword Rider of Black had given him in an effort to protect himself, but he wasn't sure it would do much good. He might have to use one of his Black Command Seals, but he didn't know exactly how long the effect would last, and he only had three of them to begin with. He couldn't waste them.
Then, one of the children had emerged from the fog and waved him over. Despite every instinct in his body screaming at him to run away, he'd followed the little girl.
And she'd led him to a burnt-out husk of a building, where a blond girl in red and silver armor was about to bring down a sword on Mr. Emiya's head.
He'd shouted his command without a second thought and leapt in to save his cooking mentor.
Unfortunately, while the seal had transformed him into Siegfried's shape as expected, it had not instantly endowed him with certain crucial combat skills, most importantly, swordplay. Or rather, the instincts were instilled in his body, but his mind was so unused to combat that he kept interfering whenever they tried to perform any impressive feat of bladework. If it weren't for the Armor of Fafnir, he would have been dead a dozen times over after the first exchange alone.
He needed to shape up, immediately. Siegfried's Servant-level prana reserves might have been amplifying his already high-quality magic circuits, but even that would only maintain his new form for so long. Already, he could feel his miraculous state slipping away. And if Saber of Red, for who else could his opponent be, was still alive when he transformed back, she would slaughter him in an instant.
He couldn't die, not yet. He needed to ask the Blue Faction for help. He needed to give the other homunculi the same chance for freedom that he'd been granted!
Everyone had sacrificed so much to get him this far! No one else could, or should have to help him now. He needed to defeat his opponent. He needed to fight!
He might not have had Siegfried's skill, but he had his strength, his speed. And if Saber of Red couldn't penetrate his armor, then there was no point in trying to block her attacks. He was wasting precious seconds, and there was nothing stopping him from going on the offensive himself.
He angled his shoulder so Saber of Red's next strike glanced off instead of striking head-on. After that, he heaved Balmung over his head and brought it back down in a brutal arc. His opponent's eyes widened at his incoming blow, her body sparking with crimson lighting as she scrambled out of the massive greatsword's range.
With only a moment to breathe, he was ready to keep going. Utilizing every ounce of his borrowed agility, he rushed forward, unleashing a series of wide sweeping arcs, surging with turquoise energy. Any true swordsman would easily be able to dodge or parry such sloppy bladework, but with the strength of a dragonslayer behind them, he was still capable of holding his own.
Strangely, Saber of Red did not dodge him, or even deflect his blow. Instead, she roared and met him head-on, their swords clashing again and again as their strikes cancelled each other out. Eventually, his blade slid down to her hilt, sparks erupting all along the steel as the pair locked blades in a stalemate.
"Ha! This is the vaunted Hero of the North? What a joke!" Saber of Red growled, her strained voice betraying that the clash was just as trying on her as it was him. "I've met dogs with more bite than your blade!"
"You say that, but you've yet to inflict any sort of injury upon me yourself," Sieg grunted in response. It was just a fact. However, he tried to at least put some pride in his words, if for no other reason than to force the knight to show some respect for the real Siegfried.
"You have no right to brag," Mordred scowled. "You're offending me just by calling yourself a Saber! You swing that sword around like a child flailing around with a stick!"
He answered her insult with a burst of strength, Balmung itself seeming to charge further forward to claim his foe's head. The greatsword seemed to… hunger, to thirst for the red knight's blood. It was almost instinctual, like it was meant to kill Saber of Red. He didn't know why. Perhaps there was some factor in their legends, but he certainly wasn't going to complain as the additional ferocity allowed him to steadily force his opponent back despite her stubbornness.
"–the hell?" Saber of Red muttered as she skidded backwards. Rising to her feet, she raised her voice to a growl. "Alright then, you bastard. You want to do this the hard way, we'll do this the hard way. Now you're gonna get it!"
This couldn't end well.
Crimson lightning erupted from Saber of Red like lava from a volcano, crackling along her armor and practically enveloping her sword. He knew what this was; a Prana Burst skill. A lightning variant, the bolts rapidly pulsing through her sword. With speed she hadn't possessed a moment earlier, she rocketed past Sieg's guard and skidded to a halt beside him. She was well past his defenses, and he hadn't the reflexes or experience necessary to react in time. So when she swung her sword out in a single scarlet slash, he took it in full force.
Siegfried, of course, would have been skilled enough to counter her assault, hell he probably could have kept her from flanking him in the first place. As it was though, Sieg only survived by hopping back and taking the blow that would have hit his throat on his shoulder. A thin, light cut spread across the dark skin.
