So, this chapter was supposed to be out in October, but real life got ahead of me. Then, I took November off to write both it and the chapter that was due then, but by the time I finished, both Draconic and I were being slammed by finals prep. From there, Fanfiction turning off the PM notifications to deal with spambots delayed our communications and here we are. He gave both chapters a look over, but my failures did not provide him with enough time to do much in-depth work on these chapters. However, you all have been extremely patient with me and I cannot justify depriving you of two poll cycles of updates. All mistakes in this chapter are mine and mine alone and I beg your forgiveness for both them and my tardiness. I will be posting the November chapter shortly after this.

So, without further ado, the October Poll Chapter!

Beta-ed by Draconic


Siegfried felt the burst of prana being released first, like a crack of lightning hitting a dam, letting a titanic flood rush free through the breach. He took the barest respite from carving through the latest platoon of dragon tooth warriors to shoot a quick glance upward, frowning momentarily at the twin turquoise sparks as they blazed across the night sky, traveling up beyond the clouds. Green light flickered within the cloudfront like emerald sheet lightning.

And then it rained, as what must have been a hundred-thousand shining arrows burst from the clouds in an unstoppable torrent, raining death upon the Black Faction's flank like falling stars.

The Dragonslayer was unsure if he would be harmed by the attack. There was no question that this was a Noble Phantasm, but the output of magical energy seemed low; he doubted it was capable of penetrating his armor, though he wouldn't know for sure until he was struck. He was far more concerned for the homunculi; it was without question that they were the primary targets of the incoming barrage, and they would easily be torn to shreds by such an overwhelming assault. Even putting aside his more sentimental concerns for the artificial beings, if they and their golem shock troops were to fall, then the Servants of Red would only need to keep him and his fellow heroes occupied long enough for the skeletal legion to infiltrate the castle proper and overwhelm their Masters with their superior numbers. If their ranks were mowed down by this attack, then the Black Faction was sure to fall.

Thankfully, this was not the Mage's Association's territory just yet. And its current king was not quite ready to let his kingdom fall.

Rising like an unholy tide, countless stakes sailed upwards into the sky, as though every forest in Romania had been stripped bare for its sovereign's defense against the lethal storm. All at once, the twin waves of brown and turquoise crashed together, five instruments of impalement slamming into each arrow and shattering the ethereal armaments like cheap glass, though they were all turned to splinters in return. But in the end, not a projectile touched their forces.

"Forward, soldiers of Yggdmillenna! Forward!" Lancer roared, the legendary Impaler pointed his spear towards the enemy and a thousand skeletal minions were instantly pierced from below. The ones that didn't shatter were helpless as their enemies rushed in to dismantle them. Even if his horse was an eerie golem instead of a brilliant white stallion, the king's imperial presence reigned supreme across the battlefield, not an ounce of effort showing despite having just neutralized another hero's ultimate technique. "Crush these wretched invaders and revel in their agony!"

A small smile crossed Siegfried's face and he made to answer his superior's command. This land belonged to the patriarch of House Tepes, and so long as he stood at their side, their victory was well within reach.

Which made his eyes widen all the more when he felt a surge of prana that made the recently used Noble Phantasms feel like firecrackers. Fear, a glorious emotion he'd once thought he'd buried with Fafnir, rushed through his veins, as only two warriors in this war could cause. The radiant blaze descending on the King of Romania confirmed which of them had joined the fray.

Racing from the battlefield, Siegfried leaped into the air, a sky-blue glow encasing his blade. His greatsword swept through the flames, cleaving the gigantic fireball in two. As the blaze dispersed, its kindler was revealed, descending from the heavens like the sun come to set anew.

"Saber of Black," Karna acknowledged, the barest of smiles flickering across his face. "Have you come forward to fulfill our promise? Or shall we wait for the King of Knights to join us?"

Siegfried allowed himself a brief smirk. "How long have you known her identity?"

"I've had my suspicions since our last battle, but I did not know for certain. In fact, you yourself just confirmed it," Karna revealed, bowing his head slightly. "My apologies if you find any deception in my actions."

"There is no need. You asked a question and I answered carelessly," Siegfried shook his head, kicking himself for letting his guard down. "If anything, I shall have to apologize to her when we meet again."

"If you meet again," Lancer of Red raised his spear. "I quite doubt you shall be able to walk away if we battle here."

Whether that was true or not quickly proved irrelevant. The ground surrounding the Hero of Charity suddenly erupted with dark stakes, spikes taller than houses surging up from the earth and rumbling towards the golden warrior. Karna danced into the sky to avoid them, but even he could not dodge them all, even if all they did was shatter against his golden armor.

"Your battle tonight shall be with me, Lancer of Red!" Vlad roared, riding into the fray, the hills of his homeland surging forth at his command. "And it shall be your last. For you face Vlad the Third of Wallachia! The undisputed master of this land!"

The Impaler glanced towards Siegfried. "You have your assignment, Saber. Leave this trespasser to me."

Karna raised an eyebrow, his scarlet cloak billowing in the wind as he weaved through the onslaught, no more effort showing on his face than he would had he been taking a leisurely walk. "So, you would set him against Rider? You may come to regret this. I do not mean to say that your strategy is lacking, mind you. It is a sound plan. It is however, unlikely to bear fruit. Brash as he may be, Rider's skills are quite exceptional."

"Wait, was that a compliment? Didn't know you had it in you!"

Siegfried's eyes widened, his stance instantly shifting towards the new voice. Unfortunately, said voice was accompanied by a flying chariot and a great deal of lightning, hurtling towards him faster than Fafnir had even been capable of moving. Already there was a barren trail of hundreds of trampled homunculi and shattered golems behind it. The knight leapt to the side, rolling out of the vehicle's path just as its trio of stallions tore past him. Even then, he had no doubt it would have electrocuted him within an inch of his life had the Servant in control not spoken beforehand.

Rider of Red grinned ear to ear like a schoolboy, tugging hard on the reins of the three horses pulling his mighty Noble Phantasm, bringing the chariot around for another pass. "Like I told you last time, Saber, I don't need this to kill you. But, when fighting an army, it only seems fitting to use an Anti-Army Noble Phantasm, don't you think?"

"Brash as he may be, his skills are quite exceptional," Lancer of Red repeated himself.

Saber gazed stoically at his opponent's mount. He could see why he hadn't brought it out during their fight in the woods. Though undeniably powerful, it was radiating almost as much magical energy as Achilles himself. His Master hadn't been nearby during their previous skirmish, so there was no way he could have provided sufficient power to use it in combat.

Even so, no matter how close the mage was, what kind of magical reserves must they have to supply enough power to summon an entirely new Servant? For a high-cost warrior like Achilles, not to mention Karna, only the finest of magic circuits could keep up, but this was on an entirely different level, the same as the Black Faction's homunculus 'farm,' and the Red Faction hadn't had nearly enough time to prepare something like that. Where were they getting all this prana from?

This was likely an important question, but if he was being honest with himself, he didn't exactly have a lot of time to ponder the subject. There was, after all, a nearly invincible demigod riding a two-ton war machine about to trample him into paste. He could worry about the discrepancies in the enemy's logistics later. He had to destroy his enemy's mount in the sparse few seconds before Rider came around or he would be in for a very unpleasant pummelling.

