Day 9: ? — Golden Dream / Kingslayer
The undetected Servant followed in the wake of Shirou Emiya's group as they made a charge towards the center of the cavern. It watched as the False Saber Crow was dragged away from the group by the True Rider Medusa, and as the False Archer Homura broke off to pursue the False Lancer Rei; but in neither case did it act. As eager as it was for battle, the tactical situation was clear: these fights were nothing but sideshows, their outcome irrelevant so long as the participants remained tied up in combat with each other. The Servant had been tasked with serving as a secret ace, to strike only when doing so had the potential to tip the entire balance of the conflict. Exposing itself prematurely would only serve to get it mired in petty combat against one of the less consequential opponents. And, as much as its spirit yearned for battle, it had to admit that it was not in the best fighting shape. In its current condition, it probably would not be able to prevail over another Servant, and even a human magus could pose a bit of a problem – they'd likely last long enough to call for help from an ally. Therefore, its best chance at making a difference was to strike at some combatant already locked in battle, to give their opponent an opening. A cheap tactic like that wouldn't normally sit well with the Servant, but this was no time or place for such qualms – not when the fate of the entire world would be determined by the next few minutes.
What concerned the Servant most at the moment was the fact that it had not yet been able to locate one of the expected participants in the battle: the True Assassin. Of course, an Assassin-class Servant would not just join the fight openly, but would lurk in the shadows and await the proper moment to strike; much as the Servant was now doing, but probably much more effectively. Over the past several days, the Servant had kept the Emiya household under careful observation, as its Master had instructed it to do while deciding which side to take in this most unusual War; but despite its best precautions, the True Archer had several times sensed its observation. It had at least been able to keep the red-coated knight from pinpointing its exact position, at least enough that he had never tried sniping it with one of those ridiculous sword-arrows; but it was clear that the stealth tricks it employed were nowhere near the level of actual Presence Concealment.
That Assassin... with her arm that could prevent retreat even in spiritual form, and her knife that could destroy even a Noble Phantasm in one hit, she was certainly the most problematic Servant on the False Avenger's team. The second most problematic, then, would be the True Berserker Heracles. In terms of raw strength and endurance, it was certainly the most powerful Heroic Spirit in the War; there was probably no way for any of Emiya's team to defeat it short of True Saber Arturia's Excalibur, and she was saving her sole remaining use of that power for the Grail itself. Despite this, it was still only second-most problematic because Emiya's team did not actually need to defeat it in order to achieve their goal – it would suffice to keep it distracted. Arturia was undertaking that task now. It was certainly very dangerous, and she was close to being overwhelmed; but even if she did not survive, Emiya's team might still be able to destroy the Grail by another method. The False Caster Lina possessed spells of incredible destructive power; she could probably manage it. So this was not the decisive battle either.
Then, other than that still-missing Assassin, that left Gilgamesh as the only other Servant to have not yet joined the battle. Despite the golden King of Heroes's immense power, he was not actually expected to be a problematic opponent for Emiya's team – by a twist of fortune, it seemed that the True Archer had a Noble Phantasm capable of perfectly countering him. The compatibility was apparently so bad that, during one of team Emiya's strategy planning sessions, the Red Archer had gone so far as to state that even were without support from a Master, subsisting only his Independent Action skill and on the very verge of disappearing, he could still slay Gilgamesh. The Red Archer's allies did not consider him to be a boastful sort, and took him at his word regarding his ability to defeat Gilgamesh. The Servant supposed it would see for itself whether it really was confidence or arrogance when the Red Archer and the Golden King joined battle.
But if that was the case... why, then, was the Red Archer turning around and now running back to join Arturia in battling the True Berserker?
What an idiot! It seemed he'd allowed his emotions overwhelm him and completely lost sight of the greater tactical picture. Unbelievable. Seeing this shameful display only hardened the hidden Servant's resolution to stick to its Master's plan. With Red Archer unavailable to confront Gilgamesh, False Caster Lina was stepping forwards to fill that role instead. She cast some kind of bounded field that enveloped her and the Golden King, then both of them vanished – probably, if the hidden Servant dared guess, shunted to Reality Marble or other such type parallel world where they could battle at full force without risking collapsing the cavern on everyone else.
The final Servant didn't have any way of entering that bounded-off space, so it couldn't interfere in that battle. Nor did it see much benefit in interfering in the battle of Saber, Archer, and Berserker. No, the most pivotal moment had become clear: Shirou Emiya facing Kirie Kotomine in combat before the throne of chains that channeled the curse of All Evils of This World from the Grails – the Grail which even now were beginning the birthing contractions that would soon expel the world-ending evils which filled them. Kotomine and Emiya... both powerful mages, but also both human. A properly-timed attack could surely put one in a losing position, provided he didn't have any allies to call on – Shirou's were all accounted for, but there was still that damned Assassin hiding somewhere. Was she also watching the confrontation and preparing to strike at a critical moment? And while the other Servants were are currently tied up in battle, there was no telling how long that would last – which ones would prevail, and how quickly?
