Tokiomi Tohsaka was not in a good mood. Simply put, the magus in red was absolutely pissed.

Even from his own manor, he could detect the odd scent of brimstone that seemed to seep in from the windows.

Click!

There, it was gone. Tokiomi looked down at the floor, eyes gazing down at its texture while his mind wandered elsewhere. The whole time did the Tohsaka magus think he had the entirety of the war figured out… but it was one single figure that had eluded him that pulled apart the seams that was the Heaven's Feel.

Caster. The single weakest class for direct combat. But like any other magus, they were the most eccentric and elusive. That fact had not gone unnoticed and it was a failure on his part. He had no one to blame but himself. He directed Kirei and he followed his orders without hesitation, he formed the plan and Risei offered his own advice that Tokiomi took to listen but never to heart.

All of it was his fault.

The plan was to have Assassin act as their eyes and ears while Archer was the trump card, his ace in the hole that could win the war if applied correctly.

But he couldn't even manage that.

He intended to summon Gilgamesh with the catalyst received, and he was given a completely different Heroic Spirit. The realization of the snake's fossil belonging to another hero of legend completely eluded him.

That serpentine catalyst now sat in his vault, the skeletal remains of a strangled snake by godlike hands rather than the fossilized remains of molted skin.

Next was his apprentice. Kirei was supposed to summon Hassan-i Sabbah, but summoned what was assumed to be a Spartan, an apt soldier that served his purpose with determination, but not what he had originally intended.

The entirety of the war was a complete disaster, the whole masquerade that hid it completely unraveled. Caster succeeded in… whatever they had intended.

Tokiomi made no outward expression, merely swishing a glass of wine in his hand before bringing it up to his lips, tasting the bitter fruit of his labors. The night sky was black as ebony and the moon hung in a perfect crescent. Such a shame it had to be spent like this.

Tokiomi blamed himself, but he wouldn't spend the rest of the night complaining about the situation that he had placed himself in. It was the pride of a magus and his own lineage that he himself was bound to that compelled him to fix this slight.

With a grim face, the man turned and began his descent down into the basement. The faded summoning circle that he used to summon Archer still remained, but it had long since served its function.

He needed to consult the Mediator and tell him...

And tell him… tell him what? Tohsaka fashioned this whole plan from the ground up, surely there was something that the old priest could offer to find a solution.

Tokiomi grabbed hold of the phonograph-like device, the same old tool he used to communicate with Kotomine without any regard for mundane interferences. Nothing like that damned Magus Killer wiretapping into their conversations or whatever it was that Kirei had called it.

The jewel within the device, the pride of the Tohsaka family, was what allowed he and the priest to communicate.

"Father Kotomine, I'd like a word with you," he spoke clearly. His voice was unwavered, but the magus was practically panicking on the inside due to his own faults, "There have been some concerns involving our numerous deviations from the original plans and… I would like your input on how we should proceed."

It took the magus much pride to utter those words. But Tokiomi was at his wit's end and in a desperate situation.

Risei Kotomine was an old man, just now having reached the age of eighty during this Holy Grail War and was the Mediator of the previous. As far as he remembered, he gained insight over those years and definitely knew much more than let on were any other Master to speak with him.

Tokiomi ran a thumb along the goatee under his chin, a habit that would often never go unnoticed by Aoi…

The magus remembered his wife's face, clear as day. His heartbeat began to slow down as her serene smile calmed him. His mind briefly flashbacked to his family.

Aoi, Rin… Sakura…

"She's better off now," he had told himself. She would get the tutelage she needed, her future of being used by others because of her lack of affinity would not come as he had feared. He loved her like he loved everyone else he attached himself to and only wished the best for her.

But for now he had to focus on what was currently present…

Silence. The magus had all but received silence from the magical device sitting before him.

"Father Kotomine, can you hear me?" Tokiomi queried once more, met with that same nothing again, "Kotomine? Risei, can you hear me?!"

"I'm afraid our dear Mediator and priest is preoccupied with other matters, old chap," a devilishly mischievous voice snickered as the Tohsaka magus turned around, the sudden presence of mana firing off in his head.

A Servant.