Sieg's eyes widened in amazement. The Armor of Fafnir prevented any attack below Rank A from harming him, and reduced the power of anything above that by a Rank B. He had been fighting on the assumption that his opponent had no way of overcoming his protection, but if that attack had struck true, it would have slit his throat.
Saber of Red cackled with triumph. "First blood to me! My next strike will take your head, Saber of Black!"
Huh? She thought he was…? Wait, of course she would, he looked exactly like him and she'd never met the real Siegfried. He didn't think she could have mistaken his dreadful performance for the original if she'd ever seen him in battle. Or maybe she thought so highly of her own skills that she'd simply believe such ease was natural.
Nonetheless, he had no more time to ponder that before lightning blazed around her once again and she raced towards him for a second strike.
He raised Balmung to block the blow head on, but before he could raise it into position, his arms all but gave out. His hands were still wrapped around the hilt, but his limbs protested as if he were trying to lift the massive weapon with only the insufficient muscles of his true body.
His transformation was losing power faster than he'd expected. The battle couldn't have been that long, a minute, maybe a bit more? He didn't think he could hold out for another.
Though he wouldn't need to worry about that if Saber of Red killed him right now. His brief flinch had cost him valuable seconds, time he no longer had to block with the lower half of his sword as he'd been doing. He could try to counter with the upper half, but he couldn't get his full strength behind that part to hold off the attack entirely, he'd have to parry or riposte, but he didn't…
…know how…?
How did he know what a riposte was?
Maybe it was that he was distracted by trying to maintain his Heroic Spirit form, and maybe he just got lucky that Siegfried's instincts made his body react to the danger facing him in that exact moment. Either way, the movement he needed suddenly filtered through his muscles and his body moved like the master swordsmen it belonged to.
The tip of his claymore flicked into the oncoming sword as he hopped to the side, and the momentum that Saber of Red had built up by pouring all her strength into that single slash sent her charging a good ways past him. She rammed through the wall of another building before whirling around to face him again, a snarl on her lips.
Still, Sieg panted hard. He couldn't count on his luck to hold out like that again. His opponent could penetrate his armor and he wouldn't have it for much longer anyway. He didn't have the skill to defeat her in a head to head fight, at least not in the sparse time he had left.
His only hope was to hit her with everything he had left. There was no way his form would hold after he used it, but Siegfried's Noble Phantasm was his only chance.
He eyed the blue jewel embedded in the greatsword's hilt and poured every ounce of magical energy he had left into it.
Saber of Red sparked with power as she glowered at him. "I'm going to tear you apart for that, you third-rate excuse for a knight!"
Sieg felt offended that his opponent was insulting the man who had been willing to give up his life to save his, but he couldn't deny that her posturing was useful. Activating his sword's true capabilities took a few seconds. The real Siegfried could have definitely done it in less time, but he could only do his best.
He raised the titanic blade above his head. "O sword, let thee be filled."
All at once, a sapphire aura of energy blossomed around the sword, soon expanding into a massive pillar of magical power, enormous enough to split the clouded night in two.
Saber of Red blinked at the display, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward into a bloodthirsty grin. "A Noble Phantasm, eh? Alright then. My helmet's already down, so I'll just respond with my own Noble Phantasm. Behold the weapon that felled the greatest hero who ever lived!"
She gripped her sword in two hands before her and a tempest of thunderous crimson lightning erupted from the steel.
Sieg grimaced. He'd hoped that she wouldn't have anything capable of rivaling his last-ditch attack. If his own assault failed, or worse, if it was overcome, he was doomed.
No. He had to have faith. This attack, this sword, this power, it wasn't just his. This was Siegfried's Noble Phantasm, the crystallization of his legend as a hero. He knew firsthand just how true that will held. Even if it was diminished in his unworthy hands, it would not be overcome by this braggart. He wouldn't allow it!
"Balmung!"
"Clarent Blood Arthur!"
Both knights brought their swords down and the titanic swaths of crimson and sapphire energy hurtled towards one another, surging waves of scarlet and cyan. The stones and mortar in the long stretch of road between them disintegrated into sand which turned to glass as the two waves collided. The cobblestones beside the two clashing Noble Phantasms, subway platforms to a pair of colliding trains, shattered, the earth rising into stalagmites on either side, and that which wasn't blasted into oblivion was pushed aside.
The shockwave hit the surrounding area before the clashing Noble Phantasms themselves did; a hurricane swept outward, sweeping the previously inescapable fog away, briefly making the whole city visible and erasing the distortions. Entire buildings were ripped from the ground along with their foundations, rising into the air and toppling onto their neighbors which collapsed like domino stacks. Then the violent energy ripped apart anything that was still standing, and set anything that remained alight.
