He remembered the look on her face as he stared into her eyes, and the fire he had seen in them. He knew next to nothing of this person, but if anything, there was one fact he was sure of:
This woman was his Master.
"I'm Lancer. Are you my Master?"
As the faint light from the summoning circle beneath his feet faded, their gazes met for the first time. She had a good, strong look in her eyes, and he liked that; women with a strong will were hard to come by, and this magus was one of them – unyielding spirit, confident and above all, powerful.
"I am," she replied. "My name is Bazett Fraga McRemitz. I will be your Master until we achieve victory in this Holy Grail War."
He could tell from the way she looked back at him that she was the kind who faced her problems and adversaries head-on, and above all was someone without an ounce of negligence in her approach. While it may be a reckless way to fight, he could not bring himself to mind; after all, he was the same way, and believed strongly that only the weak resorted to cheap tricks.
And yet, sometimes it was that kind of cheap trick that could defeat the strong.
"So, this is the Servant Lancer?" the priest asked. He was supposedly the mediator of this ongoing War, and a trusted ally of his Master. While Lancer did not like him, he stayed silent; he had no reason or right to poke into his Master's social circle, and it would have been inappropriate for him to judge someone he had just met. "He certainly looks impressive."
"Yes," Bazett replied. "With his abilities, victory should be almost guaranteed."
"I see," the priest, who had introduced himself as Kirei, said as he stood up. Looking at Lancer as though he was an interesting statue, he continued, "No matter how many times I see it, this phenomenon never ceases to amaze me. To be able to summon such powerful spiritual beings… the Holy Grail is indeed an interesting object."
"And that is why the Church intervened, is it not?" Bazett asked, receiving a quiet nod in reply.
"Oh, there is something I must speak to you about," Kirei said offhandedly. "In private, if possible."
"Of course," Bazett replied easily. "Lancer, leave us and keep a lookout for any enemies or familiars outside."
"Is that really alright, Master?" Lancer asked, narrowing his eyes at Kirei. "As your Servant, I should always be by your side in case something happens."
"I'll be fine," Bazett replied. It was clear from her tone just how much she trusted the man known as Kotomine Kirei. "There's no need for concern."
"… Fine," Lancer said reluctantly, vanishing into thin air before their very eyes.
Wordlessly watching the space where Lancer had been moments before, Kirei waited for the faint killing intent (which, oddly, felt more like a beast's than a human's) to leave the room before beginning to speak.
"Ah, come to think of it, they could do something like that," he said. He had almost forgotten that Servants were able to go into astral form, having spent the last ten years with a former Servant that had achieved a physical body. "Very convenient."
"You said you had something to talk to me about," Bazett said, getting right to the point. "What is it?"
"Yes, of course," Kirei nodded. "Bazett. Have you considered what you would wish of the Grail when you emerge victorious?"
Bazett went silent.
"You should put some thought into it," Kirei told her. "The Grail has limitless power, and it can surely grant any desire you may have. You would do well to remember that."
Bazett nodded, and as she ruminated his words the Master completely missed the look in Kirei's eyes change; it was vaguely similar to longing or obsession, but was hardly something that could be considered 'human'. In those hollow, lifeless eyes was a spark – a pang of ravenous thirst for something that even the seeker did not understand.
"It's truly a wondrous thing," he said. "To think that such miracles would be possible with its power… It would be such a waste to leave it sleeping within the Grail."
"Kirei?" Bazett asked.
"My apologies," Kirei chuckled. "I must have confused you. You see, I too have an interest in the Holy Grail as an individual. That is why I assumed the role of mediator in this War."
Staring at the distant wall, Kirei's lips curved into something that might have been a smile. However, there was nothing reassuring about that gesture; instead, it merely felt… empty. It was merely an imitation of true emotion, of genuine mirth, but that unnatural action did not feel out of place on Kirei's face.
"Though I must say," he went on. "Servants are such funny creatures. They possess combat prowess far beyond human limits, and yet they have such a fatal, unbecoming weakness.