Silvery hair and bright blue eyes caught his attention. He was a young man likely in his early twenties. Dressed in an anachronistic apparel of high-class western garb from Victorian-era England, a gloved hand rested underneath a dull bronze cane much like Tokiomi did with the jeweled one in his.

"Being dead will do that. The demonic scourge upon this land have a… natural distaste for the righteous," Caster looked away, studying the mechanical contraptions that lay within Tokiomi's workshop, "So this is the study of a modern magus? How... underwhelming."

Tokiomi ignored the slight upon his family's prestige and glared at the man. This place was his territory, Caster was disadvantaged as he was no longer on his own. A Servant surpassed the limits that modern humans hold, but without resistance to magic, they were no different.

And that just so happened to play in the magus' favor now that his enemy had shown himself.

"I assume you're here to kill me," Tokiomi boomed his voice, reinforcing his vocal cords with magecraft in an attempt to intimidate Caster.

"You're quite an astute one, I'll give you that," Caster withdrew a pipe from his jacket and lit it. Tokiomi crinkled his nose at the waft of tobacco, "Those command seals on your left hand are a nuisance and I need them gone, simply put. You have about… what? Two remaining?"

With only a simple thought, Tokiomi could summon Archer here at any moment and remove this Servant from his sight. But other questions sprang forth from the magus.

"How did you get past the defenses?"

"Oh those?" Caster removed his pipe, blowing a stream of dirty gray smoke from his lungs, "I merely took a page out of two Masters of this war's books, so to speak. One being the Magus Killer, who was gracious enough to be ignorant of me rummaging through his belongings."

Tokiomi knew about Kiritsugu Emiya, he'd have to deal with him later.

But right now…

"And the other?"

Caster placed the pipe back between his lips, "Your own apprentice of course, Kotomine Kirei I believe you call him. He was kind enough to show me the gaps in your own Bounded Field, the very same that you had Assassin infiltrate for your little ruse."

The Servant grinned at the shocked look upon the Master's face, like showing a neanderthal the existence of fire. He then watched as Tokiomi's features returned to that plain skeptical look that all men in denial would turn to, "So you entranced him with your own variant of hypnotism then. My apprentice is not so easily swayed by the likes of you."

Caster chuckled. At first slowly as he turned to look away from the Tohsaka, before hunching over and leaning his arms against the wall. Growing in volume and intensity as he threw his head back and cackled loudly, shoulders hunched over and bobbing from the raucous noises emitting from his lungs.

"You-you really have no idea, do you?" eventually the Servant calmed down, "Your apprentice joined this war for a reason. What, you think his wish was simply to serve others? An Executor from the Church working alongside a magus, even one such as yourself? Please… if you truly believe that, then this whole conversation was a waste of my time."

"What are you talking about?" Tokiomi growled.

"Right now, Kirei is out there in the city searching for that Magus Killer, both of them have helped me in their own little ways…" Caster sighed wistfully, "So who better than I to help them both than to introduce them to each other? I'm sure your apprentice has been dying to meet him all this time."

Tokiomi felt the gears begin to click into place, "He joined this War looking for something… and believed the answer existed with Emiya."

"Bingo! I believe the phrase goes," the man clapped a hand, "The Grail doesn't simply create a Master on another's whims. You were just too blinded by your apprentice's misassumed piety to ever consider such an idea. But that's enough talk-"

Tokiomi's eyes widened, the command seal in his hand flashed to life. From the whole set-up that Caster had taken to prepare, his power as a magus required time and effort.

A simple thought would be needed to bring Archer to his side, just this once.

Caster made no effort to act, only watching as the command seal glowed ever brighter with a curious glint in his eye.

'By the power of my command seal, I order you,' the order took a fraction of a second as it flashed through the man's mind, 'Archer, defen-'

BANG!

Tokiomi's order came to a halt, along with everything else as the man crumpled to the floor.

A dime-sized hole protruded from his head as blood began to pool around the corpse. The splatter of brain matter and spray of blood coated the walls as Caster turned back around, setting the still-smoking pistol onto a nearby table.

"I'm summoned as a Caster, but that does not make me a true magus," the Servant looked down at the dead man, shaking his head as he disappeared, "I expected more from the great magus of the Tohsaka family… oh well."

Caster left the manor without any regard for what just happened. Why was this War filled with so many boring people?

-oOo-

It all came down to this.