The two blasts, neither able to overcome the other, finally fused into a single gargantuan pillar of violet light that surged into the sky, a blinding signal for all to see, even in the depths of hell.
FATEFATEFATEFATE
Rin loved London. It often felt more like home to her than Fuyuki did; Which just made whatever this was that much more offensive to her. This caricature of her city disgusted her, and she positively loathed it.
She was starting to take a rather sick joy in killing the twisted residents of this place just to shut them up for a few seconds before another atrocity of some sort would appear. Better that they die from a gandr to the heart then by being splattered all over the cobblestones by a horse, or have their heads caved in by a falling brick. She was sure that Assassin was mostly just trying to annoy her at this point, after she and Saber had successfully evaded runaway carriages, falling objects, and the occasional knife, thrown from various directions. Every time Saber needed to step in, her armor seemed to vanish, but fortunately, it seemed that her sword wasn't affected.
There was one other saving grace in that Saber seemed to be capable of navigating this dense fog, even when it closed in around them to the point that they could just barely see each other.
It was during one of these moments that the mist suddenly dispersed. Not as it had previously, returning them to the murky gloom of the old London streets, but completely, in time with the sound of an explosive collision.
They needn't have looked for the noise. The pillar of violet light was more than enough to indicate where it was coming from.
"Saber?"
"Yes, Rin?"
"We should head towards that thing, shouldn't we?"
"An event like that, capable of forcing its way through Assassin of Black's control over this world to be seen without its approval would have to be fueled by an enormous amount of magical energy. There is, of course, the possibility that Assassin wants us to see it and go there, in which case it is most assuredly a trap. However, I highly doubt that."
That piqued Rin's curiosity.
"Why do you say that?"
Saber pointed at the explosive tower of energy.
"Can you see the red lightning?"
The event was already starting to dissipate, but Rin found that she could see bolts of brilliant red electricity crackling within the light. She nodded.
"What is it?"
Saber invoked her armor.
"One could call it Mordred's trademark. Regardless of what it is however," she continued, "it is undoubtedly more dangerous than where we are now, even in this demented realm."
"Which means Shirou is probably somewhere nearby."
"Almost certainly," Saber agreed with a sigh.
"Alright then. I guess that's where we're going—" Rin hesitated. "Your armor worked," she noted.
Saber opened her mouth to answer, but her breath caught in her throat.
From beyond the narrow alleyways, a chorus of children's voices slithered into their ears.
"Ladybug, ladybug fly away home..."
No words needed to be exchanged for them both to start running. Saber spun around, deflecting a few thrown knives as she sensed the killing intent from behind them before flipping back around to keep pace with her Master.
"Your house is on fire,
"Your children will burn."
"I can only hope that Assassin's reasons for allowing me my defenses hold until we reach Shirou's location."
"Except for the little one whose name is Ann,
"Who hid away in a frying pan."
FATEFATEFATEFATE
Atalanta's eyes widened as the gargantuan pillar of light erupted into the dreary sky, the previously all-encompassing fog rippling out like dust that had been brushed aside by a cleansing hand.
'Could that be Saber? But who is she fighting?'
Other than Archer of Black, the only other foe who was in this repulsive world with them was Assassin, at least if this place was its doing as Shishigou theorized. And even if that was true, she couldn't imagine that Jack the Ripper could force a Saber Class Servant to exert such a tremendous amount of power.
'I suppose that I'll just have to hope she's alright. Because I can't help her right now.'
Her gaze whirled back to her opponent, who was proving himself even more dangerous than she'd feared.
She'd been irritated when Archer of Black had shot her arrows out of the air back at Millennia Citadel, but she'd been far more disturbed when Rider had reported that her opposite number had managed to wound him. The only beings who could do that were those that wielded some kind of divine construct or had the blood of the gods running through their veins, neither of which was appealing to face in battle. She'd already learned just how cruel the immortals could be during her life. Gods were selfish, slaves to their own vanity, even among the best of them. Even her patron and benefactor had never shown herself, and when Aphrodite got her transformed into a lion, Artemis was nowhere to be found.
When her duel with Archer of Black had finally begun, her fears had not proved unwarranted. Her Crossing Arcadia skill had allowed her to maneuver as easily through the miasma of fog and crumbling buildings as she had over the hills of her homeland, but the mist was as much a hindrance to her aim as it had been back in Bucharest. Her opponent seemed to lack such a handicap. A dozen times over, it seemed she only avoided dashing straight into an arrow's path thanks to her enhanced hearing catching the telltale whoosh of the projectile as it whistled through the air. This minor advantage enabled her to just barely dodge out of the way. Even then, she was still sporting a number of shallow cuts from altogether too many close calls.