"To think that they could be defeated just by killing their Master."
It all happened far too quickly, and Bazett was unable to even call for her Servant. Amidst the dim illumination within the confines of the room, Kirei's figure was a swift shadow, blending into the darkness around them as he reached for the woman before him. In an instant, dark liquid gushed from the Master's arm, spilling onto the callous priest as she fell to the floor. The only sound that ever escaped Bazett's lips was a soft groan.
"It's truly a shame, Bazett," he said, his tone stoic; even though he had just killed a person, and despite being a priest, he seemed utterly unfazed by the fact that he had just taken a life. "For a magus, the biggest mistake you can make is letting your guard down. Be it in front of friend or enemy, being fully prepared regardless is the nature of a magus, no?"
He recalled the back of that man, unsuspecting and confident, as he walked away from him. The man had been a powerful magus, and one who had his ultimate weapon right by his side. Because of a moment's folly – a simple opening caused by his trust in the student he never understood – Tohsaka Tokiomi had lost his life. Not to a grand spell, nor to an enemy Servant, but rather to a simple stab wound through the heart.
"You believed me to be worthy of your trust," he said, a queer glint in his pupils as he watched Bazett's suffering. Or, as Gilgamesh would have put it, relished her suffering. Despite his dislike for pointless chatter, he could not help but want to speak those words – to see her writhe in agony even more before his very eyes. "That was a foolish mistake, Bazett."
He chuckled. In the previous War, even the most novice of Masters had lasted for quite some time. In this War, however, a talented and skilled magus like Bazett merely lived for four days.
"Bazett!"
Arriving far too late and holding the surely dead woman in his arms, Lancer desperately called for his Master. His scarlet irises were aflame with rage and desperation, but it was not out of concern for himself; he was not afraid of disappearing – he just could not accept the reality transpiring before his eyes.
His carelessness had cost his Master her life. In this battle, he was supposed to protect her, fight by her side, and finally win the war with her. Now, because he was sloppy at being her Servant, Bazett was going to die.
And above all, there was nothing he could do besides helplessly yelling her name.
"By my Command Seal, I order you."
His overwhelming rage prevented him from hearing the order itself from Kirei's mouth, but that did not matter; in that instant, his body froze, forcing him to bend to the will of the monster before him. It was a power beyond his resistance, and while Lancer had prepared himself to be controlled by it, he had not expected it to come from this fiendish priest.
"From this moment on, I am your Master," Kirei's lips once more twisted into that inhuman shape as he spoke. "You have nothing to worry about; after all, we seek the same thing, do we not?"
Lancer gnashed his teeth, his grip on Bazett's shoulder tightening. Unable to kill the murderer before him, the Servant of the spear could do nothing but watch his former Master die. But as she drew her last breaths in his arms, Lancer made a vow to the woman named Bazett Fraga McRemitz:
Don't worry, Bazett. I swear on my life that I will avenge you.
He remembered the look on her face as he stared into her eyes, and the fire he had seen in them. He knew next to nothing of this person, but if anything, there was one fact he was sure of:
This woman was his Master.
The force of the explosion blew Lancer away, but he did not let go of Illya. Ignoring the force slamming violently into his back and the sharp pain in his chest, the spearman covered the girl's head as they tumbled along the ground, eventually coming to a stop a few meters away.
"Dammit, that was dirty," he muttered, pushing himself to his feet. "Sorry about that, brat. You alright?"
"Oww…" Illya muttered, taking a few seconds to absorb what had just happened. When her shocked brain finally took it all in, her eyes almost flew out of their sockets. "I-I'm so sorry! I-I didn't mean to stab… I was aiming for Berserker, and… And…! I-I'm sorry, Setanta-san!"
"Nah, it ain't a big deal," Lancer said, smirking as he jabbed a thumb to his chest. "See? No wounds- Wait; what did you just call me?"
"Huh?" Illya wondered aloud. "D-did I pronounce it wrong? I-I'm sorry! I-I just thought- Ouch!"