"Saber!" the red-haired king called out to his other, "Are you ready?"

The smaller woman in blue nodded, her sword clutched in both hands tightly and without disability. Her throat was dry, forcing her to swallow out of habit in an attempt to quench it.

"I can only hope the gods are on our side for this," Iskandar smiled to himself before pointing his blade towards the charging masses of demonic foes.

The three had rested the chariot upon a wide street, enough for every single one of those things following after them to converge. Archer seemed to catch on to their scheming as any of those creatures that dared to split off from their usual swarm were picked off almost instantaneously.

At this point, only a hundred or so finally remained.

Saber, Rider, and his Master all stood within the carriage. The King of Conqueror's hands bound tightly around the reins while the pair of divine bulls only brayed their impatience.

"Any last words?" a voice piqued Rider's attention, looking down to see Saber with a grim look on her face, "There may be a chance we might not come out of this alive."

Rider blinked owlishly before letting out a thunderous laugh, "Nonsense, Saber! Have some faith in your abilities, it's why you're a Servant after all, right? Now-"

His hands tightened around the ropes bound around his steeds, before Saber could have a chance to respond, "-LET US GO!"

The iron chariot creaked and groaned as the bulls let out a huff, beating their hooves against the pavement as everything surrounding them tore apart and burst like confetti.

The blonde-haired King of Knights could taste the ozone in the air as lightning began to build up and crackle, blue sparks surrounded the chariot as it was pulled in an electrifying burst of speed. She could feel the tips of her hair stiffen up as static began to build.

Saber gripped her sword tighter, willing to strike whenever Rider was ready to put his plan in motion.

The plan was to wipe out each and every single one of these beasts in one strike. However, with their battlefield consisting of an open area gone, there was little options for deploying such a strike without creating some sort of collateral damage.

Both Rider and Saber agreed that such damage would put a detriment on the Grail War and their own desires as a whole. Saber's ideals to save the innocents and Rider's wishes to conquer without creating needless carnage.

Gordius Wheel ascended into the air and into the heart of the swarm, the lighting discharge created from Rider's Noble Phantasm kept the demonic horde at bay as Rider looked around.

"W-what are you waiting for, Rider!?" Waver yelled at the man, "Don't you have a plan?"

Rider nodded before looking down at the boy, "I was merely making an observation, boy. And now that we're ready-"

Saber's eyes widened as she felt a shift in the air. A whirlwind picked up that almost instinctively made her shield her face, but she knew now that the source of this torrent of wind came from the Rider Servant beside her.

Plink plink plink plink!

Seemingly small anomalies bounced off the King of Knight's armor as she looked down for merely a fraction of a second, hair sized dots seemed to gather around her pristine garb. Was this… sand?

Rider swung his sword cleanly through the air, "COME FORTH, MY ARMY!"

Suddenly, everything went white. Reality itself seemed to erode and crumble as everything inverted and replaced itself. The light was almost blinding, the King of Knights and Waver Velvet closed their eyes for only a mere few seconds.

When they opened their eyes, they saw it.

A mass expanse of sand that seemed to stretch on as far as the eye could see. The sky was blue and cloudless unlike the night she had seen before, like the sea itself rested atop them. Hazy mirages could be seen in the distance as all three watched as their enemies looked about the area, dazed and confused by this new development.

"T-this is-"

"A Reality Marble..!" Waver's voice shuddered, eyes blinking several times. The young magus could barely even comprehend what he was seeing, "But… that's impossible, y-you're not a-"

"Indeed, I am not," Rider was now standing, the chariot gone as all three stood about the endless dunes, "This is not something I could accomplish on my own."

Then they appeared. Those mirages in the desert shifted and wavered, spirits given flesh and life as they stepped into existence. One became two, two became four, four became eight. Again and again until thousands stood behind the King of Conquerors.

Saber could barely comprehend what she was seeing.

"Their bodies may return to ash, but their spirits still hear my call! These men are my legendary heroes- my loyal followers! They're my true friends- breaking the rules of space and time to fight once more at my side," Rider raised his spatha, a horse materialized itself before him. He ran a hand across its mane before climbing upon it.

Bucephalus, the noble steed of King Alexander the Great.