Balmung blazed with sapphire energy, his Noble Phantasm charging as quickly as it could. His ultimate attack wouldn't hurt Achilles himself, but it would at least damage his mount. Ideally, he'd reduce the chariot to cinders, but that was hoping for too much. It would all come down to whether he could draw out his maximum power in the sparse seconds before his foe struck. For any normal human, it would have been the blink of an eye. For the two Servants, it was an eternity as they readied their arsenals as fast as possible.

Fortunately, his concerns proved quite unnecessary.

Just as the chariot wheeled around, titanic spikes shot up from the ground and streaked right through the wheels, immediately arresting the vehicle's movement. Achilles scowled, waving his arm to disperse the chariot into green sparks. He immediately dashed away, the stakes chasing after him, biting for his nimble heel.

Siegfried released the buildup of his power, shooting a quick nod of thanks towards Vlad. The King didn't have the time to return it before Karna was on him, his golden lance crashing into the Impaler's own spear.

"I thought you had decided on me as your opponent," the Hero of Charity said.

"You are," Lancer of Black smirked. "But what general would not take a chance at destroying a troublesome foe when the opportunity presented itself? Especially to aid one of their soldiers? A king's power is that of his entire country, and it can easily be divided and reunited at my whim for such trifling tasks."

"Hmm… I see," Karna remarked. "So to prevent you from attacking my ally, I need only bring to bear enough force that you must counter with the entirety of your country's strength. A simple matter."

Lancer's eyes widened in shock at the perceived insult before his face devolved into a vicious, bloodthirsty sneer. "Well, well. You failed to mention his arrogance, Saber. This interloper seems intent on receiving a visceral lesson in pain!"

He thrust out his hand and hundreds of stakes erupted from the earth, Karna darted back from their assault, his armor glittering even in the depths of the night. Truly, the battle between two such titanic Heroic Spirits would shake the world itself.

However, Siegfried had his own duty to perform, forcing him to turn away from the clash between king and demigod. Though he favored the King of Romania's victory without question, he found he could not truly wish for the Lancer of Red's demise either, such a kind soul he was. But that was the tragedy of all wars he supposed, even the fantastical ones brought about by the Holy Grail. In the end, there was rarely a purely evil dragon to slay. It was just good souls brought forth to kill each other, and desperately try to hold onto their beliefs in the process.

Which left him rushing in to confront the other demigod of the Red Faction. He dashed in with Balmung held aloft, knowing only his finest speed stood even a chance of matching his opponent's absurd agility. Especially since there was only one area he could actually strike.

Unfortunately, as he attempted to circle around, Achilles brought up his spear to intercept his blade, forcing him to keep on his opponent's front.

"Not bad," the Greek hero grinned. "Judging from your Lancer's rather persistent attempts to hit my heel, I assume that you know my identity."

Siegfried scowled at another advantage lost, the tides of battle claiming another crucial piece of information. Still, at the very least, it meant he could greet his opponent with honor. "Achilles, son Peleus and Thetis, Hero of the Trojan War. I greet you as an honorable foe."

The Rider nodded. "And I you, Siegfried the Dragon Slayer. Though if I may ask, how the hell did you guys figure out who I was? I mean, I'm good, but not good enough that you'd figure anything out just from our brief skirmish. You didn't even get to see my invincibility in action then."

"Archer recognized you," Siegfried revealed, seeing little harm in answering the query, especially as he sensed a familiar presence at the left edge of the battlefield. "He knew you in life."

"The one Saber and Missy killed? He knew me?" Achilles' brow furrowed. "And he also could hurt me. But I didn't know that many other demigods in life, unless you count… but Missy would have mentioned if she'd seen a centaur."

"It was Chiron," Siegfried explained, subtly inching back to make a break to the left. "He took a reduction in his parameters to avoid being too easy to identify."

"Ha! That's just like him! Always three steps ahead!" Achilles laughed, before a strange melancholy took him over. "And he's dead. Because Saber and Missy ganged up on him. Huh."

Siegfried raised an eyebrow, unbalanced by the sudden aura of grief overtaking the gleeful warrior. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, fine. Just… would have preferred if he'd gone down one on one against someone, honor and all. But this is war, can't blame Missy for doing what she needed to survive. Hell, I'm not sure I could have taken him alone," he admitted, a soft sigh escaping his lips. A moment later, he shook his head and brought his spear up in a ready stance. "But what can be done? We've still got a war to fight and if you and I are going at it, we'll probably be here for a while. Unless I care to get serious, I mean."

Well, that wasn't disconcerting at all. The Black Faction's plan of putting him against Achilles had been reliant on their immunities canceling each other out, requiring them to aim for each other's weak spots, hopefully giving him enough time to find and empower Saber of Blue. But if Rider of Red had a trump card that was capable of bypassing the Armor of Fafnir, then the entire strategy was in danger of collapse.

But then, why hadn't he used it? True, he had attacked with his chariot before, but surely he could simply resummon it now? Vlad was quite thoroughly distracted by Karna at the moment. Why hadn't he fought seriously, either now or back during their skirmish in the forest? If he was truly as powerful as he believed, and given his identity that was likely an understatement if anything, why had he not unleashed that power to claim victory for his faction?

Because, just as Archer had once told him, victory alone was not the point for the centaur's former student. He wanted a true battle, a fight that could press even one of his tremendous talent, the rush of knowing that his life was on the line and a single slip in his hard-earned skills would spell his doom. It was a sensation the Dragonslayer had not known for a long time after he slew Fafnir, only recovering it when he'd encountered Lancer of Red and Saber of Blue.

Siegfried may have had the skills to keep up with the demigod, but without divine blood or a weapon of similar caliber, he could not grant the Greek Hero the duel he desired. But he did know someone who could. Someone he'd already planned to set against him. And if he played his cards right, the warrior before him might even thank him.

He raised his hand politely for a ceasefire. Achilles tilted his head in response. "Something up? You're not giving up already, are you?"

"Not at all," the Saber of Black assured his opponent. "I was merely wondering if you might wish to face a more challenging opponent than myself."

The Rider of Red cocked an eyebrow, reasonably confused by the sudden change of direction, but too curious to leave it be either. "Weird thing to ask for someone trying to save their hide. How much more challenging are we talking?"

Siegfried smiled, utter admiration emanating from his normally stoic face. "The highest of caliber."


FATEFATEFATEFATE

"Well, that did a whole lotta nothing," Mordred deadpanned.

Atalanta scowled from atop the now parked automobile, her gaze glaring daggers at the dark patch of sky where her patrons' arrows had been wiped out so thoroughly by the enemy's ace. Lancer of Black was truly as fearsome as they'd been led to believe.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, that was freakin' awesome," Saber of Red continued, jumping out of the vehicle. "No one's supposed to survive that many arrows coming down at once…" she trailed off, then "…Except father, I guess. Only father could have possibly escaped it unscathed under normal circumstances. And me, of course. But I mean, seriously? What the hell were those things and where were they keeping them all?"

"Lancer of Black," Atalanta provided. "According to the Mage's Association's intelligence, Vlad the Third is capable of summoning an unlimited number of stakes in his homeland."

"Right," Saber's Master droned as he shifted over to the driver's seat. "Well, in the meantime, we've got to keep the priest's plan on track. Saber, you hit the homunculi from their right flank. Archer, you circle around and hit them from their left. That should keep the pincer from breaking down entirely. In the meantime, I'll head back to the outskirts."

"What?" Saber protested. "You're not going to stay and watch me fight!?"

Shishigou sighed and thrust out his finger to the battlefield. At that moment, a column of homunculi and skeleton warriors were vaporized by a massive blast of pink prana from the Hanging Gardens, only to be followed by a burst of solar energy and a bombardment of stakes that slaughtered even more.