The decisive moment was surely near. The Servant tensed, stretched its senses to the limit, and prepared itself. The next few minutes would determine the fate of everything...
==Interlude: True Archer==
Red Archer raced back through the cavern to where Saber Arturia was battling the Dark True Berserker, Heracles. Tactically, it was a dubious decision; he should have been pressing forwards to confront Gilgamesh, the opponent against whom he had the greatest natural advantage. But for some reason, seeing Arturia struggling for her life with all her strength, and seeing the concern in young Shirou's eyes... it awakened feelings in him which he thought had died long ago. And so, against his better judgement, he ran to join the fight.
Arturia was battling magnificently, showing grace and uncompromising valor in the face of the enemy, but there was no question that she was being overwhelmed. The monstrous Berserker was swinging its axe-sword with an irresistible strength that denied any possibility of blocking or parrying: even an indirect impact would transmit enough force to smash Arturia's body apart. Even when the Berserker's wild swings missed, the waves of pressure they generated were enough to knock Arturia about like a leaf in a whirlwind. It must have been taking all her speed and strength merely to remain on her feet, but still she did not back down. Her holy sword Excalibur, released from the sheath of Invisible Air which normally concealed and restrained it, left glittering golden contrails in the air as she whirled about her opponent in a desperate dance. Despite the enemy's advantage in strength, the clumsiness of its movements allowed Arturia the occasional opportunity to make a strike of her own. However, the flesh of the corrupted giant was saturated with the limitless power of the Grail, and each wound Arturia struck was quickly mended by the influx of a fresh pulse of cursed energy through the dozens of chains embedded in its body.
Though Arturia had accumulated damage in her losing battle against the Dark Servant, her physical condition was still better than Archer's. Whereas Arturia's limbs were all still functional, Archer's left arm had been broken by his earlier exertion blocking the False Lancer's attack. Her Noble Phantasm was a spear which pierced the very soul; and though his reliable shield Rho Aias had prevented the attack from killing him outright, the Lance of Longinus had nevertheless inflicted significant spiritual damage which could not be easily healed. The most he could do for the moment was use self-reinforcement to turn his flesh into swords, welding his damaged limb into rigid steel.
Even in his current state, however, Archer believed he could defeat the rampaging Dark Servant. As strong as it was, he could create however many weapons were required to defeat it. Within his Reality Marble, the outward manifestation of his soul, he could create an infinity of swords: Unlimited Blade Works.
"I am the bone of my sword."
As Archer began the incantation to call forth the Reality Marble, pain wracked his body: the agony of a soul desperately starved for prana. From the beginning, Rin's decision to take on two Servants had prevented her from supplying adequate energy to either one, leaving both of the Archers incapable of performing to their full potential. Furthermore, Archer held felt Rin use her third and final Command Spell a short time ago in her own fight against the False Berserker, severing their connection entirely. Deprived of a source of prana, and without a Master to anchor him, Archer was condemned to fade from the world. For any other class of Servant, trying to use a Noble Phantasm under these conditions would be a hopeless endeavor. However, the specialty of the Archer class was Independent Action, the ability to function for a time without the support of a Master. Even in this condition, burning the last dregs of his power, Archer was still able to fight.
And so, Archer gritted his teeth and fought through the pain of his soul burning itself for fuel. It was a somewhat nostalgic pain, bringing back to mind old memories he had long ago buried: times he had pushed himself past his limits, against all reason and sanity. He'd thought he'd put such things behind him, once he'd contracted to become a Counter-Guardian; and yet here he was, repeating the same old folly of attempting to surpass the limit of his capabilities.
"So, as I pray, Unlimited Blade Works."
Fire leapt up to envelop Archer and Berserker, then a familiar scene unfolded itself around them: a barren plain impaled by countless swords, beneath a blood red sky filled with massive gears. It was the world that always existed within Archer's heart, where every sword he had ever laid eyes upon was faithfully reproduced and stored away for future use.
The Dark Berserker showed no sign of being disconcerted at being abruptly yanked away from its fight with Arturia and deposited in this strange landscape; in the manner typical of its class, it merely bellowed in rage and turned to charge headlong at Archer. A part of Archer had hoped that merely bringing it into this world would be enough, that it would sever the chains binding it to the False Avenger; but he had known that hadn't been a very likely outcome. These chains were as much a spiritual bond as a physical one, and entering his Reality Marble did not disconnect a Servant from its Master: the numerous chains studding the dark giant's body remained, fading into intangibility after a short distance as the bridged the divide back to the outside world. Thus, Archer was forced to face the enemy in the traditional manner: with steel.