"Ionioi Hetairoi!" his voice thundered across the desert at the declaration of his Noble Phantasm, before his army's cries followed up. In time, their voices all became one, every single one of them a heroic spirit that stood alongside their king.

"SABER!" the girl looked up at Rider, seeing the fierce grin upon his face, "My men shall provide their support. How long will it take to use your Noble Phantasm?"

Her arm was still in the process of healing, but she could use it without trouble. The only issue was the build up of mana that would need to be provided… as well as what came after, "Merely a few seconds without hindrance."

Rider hummed at that, "I will tell my soldiers to part ways in order to allow your blade to cleave through these beasts. Without them, this desert will collapse shortly."

He turned towards the approaching horde of demons, poised and ready as he pointed his blade towards them. With a single word, he and his army each charged into the fight, "AAAAALALALALALALALAA-"

Saber watched as he disappeared into the expanse. The high-pitched screech of demons echoes across the desert as they clashed against the army of Iskandar. The King of Knights stood atop the sand.

Waver watched from his own part of the dunes as the Servant of the Sword raised her blade, the wind departed, revealing a brightly shimmering sword that glowed like a star across the endless sandy sea.

It looked as though it was rivaling the sun itself.

The diminutive young man watched as the storm of soldiers surrounded, charging forth like a pride of lions. They knew not her rule nor her identity, but they saw that she was an ally of their king. As such, she was someone to be trusted for now.

The demons in the distance tore their enemies to shreds with razor sharp claws, mundane weapons held aloft by the weaker Heroic Spirits did little but graze their dark violet skin.

Rider growled impatiently. How much time did Saber need?!

Light continued to shine forth from the holy blade, the Sword of Promised Victory was in full view for anyone and everyone that dared to gaze upon its radiance. Iskandar looked back as a storm of sand swept across his army, the light poured out from the sun as the King's eyes widened.

"Men, fall back!" he cried out, pulling back the reins of Bucephalus. In that single order, they broke off from the demons' horde and disengaged. The sea of soldiers parted like the river of the Old Testament, with Saber appearing like Moses himself.

She opened her eyes, the fierce and determined look in those green pools telling all who saw her that the True Name of her Noble Phantasm would finally be unleashed. The air above her burst into that radiant glow of light, an awe-inspiring pillar that bewildered even the men of Rider.

"EX-"

The men finally diverged, the vacuous demons could do nothing but witness their own demise before them.

"-CALIBUR!"

The very air exploded as that pillar shot forth. Pure light streamed with that mystical force only few knew to be true. Rider and Waver watched from their own corner of the Ionioi Hetairoi as the light engulfed the remaining horde.

The crystallized ideals of both kings within one another, a contradiction that many would deem impossible. But through the powers of the Holy Grail, the camaraderie of Iskandar, and the ideals of Arturia Pendragon, all thoughts against such acts had been forsaken.

The light remained for only a while before finally coming to a still. The exuberance of Iskandar's men shouting victory echoes through Saber's mind as reality crumbled and was replaced by the stillness of the night.

Her ideals had been brought forth, the shouldering of every soldier that died fell upon her. And yet…

"That will do for now, Saber," Rider's voice was low and solemn, "The safety of the survivors of this attack has been assured, and I thank you. However, my thoughts on your ideals have not changed."

Even now, the rule of the King of Knights fell on deaf ears.

"Go," was all she said.

Gordius Wheel appeared once more. Waver gazed back at the girl for only a moment before stepping forth onto the chariot. A crackle of lightning and they both disappeared into the night.

Saber could barely stand, the entire night spent fighting as her mana had been sapped from her, from those demons and the use of Excalibur. Her armor dispersed and she was left in that black suit of hers.

And yet, she still began to walk. Head held high and holy, the legend of King Arthur still keeping her pride.

-oOo-

"Time Alter: Triple Accel!" An aria followed by the sound of rapid gunfire, his opponent responded in turn with a throw of his Black Keys. Kiritsugu Emiya barely managed to dodge each blade as dilated time continued to crawl.

All four managed to appear before a single second had passed and each one had missed by a hair's width.

The blades embedded themselves within a nearby lamppost behind the Magus Killer as he rolled to his feet, the combined force of each once sliced it to pieces as the Executor continued his charge, several more Black Keys appearing in his hand.