"Okay, fair point. You are rather fragile," Saber conceded. She huffed and called up her sword in a flash of crimson sparks. "Fine, but you're missing quite the spectacle. When I crush father, it will be a battle they'll sing songs about, a whole new chapter of my legend to be added to the throne!"

Shishigou smirked, not unkindly, at his Servant. "I'll be rooting for you. Though, if you see Emiya…"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll spare a minute to finish off your boogieman, don't worry."

"Great," he replied. "You alright with this plan, Archer?"

Atalanta shook her head, hopping down from the roof. "No, removing yourself from the battlefield will allow us to fight without concern for your safety. It is the wisest strategic choice. Though, I would prefer to accompany Saber for protection."

The young knight rolled her eyes. "I can't spend every battle bailing you out, Archer. Father is here somewhere, and I will face him!"

Atalanta sighed and turned to Shishigou. Despite her general distaste for mages and her irritation at the necromancer's manipulation in particular, she was confident that they at least had their mutual concern for his adolescent Servant's wellbeing in common. And though he was doubtless privy to more details on the matter than she was, Saber had let slip enough that the huntress was also confident that her relationship with this 'father' of hers was not a positive figure in her life. And the last thing anyone let an innocent child do was confront an abusive parent alone. She had more than enough experience doing that as an adult, and it started a treacherous road that ended with her as a lion.

Unfortunately, Shishigou merely shrugged at her concerned gaze. "Don't worry, she can take care of herself."

Saber scoffed, obviously interpreting the comment differently than her master and Archer. "I'll take your word for it. Just try not to die yet, bowman. Between you and the witch, I'd rather face you as my final opponent for the Grail."

An odd sentiment it may have been to an outsider, but to a Servant, whose only purpose in the world was to fight and die for their chance at the Grail, there was no higher declaration of fellowship than to be desired as a final foe. It warmed Atalanta's heart that this child sought her as that final threshold. How exactly she would handle such a situation should it arise (she couldn't hurt Saber obviously, she was a child, but she also had to claim the Grail to make sure all children were loved…) was a matter for another time.

For now, she had a job to do, dashing off to circle around to the left side of the battlefield to do it, Saber charging straight in on the right as her Master retreated in the car. If Saber tracked down Saber of Periwinkle first, then all she could do was have faith in her skills. But if she found her first, she would show her the errors of unkindness to one's progeny. If Saber had killed her in life, then it should be a manageable fight, if not an easy one.

And if not, well, any proper huntress knew to always aim for their prey's weak spot. And no matter how powerful the Servant, they all relied on a Master.


FATEFATEFATEFATE

"You do realize that you are taking an immense and completely unnecessary risk, do you not, Master? You are putting yourself, and therefore all of us, in danger of being snuffed out all at once. If you die, then I die, and if I die, everything we've done up until now will have been for naught."

"Of course I know the risks," Shirou said, gazing over the side of the Hanging Gardens, frowning the rampant carnage below. Homunculi and golems slaughter their dragon tooth warriors in droves, hundreds of them perishing in turn as their twisted remains of flesh and stone were strewn across the battlefield. Servants clashed like titans stomping through the negligible masses of mortal men, scores of combatants obliterated just as byproducts of the Lancers' clash, let alone the legions annihilated by the emerald maelstrom carving into the head of the Red Faction's advance.

It brought back… uncomfortable memories of his days of rebellion, with only the two armies' artificial components preventing it from equaling that hell.

Nevertheless, it was exactly for that reason that he had to test himself against it.

"Uh, really now," Semiramis huffed, coming to stand beside him overlooking the slaughter below, though she was completely unaffected by it. "You are a master who has complete control over a Servant. So why are you trying to risk your life by entering the battlefield yourself?"

Because he had to know. He had to know if he had been forgiven.

"If my plan goes against the will of God, then I am guaranteed to be struck down on the battlefield immediately. There would be no avoiding it, even for beings such as us," he explained. "If it were to play out like that, then I would solemnly accept my fate. It would mean that God did not forgive me for my failures, in this life and my last."

His white-haired master, slain his feet, crimson blood soaking through the snow. The Greater Grail, the device through which true salvation could be achieved, lifted into the skies by the German helicopters, Darnic sneering down upon all Fuyuki.

Himself, crucified and dying, his brothers and sisters of rebellion fallen and burning around him. The Shogun's forces jeering and mocking his broken body and comrades. His spirit succumbing, his hoarse mouth roaring with shameful curses and hatred.

The Lord took all into his loving arms, but could he be forgiven? Could such a constant failure find heaven for all through his good intentions instead of hell?

And if he had, could... did that mean that his plan… yes…

His serene smile returned to his face, refreshed with indomitable conviction. He whirled on Semiramis, the empress letting out a short gasp of surprise for some reason. "If everything ends up going perfectly however, I can continue. Because I will know then that God has sanctioned my actions. I want to know that I was correct, that the conclusion I came to all those years ago is just. My wish is for the Grail to love all and to heal all. Once I know that God approves, only then can I be sure. Nothing will stand in my way."

For a few seconds, Semiramis had a legitimate expression of shock on her face. At least before she sighed and put on a demure smile. "What you are saying is that you are recklessly heading toward death just to find out if your wish is just. I can't comprehend that."

Shirou cringed, a bit embarrassed by how worked up he had gotten over such a simple explanation. His partner wasn't one to care about whether anything she did was just or not, only that it was what she wanted to do. "Figured as much."

"But if you are not at least given the chance, then you will not be able to move forward, will you?" she concluded, a bit of eagerness taking over her face. "Then I suppose I am left with no choice. Fight to your heart's content and survive this Grail War."

"I thank you," Shirou smiled, raising his new sheathed weapon before him. "With this Miike Tenta Mitsuyo that Caster forged for me, I shall fear no Noble Phantasm. I do not intend to die."

Assassin smirked, the both of them observing one of the Servants of Black rising into the sky on some sort of strange phantasmal beast, half eagle, half horse. "Leave the protection of the Hanging Gardens to me. I'll deal with this pink-haired little girl and continue to provide fire support."

"Excellent," Shirou declared. "I shall take Caster with me then."

Semiramis' smile suddenly soured. "Are you sure that's wise, master?"

"I believe so. If I need to make a quick escape, his Noble Phantasm will be quite useful."

"A quick escape… perhaps you should stick to the edges of the fighting. That will make it easier should it be required."

"Oh? Are you sure? He actually advised that we to go to where it was thickest."

"Yes. I thought as much. A word of advice; never take his advice."


FATEFATEFATEFATE

There was a common saying that the Grail had seen fit to inscribe in her mind every time she was summoned. 'No plan survives contact with the enemy.'

In life, she'd certainly seen dozens of situations confirming that truth, whether it was something as innocent as Tristin and Percival buying the wrong wine for Gawain's birthday banquet or as serious as her fiendish sister sneaking past all of Merlin's vaunted enchantments to steal her sperm on the one night she had a penis. She'd experienced repeat establishments of the proverb's validity during both her previous tenures as a Servant, though with opposite results for the two wars. While her plan to relive her tenure as king had been derailed by Angra Mainyu controlling the Grail from the beginning, the strategy to have her face Gilgamesh at Ryuudou Temple being upset by Assassin had ultimately worked out for the best, with her destroying the corrupted Grail and Shirou defeating the sickening tyrant.