Suffice to say, this was not going well. She might have been a skilled warrior, but she was primarily a huntress. She specialized in stalking her prey—chasing them if necessary—and riddling them with arrows before they knew she was there, or else could fully collect themselves. Her speed was exemplary, her endurance far less so. She had been partnered with Rider so his flamboyance would draw the enemy's attention away from her. Alone, she couldn't afford to let the battle continue as it was, or her foe would wear her down. But she couldn't do that if she couldn't see him, with even her Noble Phantasm's wide area attack rendered unreliable since this damned world made it so she could jump off a building only to finish the leap landing on the other side of that same house, all while the mocking laughter of a horde of wraiths echoed through the air.
The first time she'd heard the giggles, she'd mistaken them for genuine children, trapped in Assassin's hellscape, but after she'd caught a glimpse of them, she'd been able to tell they were not true youths. At least, not in the sense that she would be able to do anything for them. They had been corrupted, assimilated into the spirit of Jack the Ripper. They might have deserved to be loved, as all children did, but there was nothing she could do for them. They were already lost.
Just as she would be if she didn't figure out a way to defeat Archer of Black. And soon. She needed to find a way through the fog, a way to see him so she could get a shot off—shit!
She whipped around and loosed an arrow, her bolt catching a projectile that had been racing towards her back and splitting it down the middle. Feeling a rush of air heading towards her, she instantly nocked another shot and fired.
Unfortunately, instead of shattering another arrow as she'd expected, her shot was knocked down by the whip of a bow shaft. Said weapon's wielder quickly rushed out of the fog, a fist screeching for her face.
Atalanta ducked under Archer of Black's punch, her eyes narrowing as his arm passed over her head. Close combat had never been her specialty, and the fact that her opponent felt confident enough to enter that range against her did not give her much hope for such a clash.
Said worries were confirmed a moment later when he took advantage of her focus on his fist to sweep her legs out from under her.
She dissipated her bow as she fell through the air, leaning back and landing on her hands. She leveraged her weight off the ground and launched herself into a flying kick at her opponent.
Archer of Black halted her flight by snatching her foot out of the air as it neared his face. Her eyes widened as he clapped his other hand over her knee and whipped her over his head, slamming her through the rooftop in a blast of clay and dust. But she was more than capable of working through this.
Ignoring the pain shooting through her back, she recalled her bow and quickly pulled back an arrow aimed point-blank at her foe's head. Archer was forced to release his hold on her in order to dodge, sending her tumbling into the house below as his horsetail swished behind him.
There was a common misconception about falling in that it was often equated with a loss of control. This was, of course, because people tended to get hurt when they fell, and because most people couldn't maneuver in midair. Atalanta however, was not 'most people.' The simple fact of the matter was that there were right ways to fall, and wrong ways to fall. Most people couldn't tell the difference and attributed all movement during their descent to luck. Atalanta knew all of the right ways, and had virtually forgotten how to fall in ways that would result in any sort of personal injury. The moment her opponent let go of her leg, she shifted her center of gravity, got her bearings in the span of a microsecond, and flipped her body over so that instead of falling headfirst, she landed cleanly on her feet inside a cramped wooden hall. This was even better than the roof. The more varied the terrain, the more likely she was to win.
However she couldn't help but scowl. She'd recognized the combination he'd used against her. It was a high-level Pankration technique, one Heracles had demonstrated once to the men on the Argo during their numerous recreational brawls. She'd been able to tell that her current foe was also Greek from his attire, but it was surprising that he'd be as proficient in the martial art as the son of Zeus.
…
Divinity and the ability to predict Rider's movements…
Pankration skills similar to Heracles…
A horsetail…
She cursed whatever gods had conceived this arrangement. The World truly had a sick sense of humor.
Atalanta dashed through the rotting wooden halls of the building and smashed through one of the decrepit windows. She scaled the side of the next house over and leapt onto the roof, glancing about the sky.
If she really was facing the Sage of Heroes, she was in trouble. She would be more than willing to face him at range in any other setting, but she could not beat him hand to hand. And since being the son of the Titan of Time endowed him with enough clairvoyance to navigate this hell well enough to sight her at range as well, she could do no more against him as she was. She needed help.
Fortunately, the eruption of violet light was only just fading from the sky. With any luck, it would act as enough of a beacon to allow her to regroup with Saber. That was if this hellscape actually let her move towards it.