Bullets bounced off Kotomine's frock, arms splayed out in an X-formation as his face was shielded by the armor reinforcing his clothes.

Emiya's eyes widened by the man narrowing the gap so quickly. The church's heretic hunter seemed more machine than man, contrasting with the Magus Killer that tried to be that steel-minded savior to stand in his way.

The signature weapons of Kirei Kotomine shot forth before his adversary dove to the right, narrowly avoiding another blow before disengaging once more, diving some feet back before several more gunshots sounded off from Kirei's right, barely catching the sight from his peripherals before he raised his arm to defend himself.

A mere nuisance Maiya Hisau was to the Executor.

Nine millimeter Parabellum rounds bounced off his vestments, barely registering to Kirei's mind as he dealt with Emiya's pet.

The black-garbed woman inhaled sharply as Kirei appeared right before her eyes. The familiar glint of three silver blade in his right hand swiped and nicked her across the side before she could fully dodge. Pain flared up that wound as she gritted her teeth.

Indeed, Maiya Hisau was a nuisance to the Executor, but an annoyance was all Kiritsugu needed to formulate a plan. She was a nameless apprentice aside from what moniker her savior had given the girl, so it was no surprise that she would leap into the flames of hell at his command.

Kiritsugu Emiya was without Avalon's regenerative properties or Irisviel's talent in healing magecraft, and already his body was overheated from the extended use of his Innate Time Control. The Magus Killer couldn't afford to waste energy, he needed every tool to win this battle.

That was where Maiya came in.

The woman fought with an outright refusal to die. A knife was suddenly in her hands as she tossed aside the empty gun, swinging in a wide arc aimed for the priest's throat. The blade clashed with the Executor's blades before skidding off with a loud whine and crackle of sparks as Maiya closed the gap between them.

Kirei grimaced at her actions, noting how similar they were when they fought the last time. But the man had no time to play games with an underling.

Cutting off his magic circuits, the blades on his Keys disappeared as their source of mana left them, leaving the woman open for another attack as her center of gravity suddenly betrayed her.

Kirei responded with a knee strike to her solar plexus. Listening to the sound of her lower ribs cracking from the sheer force and delighting himself on her cries of pain. Without hesitation, he finished her off with driving the blades in his other hand into her back, pinning her to the ground.

"Gah!" a mix of blood and saliva spat from her throat as the strength in her legs began to fade. Maiya crumpled to the ground with a dull thump as Kirei turned his attention to…

Wait.

Lances of pain shot up the man's leg as he realized what the woman had just done to him, seeing the second dagger that she managed to sneak into her other hand now impaled in his leg.

The woman had used his own strength against him before she fell. Damn.

Rapid footsteps caused Kirei's head to turn once more before raising his arm to protect his face, a hail of bullets thundering across the armored limb as his foe started to grow closer. The priest readied his Black Keys, listening to the sound of gunfire racing across his ears as he tried to pinpoint the man's location.

Kiritsugu Emiya's body was already at its limits from a single use of Innate Time Control. Triple Accel had torn apart his internal structure to a point where his body could barely even be registered as human. And yet he pushed himself beyond those limits.

Every breath in his lungs burned, the feeling of molten tar filled the voids in his muscles as his legs continued to move of their own volition. The desire to survive against his enemy contradicted the need to survive from his own self-inflicted wounds.

Emiya's body screamed for recovery and yet his mind forced him otherwise.

His eyes flickered to a speeding flash of silver, quickly ducking to the ground as whistling passed by his ear before a loud crash finalized that action. He didn't need to look back to know that three more Black Keys had embedded themselves into the glass pane of a nearby building.

Kiritsugu rolled back to his feet once more, avoiding yet another blow as the Executor punched a crater into the pavement where the Magus Killer had once been. He tossed aside the Calico once in his hand, now out of ammunition within the weapon or on his person, the man needed to think on his feet and fast.

His body frayed and the priest was merely with a leg wound that only served as a minor hindrance if he were to ignore the pain. Of course, the blade would only serve to cause more damage if Kotomine dared to move too much, and yet it was the only thing keeping him from bleeding out profusely.

The weight of Kiritsugu's Thompson Contender felt heavy in his jacket, the urge to pull the weapon out and fire was great, but he couldn't afford to use it.