Now, gazing out upon the carnage of the Red and Black Factions' clash, it seemed fate had smiled on them again. After all, what need was there for elaborate deceptions when they could just walk around the occupied enemy Servants and free the homunculi still in the castle right from under the distracted Masters' noses?

Though, not all of their company was able to observe the proceedings so clinically.

"They're… dying," Sieg murmured, the four of them standing atop a hilltop on the southern flank of the battle, the elevation providing a perfect view of the raging carnage below, hundreds of homunculi already splattered across the meadow, with more crumbling by the second. "Can we do anything to help them?"

Shirou came forward and placed a firm hand on the boy's shoulder. "Not the ones in the field. But we can help the ones at the castle. We can free them. But we can't be delayed."

Sieg's fists clenched in impotent fury, but he nodded. Saber's heart went out to the artificial child. Even if he had weathered the horrors within Assassin of Black's world, to behold war was never an easy sight, especially when those one cared for were on the battlefield. She'd sent the Knights of the Round Table into danger more times than she could count, and even if she'd done it without hesitation, as the perfect king would, she still hoped fervently that her friends would make it back alive. That experience allowed her a clear mind as she gazed upon the slaughter between the two factions, Shirou and Rin likewise seemingly unaffected. They had both gone through the Fifth Holy Grail War and Shirou had been desensitized to carnage long before that.

Still, while it had not come to pass, his willingness to suddenly put the Yggdmillennia Masters in danger was still in the back of Saber's mind. While she herself had no issue with the matter, war was never a truly bloodless affair, no matter anyone's best intentions, the fact that Shirou had suddenly advocated for the tactic, combined with his blunt, some would say ruthless, counsel to their young ally caused her some concern. It was quite similar to what Archer might have done, and though she herself had assured Rin that Shirou was far from becoming his alternate self, it was a distressing parallel.

But for now, they could not pay much heed to hurdles that might have been. The Red Faction's floating fortress was getting inexorably closer to Millennia Citadel with every passing moment, and whatever attack it launched would not discriminate between the Black Faction and their artificial assistants. They needed to get in and free Sieg's kin immediately.

Unfortunately, they met their first roadblock as soon as they reached the base of the hill, Saber drawing her blade as she stepped in front of the others. Despite that however, she could not hide the faint smile that flickered over her face. Sieg made no such attempt to hide his own such grin.

"Sir Siegfried," he smiled.

The Dragonslayer returned the young homunculus' joy, the stoic man's face lighting up as soon as he saw him. "Hello again, little one. Despite the circumstances, it is good to see you again." He glanced about the rest of the Blue Faction, his eyes landing on Saber herself. "And to see that you have found such fine allies in your quest."

"Have you come to continue our duel, Saber of Black?" Arturia challenged, her invisible blade ready. "I saw Lancer of Red on the other side of the battlefield, but if you are really so eager that you cannot wait, I will gladly accommodate."

"Oho, she does have spirit. I can see why you think so highly of her."

Saber's eyes flickered to the new voice, Shirou moving to cover her side against the newcomer. He strode towards them with a casual barring, his easy smirk reminding her of Cu Chulainn, though the Mediterranean style of his armor let her know that this green-haired man was not another Irish Lancer. Still, anyone who'd made their way to the Throne would not act so casual in the middle of a warzone without good reason, and Siegfried's watchful eye only confirmed that this warrior was not to be taken lightly.

"But where are my manners? Rider of Red, at your service, Saber of Periwinkle. And friends," the spearman greeted, offering them all a short bow.

Rin raised an eyebrow, her face momentarily paling as she glanced between the other factions' Servants. "Why are the two of you approaching us together?"

Saber's grip on her sword tightened, Shirou summoning Kanshou and Bakuya into his hands. If the other factions had decided to form a temporary truce to deal with their interloping existence, then they really would be at an utter disadvantage.

Fortunately, Rider of Red merely chuckled at their concern. "No cause for alarm. Saber of Black here just promised that you lot would be able to give me a better fight than he would."

Shirou's eyes narrowed with obvious consternation. "And for that, you made a truce with him?"

"Oh, gods no!" Rider replied amicably. "He's just going to give you back whatever fantastically powerful Noble Phantasm of yours he has so you'll be at full power. And then I'll fight both of you. And you'll probably die, but I was kind of hoping that I could get a real challenge. Victory's no fun if it's a sure thing, see."

Saber could hardly believe her ears. Such a proposal, to willingly empower and ally an opposing force against one's self, was inexcusably reckless. How powerful, or battle-hungry, was this Servant that they could believe that this plot was in any way the product of a sound mind?

She turned to Siegfried. "Your Masters have agreed to allow you to return it? Why?"

Siegfried cringed. "Rider has a powerful Noble Phantasm that makes harming him… shall we say, difficult… unless one has certain properties. Properties such as those possessed by your sword. As for returning your scabbard… well, let us consider it a necessary payment for dealing with him. One that will be of great value against so skilled a warrior."

Saber narrowed her eyes at the cheekily whistling man. For Siegfried to believe that she would need Avalon, and for his Masters to be willing to return it to her at all… how dangerous was this Servant?

"And you will not interfere in the process of returning my scabbard?"

Rider of Red shrugged. "I'm here to get the best fight I can as a hero. But if it makes you feel better, I swear on the name of my father, my mother, and… my teacher… that I won't attack you until your Noble Phantasm is returned to you. Nor will I try to attack your allies while they're undefended. It'd kinda defeat the purpose of me waiting here for a fight if I killed the generous person making it possible."

Saber could sense no lie in his tone, but it still seemed far too good to be true. 'Rin? What are your orders?'

"If the Black Faction really is willing to give us back Avalon to deal with this guy, they must have taken one hell of a blow. Or this guy really is that dangerous. Regardless, I'm certain that Siegfried doesn't have it in him to pull off a deception like this, even if he was under orders. And if this is a way to get Avalon back, then we need to take it."

"We can't stay still though," Shirou pointed out. "If we linger, that'll just draw the other Servants toward the battle. And even if Rider of Red and Siegfried won't attack us, I doubt the other Servants will be as accommodating. We'll need to go on ahead, Saber. You handle this."

'Are you sure?' Saber inquired worriedly.

Rin nodded. "If worse comes to worst, I can just summon you with a Command Seal. We'll be fine. Hopefully."

'Very well. If you're sure. I'll finish this up as soon as I can and come join you.'

Rin nodded. "Good luck, Saber."

They both nodded, and the two humans and their young homunculus companion left her to her challenge.

"I accept your generous offer," Arturia spoke aloud, her companions rushing towards the castle behind her. "I look forward to battling alongside you once again, Saber of Black."

Siegfried smiled. "And I you, Saber of Blue."

"Blue?" Rider of Red remarked. "I thought you guys were Peri—"

"We're the Blue Faction!" Rin shouted back, somehow managing to make herself heard over the roar of the nearby battle.

Rider glanced towards the masters' retreating forms, raising an eyebrow. After a moment though, he merely shrugged. "Huh. Guess the priest was misinformed. Weird. I thought Lancer saw the truth about all things, or something like that. Maybe he was confused?"

"Ugh! Just call it a clerical error," Rin sighed, shaking her head before continuing on her way.

Siegfried stepped forward. "Saber, if you would? Our efforts to discover how to extract it proved ineffective."

Saber nodded. "Of course."