Archer raised his unbroken arm; and in response, swords began to lift themselves out of the ground and level themselves at the enemy. A hundred, a thousand, a million: they fell upon the Berserker like a wave. It was as if the very air had turned to steel. In endless numbers, flying at supersonic speeds, Archers swords poured from every corner of his world to slam into the Dark Servant.
The howling maelstrom of blades filled the sky to the point that even Archer himself was unable to see his opponent through the storm. However, with his Structural Grasp magecraft, he could feel each and every sword as if it were an extension of himself; thus, he could track the enemy by the feeling of his weapons breaking themselves against it. Somehow, incredibly, the Berserker was still managing to make its way towards him. Despite the continuous onslaught of swords smashing themselves to pieces against its body, it pressed implacably onwards.
This was the absolute defense granted by Heracles' Noble Phantasm, God Hand: a divine blessing that negated any attack below B-rank. It was not mere resistance to damage, but complete nullification: not only did such attacks not harm the enemy, but they didn't exist at all to it. From the Berserker's perspective, it was as if it was still charging across an empty plain. For a human, even if a single drop of rain is harmless, the weight of an entire ocean will crush their body. For a Servant, however, if the value of a raindrop is zero, then adding more will never amount to more than zero. In the face of a Conceptual Weapon which denied them, the world-spanning infinitude of blades which Archer was pouring upon the Berserker like a deluge of steel had no more effect than a single droplet of rain.
Of course, not all of the swords were equal in rank. Though the vast majority vaporized on contact as if they had never existed at all, some of Archer's countless swords were potent enough to penetrate the resistance of God Hand. Whenever Archer felt one of his Projections embed itself into the enemy without shattering, he detonated it as a Broken Phantasm to inflict maximum possible damage. Explosions tore at the Berserker's flesh, wreathing it in flame as it charged forwards. However, only a small number of Archer's swords were penetrating the giant's blackened skin, and they weren't enough to overcome the accelerated regeneration imparted by the limitless power of the Grail. Worse, the Berserker became thereafter immune to each weapon which had connected to it. Archer's arsenal was only unlimited because he was able to copy the same swords an infinite number of times; when it came to unique individual weapons, Archer could only reproduce those which he had encountered during his life. And though his time as a Counter-Guardian felt like it had spanned an eternity, his experience was ultimately finite.
However, even as the dark giant bore down on him, Archer refused to give up. If he did not have enough blades in store to win by sheer quantity, he would have to prevail on quantity. Letting the storm of swords die down, he instead reached out across his Reality Marble for two weapons in particular – the most powerful swords he was capable of reproducing.
"Sul-Sagana!" he called. "Ig-Alima!"
The ground trembled as they came racing from opposite horizons, the roar of their passage through the air blotting out even Berserker's warcry. Sul-sagana, the jagged burning blade which could incinerate an entire army with a single swing. Ig-Alima, the mountain-felling sword used by the gods to flatten mountain ranges. These two enormous blades, each large enough that Archer seemed a mere ant in their shadows, came together and squeezed Berserker between them like a pair of scissors snapping closed.
The Dark Servant struggled mightily, its muscles heaving as it strained with titanic force to push back the blades crushing it, but it had at last come up against a force it could not equal. The edges ground into its flesh, sending dark blood spraying, and Sul-sagana's flames wrapped around it like a fiery mantle. Archer could see its flesh melting like wax, its exposed bones crumbling to ash. At last, he was finally outpacing the monster's rate of healing. He needed only press the attack a little longer, and the Berserker would be ground and burned away to nothing.
Archer's body trembled with effort, and sweat poured down his forehead. Sul-Sagana and Ig-Alima were not mortal creations; they were Divine Constructs, instruments of the gods which lay beyond ordinary human comprehension. It taxed Archer's abilities to the very limit to merely Trace them, let alone Project them; and in the end, they were not quite perfect recreations, lacking the divine nature of their original counterparts. Even so, their power was enough to overwhelm the Dark Berserker. Just a little long, and it would be finished. Just a little longer...
A high, sharp note echoed through Archer's world: a sound like glass breaking. A crack began to spread across the sky, stretching from one horizon to the other; and when it reached the apex of the heavens, it fractured into a spiderweb that spread in every direction. The great grinding gears which had been ceaselessly turning now fell still and silent. Archer had finally pushed himself too far, and burned the last of his power. He could no longer sustain his Reality Marble. It burst around him, like a snowglobe rupturing – shards of sky spinning off into void, soil crumbling away beneath his feet, swords breaking into shining motes of dust – and he found himself deposited back in the subterranean cavern.