'Fuck.' He thought.

He needed an opening, something that could allow him the advantage to come out on top of this battle. He predicted that it would only be a matter of seconds before his enemy closed the gap separating them.

Everything hurt. Every nerve burned as his body was composed of a multiple wounds and frayed blood vessels. And yet he still needed to act, to get at least one final move on the board before he could have a chance at victory.

Both men assessed each others' strengths and weaknesses, their methods of fighting and the exploitation of whatever flaws they might possess, physical or otherwise. Kirei Kotomine was an executor of the Holy Church, a skilled murderer of heretics that favored the sacramental blades yet possessed both the skill of Bajiquan and the disposition for inheriting magic circuits to fight in those close quarters battles.

In the blink of an eye, he could kill a normal man if he so simply wished for it. A reinforced fist honed by years of training could demolish a heart as easily as tearing apart wet paper; Black Keys could be thrown from a distance, capable of piercing flesh and impaling shadows where they lied.

But Kiritsugu Emiya was no normal man. The Magus Killer was the subject of the priest's obsession for so long, he simply wouldn't allow such a man to die needlessly. If Emiya had the will to survive and seek that wish for the Grail, perhaps a broken man like Kotomine would be able to find the answers.

No words were exchanged, the Magus Killer watched as the holy man kicked off with his left undamaged leg, severing that gap between them in almost an instant. The space of a meter would be enough for Kirei to finally down his rival.

A single second, Kirei Kotomine would strike with those Black Keys before his feet touched the ground, anything after would create fault that the Master of Saber could exploit. The attack would leave a fatal wound that would surely kill Kiritsugu, but enough for the priest to get what he wanted from him.

It was already too late, the magus killer would most surely die. He closed his eyes, shielding his face in a futile effort to protect himself as he awaited death.

Crunch.

His eyes opened, lowering his arms at the pitter-patters of blood dripping down steel and splashing against the pavement as a blade found itself taking another life.

Kiritsugu Emiya had sought the desire to live at any cost, his wish would be granted no matter the means. A pragmatic man down to the very soul, so it shouldn't be said that a command to save his life would not go unheard.

Even from the King of Knights.

The Magus Killer watched as his Servant found herself standing between them, sword now buried within the heart of his most feared foe. He blinked, a dull red glow emanating from his hand caught his attention.

Two Command Seals remained on him.

Kiritsugu didn't intend to use such a limited tool for this purpose, but his heart knew that the circumstances put before him were necessary.

He fought back the urge to grimace at this revelation as Saber withdrew the blade from the priest's chest, his heart destroyed and his life now forfeited to the threads that was fate in that instant.

The priest now lay within a pool of his own blood, which only grew in size and volume as the command spells on his hand disappeared. His only regret being the nature of his own wickedness that he would never truly know before finally passing away.

Another monster had disappeared from this Earth with no one the wiser… or anyone to bury it.

Passing by the Heroic Spirit like she was a ghost, Kiritsugu knelt down to the body of Maiya Hisau, turning her over onto her back to check her condition. Fingers placed upon her neck had told him that she bore no pulse, she had already died… likely seconds after the death of Kotomine.

He didn't notice the landscape of the city shifting back to its original state, the corrected world now devoid of demonic beasts… nor the dead man just a stone's throw away.

"Where's Irisviel?"

"..."

The silence told him everything.

-oOo-

'Protect the Grail,' his instincts told him. For whatever reasons his instinct had told him, he obeyed even without knowledge.

The scourge of demons had finally passed, but the night was still young.

BANG!

Another bullet crackled like lightning as it tore through the battered shadowy form of Assassin, puncturing his other leg as both he and Irisviel continued to run. Pain seared through his muscles as he pulled the woman into a bridal carry, shielding her from any and all harm.

Irisviel was afraid and confused by the situation. Fearing for both herself and Kiritsugu, the unknowing dread of whether he had survived the night or not, and confused by this contradictory savior of hers.

Assassin was supposed to be her enemy, and yet he continued to go beyond these expectations and shield the Einzbern woman with his own flesh.

Another bullet whizzed by, then another, one narrowly avoided by the Servant while the other ricocheted off his helmet, leaving a small crack on the glassy covering. Irisviel couldn't get a bead on who he was even protecting her from. The first time she attempted it, the Servant had shielded her face from another bullet with his own hand, severing two of his fingers meant for her face and only resulting in a small graze on her ear in the process.

