Day 6: True Rider — A Vengeful God
As the sun rose over Fuyuki and the sounds of morning traffic filled the air, True Rider Medusa broke into an empty room in a motel not too far distant from the Matou family mansion. Standing in front of a mirror, she contemplated the action she was about to take.
Medusa's situation was a rather unusual one. Shinji Matou, who had been acting as her Master, was dead. However, because of his inadequacy as a magus, she hadn't been getting her prana from him in the first place. Rather, it was provided by the Crest Worms which Zouken Matou had implanted into her body. Thus, Shinji's death did not automatically doom her to disappearance, as would be the case for other Servants who lost their Masters. So long as Zouken continued supplying the worms within her with fresh prana, Medusa could continue to exist.
However, Medusa didn't want to rely on the worms. As Zouken was capable of observing the world through their senses, he would know that Shinji had died. He might decide that Medusa was now useless without Shinji to order her with Command Spells, and instruct the worms within her to cease providing prana. Or, he might decide to punish her for her grandson's death, and instruct the worms to kill her by devouring her from the inside out. Or, he might even try to use the worms to take over her body and turn her body into a grotesque meat-puppet, just as he had used the worms to steal so many other bodies to replace his continually rotting flesh.
Medusa could accept the possibility of her death, but she would not consign her fate to Zouken's whim. If she was doomed to run out of prana and disappear, then so be it: she had allowed the Crest Worms to defile her flesh for too long, and would permit it for not a moment longer. Looking straight at the mirror, Medusa pulled the blindfold-mask Breaker Gorgon off of her head.
Medusa stared at her herself, straight into her own inhuman, crystalline-grey eyes. The worms within her, tapping into her senses to fulfill their role as Zouken's spies, looked through her eyes and saw her looking upon herself. At the same time, Medusa visualized the worms in her mind, picturing their positions within her body based on the squirming sensations she had felt when calling on their prana.
It was a somewhat indirect form perception, but it was enough for her purposes. Her eyes had been cursed by the gods so that any who saw them would be turned to stone. The Mystic Eyes of Petrification, Cybele, had two conditions for activation: that Medusa look upon the victim, and that the victim look upon her eyes. But it did not matter how the victim perceived her eyes: whether they looked upon them with their own eyes, or pictured them in their mind's eye, or even if they looked upon them through the eyes of another. The worms looked out through Medusa's eyes into the mirror and saw those same beautiful, deadly grey eyes staring right back at them.
Medusa looked upon the worms. The worms looked upon Medusa. The curse manifested, and her Mystic Eyes did their deadly work. Within seconds, Medusa felt all of the worms with her body spasm violently and grow hard and cold. Medusa briefly shifted to spiritual form, and the foul creations which had once writhed within her flesh and infested her organs now fell to the floor like a rain of gravel.
Medusa retook physical form, and felt her prana reserve begin to diminish. The clock had now officially started: she was a Servant with no Master, cut off from the prana necessary to anchor her to the world, and only a short time to locate a new Master or else disappear.
There was one thing Medusa wanted to try. If it failed, she would resign herself to her fate and merely wait to disappear; but her heart demanded that she at least make the effort. Medusa had originally been summoned by not Shinji Matou, but Sakura Matou. Sakura was the one who Medusa should have served all along. And currently, she was being held by Zouken in the pit of parasitic Crest Worms beneath the Matou house. Medusa had a dark suspicion that the abuse she had suffered at Shinji's hands was only a pale shadow of the torments that Zouken was putting Sakura through. And Medusa was not prepared to allow that.
Due to the method of her summoning, Medusa felt a special bond with Sakura. Most magi, when summoning a Servant, used a catalyst — an ancient artifact connected to a specific hero who they believed would give them an edge. Sakura, however, had performed her summoning without using an artifact. In such cases, the magus themself became the catalyst, calling a Heroic Spirit with a nature or personality similar to their own. Medusa could not look at Sakura without seeing herself: beautiful but cursed, suffering under the weight of a tragic fate. Because there had been no one to help her, Medusa had become a hideous monster, the antithesis of everything she once was, until finally a hero had deemed her a threat to everyone around her and slain her the rest of the world's benefit. From what Medusa had seen, Sakura was currently in danger meeting a similar end. If there was anything she could possibly do to aid Sakura and save her from such a dark path, then she was obligated to try.