She stepped deliberately toward him, raising her hands. Immediately, a soft golden light began to emanate from the scar on his chest, outshining even its usual turquoise glow, a gentle warmth seeping through the King of Knights' very being. Her scabbard was returning to her, a mercy repaid, a kindness and honor put forward. The Everdistant Utopia was a place of tranquility and peace, a place where she could never be harmed and where her impossible ideal had some sense of reality. To have it given back to her, under such conditions, even if in service to a larger strategy, put a smile to her face.

Unfortunately, just as the scabbard was halfway out of Saber of Black's body, the shadow of the flying fortress fell over them all.


FATEFATEFATEFATE

If someone had told Semiramis that she would one day meet a man with whom she would willingly form an alliance — as equals, no less — with no intention of betraying him… well, she would have thought them completely mad, beyond any hope of recovery, and had them bodily removed from her palace.

And yet, here she was, seated upon her throne within her Hanging Gardens, her domain's mystical defenses easily keeping that vexing Rider of Black at bay, hundreds of flying skeletons hounding the pink-haired girl, worrying not about the scratches the wretch might be leaving in her magnificent fortress, but about that foolish Master of hers that had jumped down to the battlefield. Really, these religious types and their gods. She was the daughter of a god and she didn't recklessly throw herself into danger to see if the divine agreed with her or not. She was the queen! Whatever she desired, she'd bring about.

And yet, instead of mocking him for his idiocy as she should have, she found it strangely charming, his earnestness. It helped that he was not a complete fool, taking on the contracts and Command Seals of the rest of the Red Faction before he left, but to counter that wise move he also brought Caster along for 'protection'. As if that blathering fop would be of any use in battle. Really, he should have known better. After all, she still remembered his first words to her after he'd summoned her.

"O Queen of Assyria, in this Great Holy Grail War, I aim not for victory or defeat but for another goal. Will you aid me?"

She'd been so confounded by his intentions, so utterly free of selfishness, that she'd considered just killing him and finding herself a new puppet to be her master. And yet, whether out of gratitude for seeking her out for her skills and her power instead of her beauty, or the sheer novelty of another Servant acting as a Master, she'd remained loyal to him, working with her idealistic little saint to bring about the salvation of mankind. She didn't even think such a silly little fantasy was possible, but if anyone could pull it off it would have to be him.

That is, if he didn't get himself pointlessly slaughtered seeking divine approval. Really, between that pesky Ruler closing in on the battlefield, Lancer of Black who could kill him with a thought, and the other Servants who were beyond his comfortable range at the best of times, it was sheer lunacy for him to be out there. And with that new crest only just integrated into his body, who knew when his body would decide that it did not want to dodge a lethal stake or move him into a decapitating sword strike.

Thus, she found herself overlooking the entire battlefield, keeping track of the southern flank as her master and Caster skirted about for enemies to fight. And where she happened upon a quite interesting discussion.

She didn't know what Rider was thinking, just standing there while two enemy Servants discussed empowering each other and then allying against him. That child may have had few equals as a warrior, but his juvenile lust for battle would see him dead faster than that famous heel of his. And while normally Semiramis wouldn't be concerned about a fool running to their death —she'd given many a push along the way — his death would leave their faction with only Lancer as a trump card. Hardly anything to snuff one's nose at, but as empress, she would much rather not part with such a significant asset.

Normally, she'd prove her status as an Assassin and annihilate the Tohsaka girl and her human allies (was that a homunculus in their group? How quaint). But her Master had given her strict orders to leave that girl unharmed until he got a chance to negotiate with her. Even knowing the tramp was most likely the Kaleidoscope's disciple, his sentimentality over his failure to save this world's Tohsakas demanded he at least speak with her before ordering her death. Unfortunately, her own respect for him left her hesitant to unleash her Noble Phantasm upon the girl, despite the fact that her Servant's current actions would have at least cost her a Command Seal to defend in time.

However, that also meant another target was within reach. While that glowing Noble Phantasm was in transit from Saber of Black to Saber of Periwinkle, both sword-wielding Servants were at their most vulnerable. And though their class was famous for its Magic Resistance, there was no defensive power in existence that could that negate the Rank EX magic of her Hanging Gardens.

With a flick of her wrist, the eight obelisks surrounding her fortress aligned, each one surging with pink prana, enough to annihilate a village on their own. Together, even the mightiest Servant would crumble. Rider of Black panicked and took evasive maneuvers on her hippogriff, but she needn't have bothered. The coming bombardment was not meant for her.


FATEFATEFATEFATE

Siegfried's eyes widened the moment he felt the buildup of magical energy above them. He, Saber, and Rider of Red whirled around, the Red Faction's flying fortress focusing eight glowing stone tablets on them.

"Oh no, don't you dare, Assassin!" Achilles roared. "You will not deny me this battle!"

Unfortunately, despite the Greek hero's outrage, they were still in the firing line and Avalon was only halfway out. While the Rider of Red could easily flee, if the Sabers moved, they'd lose what progress they had made removing the scabbard. Not a problem in and of itself, they could easily just start again, but if the enemy's stronghold remained in the sky, they could just continue to rain down bombardment after bombardment on the pair, never giving them the time to complete the transaction. A tiring exercise that was sure to leave them vulnerable to alternative attacks.

Both of them had powerful magic resistance, but just by getting a general feel of the gargantuan amount of energy building within the tablets, he didn't think it would do any good. Perhaps if they both held onto the scabbard, they could use its healing to survive? No, that wouldn't protect their heads, and a blast that large would strike their entire bodies—

Saber of Blue withdrew her hands from the sheath, its golden glow instantly disappearing. Her posture shifted into enough of a battle stance to assume she'd drawn her invisible sword and stomped towards the fortress.

"An Assassin?" she glared at the sky. "I must admit, I was certain that this was a Caster's work. Gigantic rays of magical energy seem to be a trademark of the class. At the very least, they aren't implanting tentacled sea demons inside children… But I suppose I've already put one devilish Servant of the Shadows to rest."

The gargantuan pink energy blast erupted from the fortress; a cascade of prana powerful enough to level a mountain. Saber raised her blade, the swirling winds parting to reveal the greatest of holy swords in all its glory, a golden glow already building within its steel.

"One more should not present a problem," she shouted up at the fortress. She raised her sword above her head, Invisible Air momentarily dispelling as her holy sword erupted with divine radiance. "Ex…calibur!"

She swung her blade downward and an arc of shining light surged out of its blade, smashing into the oncoming bombardment in a clash of pink and gold. The energies warred with each other, the titanic forces struggling for dominance, the latter slowly pushing the former back inch by inch.

And yet, while Siegfried recognized Assassin of Red's attack — how had an Assassin conjured something such as this? — as merely concentrated mystical power, looking upon the King of Knights' assault… it conjured a strange warmth within him, images long-buried flashing past his eyes. A miller he'd happened upon on a road from Brunswick, who'd asked him to help replace a lost wheel on his cart. A milkmaid from Bamburg who had come to him in tears, pleading for him to slay the bandits who'd murdered her husband. And finally, the one he recalled perfectly, the little homunculus, the boy whose life he'd saved without asking, who he'd given his heart.

For all his life had left him unfulfilled, he helped many people. And gazing upon Saber's sword, upon the pure, shining prayer of hope and exaltation, reminded him more than ever that it was a life of honor. A life well worth having lived, and worth continuing to live, for as long as he had.

How wondrous was this Great Holy Grail War.