Before he had a chance to get his bearings again, the Berserker was on him. The moment Archer's Projections had faded, it had resumed its charge. The Servant's body was in a hideous state – its torso chopped nearly in half by Ig-Alima's edge, and its hulking form charred down to a skeletal husk of itself by Sul-sagana's flames – but the cursed chains still embedded in its withered carcass provided it the energy to keep moving. It surely must have been blind – tongues of flame still licked the sockets of its exposed skull – but finesse meant nothing to such a beast. It simply charged forwards, swinging its axe-sword in front of it at random. Utterly exhausted of mana, Archer lacked the strength to even attempt to dodge. Though the wild swipes of the axe-sword missed, the Berserker simply trampled over him, crushing him beneath its thundering feet.
Archer felt his spine snap. Everything below his waist went numb. He couldn't tell if his legs were even still there, or if they'd been crushed to paste. Not that it mattered – forget healing, he didn't even have the energy left to maintain his existence. Even if the enemy didn't do anything, it would only be a minute at most before he faded from the world. But the Berserker would not even allow him that short remaining span; as it turned its eyeless skull down towards him, he felt the force of its mindless rage and malice. It could feel him, now, beneath its feet; and knowing where he was, it raised its axe-sword high, prepared to smash his head. Archer could only stare at the death descending towards him.
Then, in a flash, Arturia was there, unleashing a flurry of blows that actually made the Dark Servant stagger backwards. She danced around the giant like a wasp, striking again and again with her shining golden sword, driving the enemy back from Archer's motionless body. She had to know that it was already too late for him; the merest glance at his condition should have told her that. And still, she threw herself into the fight against this unbeatable foe with desperate determination, as though to save him. What a foolish thing to do.
But then, perhaps he was the foolish one. After all, he'd jumped into the fight to try and protect her, and yet here she was protecting him instead. How many times had that happened before? And it seemed he still hadn't learned. He was back where he'd begun, forced to watch while she fought on his behalf.
And how gloriously she fought. She seemed untouchable, evading the enemy's clumsy blows with ease while thrusting her own blade home again and again. Archer knew that this state of affairs wouldn't last long: she only had the upper hand now because he had injured and blinded the beast within his Reality Marble. Fueled by the Grail, the giant's healing would inevitably outpace the damage she was inflicting, and she would once again be overpowered. Not only couldn't she save Archer, but in the end she wouldn't even be able to save herself. So, this defiance was both fleeting and futile. And yet, Archer couldn't deny the beauty of the scene before him: of the dauntless hero standing unyielding before a monster of darkness, golden sword held high.
That sword...
There was no beauty in any of the swords he had Projected. They were ugly things, tools suitable only for killing. He could not take pride in crafting such dirty, blood-stained things; and so he treated them only as bullets, to be fired and discarded. But that golden sword... it was no mere shaft of metal, but the very embodiment of Arturia's ideals. Archer had long ago cast away his own ideals, thinking them a mere hindrance. But seeing that blade shine as though it were her soul itself given form, he was able to remember a time when he had been able to think of his own swords as weapons for protecting rather than killing.
He had once dreamed a beautiful dream. It was a foolish, impossible dream; one that would be impossible to accomplish, no matter how hard he tried. And so he had averted his eyes from its radiance, scorned it as absurd and futile, and deluded himself into thinking that he would not suffer for its loss. And, without that light to guide him, he had wandered astray and fallen into darkness and despair. Perhaps, if he had had the courage to follow that dream until the very end, he wouldn't have ended up filled with regret.
Closing his eyes, Archer finally allowed himself to remember that dream he had discarded. And, as he lay dying, an image from his youth returned to him: a shining golden sword which surpassed even Excalibur in beauty and grace. He had never held that weapon, never even truly seen it with his own eyes; and yet he knew it intimately, having seen it so often in his dreams.
"Trace, on."
Even with his body coming apart, that one small bit of magecraft remained to him; the one magic he was allowed. How long since he had last truly used it? For the first time in what felt like forever, he did not merely draw a weapon forth from Unlimited Blade Works, but actually went through the process of assembling it from scratch. He walked through the seven steps of creation, weaving the fraying fabric of his soul into his last and greatest Projection.
It appeared between his hands, shining like a sacred star: a soft, peaceful light which dispelled the darkness of the cavern. The pressure of the curses seething within the Grails above, the wicked energy saturating the False Avenger's chains, the pain of his shattered body... everything fled before that graceful aura. This was the unreachable object of his dreams: the sword in the stone which had once selected the King of the Britons before being broken and forever lost from a fallen world.