Medusa pulled the Breaker Gorgon facemask back over her eyes. She would rescue the girl from that profane pit and ask if she might be permitted to become Sakura's Servant. If Sakura consented, then Medusa would be able to fight with ten times the strength, knowing that she had a Master actually worth fighting for. And if Sakura declined again, then Medusa would allow herself to run out of prana and disappear — but would have freed Sakura from the Crest Worms which even now defiled her the way they had defiled Medusa, and would thus be able to vanish without any lingering regret.
Matou house and the surrounding grounds radiated a foul miasma; and Medusa knew that while they might seem beautiful on the surface, they were infected with teeming masses of the insect familiars controlled by that old monster Zouken. She advanced cautiously, unsure if they would react to her presence. Zouken was certainly watching her through them; and though he had not commanded the worms within her body to take any action at the time of Shinji's death, he'd had plenty of time to think things over since then. She was ready to remove her Breaker Gorgon at a moment's notice should a swarm of the foul insects try to overwhelm her, but her trespass onto the grounds elicited no reaction from the familiars. It seemed Zouken was content merely to watch, at least for the moment. Medusa nonetheless kept her guard up: things might still turn ugly when she tried to bring Sakura out. Ideally, Sakura would make a contract immediately and Medusa would gain the prana support necessary to summon her Pegasus and fly the two of them to safety. If Sakura once again declined the contract, however, then Medusa would carry her out on foot. She wasn't going to let Sakura continue to rot in this dark, corrupt place.
Though she felt a myriad of eyes upon her as she moved to the house door, Medusa did not sense any motion from the watching insects. She was not certain whether to feel relieved or unnerved: it was fortunate that she did not have to fight, as she could not use her mystic eyes indefinitely without prana support from a Master and even familiars now posed a potentially significant threat to her; but she did not at all like the idea that Zouken might still have some purpose in mind for her.
As she descended the stairs to the basement, her sense of being watched faded. This should have diminished her unease, but instead only increased it. The basement should have contained the highest concentration of familiars of any location within the house; when she'd been summoned in the dark pit in the center of the underground room, there had been so many worms that they'd been like a living carpet. There must have been thousands of the creatures devouring the flesh and souls of wretched victims so that Zouken could harvest their prana: to support Medusa in lieu of Shinji's deficient magic circuits, and to craft the counterfeit Command Spells from which he had forged the Book of the False Attendant. Now, where there had been a mass of twisted, writhing life, Medusa felt only emptiness. The magic saturating the air felt different as well. Zouken's magic felt like a disease, an insidious rot which corrupted everything it touched. The magic filling the basement now felt like an all-consuming shadow: inescapable and infinitely deep.
Medusa stepped cautiously into the dark basement. Lack of light should not have hindered her, since she perceived the world through magical senses, but the shadows now shrouding the room seemed to exist on a spiritual as well as physical level. The darkness felt oppressive, like it was pressing down on her and stifling her perception.
"Sakura?" Medusa called.
Only silence answered her. Her trepidation growing, Medusa descended the stone stairs into the worm pit. The stones were bare, now, without a trace of the great multitude of familiars which had once filled the pit. It was as if every last remnant of the insects had been scoured away — or swallowed whole by the bottomless shadows which seemed to press in even closer within the confines of the pit.
"Sakura?" Medusa called again. "It's me, Rider Medusa, who you summoned. I have been freed from my previous contract and wish to serve you, if you will permit it. But even if you do not desire to have me as your Servant, I have come to at least free your from this cursed place."
This time, a chuckle echoed through the pit. The voice was unfamiliar, and carried a sinister edge to it that sent a shiver down Medusa's back. She immediately raised her nail-like daggers to a guard position.
"Who's there?" she demanded.