FATEFATEFATEFATE

"The oppressors must not be allowed to live! I will not be bound by your… chains…"

Fiore might have thought she'd won the grail already when Berserker of Red finally stopped ranting, if not for the fact that she'd beheld the same beauty that brought about the miracle of his silence. She, him, the nearby homunculi, even Roche and Avicebron gazed up at the blazing golden light, entranced by its radiant shine.

A warm rush of hope trickled through the young mage's body, flashes of herself upright with a smiling Archer and Caules at her side, the three of them examining graphs and runes, unraveling the deepest secrets of magecraft. And as impossible as it was, the logical side of her instantly recognizing that she was probably imagining it, she thought she might have felt the nerves of her legs twitch.

For the first time since Archer's death, since she'd been set forth on the impossible task of bringing Berserker of Red to heel, she wasn't puzzled by the two Command Seals left on her hand. They were there because she was a Master, a mage. And just like any good mage, she would find a way to prevail, no matter the obstacle.

"Incredible," Roche muttered. "Teacher, I didn't think I'd ever see anything more amazing than golems, but…"

"There is no need for shame, Master," Avicebron assured him, his masked face locked on the pillar of light. "It is God's work. A thing of rare beauty."

Well, if even the cold golem maker was entranced, it must truly have been a marvel. Whatever the light was, it purged the doubt and fear within Fiore's heart, filling her with blissful peace.

But it also provided her with an opportunity.

She wheeled herself over to where Spartacus was crucified in the middle of the staging yard, the only way they could hope to restrain him. The mad spirit of rebellion's eyes were locked on to the brilliant shine, his smile for once not insane, but at peace. And most importantly for her purposes, letting her get a word in edgewise.

"What do you see?" she inquired softly.

"Freedom," he murmured, like an incantation, the beginnings of tears welling in his eyes. "Freedom for all to live as they please, without need to fear any oppressor."

Fiore nodded, processing the Servant's new state. Getting screamed at by someone for an entire day generally gave you an idea of what a person was about, but seeing a different side of that identity, a side she could communicate with, at least for a short time, would hopefully allow her to finally turn the Heroic Spirit to her side.

"That's a beautiful dream," she said. "If you win the grail, will that be your wish?"

The Berserker scoffed. "Of course. But more important is my sacred duty to destroy the oppressors, to crush those who would selfishly stomp over others to claim the grail's power." His eyes narrowed upon her, madness seeping back into his expression. "Like you, who have bound my existence in this world to your prana. An intolerable enslavement."

"Then would you like me to cut it off?" Fiore asked. When the madman raised an eyebrow at her query, she continued. "Well? If you don't want to be reliant on me, I won't force you to fight for me."

"What devilish deception is this, oppressor?"

Fiore shook her head. "No trick. If you don't want to be bound to me, I will cut off our connection right now. You'll be free, but it won't be long before you fade from this world. Unless you wish to accept my help. If we work together, not as an oppressor and a slave, but as partners, allies in the name of freedom."

"Allies against the oppressors?" Spartacus mused, but his glare was locked on the back of her hand, specifically her Command Seals. "And yet you would still keep a leash to chain me."

"We both know these wouldn't do a thing to influence you, even if I had all three," Fiore pointed out. "So, what's your choice? Stand alone out of pride and let the oppression of Gaea rip you from this world, or accept my help and fight for the freedom of all people everywhere, so they might one day live out your beautiful dream?"

The Heroic Spirit of Madness churned within his chains, pulling at his shackles in a desperate attempt to escape his bindings, but Caster's work held firm. At last, the great gladiator sneered. "Very well, mage. I will accept your support. But if you attempt to control me, to chain me, I shall crush you like any other oppressor!"

"Fair enough."

Fiore quickly completed the contract and nodded to Caster, who released their new ally. Spartacus snatched up his oversized gladius and, for a brief moment, the young mage feared she'd judged him wrong, that this volatile bomb of rebellion would cleave her in two before she could take another breath, having seen her strategy from the first.

But, no. She was dealing with a Servant of Madness, and with her magical energy powering him, he stampeded out the castle door, roaring "OPPRESSORS! AHAHAHA!" into the night.

"Well, I must admit, I did not believe you would be able to manage it," Avicebron noted. "I did not think you had such talent for base manipulation."

In truth, Fiore herself hadn't known if she'd had it in herself. She hadn't lied to her new Servant, but she had most definitely skewed the truth in her favor. That was still deception, and though it was the most standard of a mage's tricks, she'd never been all too fond of it. That must not have meant she was bad at it, even if the act left a rancid taste in her mouth.

Still, as she gazed back upon the titanic pillar of golden light, as that warmth like a spring day flowed through her, she was reminded just what she fought for, just what she was striving for. And while she was not at peace… she found that she could live with her choice.

"Caster, if I may ask, what do you see when you at it?"

"Eden," the golem maker replied. "As God intended it."

Fiore didn't know why, but something about his answer made her blood run cold.


FATEFATEFATEFATE

If he hadn't already been sure of Saber of Blue's identity before, he was now. There was not a hero in the throne who could look upon that radiance and not recognize it for the Sword of Promised Victory they had the honor to behold. Its prayer of exaltation, of meaning to their constant striving was a miraculous balm to whatever troubles might have pained their souls.

True, Karna possessed no such troubles, quite satisfied as he was with his lot in life and his current existence. But it was an undeniable pleasure to gaze upon the light and be filled with images of a paradise he knew could never have been. Arjuna and the Pandavas, himself and the Kauravas, their parents, commoner, royal, and divine, all seated around a single table partaking in a simple meal, laughing mirthfully like the family they were, all grudges, wars, and betrayal forgotten.

It was a lovely fantasy. He would have to thank the King of Knights for allowing him to indulge in it.

He turned away the titanic clash of light, Assassin's gargantuan ray of prana slowly but surely being pushed back by the light of the greatest holy sword. Whatever the outcome of that clash, he had his own battle to complete.

Fortunately, his opponent had been just as entranced by the golden shine as he had, the ruthless King of Romania donning a blissful smile in place of his previous bloodthirsty smirk.

"A wondrous sight, is it not?" Karna stated, drawing the Impaler from his stupor. "I am curious. What does a ruthless monarch, who butchers his enemies so thoroughly that their darkest nightmares could never hope to compare, wish for, in his heart of hearts?"

A barrage of black stakes answered him, the demigod dancing away into the sky.

"For starters, your head on a platter, Lancer of Red!" the king roared, his hungry grin returned with a vengeance. "Your honor in rousing me from my daydream does you credit, but it was far from the wisest of strategies!"

Perhaps. But blindsiding his opponent like that was hardly necessary. Though it was curious that his Master was so easily able to handle his rather extensive magical energy requirements, Karna was confident that he would be able to continue fighting for quite some time, with more than enough strength to eventually overwhelm the King of Romania and his country.

More intriguing was the truth beneath the ferocious monarch's chastisement, revealed to him by his Discernment of the Poor. The fury behind the taunt belied a noble desire, a dream of a nation no longer in need of the protection of the Great Vlad the Impaler, a land that could simply be ruled by the noble spirit that was Vlad Tepes III. It was such an innocent and simple desire, but Karna estimated that like his own fantasy, it was one that the other Lancer had long since known to be impossible, even before his death.

The time when they were men who could have led simple lives had long past, if it had ever come to begin with. Now and forever, they were heroes, elevated to legend, and bestowed the privilege, curse, and duty to stand amidst the currents of time, titans of humanity paving the way for the countless future masses to live, treasures they'd never get to meet, but oh so beautiful all the same.