Archer could not wield that divinely radiant sword. He had long ago lost that right by polluting his hands with innocent blood. If he tried to grasp the golden hilt, its purity would surely burn his soul as it would any sinner's. But there was one who had never bowed, never broken, never abandoned her righteous path. The sword which had broken had become whole once more for this fleeting moment in time so that she could hold it aloft and speak its sacred name for the final time.
"Saber!" Archer yelled. "Catch!"
The sword spun through the air of its own accord, leaving a golden trace in its wake. Arturia lifted one hand from Excalibur's hilt and held it high, as though trying to grasp the distant sun hidden by the cavern's roof; then the flying sword's arc brought it into her grasp. It struck her palm softly but firmly, knowing it was needed, giving itself over to the one who would wield it. And in a single smooth motion, Arturia swept the sword's point down towards Berserker's chest, at the very moment the dark giant lurched forwards to crush her. And as the monster skewered itself, the golden blade piercing through the bone of the sternum as if cutting naught but paper, the proud King of Knights shouted the holy sword's name for all to hear.
"CALIBURN!"
The sword became a wedge of light. It lit Berserker up from within, making him shine like a star. The tarry darkness which had polluted his flesh peeled back from the sword, retreating from it like night before the dawn. The chain linking him to Avenger broke apart, became flakes of ash, and vanished.
For a moment, he stood before her as he once was in life, proud and noble. No darkness marred his skin, no madness burned in his eyes. Heracles, the greatest Grecian hero, inclined his head before Arturia with solemn dignity. Then his mighty form turned to golden sand, scattered, and was gone.
Immediately, Arturia turned and ran to Archer's side.
"Archer!" she called. "Hold on!"
Archer simply smiled at her. Arturia had saved him. He was still dying, nothing could stop that now; his body was already turning to golden sand and crumbling away. But even so, she had saved him. Here, at the very end of the corpse-strewn path he'd forced himself to walk for so long, she'd shown him his error. Or, if he was honest with himself, perhaps he'd already started to realize it on his own: ever since that moment when he'd faced a young boy who he had sworn to kill, but stayed his hand because he was moved by the purity of the stupid, naive passion of that boy's eyes
"Thank you, Saber... and don't worry." Archer said. "My wish... was a foolish one. I'm glad... it wasn't fulfilled. Tell that kid... to never regret pursuing his ideal. I hope... he arrives at Avalon in the end. But if he remains true to himself... then even should he end up on the hill of swords... it will hold no torment for him... only the fulfilment of his dream."
Having spoken those words, Heroic Spirit EMIYA departed from the world with no regrets.
==Interlude Out==
==Interlude: False Caster==
False Caster Lina Inverse stood before Gilgamesh, King of Heroes, who she had been told was the most powerful of the enemy Servants. Fighting him was a task that was originally supposed to be handled by the Red Archer; but no brilliant plan survived an actual battle, and it looked like the job had fallen to her instead.
Lina's first priority was to isolate Gilgamesh, to prevent him from interfering with the efforts of her allies. Just challenging him to fight one-on-one with her wouldn't be enough; his power was great enough that he might easily collapse the entire cavern with a single stray attack. She would have to move the battle to another location. It wasn't likely that anything would be able to lure him away from his station; but then, as a Caster, Lina had other methods at her disposal. Drawing prana from her Demon Blood Talismans, she incanted words of power that commanded the world to alter itself to her will.
"Mirror Road Formation!"
Brilliant white light began to shine from a point between Lina and Gilgamesh. The light rapidly expanded and enveloped them both. A moment later, the brilliance faded, revealing that their surroundings had changed. Though Lina and Gilgamesh still stood in the cavern, it was empty apart from them. The other Servants and their Masters had all disappeared, as had the mass of writhing chains and the poisonous presence of the two corrupted Grails. A faint mist had filled the cavern, and it was illuminated by an eerie, sourceless light.
"A Reality Marble?" Gilgamesh asked.
He seemed faintly interested for a moment, but then shook his head.
"No, just a second-rate imitation." he said.
Reality Marble was the greatest sorcery a magus could use. It was a technique for materializing a mental image into the real world, creating a landscape that reflected the world inside the magus's heart. Not only would such a technique isolate Gilgamesh from the real world, it would also create a world advantageous to Lina. Unfortunately, Lina wasn't able to perform that magecraft. The best she could do was pull the two of them into a subspace. Calling it an "alternate world" would be a bit generous; it was really nothing more than a pocket dimension, a faint reflection of the true cavern. Their actions here would have no effect on the real world, meaning that the others wouldn't be in danger from collateral damage from their fight. However, the terrain here would grant Lina no inherent advantage, meaning Gilgamesh still far outmatched her.