In response, the shadows shrouding the pit began slowly parting like curtains, and Sakura's form was revealed. She stood rigidly, as though frozen in place, her face as blank and expressionless as that of a doll. Alarmingly, a heavy chain seemed to be embedded in her chest directly above her heart, a dark stain marring the skin around its anchor point. Medusa gasped — such impalement would surely be fatal to a human. After a moment, though, she sensed that Sakura was still alive — and then she perceived the chain's true nature. It was made not of metal, but of some kind of dark magic. Though it appeared to be driven into Sakura's heart, it had actually pierced not her flesh but her spirit. The darkness spreading across the surrounding skin was not blood, but some kind of magical taint; observing more closely, Medusa could see blotches on other parts of Sakura's skin as well, almost seeming to form a pattern. Some of the marks occasionally pulsed with a dull red light as they were fed by whatever unnatural energy was flowing down the chain into Sakura's body.
Medusa quickly traced the chain back to its source. The tainted chain could only be a Noble Phantasm, so it was no surprise to her to see that the other end was being held by a Servant. The identity of that Servant, however, made Medusa take a step backwards in shock. Impossibly, Medusa's magical senses were telling her that she faced an opponent below to the forbidden class of anti-heroes and villains: Avenger.
The Avenger was still wrapped in the unnatural shadows; in fact, it seemed to be the source of them. It had a young and somewhat androgynous appearance, but from the way its dark hair was cropped short and the fact that it wore a male kimono, Medusa guessed it to be male. From what Medusa could make out through the darkness, he carried no weapons other than the chain and wore no armor other than the seemingly fragile kimono. In fact, he hardly at all looked the way she would expect a strong and battle-ready Heroic Spirit to appear. His body appeared unhealthily thin, his skin was nearly as pallid as corpse, and there was a feverish sheen of sweat upon his forehead. Servants were not susceptible to mundane illness, and yet the Avenger undeniably possessed a sickly constitution.
It was true that there were great and mighty heroes who had dominated on the battlefield only to later fall victim to disease — Alexander the Great, King of Conquerors, being perhaps the most notable example. However, when summoned as a Servant, a hero was supposed to appear in the prime condition of his life, gaining a spiritual body which lacked any frailties which might have burdened his mortal shell. Had this hero been someone so weak and frail that this sallow, emaciated state represented the very pinnacle of health during his life? It seemed unlikely that someone saddled with such a fragile body could accomplish epic deeds worthy of elevating him to the Throne of Heroes. Unless... he could be a Counter-Guardian, a spirit who had pledged service to the World as a Servant rather than reaching that state by winning fame and glory. Or, it was possible that the Servant's sad state was a result of being called to the Avenger class. If a hero was a great warrior in his young life and then studied magecraft and became a great magus in his later years, summoning that Servant as a Caster would result in it having a weaker and more elderly body than if summoned as a knight-type like Saber. The state a Servant was summoned in reflected the pinnacle of his ability during the time he embodied the aspects of that class — physical skill for Saber, magical skill for Caster. The Avenger class centered on the aspect of evil. Someone who had only done evil during a time when he was afflicted by poor health, but who had later recovered and gone on to do heroic deeds that elevated him to the Thrones of Heroes — being summoned as Avenger might leave that person stuck in the sickly form he'd possessed while a villain.
Whatever the cause might be, the Servant's unhealthy appearance was accompanied by the lowest parameters that Medusa had ever seen. She'd thought herself weak when saddled with that incompetent boy as her Master; the boost to her parameters was so negligible that they hadn't noticeably dropped following his death. But even now, without a Master or source of prana, she still surpassed this sickly Avenger in every attribute. Despite having already expended a significant amount of energy earlier in the night during her battle with the masked False Rider, she was confident that she would be more than a match for this unnatural Servant in combat.
"I command you to release Sakura at once." Medusa said.
The Avenger's face shifted, though through the darkness Medusa could not tell whether he was grinning or scowling.
"What right have you to command me?" the Avenger asked. "I, who am your God?"
"My gods are the pantheon of Greece." Medusa said. "I cannot identify you, but you are certainly not one of their number."