A chorus of ghastly giggles echoed up from the alley below as though to mock her.
She frowned, shifting her head to the side just in time to dodge an arrow that would have put a hole through her throat.
It wasn't like she wasn't outmatched already if she stayed.
Atalanta dashed towards the fading light of Saber's battle, the light patter of Chiron's pursuing footsteps shadowing her every move. She hoped she'd be able to reach her ally in time, or else her wish, her wish for all children everywhere to know love, would be lost to her forever.
FATEFATEFATEFATE
Mordred panted as the cloud of smoke and dust cleared, waving Clarent before her to speed up the dissipating of the fog before the unnatural mist returned.
The bastard was fried. He must have been. She'd felt his magical energy wavering during their clash until it had finally flickered out completely at the end.
She smirked. It was almost enough to make her feel sorry for him. Saber of Black had never stood a chance against the weapon that had dealt a mortal wound to the King of Knights himself. Hero or not, no one could possibly have done better than her father and survived the attack.
Well, she could have, obviously. She had surpassed her father in every way after all, but that was beside the point.
Besides, Saber of Black brought his fate upon himself, daring to interfere in her execution of that Emiya guy. Now she'd have to track him down again and finish the job, or else her Master might give her an earful. Wouldn't be too hard though. Her Instinct skill had proved itself an effective guide through the fog back in the real world. Other than the wraiths that had latched on to her as some kind of curse and wouldn't shut up about their mommy, how much harder could navigating this weird shit version of London be? Hell, it would make fighting easier, since she could use her Noble Phantasm as much as her master's prana could allow her since there were no civilians to possibly get caught in the crossfire—
"Unnngh…"
Oh, for the love of God.
Mordred trudged across the area that had moments before been her battlefield, the landscape once littered with cramped houses now a flat plain of packed dirt. The clash of Noble Phantasms had annihilated everything in a half mile radius.
Which made it all the stranger when she found a thin teenager on his knees in the dust, coughing as his body curled over itself, an ornate longsword sheathed at his waist.
Was it another one of Assassin's tricks? Was this boy another creepy spirit she would have to banish before it tried to annoy her to death with its giggling? Only one way to find out.
"Hey, you!" she called. "Are you another evil spirit?"
The boy suddenly jerked his head up, his scarlet eyes widening as he saw her face, his left-hand racing to cover the back of his right.
"No…" he croaked. "No, no, no…"
"Great. Good to know, now shut up," Mordred ordered. Seriously, the way his gaze was locked onto her, he must have been in awe of her incredible kingly aura. Not that such adulation wasn't an appropriate response, but she only needed one answer. She'd had enough babbling on from the Ripper.
But, given that he obviously wasn't some sort of manifestation of Assassin of Black, who the hell was he? Some poor soul who got pulled in when the field got launched and the killer teleported to her after Saber of Black fell? What, was it just throwing whatever it had at her in hopes of stalling her from finishing them off? How pathetic.
Still, something about those red eyes were familiar… from Sighisoara.
She frowned. "You're a homunculus. You're with the Black Faction."
"What?!" the boy squeaked, recoiling away from her. "No! No, I'm not with the Black Faction!"
"Don't think of lying to me, you doll," she hissed, Clarent scraping across the ground as she stalked towards him. "The only mages allowed in Romania are the factions or their allies. Now, I know for a fact that you're not part of the Red Faction's forces that were supposed to be in this town, so tell me again, how are you not with the Black Faction? Since you just happened to know who they were."
"I am not with Yggdmillennia!" the boy roared, suddenly growing a spine and leaping to his feet, though he staggered a bit once he was there. Still, he held his ground and stared her in the eye. "I escaped from them. I am not their tool. I am not a doll. I am a person, and my name is Sieg!"
Mordred cocked an eyebrow, not sensing a lie in his declaration. "You escaped, huh?"
The Knight of Treachery had a mixed view of her fellow homunculi. She had some pity for them, disposable beings created by selfish mages as guinea pigs or laborers. But at the same time, she couldn't help but despise them, for simply accepting their empty lot in life, for accepting being someone else's tool. She'd refused to allow such a fate to bind her, to be consigned to nothing but her mother's pawn and had risen to the ranks of the Throne of Heroes itself. So there was no reason others of her kind could not do something similar. They simply lacked the will. It was pathetic.
But this one, he'd escaped. Somehow, he'd found the tenacity to forge his own path and create his own identity, claim his own name. If nothing else, he was commendable for his audacity alone.
The boy drew the sword from his hip. "If you're going to kill me, I won't make it easy for you. Come at me, Saber of Red!"