A searing pain burned across the back of her hand, and a dull red glow began to surface on Illya's skin. When it finally faded away, a strange mark rested on the back of her hand. It was a queer-looking dark red mark, almost like a tattoo of sorts, and under normal circumstances it might have simply freaked her out. However, Illya knew that this was no ordinary mark; she had seen a similar design on Shirou's hand, as well as Rin's. This was not just some tattoo – it was a form of high-level magecraft.
It was the proof of being a Master – the Command Seals.
"W-what is this…?" Illya gasped, even though she knew perfectly well what those marks were. "What's going on…?"
"It looks like there are lots of things we need to discuss," Lancer said, standing up and readying his spear. The mana sustaining him from Kotomine was completely gone, replaced by a faint but unmistakable flow from… Illya. Somehow. But being in front of the enemy was probably not the best time to be chatting. "But first, I'll take care of that big guy. Don't run away on me, kid."
"Y-yes sir!" Illya squeaked.
"Oh my…" Ruby, still in her dagger form, spoke up. "It seems we messed up, Illya-san."
"W-what do you mean?"
"It looks like you've just dived even deeper into this whole thing," Ruby replied ominously.
Atop a hill four kilometers away, Archer furrowed his brow. Regardless of how little he cared for it, he was a Heroic Spirit. Sniping a target from this distance was not a problem, and the explosion should have engulfed Berserker, Saber and Lancer in one fell swoop while merely pushing the girl (he still had trouble figuring out if she was the real Illyasviel) away. He had no intention of killing anyone besides that one man, and Servants being defeated was something he could live with, so he was glad that the kid was safe. But something else bothered him greatly.
Emiya Shirou picking up on his attack was unexpected, but when he thought about it, it was not impossible. Although he would have wanted him to get caught in the blast and die, it appeared that the young man was too slow for that. It was a disappointing result, but not the greatest source of shock for the Counter Guardian.
He had missed. Instead of piercing Berserker's heart, his arrow had dug into the ground some distance away from the Servant instead. Emiya Shirou was lightly injured from shielding Saber, Saber herself was unscathed, Illya was safe and Lancer seemed lightly wounded. Berserker probably died once, but the attack was still a total failure. Though, it was not entirely his fault.
Someone intercepted my arrow, he thought. Even though it was highly unlikely, someone had altered his arrow's course in mid-flight, hitting it with something fast and strong enough to affect its trajectory. But who?
"That was quite a dangerous move, oji-san."
For the second time that night, Archer was rendered speechless. He had turned around expecting another Servant, or perhaps even a magus, but definitely not whoever it was he ended up looking at.
His first thought was that it was Illya, but something was amiss; while she had the same face as Illya, the girl in front of him had dark skin and different-colored eyes. Her hair, closer to white in hue rather than silver, was tied behind her head to suit moving around. He would have been disturbed by that, if not for the clothing she wore.
At a glance, it was just a red overcoat. The top half of it extended to her wrists and looked like a jacket, but the lower half billowed around her legs like a cape or a skirt. It was a rather simple design, which he was thankful for considering the amount of clothing she wore underneath (or lack thereof). He did not want to believe it, but the black armor-like pieces under her shroud served to only barely cover her modest chest and hip area, with the only other instance of it appearing being the boots she wore. It was far too revealing for a girl who physically looked around ten years old, not to mention it looked exactly like his own clothes.
"What's with the look?" Kuro asked, raising an eyebrow. "Who are you, anyway? You're kind of creepy, you know."
"You stole my line, kid," Archer replied, cringing at how old he sounded with that line. He figured he could not blame her for calling him an 'uncle', but quickly dismissed that thought; there was an elephant in the room to address. "Who are you, and where did you get that outfit from?"
That red cloak was a Mystic Code, and was something that should have been his. Even if he accepted that she had somehow managed to replicate it, there was no way she could be wearing the same black armor beneath that cloak. It may not have looked like anything much, but it was made of a special material that was not yet discovered in this era. There was simply no way she could have acquired it, and there was no way she could have replicated it. And yet, it was unmistakably the real deal.