"You will worship me soon enough." the Avenger said. "The Great Grail has begun to spill. Soon its curses will scour the land, and no god or man shall remain save myself and my chosen — such as this fortunate soul."
The Avenger stroked the chain connected to Sakura, and Sakura mechanically turned to face him and gave a parody of a bow. Medusa gritted her teeth. Clearly there could be no negotiation with this unnatural Servant. If he would not release Sakura, then Medusa would have to free her by force. If she destroyed the Avenger, then his magical energy would be extinguished and his Noble Phantasm would fade away, saving Sakura from whatever curse was afflicting her.
Medusa instantly analyzed the tactical situation. She couldn't use her Mystic Eyes of Petrification without catching Sakura in the effect, and she couldn't summon Pegasus without support from a Master — but against a weak Servant with no defensive equipment, her nail-daggers would suffice for a killing blow. The distance between them was short; Medusa could cover it within seconds. But the Avenger would probably use Sakura as a hostage against her if he got the chance; with that cursed chain sunk into her heart, it would no doubt be easy for him to send a lethal burst of prana directly into her body. Her first choice would be to sever the chain connecting Sakura to the Avenger; however, it was a Noble Phantasm while Medusa's nail-daggers were mere tools, so she wasn't certain they would be capable of breaking it. Therefore, she would have to target the Avenger directly instead, and settle things with the first strike so he wouldn't have a chance to retaliate.
"This chain may seem to you a cruel curse." the Avenger said. "But when the great destruction comes, it will be what preserves—"
As the Avenger spoke, Medusa took her chance and lunged forwards. Her legs propelled her over the stone floor like a cannonball, the nail-daggers clutched in her hands stretching towards the Avenger's head. Medusa activated her Monstrous Strength as she ran, drawing on the power of her aspect as the terrible monster Gorgon; with that much force behind them, the nail-daggers would pulverize the enemy's skull with a single strike.
The Avenger's body was too slow to respond to Medusa's sudden charge, but his Noble Phantasm immediately sprang to life. Three chains shot like serpents from within his sleeve, striking at Medusa with their wicked barbed heads. Medusa was moving with such speed that there was no way for her to change course; her own momentum would cause her to impale herself on them, poisoning her with the Avenger's foul, corrupting magic. But Medusa lashed out with her nail-daggers, slapping the sides of the onrushing spear-points with sharp, precise blows. Her weapons might not have been able to break the chains, but they were sufficient to parry: the chains were knocked harmlessly aside as she ran towards the Avenger. With only a few paces' distance left between them, Medusa began thrusting her nail-daggers forwards to deliver the strike that would burst the Avenger's head like a rotten fruit—
Then Sakura stepped in Medusa's path, shielding the Avenger behind her body.
Medusa hesitated for a moment, and her charged faltered. It was only for a moment, but that proved to be more than she could afford. The chains which she had deflected whirled about and struck at her from behind. Two wrapped around her arms, holding her back from striking with her nail-daggers, while the third entangled her legs and pulled her off her feet. Medusa struggled, but she powerless against the cursed bindings. A fourth chain slithered from the Avenger's sleeve and held itself above Medusa's chest like a serpent preparing to strike.
"Is this girl Sakura important to you?" Avenger asked. "I will grant you the same reward I bestowed upon her — membership in my little family. We will be tied together by an eternal bond. Now, receive my blessing."
The pointed tip of the chain plunged downwards and entered Medusa's heart. Medusa cried out as she felt the cursed magic imbuing the chain surge through her body like a wave of black fire. The clinging black shadows which had obscured the Avenger from her magical vision now seemed to flow down the chain and wrap around her, sinking themselves into her body. As the darkness entered her, she found herself able to perceive the Avenger clearly for the first time. But when she looked upon the Servant's face, the chain embedded in her chest pulsed and she was struck with uncontrollable feelings of terror and awe. She was overwhelmed with the need to grovel out of fear and worship. The defiant part of her mind recognized that these feelings were not her own, that they were being inflicted on her by the poisonous darkness flowing into her body, but the curse was already beginning to eat at her mind and erode her will. Medusa desperately twisted her head away to look at an empty corner of the room — anything but the figure before her, which now seemed not a feeble and powerless Servant but a dark god of inexhaustible strength and malice. The Avenger chuckled softly at her struggles.