He was bluffing. She knew he was bluffing, and he knew she knew he was bluffing. His sword was shaking in his grip from terror, the boy perfectly aware that she could kill him as easily as swatting a fly. And for most others who dared to raise a weapon to her, she would have.
But for this one… she was feeling generous. After all, what kind of Knight of Rebellion would she be if she ended his life right after he'd successfully completed his own insurrection?
"Sieg, was it?" she said. "I'll make you a deal. Survive this hellhole until I put Assassin down for good, I'll consider pardoning you for raising your sword against the rightful successor of the King of Knights."
The homunculus' jaw dropped. "What?"
"Did they not make your ears right?" Mordred taunted. "I said I'll consider sparing you if you survive this place. Quite the generous offer, don't you think? It's only fitting for a true king, after all."
"You're letting me go?" Sieg repeated, raising an eyebrow. He glanced about at the destruction left over from her battle. "After all this?"
Mordred shrugged. What could she say? She was in a good mood after taking out Saber of Black. Now she'd just have to deal with Archer of Black and finish off the cursed Assassin, and she would have beaten nearly half of the Black Faction on her own in one night.
And once she tracked him down in this mess, father too. That was the encounter she was most looking forward to.
Sieg glanced down to his covered right hand before his eyes widened in some sort of realization, probably at last getting that his initial awe was fully deserved. He lowered his blade. "I see. Thank you… uh… your majesty?"
Despite the pondering tone, Mordred preened at the title. Finally, between her master and this boy, she was at last getting the acknowledgment she'd been denied in life. That her father had denied her.
Oh, that reckoning was going to be sweet.
The familiar whoosh of an arrow roused her out of her thoughts. She darted past Sieg and sliced a shaft that would have skewered his heart right out of the sky.
The homunculus boy leapt back out of shock, his scarlet eyes wide and his body suddenly panting. "An Archer?"
Mordred narrowed her eyes. She caught a glimpse of familiar, totally not adorable, cat ears flickering through the fog, before their owner had been obscured again just as another figure arrived next to them.
"It would seem my ally needs someone to bail her out," Mordred muttered. "See you around, kid."
"Ri… right." Sieg stuttered. "Thank you, for saving my life."
"Eh, don't worry about it," she waved off as she walked away. "Archer probably just thought you were more dangerous than you looked. She can't see anything in this blasted fog. I guess that's her excuse for why she needs me to save the day. See ya!"
Her helmet closed around her head. Her armor sparked with crimson lightning and she rushed off into the city. She'd save Archer's butt, then track down Emiya and finish him for her master, and finally wipe Assassin's stain of the face of the Earth. Leaving the best for last.
As father deserved.
FATEFATEFATEFATE
Sieg could only blink in dumb, stultified confoundment as Saber of Red blasted off into the direction the arrow had come from. After Siegfried's Noble Phantasm had wiped out all his remaining energy, and indeed would have done so even if he'd used it right after transforming, he'd thought he'd been a dead man walking and instead…
Had… had that really just happened? Was his transformation having some sort of hallucinatory after effects, or had he just come out of that encounter alive? He unclasped his left hand from his right, revealing his two remaining Black Command Seals to the open air. He probably should have considered that just because she saw Saber of Black didn't mean that she'd connect a random homunculus to her dangerous foe.
Still, given how he'd first seen her stomping on Shirou's chest preparing to decapitate him, she'd been surprisingly cordial when she hadn't thought he was an enemy. Well, not cordial, but she hadn't killed him, and indeed, she'd kept Archer of Red from shooting him. There was an arrogance to her, but there seemed to be compassion within her too, he thought.
Maybe it was just his inexperience with human feelings, and he was mistaking aspects that weren't actually there. Or just the horrid wretchedness of his surroundings making even the slightest hint of kindness stand out like a sore thumb. Or that strange lightheadedness that seemed to be sweeping over him—oh no.
Sieg thrust his sword into the dirt like a cane, barely keeping his body upright as his knees collapsed under him. Though hardly out of danger, with the immediate physical threat absent and no longer needing to keep everything together, his panic and terror from what he'd seen finally played out.
The girl on the wall, screaming for the man to stop…
The policeman beating the children black and blue…
The river, so full of blood and excrement and human flesh he couldn't tell if there was any water in the canal at all.
He panted like a mad man, his scarlet eyes wide with uncomprehending horror and sweat gushed down his brow. He didn't know much about the world, but from what Rider, Shirou, Ruler, and the others had told him, he'd thought himself safe in believing it to be, not a perfect place, but at least a fundamentally good place. Their kindness, and Serge's generosity, had seemingly confirmed that to him. But this… this place… it was worse than Caster's workshop. Was this the freedom he sought to grant to his kin? The freedom to walk into hell?