Irisviel had seen every other Servant so far, the one attacking them had to be Caster from that fact alone. His class bore no resistance to magecraft and thus made him vulnerable to even an ill-fit fighter like a Caster, especially from such a distance where a man such as him could excel.

Three more bullets thundered across the city as Assassin ducked and avoided all three, blood spurted out his legs as his muscles tensed and coiled, like a wet rag being wrung of water. Irisviel managed to offer the man another incantation of her own magecraft, soothing only a fraction of his pain before he had a chance to stumble and fall.

The night had fallen still, the haze of hell had quickly passed over as soon as those beasts disappeared, leaving only a battlefield for Servants to fight upon once again.

But Assassin, his movements were frantic. Despite the clear mind of avoiding those shots, his head would often twitch within certain directions. Irisviel didn't notice this at first until he had finally guaranteed her safety a hundredfold.

He was looking for something. Or rather someone. And considering the subject of his protection in his arms, it wasn't too hard for the homunculus to figure out.

But… why?

There was a slight stumble in his step as he threw his arms out, the albino woman flew out of his arms as more bullets spat forth from the unknown shooter. Irisviel caught herself in time to stumble into a dark alleyway, watching as the bullets continue to tear him apart.

Four shots to the chest and another hit him square in the head. The bullet bit deep, piercing the hard casing that protected Assassin as he began to fall, arms angel-spread.

The woman's eyes widened, the entire event playing out in slow motion.

Without even thinking, Irisviel took hold of his arm, hidden by the cover of the alley, and pulled him inside. The momentum pushed him off his feet, but the loss of stability only made the action easier.

'God, he's heavy!' she exclaimed, her frail body barely able to lift him up, much less drag him. Focusing the od within her, she reinforced her body, her circuits flaring throughout her as she just barely managed to get ahold of him.

His body refused to fade away, that meant he still lived. And Irisviel wouldn't stand by without at least returning the favor to someone who placed himself in harm's way simply for her sake.

The alleyway ended at a chainlink fence, trapping the two like rats. Irisviel frowned at the revelation, if only she had her Mystic Code, she'd be able to slice through the fence like it was nothing.

"Ugh…" a weak groan came forth from the Servant's lips, perhaps the first sound that Iri even heard from his mouth. Despite wearing that cracked and battered helmet, she could tell that he was staring directly at her.

"I…" he tried to speak before doubling over, a wet cough emitting from his throat before viscous globs of blood began to trickle out of the cracks in his faceplate.

"Don't try to talk," she kneeled down and tried to soothe his pain in whatever way she could, her mana reserves already low from the night's events, "You're too wounded… don't try to move."

The pale woman suddenly froze as something pressed itself against her cheek. Her eyes trailing up the man's right arm told her it was his palm. What was he doing?

"I…" he spoke again, blatantly ignoring her advice, his voice coming out in weak rasps, "Ris… viel…"

She blinked in surprise, "How do you know my name?"

Irisviel wouldn't have been surprised if he had simply called her Einzbern, but the use of her first name had only created concern and bafflement.

Assassin paused before his helmet began to glow. He was already on the verge of death, and with his Master, his anchor to the world, dead, such was the course of his luck. Dying was a sure inevitability… but right now, he didn't care.

The woman's eyes widened as the mask disappeared, hands covering her mouth as the curtains unfolded. His face was covered in bruises, his skin was too pale even compared to her, and a bullet jutted halfway out the center of his skull.

But even then, Thom's face was recognizable as ever. And he was… smiling?

Unlike the empty eyes that contrasted with that mischievous grin, his expression now even amidst the pain he had felt, was content. Even he didn't know why he felt so content, perhaps he managed to fulfill his mission of protecting others. It was his duty as a Spartan, after all.

But alas… fate was cruel.

Slow and methodical steps played out before their ears. Irisviel didn't dare turn around, fearing the answer that she already knew. She closed her eyes, muttering to herself as whatever within her remained to cast a spell finally left her. Her body glowed for merely a second as she placed her hands against his chest and leaned in close.

"Find Kiritsugu, give this to him… please," were the final words he heard from her before she was violently pulled away.