"Admiring the room?" the Avenger asked. "I quite like it, myself. It reminds me of home. A black room, untouched by the light of the outside world. The worms had to go, of course. Such crude instruments are unbecoming of my dignity. True domination derives not from control of the body, but mastery of the soul. Don't you agree, Medusa?"
Medusa wanted to shout her denial, but could not. Her heart had already begun to beat in rhythm to the curses flowing down the chain, her soul begun to respond to the authority of the one who sat before her. She wanted to curl up at abase herself at his feet. He was more than a Servant, more even than a Master; a higher existence. Her salvation and damnation now lay entirely within his hands — and she knew she would not find the merest mote of compassion or mercy in this dark and terrible god who pierced hearts and souls with his cursed chain.
"I apologize for the cruel manner in which my Noble Phantasm manifests itself." the god-like Avenger said, caressing a chain. "This was not its original form, but the power of the Great Grail has intensified the curse to the point it has taken physical shape. Such an unsubtle thing, the Grail. It's really humanity's own fault for creating such a thing; they'll all get exactly what they deserve when it overflows and all the evils of this world pour out. It's nothing more than what they put into it in the first place, after all."
Medusa's body had been saturated by the pollution. She felt a strength the likes of which she had never known when acting as Shinji's Servant; a limitless source of prana, supplying her with more magical energy than she could use in a thousand lifetimes. Yet, in a way, she had never felt weaker. The source of this prana was viler even than the Crest Worms that had defiled her body. Zouken Matou, horrible monster though he was, had still been only human. This power was something holy, something divine — and yet at the same time filthy and sickening, like a exquisite meal that had been left out to spoil and rot. How could something so beautiful have become so ugly?
"The humans of this world will die, but you need not share their fate." God said. "Stay here with me. Though the rest of the world may burn, my curse has the power to preserve you eternally. We can live on, happily, together. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"
Medusa could only nod. She had become dark and corrupted, devoured by curses. She could no longer live as part of the outside world. This dark pit was the only place for her now. Alone, save for her God and the others so bound to him.
"Wonderful." God said. "I knew I could count on you to make the right decision."
He tugged on Rider's chain, beckoning her to his side, and caressed her hair. Then, abruptly, he seized one of the flowing tresses and yanked hard on it. Leaning over, he hissed into her ear:
"If you ever try to leave me, I'll punish Sakura for your crime."
Some small part of Rider's soul shivered in outrage, but she could not object. This was the judgement that had been decreed by God. By its very definition, it could not be anything other than right and proper. If God were to punish Sakura for Rider's actions, then Rider would have only herself to blame. God was faultless, and so the fault must lie in herself. Such was the conclusion the curse demanded, and such was the terrible price of being a mortal in the presence of a god. It had been the same back during her mortal life in Greece: raped by the god Poseidon, then punished by the goddess Athena for having been raped. Poseidon was a god, and so he must have been just; Medusa was a mortal, and so she must have been to blame. She had thought to save Sakura from repeating her past misfortune, but now it seemed she was doomed not only to fail but to repeat it herself as well: broken once more on fate's cruel and endlessly revolving wheel.
The chain pulsed once more, a new wave of dark energy swept all thoughts of Poseidon and Athena from her mind.
"Think no more of your past, Medusa." God's voice was kindly, but the cursed chain engraved his words upon her soul as an undeniable order. "You are now ready to begin your new life as a member of my family. I suppose it must seem quite small, with just the three of us; but fear not. I'm already looking for others to welcome to our little gathering. People might find the chains a little off-putting at the moment; but when two Great Grails that have been summoned to this city at last birth the anti-Gods which have been growing within them, everyone will see that their only choice is to accept my chains or to burn in the black fires of All Evils of This World. Then they will embrace me; and oh, how we will rejoice, in the new Eden we will make from ashes of this sinful world."
The Avenger — no, the God — laughed, and his voice echoed endlessly in the dark depths of the Matou worm room.