"What is fair is foul, and foul is fair."
Sieg's head shot up as the eerie decree echoed through his bones. Before him stood five children standing in a triangle, all blankly staring towards him. The lead youth, a ragged girl with filthy pink hair stepped forward, causing Sieg to fall on his back in terror, all his instincts screaming for his depleted body to muster some scrap of energy from somewhere and run.
"You're strange," the child remarked. "A broken dolly, pretending to be a knight. Pretending to exist. Pretending the world would let someone who wants to do good exist."
"What do you mean?" Sieg stuttered. "Isn't… isn't it in human nature to help each other?"
The children snickered amongst themselves as though privy to some inside joke. Their giggles echoed throughout the fog, a hundred phantom voices pervading the gloom.
The leader remained stoic, however. "Not at all. The world is cold and cruel and full of pain. We've suffered enough to know that better than anyone. We were made to be discarded, tossed away as stepping stones for others to climb to the top. Just like you, homunculus."
"But… isn't there some way to change it? Some way to make it better?"
"Can you stop the river from flowing?"
Sieg's hands gripped onto his head, his sword cluttering into the dirt. He hardly noticed as his mind raced. He remembered the piles upon piles of lifeless homunculi, his kin, used up and tossed away by Yggdmillennia or Caster of Black. He thought… he thought that in the real world they'd have freedom, the chance to choose their own destinies, for however long they had. But if this hell was the same as the workshop, if it didn't matter how much power he gained, what was the point? What was he even doing?
The lead child was suddenly before him. She hadn't walked, she had simply appeared, his sword in her hand as she blankly stared down at him.
"Now you see," the girl declared. "We are all consumed, born and unborn, washed down the River Thames." She raised the sword. "Won't you be our stepping stone?"
Sieg barely had time to gasp as she brought the blade down.
"Strike Air!"
The girl's yellow eyes widened for an instant before she and her companions were struck by a rush of golden wind, their forms disappearing like they were never there, Sieg's sword clattering to the ground.
"Sieg!" Shirou's voice rang out. The man himself quickly appeared at the homunculus' side, a comforting hand on his shoulder even as his left arm bled profusely from his own wounds. Rin and the King of Knights followed up behind him, the latter's golden blade on full brilliant display. "Are you alright? Where's Saber of Red?"
"I'm… I'm unharmed," Sieg stammered out. "Saber of Red left to aid her ally."
The King of Knights let out an audible breath of relief at that revelation.
"Thank goodness," Shirou sighed. A moment later, his amber eyes glared at the young boy. "You shouldn't have gotten involved like that. Mordred could have killed you."
"I think what he's trying to say is 'thank you for saving my life'," Rin noted, putting emphasis on the latter part even as she kept her eyes, and her gandr, pinned on the dense fog.
Shirou nodded. "That too. Thank you for that. But you shouldn't have put yourself at risk like that."
"She was going to kill to you," Sieg gasped still trying to recover from Assassin's words. "I couldn't let that happen."
"What are you even doing here?" Saber inquired. "Your involvement in this war ended. There was no reason for you to have come to this city."
"I needed to find you," Sieg hurriedly explained, his hands shaking. "I needed your help… to free them… but, if it's the same… then what's the point?"
Shirou cocked an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"
"The way of the world," a conclave of childish voices chuckled from the mist.
"Save the motivation for later," Rin growled. "We've got company."
Shirou nodded and pulled Sieg to his feet, putting his sword back in his hands. Then, the redheaded mage sparked his twin blades into his grasp.
The quartet stood back to back as a horde of lifeless children emerged from the fog.
"The way of the world?" Shirou scoffed, "Please. Your world is a joke. You never even lived in the world. You wouldn't know 'the way of anything.' You only know what you've created for yourself. You love it like this because, despite your psychotic inclinations, you still have some vestiges of the children you've absorbed left in you, children who are inherently 'innocent,' and so you turned murder into a perverse sort of kindness. If all your thralls are conditioned to see nothing but the most hideous and debased parts of humanity, you get your excuse to keep butchering innocent people."
"Life sucks, and then you die," Rin leered at the wraiths. "You never hear that phrase spoken seriously, but you seem to exist by it, despite only having experienced the second part. You only know death, and you want to snuff out life wherever you see it to make sure it doesn't infringe upon your debased idea of reality."