"What; you wanna buy it?" Kuro asked teasingly. "I thought you were creepy for copying my clothes, but you actually want to wear a female version of it? You have a thing for cross-dressing?"
Ah, I see, Archer thought, recalling the scene he had observed from afar while chasing after Lancer earlier. His eye twitched uncomfortably. This must be what Lancer felt seeing Illya in that form.
Words could not describe how he felt right then. He was already confused beyond measure with two Illyas, and now the appearance of this supposedly third one was threatening to drive him insane. What had he done to deserve this madness?
"And?" Kuro put a hand on her hip. "Why were you trying to kill my little sister and my beloved onii-chan, hentai-san?"
This one actually reminds me of the real Illya, Archer sighed. The Illya from his fractured memories gave off this kind of vibe too, and it was as annoying as it was endearing.
"I don't see why I have to answer your question, cosplay girl," he replied. He genuinely had to search his soul for the part of him that was apparently a lolicon, in the hopes of gouging it out with a shovel. Or maybe burn it to cinder with a holy sword. "I would ask if you were the one who shot down my arrow, but then again, I can't expect a proper answer from you can I?"
"You're smarter than you look," Kuro said, smiling coquettishly. She had indeed intended to shoot down that arrow, but even with a rather powerful attack of her own she had barely altered its course. The opponent in front of her was definitely stronger than she was, but she was not going to back down; pride was one thing, but if she chickened out now Illya and Shirou were going to die. "Want a kiss as a reward?"
"Sorry, but I don't swing that way," Archer replied. "And I would like to request that you don't get in my way anymore; I'm not soft like that naïve big brother of yours."
"What a coincidence," Kuro replied cheerfully, lifting a black bow which had definitely not been in her hands before. Resting elegantly between the taut bowstring was a thin object, one that looked like a sword compressed to look like an arrow. "I'm not as nice as my little sister either."
"I am the bone of my sword."
Recognizing the danger in his opponent, Archer spoke but a single line of English. While she had no idea what he had just said, Kuro hesitated, her fingertips momentarily frozen on her arrow. Even though she did not speak a word of the language, she could somewhat understand what he had just chanted.
Coming to her senses, she let the arrow fly. The distance between them was hardly even fifty meters, and the silver streak fired from Kuro's bow tore across it far too quickly. To the human eye, it would have been nothing more than a thin beam of light, but Archer could see it coming with much clarity. In a simple, fluid motion, he swiftly raised a hand as though intending to grab the incoming arrow.
"Rho Aias!"
Violet light exploded where arrow and flesh made contact, and for a moment it looked like the attack had succeeded. However, Kuro did not celebrate nor drop her guard; she knew the moment her arrow struck her target that her attack had been stopped.
A flower of translucent light shielded Archer, expanding from his palm and stretching out into six petals as it completely blocked the impact from Kuro's arrow. Despite the close distance, Archer was not even pushed back a single step.
"Interesting technique," Archer commented, letting the shield fade into nothingness. "Now I have even more questions for you to answer."
"You're more than welcome to ask," Kuro said, making her bow disappear and replacing it with a pair of very familiar black and white swords. "Though if you want some answers, you're going to need to be more… persuasive."
"I can manage that," Archer replied, creating the same swords in his hands.
Shirou coughed as he rolled off Saber, trying to recover from the ringing in his ears. He might not have been hurt badly by the explosion, but the burst of sound and light was still enough to render a human like him immobile for a few moments.
"Shirou!" Saber exclaimed, examining her Master for fatal wounds. "Are you alright?!"
"I'm… I'm fine," Shirou muttered. "That bastard… Archer… He attacked knowing you guys were within the blast radius…"
"Oi, Saber," Lancer called out. He actually sounded rather agitated for once. "I know your Master's important and all, but we've got business to deal with."