And yet, through the Holy Grail War, they were able to see the future they'd fought for, to see the evolution of humanity they'd believed in. Truly, no matter how bloody, this conflict was the highest of honors. He could only hope that all the others were enjoying the battle as much as he was, eagerly dodging the relentless bombardment of stakes streaking for his skull.


FATEFATEFATEFATE

Semiramis was very much not enjoying her current situation.

The King of Knights?! Saber of Periwinkle was the blasted King of Knights?! How? Why?! And since when was King Arthur a woman?

"Ooooh," Rider of Black murmured on the monitor. "Pretty."

Never had Semiramis been more thankful for such an asinine outburst. The sheer spike of annoyance that flared within her at Rider's inane comment allowed her to collect herself from her panic and start conceiving a course of action.

Hanging Gardens' bombardment was being pushed back — no damn surprise — the most famous of all swords in the history of the human race was hardly going to be a weak Noble Phantasm. Its shining golden light bathed nearly the entire battlefield in its glow, homunculi and even several Servants pausing in their battles for a brief moment to bask in its radiance. Even deep within her throne room, Semiramis could feel the tingle of its warmth, a vision of her and her Master simply lying back in a garden together…

And it was sickening! A prayer for hope? For simple peace? Preposterous! She was an empress, a monarch with divine blood running through her veins! She would not be placated with mere simple satisfaction! Her desires were the height of luxury, encompassing the entire world! She would have all she desired, from her conquest, her domain, and… her Master.

Regardless, while Excalibur was forcing her energy blast back, it was not overwhelming her completely. Given the titanic power of her Gardens and the fact that she had a good few centuries over her opponents, that really spoke more to the King of Knights' strength than her own. And though she had some measure of respect for another female ruler, the world could not serve two monarchs. She would close the gap and crush this interloper.

'Master, a Command Seal if you would?'


FATEFATEFATEFATE

Arturia allowed herself a faint smile as her power surged through her, Excalibur's light pushing back her foe's assault bit by bit, slowly creeping back into the heavens. She was surprised that an Assassin of all classes was able to conjure this much magical power, but it would not be enough. While what she had told Rin before about not being able to completely destroy the floating fortress in one shot was true, it was still a fortress. And her Noble Phantasm was made to destroy them, meaning that with the stronghold as its target, her blade's already considerable power was augmented even further.

Destroy it completely? At this point, it was fairly unlikely. But if she hit the right spot, she most certainly could tear it out of the sky.

Unfortunately, despite the clear superiority of her Noble Phantasm, her slow but consistent advance suddenly halted, their clashing energy beams suddenly churning at a standstill. Then, the flow began to push back, the pink prana blast grinding down on Excalibur, swiftly forcing it back to ground.

Arturia grimaced, quickly discerning what had occurred. Such a sudden increase in power could only have meant that Assassin of Red's Master had used a Command Seal to boost her assault. If a Master and Servant's wills were one, it was entirely plausible that the seal could raise the fortress' assault to surpass Excalibur.

Of course, that meant that she and Rin could do the same to counter this new complication. It was not preferable, they only had three after all, but death was even less of an option, and since she was a bit too preoccupied to remove Avalon from Siegfried, she didn't see any other—

"Balmung!"

A pillar of pale sapphire blazed into the sky, side-by-side with Excalibur's blast and crashed into the pink surge, emerald sparks crackling off the collision as a hurricane roared across the battlefield. Arturia glanced to her side, Siegfried's greatsword thrust up high, bleeding power into the heavens. He flashed her a small smile.

The King of Knights smirked and nodded back, redoubling her own efforts. The twin columns of gold and blue rammed through Assassin of Red's blast of prana, streaking upward to cleave the flying fortress from the air.


FATEFATEFATEFATE

"The light of exaltation! The jubilant, radiant rays of a dawn that could never come again!" Shakespeare raved, his eyes sparkling under the rays of the dazzling Noble Phantasms. "Hiding under the cloak of Periwinkle was none other than the noblest champion and ruler, the forger of utopia, betrayed by blood and those nearer still, the King of Knights stands against us on this wondrous field of battle!"

He leaned in towards Shirou and coughed, a twitch of nervousness mixing in with his boundless excitement. "I'm afraid to say this Master, but it seems quite the obstacle has appeared in our path. And if the Empress is unable to protect the gardens…"

Then they were finished. Without the Hanging Gardens, they had no way of both housing the original Masters of Red as prana batteries or transporting the Greater Grail from Trifas. Not to mention that Shirou very much did not enjoy the idea of Semiramis dying, his heart aching strangely at the thought in a manner he could not recall it ever doing before.

But most importantly, his dream would be gone. As the warmth of Excalibur's light flowed over him, he saw it. The fulfillment of his dream, the redemption of humanity. No more would there be suffering, or evil, or hatred. Just peace and love. A world where no one cried. For sixty years he had toiled for it and he could not allow anyone to stand in his way now, not when he was so close!

He spread his arms wide, the red markings of his Command Seals projecting into the air once more, now seventeen instead of eighteen. If the one he had provided to boost his Assassin was not enough, then he would simply have to try an alternate approach.


FATEFATEFATEFATE

Woah. Achilles had been pissed at Assassin for… well, being Assassin, but with what had sprouted from her actions, he was actually wondering if he might have to thank the Queen of Assyria in the near future. You know, if she survived the double Noble Phantasm blasting she'd provoked on herself.

Seriously, Saber of Black was setting him up to fight the King of Knights? That was awesome! And then the both of them unleashing their swords' full power to obliterate Semiramis' bombardment? It was like Zeus himself had sought to strike them down with a thunderbolt and they'd spat it right back in his face! Incredible! No wonder Lancer tried to call dibs on the two of them. They hadn't even gotten that sheath back into Saber of Peri — Oh, right, it was Saber of Blue, now — anyway, they hadn't even gotten that sheath back into Saber of Blue yet and he was already raring for their fight!

He probably should have interfered. Maybe stabbed one of them before they blew away the Hanging Gardens… but hey, the Empress had brought this upon herself by attacking them when he'd made a warrior's bargain to face them in honorable combat. Besides, attacking them from behind would defeat the purpose of making that agreement in the first place. It was unbefitting of a true hero.

And thanks to that light from the King of Knights' blade, he remembered all too well what happened when he did not conduct himself as a hero should. All his mistakes flashed through his mind: Hector, Penthesilea, Patroclus, countless others. His wrath, his pride, his petulant, childish rage. The light gave him a glimpse of what might have been if he'd kept to his honor, his friends alive and hearty, his enemies given respectful burials. It showed him a glimpse of how spectacularly he'd failed. He wondered what Chiron would have said to him in that moment, maybe a chastisement about letting himself get caught up in morality in the middle of a war, but apparently, he was already dead. And he hadn't even gotten to see him. He'd have to ask Missy about exactly how she and Saber had beaten him—

"Rider!" the priest's voice echoed through his head. "By my Command Seal, use your shield to defend the Hanging Gardens!"

"What?!" Achilles squawked, but already he was consumed by a flash of white light.

When his sight returned less than a moment later, he was back on the rim of the Hanging Gardens. The wind rushing through his hair was no longer the brisk breeze from their advance on Trifas, but a thunderous gale spawned from the approaching onslaught of legendary light, Assassin's obelisks already retreating as their crumbling attack finally failed completely. The raging intertwined pillars of blue and gold roared upwards towards the fortress, the Hero of the Trojan War all that stood in their path to annihilation.