A young white-haired man in his twenties, dressed in antique attire. In his hands was Irisviel Von Einzbern, fingers clasped around her frail neck.

Caster.

"Interesting… quite interesting," he cackled to himself, ignoring the woman's attempts to break free, "So the tin man does possess a heart. "

Assassin was unable to move or speak, he was too weak to do so. All he could do was glare.

"Oh don't give me that look," Caster rolled his eyes, "It was your fault for getting too attached to your own targets. Truly, is your heart so weak to play turncoat from only so few visits I could list them off on a single hand?"

Thom still remained silent.

"Hmph, you're no fun if all you can do is flare your nostrils at me," the man shook his head before turning back to the woman, "'Tis a shame, I couldn't truly sway your Master to eliminate Tohsaka for me, such an obsession with that dull Magus Killer. But you know what they say, 'If you want something done right-' well, you know how it goes."

Still nothing.

"If all you're going to do is let me talk, I might as well get to the point," Caster's attention was on him, despite looking at the woman, "You've disappointed me so many times, I was truly expecting a challenger close to the man I knew in life. But you're such an inconsistent man, a cold killer dressing up in the form of normality, and suddenly the tables turn! First with my dolls and golems, then with Diarmuid, and finally with Lancelot… that's Berserker by the way."

The Spartan didn't care.

"I was truly expecting you would go after me amidst From Hell, but your heart lied elsewhere, this little… puppet," there was a stark contrast between Caster running a hand through the woman's hair and spitting that word like it was poison, "I realized your priorities were skewed. You are Assassin, the killer of men, and you've only succeeded in few areas. I am a criminal-"

His hand joined his other around the woman's throat. Even then she continued to struggle.

"I am the Napoleon of Crime" he uttered his title, not caring in the slightest as the mad Caster's rage continued to seethe. He finally closed his eyes, his anger lapsing and a gentle smile took his face, "And if I want something done right-"

His hands squeezed.

Snap!

...Thump…

"-I'll do it myself," he stared down at the limp puppet now splayed about the filthy cement ground, brushing a stray hair out of the way. Caster, James Moriarty, looked back up to see a splendid sight before his eyes.

Muscles tense, eyes widened, the Spartan looked down at the body with shock writ upon his face. His mind blanked, unable to register what even happened in that single instant.

Without enough mana to heal his injuries, he'd be unable to move or even fight. Caster shook his head, if he couldn't match wits with this man… he'd might as well get one last petty victory.

He'd leave Assassin to die alone, killing him now would simply be a mercy. Better to leave him be and die here before he realizes the nature of these feelings he didn't know he developed. Moriarty picked up the corpse, gently carrying the body in his arms like a newborn. Even being dead, she was still the Grail's vessel, and he had big plans for those.

"I have business to attend to now. Do be a good boy and die for me, Assassin. Ta~" the man disappeared 'round the corner, carrying the body to wherever his plans may lie.

Leaving only Assassin to die alone once more.

His fists clenched and relaxed, head bent down and gazing down at the wounds that littered his body.

Damn it.

Damn it damn it damn it damn it, damn it all!

He couldn't think. It hurt too much to. His eyes stung with salt as that same dampness trickled down his face, forming amidst the dried blood pouring from his lips.

The Spartan remembered the look on Irisviel's corpse. His mind flashbacked to old yet recent memories still fresh on his mind, his reason for fighting.

Kat, Jorge, Carter, Emile, perhaps even Jun. The sacrifices of NOBLE Team had given him resolve to keep moving forth, his reason to keep fighting.

It was like that all over again. This stripped him of his reason, his will lost and buried.

This was a familiar feeling… his lungs had filled up with blood, his body riddled with holes, and dying alone. From this perspective, Earth was no different from Reach.

He closed his eyes, deciding to fall unconscious before the Throne would have a chance to take him back.

'I… I don't want that,' the Spartan thought to himself. His original wish from the Grail pushed aside for simply another chance… another chance to… to..

Noble Six swallowed, the thawed heart in his chest had frozen over once more as he was greeted with unconsciousness. His mind turned to steel yet again as it did before when he first became a Spartan, unaware that his wounds were miraculously beginning to mend.

Another chance to kill Caster.