"You talk about suffering, about how everything in the world is inherently vile and that none of it can be changed," Saber lowered herself into a defensive stance, prepared to guard both her Masters, "But you only exist right now by the good graces of a Master, and you have almost certainly had opportunities to do good deeds since you were summoned," The child in front pouted at this but didn't get a chance to bite back before Saber continued, "But instead, you decided to run amok, killing anyone you pleased. You chose that path for yourself. You have no right to complain if your suffering is a direct—nay, immediate— consequence of your own actions. And you wouldn't change this world in any way if it were actually like this."
The five children glared with their eyes, but that was their only protest. The rest of their faces split into twisted sneers before they all dissolved into fog and a multitude of acid green eyes began to melt out of the darkness.
FATEFATEFATEFATE
Chiron really wished he could have ended this fight already.
Yes, the environment favored him, if for no other reason than his opponent lacked a similar skill to his Clairvoyance to assist her navigation and aim. Yes, it appeared that he had the advantage in close quarters combat and could match his foe arrow for arrow at range.
But that was not to say he was in any way safe. He heard the reverberating rounds of childish laughter echo through the mist just as anyone else. He knew it was only a matter of Assassin finding him lacking entertainment before he had to start fending off wraiths on all sides. To be prepared for that, he needed to eliminate his current obvious adversary.
However, just because he held certain advantages did not mean his opposite number was without recourse. Her speed might have been less than his former pupils, but he did not outstrip her by a significant margin in that regard. She had no refined close combat skills, but her tenacity allowed her to escape that range if he could not catch her in a grip, which so far, he had not been able to. All in all, while Archer of Red was a bit rough around the edges, she was obviously a hero that had earned every inch of her renown and a bowman of incredible practice and skill. Had fate allowed them to meet under different circumstances, he would have loved to take her on as a student to increase her abilities to even greater heights.
Alas, this was the Great Holy Grail War, and thus it was his duty to see her dead. A shame.
With her escape towards the now faded violet light having failed, he was steadily able to close the gap with his foe. While he seemed to be slightly faster overall, Archer of Red made such skillful use of her surroundings that he found himself unable to close for Pankration. Inconvenient, but unnecessary. He was an Archer, after all.
In the blink of an eye, he'd notched a trio of arrows and launched them downrange just as Archer of Red landed atop a smoke-spewing chimney. His clairvoyance flashed and he fired another three above her, each one screeching through the air faster than most humans could see.
Just as he'd seen, Archer of Red skillfully leapt up into the air the moment before his first volley landed and obliterated the chimney into dust. She was in the process of backflipping, two of her own arrows already notched for a counterattack, when she saw his second assault and altered her aim so her duo of shots deflected two of his.
Unfortunately for her, his final bolt made it through her defense, though she managed to shift her body so it impacted her upper left shoulder instead of spearing her heart. The lion-eared woman plummeted out of the sky and cluttered back to the roof, though true to her feline appearance, she landed on her feet, as well as her hands.
Chiron wasted no time readying another round of arrows and launched them at his foe and behind her, counting on her to continue her previous strategy and attempt to retreat again, which would send her right into his volley, or be forced to charge forward and engage him hand to hand where he had the advantage.
She apparently chose the latter, rushing towards him with all her legendary speed. Chiron lowered his body weight and prepared for her assault.
Instead, the other Servant of the Bow leapt onto him, using his shoulders as a springboard to pounce into the air and dodge his thrusted punch. The Sage of Heroes was impressed. Using one's surroundings to their advantage was the sign of an experienced warrior, but to be capable of using one's enemies as terrain? Truly he faced a worthy foe.
Still, though unexpected, her maneuver was hardly without recourse.
Shifting his grip to the bottom of his bow frame, Chiron swept his weapon through the air and hooked his opponent's foot in the gap between the top of the shaft and its string. With a mighty heave, he pulled his adversary back down to earth, smashing her back into the roof in a shallow crater. Needing to ensure she did not escape again, the Sage of Heroes stepped in on her upper thigh, and gripped a hand on her ankle and kneecap.
With a hard thrust, the leg broke and Archer of Red howled in pain.
Her maneuverability disabled, Chiron kicked away her bow and hopped back. Now with a stationary target, he raised his own loaded weapon and aimed an arrow straight for the valiant hero's head.
Unfortunately, the thunderous roar of rage echoing from behind informed him that he needed to shift his attention to another danger.
Whipping around, he fired his arrow just as a crimson lightning clad sword came screaming through the fog. While its wielder was also screaming.
He had a feeling this was not going to be pleasant.
Mordred races to save her cat frienemy and Jack finally confronts the Blue Faction head-on. Who will live? Who will die when they are killed? Find out next!
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