Of course, with the Command Seal's magic spawning his shield on his arm, he was more than enough.

"Akhilleus Kosmos!"

The divine bronze glowed with the fire of the Olympian forge that had crafted it, a gigantic emerald energy dome expanding out from its moderate form. The combined attack of the two Sabers slammed into the shield, the radiant light of promised victory and the phantasmal power that felled a dragon crashing into the barrier with all their legendary might, strength enough to surely reduce entire cities to ashes.

But Achilles' defense was far beyond that. His shield was a world unto itself, enclosed by an azure sky forged by Hephaestus himself, cosmic energies fused throughout the metal to bring forth the alternate dimension as his ultimate Noble Phantasm. Against it, even his exalted foes could do not but flounder.

Within a few seconds, it was over, the sky night once more as the glow of the knights' onslaught faded from the heavens. The Rider of Red recalled his shield back into its compact form, the emerald energy dissipating until it was only bronze once more, not even scratched by the luminous assault it had just warded off.

"Okay, what just happened?!" Achilles roared, both physically and mentally. "Priest? Priest?! Damn you! Assassin! I know you can hear me! Answer me, Assassin, or so help me I'll tear this barren pigsty of yours out of the sky myself!"

A mystical buzz of static crackled in his eardrums before the equally unpleasant sound of the empress' voice replaced it. "Calm yourself, Rider. You have my thanks for saving my gardens, but don't think that gives you the right to insult me."

"Insult you? I'll do more than insult you!" Achilles snarled. "How in the name of Hades did your Master just use a Command Seal on me?!"

"A question you can rest assured will be answered once the Greater Grail is in our hands. For now however, we are still in the middle of a battle. I'll need you to remain here for now, in case our enemies decide to put their differences aside again."

"What? I'm not going to—" another crackle of silence informed him that she'd severed whatever magic had allowed her to project her voice into his mind. He snarled. Cowardly witch. However he had done so, the priest's Command Seal had been to defend the Hanging Gardens, which meant until they no longer needed defending, Achilles was trapped up in the sky. The glorious duel he'd been promised with the Sabers, stolen right out his hands just like that! It was infuriating!

"Hey! Hey, you!" a cheerful call drew his vision to some pink-haired girl riding… some birdhorse? What had Chiron called those things in training... hippogriffs, right! He was doing loop-de-loops on a hippogriff as his lance tore through Assassin's hordes of flying skeletons. "You okay? You look like you're having a rough time!"

Achilles sighed bitterly. "That's one way of putting it. I just had the most amazing fight stolen right out from under me, and I'm pretty sure there's some crazy underhand mage politics going on inside my Faction."

"Oh, ouch. That doesn't sound fun," the warrior who could only have been Rider of Black replied sympathetically before flashing a bright smile as his mount tore apart more boned familiars. "Anything I can do to help?"

The Greek Hero tilted his head to the side. "Well, now that I think about it…" his spear flashed by into his left hand. "Can you try to stay alive for a bit? I can't leave this place, so you're probably the best fight I'm going to get any time soon."

The other Rider paled. "Well, I mean, that wasn't exactly what I meant. Besides you don't want to fight me, I'm a terrible fight! I'm weak, really weak. Like, you have no idea how—aw crud!"

To Achilles' irritation, he wasn't the cause of his opposite number's distress. Instead, a hexagonal prism of pink glyphs flashed into existence around him. Lightning crackled around him and his hippogriff, the flying knight shrieking in agony as the electricity coursed through him.

At last, the sparks faded, and the glyphs disappeared. The hippogriff evaporated into blue particles and Rider of Black plummeted from the sky.

"Aw, come on!"


FATEFATEFATEFATE

She saw the light. She could never have mistaken it. That glorious, heavenly light, the prayer of exaltation, the warmth of hope that could never be realized seeping through her soul. Even if she hadn't seen it a thousand times in life, no hero could possibly have mistaken that glow for anything but the sword of the King of Knights.

And that meant that it was where Mordred needed to be.

Screw the right flank. Screw the priest's plan. Father was on the left flank, to the south, and Assassin had already tried to cheat her out of her battle. She had failed, of course. Thank god for that. Father wouldn't normally have struggled so much. When it became clear that Father was driving her back, the witch had clearly used some underhanded means of gaining the upper hand. Either a boost from a Command Seal or doing something truly vile to some commoners.

Of course, even if father had lost on that front, he still would have survived. But Assassin would still have stolen an opportunity from her by injuring him. Killing father while he was injured wouldn't prove shit. There was no way he'd been beaten by a mere witch, but there was no telling if father might be ganged up on and be killed while recovering. Or more importantly, before she had a chance to meet him for a final duel. Father was good, but against half-a-dozen legendary heroes? That probably wouldn't go so well. It'd take at least five to do it, but it might happen now that the others knew his identity. No fool would hesitate to destroy King Arthur in war if given the chance.

Mordred would not allow that. Father's head was hers and hers alone! And she'd kill anyone who tried to interfere otherwise.


FATEFATEFATEFATE

King Arthur. Saber of Periwinkle was King Arthur. Which meant Saber of Red was Mordred.

A lot of things suddenly made sense in Atalanta's mind. The perfect king? There was no such thing. Obviously. The king of legend was merely a tyrant, a dictator who exercised expert propaganda to craft a narrative of their own exaltation, a story so expertly falsified that even the Throne of Heroes accepted it as fact.

No, that wasn't possible. If Arthur was anything like Mordred, and he would have to be, he must have been earnest to a fault. Which did credit to his name, but made his failure to do right by his child that much worse, and there was an inherent contradiction as well. Whatever virtue the King of Knights possessed, none of it had ever been directed toward Mordred. One only needed to spend a moment with her child to see the scars of her cruelty. Whatever peace was glimpsed in the golden light, whatever vision of children loved unconditionally she'd seen in Excalibur's warm glow, it meant nothing if wielded a wicked cretin who would never see it through.

Thus, she narrowed her archer's eyes at the three figures dashing away from Saber of Black — didn't Mordred say she'd killed him? — and the false paragon, half a mile away but to her, they might as well have been standing right next to her. Since there was only one woman among them, her target was obvious. And with no Servants nearby to protect them, this would be a simple matter.

She drew back her bow and let her arrow fly.


FATEFATEFATEFATE

He never really understood why he had his sixth sense. Rin had once mentioned that all mages had it to some extent, but his seemed more pronounced than others', like how he had sensed Rider's sneak attack back at Homurahara before her. Perhaps it was just his more extreme brushes with death than most, perhaps it had something to do with his origin, a sword always ready to be drawn from its sheath. Whatever the case, he knew when they were in danger, and Rin specifically was in danger now.

His danger sense pointed him in a general direction and his prana sense quickly ascertained that Archer of Red was the most notable magical energy signature in that area. He quickly reinforced his eyes and saw her drawing back her bowstring.

She would kill Rin with that shot. Rider had been powered by Shinji and he'd still barely blocked her chain. He'd seen firsthand that he couldn't deflect Atalanta's fire, she was too fast, her rate of fire too swift. Against her, there was nothing he could do.

At least, nothing he could do as the Shirou of now.

His will flew down his arm, just as it had all those years ago in Fuyuki. A power just beyond mere magecraft but just shy of True Magic coursed through his muscles as one of his Black Command Seals began to glow, and the aria Sieg had told him of finally flowed past his lips.

"I order this body! Heaven's Evolution!"


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