"It seems you truly are nothing more than an unworthy mongrel." Gilgamesh said. "The sheer temerity of a lowly creature like you thinking to rob me of my treasures is an unforgivable insult, and one that it is long past time I redressed. Don't think I'll permit you any easy death. I'll have you crawl on the ground like the worm you are and make you pay in flesh, bone, and blood for the offense you've given. Such is the rightful decree of the King against those who would steal his property!"
Lina wasn't listening. While Gilgamesh had been talking, she had been chanting under her breath.
"Dragon Slave!"
A beam of crimson light shot from her outstretched hands and raced across the cavern to strike the golden Servant. He was immediately engulfed in a white-hot explosion, a tremendous blast which expanded to fill the entire cavern. Even protected from the backlash by a magical barrier, Lina was knocked off her feet by the shockwave that rolled over her. So great was the force of the spell that the cavern could not contain it: the stone walls buckled and broke apart. Had they still been in the real world, this was the point that the entire mountain would have fallen down on their heads. In this small pocket dimension, however, there was nothing beyond the limits of the cave's walls. Blown outward, the stones drifted beyond the bubble in which gravity was reproduced and drifted off to tumble in an endless mist-filled void. All that was left was the cavern floor, now a circular stone platform hanging suspended in the glowing mists.
...And, as the smoke cleared, standing in the center of it, Gilgamesh.
The Servant had switched from his casual modern outfit to a set of golden armor that shone as if freshly polished, unmarked by so much as a single fleck of soot from the ravening furnace Lina had unleashed upon him. A number of talismans floated in the air around him: probably legendary treasures that bestowed powerful defensive or magic resistance, pulled from his endless hoard to protect against her spell.
"Is that the best you ca do?" he asked mockingly. "Such a trifle may be enough to impress the soft and worthless mages of this era, but I lived in the Age of the Gods. Allow me to educate you, pathetic sorceress, in true power. Behold, the treasures of Babylon!"
The air above Gilgamesh rippled, becoming a wall of shimmering golden portals. One by one, weapons began to emerge from the openings: swords, spears, hammers, tridents – every instrument of slaughter that could be conceived of by the human mind. To Lina's sorcerous senses, they shone as brilliant as stars: concentrations of magic that made the gemstones she had charged for Rin and Luvia seem like mere toys for children.
"You wanted to lay your filthy hands on my Noble Phantasms?" Gilgamesh asked. "Here's your chance. Try and catch them, mongrel!"
One of the spears within the Gate of Babylon rocketed forwards like a missile. Lina chanted a defensive spell to raise a barrier between herself and the attack, but the spear tore through her shield as easily as if it was made of paper. Lina was forced to dive to the side as the weapon embedded itself in the ground where she had been standing a moment before.
"You'll have to do better than that, mongrel!" Gilgamesh taunted.
A second weapon was already in flight, this time a sword lined with jagged serrated teeth. Lina let off a quick Bram Blazer spell, and a beam of energy lashed from her hand to strike the oncoming sword. It wasn't a powerful enough spell to destroy a Noble Phantasm, but it managed to knock the weapon aside. There was no time to catch her breath, however, because more projectiles were incoming, forcing Lina to dodge back and forth across the stony ground while flinging out spell after spell in a desperate attempt to protect herself.
If Gilgamesh launched all of the weapons protruding from his Gate of Babylon at once, Lina would have no hope at all of blocking, deflecting, or dodging them all. She would surely be annihilated in an instant by the massive arsenal at his command. However, Gilgamesh was not launching his Noble Phantasms in volley, but only firing one or two at a time. He was toying with her, savoring her panic as he slowly increased the pressure of his assault. As he had promised, he was clearly looking forwards to dragging out her execution to his satisfaction. And that gave Lina an opportunity.
Raising her arms, she began chanting one of the most powerful spells in her repertoire:
Lord of the dreams that terrify
Sword of cold and darkness
Free yourself from the heaveńs bonds
Become one with my power, one with my body
And let us walk the path of destruction together!
Power that can smash even the souls of Gods!
RAGNA BLADE!
A bolt of black lightning fell from the heavens and coalesced into the shape of a blade within her hands. It was not so much a sword as a sword-shaped hole in the Universe, a rip in the fabric of reality connecting to the Chaotic Void from which all things came and to which all things must eventually return. A barely-bridled shard of Oblivion, a seething fragment of anti-Creation which yearned to break free and unmake all things. The end of energy, the death of matter, the eater of souls, the ruiner of gods, the Lord of Nightmares made manifest in the form of a sword and clutched in Lina's fragile, unworthy human hands — Ragna Blade.
It was one of Lina's most powerful spells, and one of her most dangerous. The hungry void she had summoned would draw in and annihilate anything it could. Even constrained to the form of a sword, it greedily drew in as much matter and energy as it could from its surroundings, devouring air, heat, light, and Lina's own life-energy. It would consume her prana far faster than even the Demon Blood Talismans could replenish it, meaning she could only maintain it for a short time. She would only get one shot at this.
Gilamesh's next projectile was already incoming. This time, Lina did not dodge. She swung the Ragna Blade before her, and struck it out of the sky. Lina's previous spells had had little effect on the King of Heroes' legendary weapons, but the Ragna Blade was a spell of an entirely different caliber. It devoured the shining sword Gilgamesh had launched, unmade it in an instant and erased it from the world without a trace left behind.
"At last, something interesting." Gilgamesh said. "Is this your best trick then, sorceress? If you think a spell like that is enough to best me, then by all means, come and try it!"
In response, Lina leveled the sword of seething black energy and charged. The portals behind Gilgamesh flashed in response, and a wall of blazing death poured down around her. Recognizing in Lina's dark blade a spell capable of overcoming his defenses and doing him true harm, Gilgamesh had abandoned toying with her for the moment and launched an attack in earnest. He did not aim individual weapons directly at her: that would only serve to feed them to the endlessly hungering void which strained against her grip. Instead, he launched explosive area-of-effect weapons, sending them falling around Lina like an artillery barrage. The Ragna Blade could annihilate any Noble Phantasm it directly touched, but it was limited to the shape of a sword; it could not fully shield Lina from the blast waves that rolled over her.
Even so, Lina ran forwards into the field of fireballs blossoming before her. She could feel the Ragna Blade drinking power from her with a thirst that could never be satisfied. Her great reserves of magical energy, enough to humble any magus of this world, were pouring into the bottomless void she held at an alarming rate. This fragment of Chaos she held would not stop at consuming the magic she fed it: it would devour her life energy, and even her soul. Already the roots of her chestnut hair were starting to fade to white as it leeched vitality from her body. And so, heedless of the danger, she charged directly at Gilgamesh, trying to close the distance as fast as possible at any cost.
Seeing her determination, Gilgamesh changed his strategy. He stopped aiming at her and instead launched a series of projectiles down into the ground between them. These were terrain-altering Noble Phantasms which shattered the ground, driving up walls of stone and gouging deep pits. Lina was able to smash through the barriers without difficulty, as nothing could stand before the sweep of her Ragna Blade, but the pits were a more seriously obstacle. As Gilgamesh continue to pour fire downwards into the earth, the chasms spread and joined into a spiderweb of cracks that split apart the circular stone platform that had been serving as their arena. Lina found herself jumping between a series of crumbling islands to make her way to Gilgamesh. She could not cast a flight spell while employing the Ragna Blade, and some of the gaps were too wide for her to jump across directly: she had to move in whatever direction would guarantee her footing. And all the while, she could feel the cold icy hand of her spell reaching into her chest and squeezing her heart.
Lina was nearly drained – she could maintain the spell for seconds more at most. Her body felt like a hollowed-out shell: her magic reserves were depleted, and it was feeding on her lifeforce now. Her skin was drenched in sweat, and her hair had turned ghost-white. However, she was nearly there. She had finally leapt onto the small floating island where Gilgamesh stood. He couldn't risk blasting away at the ground any further, not without endangering his own footing. Lina was only a few paces away now. The Ragna Blade burned like icy death within her grasp; it would carve through even Gilgamesh's golden armor like nothing. Lina drew back the blade to swing–
Gilgamesh smirked at her. Then a glowing golden portal opened on the ground beneath his feet, and a massive iron pillar capped in a gold band rose up beneath him, lifting him high up into the air. He looked down, gloating at her from beyond her reach.
Letting out an inarticulate scream, Lina plunged the Ragna Blade into the pillar. The dark void immediately began devouring it, eating it from the bottom up. However, the top half of the pillar continued to rise upwards at the same pace that the bottom dropped down, causing Gilgamesh's position to remain unchanged. Then, a shudder ran through Lina's body, and the darkness she held in her hands broke apart. Out of mana. The void had reached out to swallow her soul, and Lina had been force to release the spell or die. But letting go of the Ragna Blade before it had swallowed her had likely bought her a few seconds more of life at most, because she now stood exhausted and unarmed before the gloating King of Heroes.
Gilgamesh snapped his fingers, and a spear lashed out from a golden portal. Lina was to weak to even dodge, let alone attempt a defensive spell. It pierced all the way through her body, leaving her spraying blood from a wound in her gut. Lina collapsed to the ground and curled up, pressing both hands against the hole in her stomach, while blood continued to leak from the hole in her back and pool around her.
Gilgamesh allowed the pillar to shrink away beneath him, bringing him back to ground level. He looked down on Lina's huddled form with smug contempt.
"And now, mongrel, you begin to grasp the true depths of your inferiority." he asked. "Do you realize yet what folly it was to try to oppose me? But it is far too late to repent. This will be the beginning of your education in pain."
As much as Lina considered herself a great sorceress, she had to admit that she was not the most powerful hero ever to have lived upon her world. This Heroic Spirit, this Gilgamesh, was. In terms of raw power, she was simply no match for him. However much she might try, no matter what spells she might employ, Lina would never be able to defeat Gilgamesh in a fair fight.
Fortunately, Lina had never believed in fighting fair.
Many times in her life, she had managed to prevail over opponents who exceeded her in terms of pure strength. Everyone had blind spots, weaknesses that can be exploited. In Gilgamesh's case, Lina had spotted two. First was his arrogance: she had wagered that, on seeing the Ragna Blade fail, he would want to gloat and further torment her rather than simply finish her off on the spot. However, while arrogant, he wasn't an idiot. He knew that she was from a world different from his own, and might have access to strange magic unlike anything he had previously seen; thus, as confident as he was of his superiority, he wouldn't lower his guard around her while she had plentiful prana to cast her spells. His quick defense against her initial Dragon Slave spell had shown that he possessed that much judgement. But, as a fellow Servant, he could sense her level of magical energy. He could tell that she was not faking her exhaustion, that the Ragna Blade truly had completely depleted every last drop of her reserve. He could see that all the power being provided by her Demon Blood Talismans was now going to healing the wound in her side, leaving her without the energy to cast any further spells. And so the sneering golden Servant finally lowered his guard, believing that her being too weak to attack him physically and too drained to attack him magically meant that she was out of options, that her use of the Ragna Blade had truly been a failed death-or-glory attack rather than a feint to lure him in.
Because that was his second blind spot. His obsession with his treasures. Lina knew well the attraction of material wealth; she had, to be honest, acquired a reputation for greed which was not entirely undeserved. However, she knew also the value of sacrifice. She had on occasion been required to give up valuable acquisitions in the name of saving the world. And that was something which this miserly Servant, who defined his greatness by the wealth he possessed, would never see coming.
As Gilgamesh stood over her, drawing forth strange and terrible torture instruments from his treasury and explaining how he intended to use them upon her, Lina let her hand sag, as though she were too weak to continue pressing it against her wound. It fell to rest on the red gem of the Demon Blood Talisman attached to her belt. Then, with a burst of willpower, she wrapped her hand around the talisman and squeezed until it shattered.
Broken Phantasm. By destroying one of their own Noble Phantasms, a heroic spirit could release all of its stored energy in a single devastating moment. Each of Lina's four Demon Blood Talismans contained the pent-up energy of a Demon Lord. Normally, she accessed only a small portion of that great power, limited by the constraints of what could be safely channeled by her body. And even that tiny portion of power was enough for her to cast the strongest magic spells known to humanity on her world. Now, released all at once, the power of the Talisman was enough to level a city, to overturn a mountain, to slay a god...
The light faded. Gilgamesh stood over her, a look of astonishment on his face, and a smoking crater in his chest. He had not had time to draw forth any defensive talismans this time; and his golden armor, mighty as it was, had not been able to resist such a mighty blast at point-blank range.
"You... destroyed one of your treasures?" Gilgamesh asked incredulously. "That was a Noble Phantasm — a crystallization of your accomplishments as a Heroic Spirit. It was an irreplaceable artifact, the only one of its kind in the world. And you willingly cast it away?"
"I know." Lina said. "I guess... I value this world more."
"Such an incomprehensible person." Gilgamesh muttered.
And with those words, the Golden King of Heroes died. Instead of dissolving into golden light like the other Servants, his body crumbled back into the tainted mud of Angra Mainyu which had formed it ten years ago.
Lina sighed. The four Demon Blood Talismans functioned only as a set; now that she had broken one, the others had ceased supplying her with prana. If she'd had any reserves, she could have gone searching for another Master to make a contract with, like the other False Servants; but she had used her entire supply of prana in the fight with Gilgamesh. The edges of Lina's body began to dissolve into golden dust.
There was still one source of prana available to her: her connection with her own Servant, False Saber Kiyomasa Senji. She could use her magic to reverse the link between them, draining his prana to replenish her own. But even that probably wouldn't save her. Crow had below-average magic capacity for a Saber-class Servant, and he was probably using all of it in his fight against Dark True Rider. She'd be lucky to get even a minute's worth of prana from him, and even a minute might make all the difference in his own battle.
And when it came down to it, she just wasn't the kind of person who'd devour other peoples' souls.
"That's it, I guess." Lina said. "Good luck, everyone. Save the world for me, would you?"
A moment later, only a shower of golden sand remained. Then the small pocket world she had created collapsed in on itself and vanished, and there was not even that.
==Interlude Out==
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