As he said those words, the supposedly dead Berserker once more began to rise. This was already the second time he had definitely died, but the Mad Servant just kept coming back to life. There was no telling how many times he could perform such a feat, and it was difficult to tell if he could actually die for real at this point.
"But-" Saber protested.
"It's alright, Saber," Shirou assured her as Illya ran over. "I'll be fine. We need to beat that Berserker first. W-where's Tohsaka?"
"I'm afraid I do not know," Saber replied. "She disappeared not long after the battle began along with Archer, so I presume she must be waiting for the right time to strike."
"Onii-chan!" Illya cried worriedly. "Did you get hurt?! Why didn't you stay back like I told you to?! You could have died!"
"Haha… I sound like the younger sibling here for some reason…" Shirou, despite the situation, chuckled. "Sorry about that. I'm alright though, so go ahead, Saber."
"… I understand," Saber replied, standing up. "Illya, please take care of him. While there are many questions I have as to your identity, I believe that you genuinely mean to protect Shirou, so I will leave him in your care."
"I-I under-" Illya began.
At that moment, two things happened at once. The first was Berserker rising to his feet and charging towards Lancer and Saber, the force of his charge unaffected by his apparent death. Lancer raised his spear to parry the blow, but said blow never came because of the second thing that happened:
"Class Card, Saber – Install."
A flash of light dug into the ground in front of Berserker, and the Servant's foot stepped right into the hole that was created. Falling face-first, Berserker slammed a massive palm onto the ground and, for all his bulk, cartwheeled forward and continued his attack as though nothing had happened.
Lancer, thanks to the momentary opening, managed to dodge the blow with relative easy before using his spear to vault himself into the air and away from the giant. He had no idea what had just happened, and who had come to his aid, but the moment he looked around a little bit he found his answer.
At first, he thought Saber had become even shorter, and that under the moonlight her hair had somehow become black. Then he realized that Saber was standing where she was, and that she too had a flabbergasted expression on her face as she looked at their new ally.
She looked no older than ten or so years old, which would not have been a cause for surprise, but she was wearing armor. Not just any armor, either; she was wearing the exact same silver armor and blue battle dress that Saber was, complete with the same hairstyle on her head. If there was something different about them, it would be the weapon the younger girl held in her hands.
It was a sword of bright gold, its brilliance hardly dimmed by the shroud of night. It was majestic – the very embodiment of countless warriors' prayers across space and time – and above all, it was beautiful. It was a holy weapon, one that was not and could not have been forged by human hands. It was the sacred sword of an extolled, undefeated King, and it knew no equal. However, it was in that very beauty that Lancer sensed something was wrong.
It should not be beautiful. It was the physical manifestation of that King's ideals, and it was the very symbol of her nature as a Heroic Spirit. It was the pinnacle of holy swords, and it was something that the term 'beautiful' would only defile, not complement. The sword itself was a Divine Construct – one that no Heroic Spirit from the Throne of Heroes would not recognize. What the girl held in her hands was undoubtedly the revered Noble Phantasm Excalibur, but at the same time, it was not. If anything, Lancer might even have considered what she wielded to be a replica. But could a replica be so awe-inspiring?
"M-Miyu?!" Illya wondered aloud.
"Are you alright, Illya?" Miyu asked, her tone filled with genuine concern but her gaze fixated on Berserker.
"I-I'm fine," Illya replied. "But be careful; that Berserker is-"
"I know," Miyu replied. From her tone, it would have been difficult to think that she was a mere child, and it would have been even harder to believe that she was just as confused as Illya as to what was going on. However, unlike Illya, Miyu was far more composed in situations like this. It sometimes made Illya wonder if Miyu was actually used to seeing and being in such battles. "He's stronger than when we beat him before. I'll hold him off; get onii-chan to a safe place, Illya."
"'O-Onii-chan'?" Illya said before she could stop herself. She had not misheard anything; Miyu had just referred to Shirou as her big brother. "Wha-"
"Hurry," Miyu urged. "I don't know how long I can hold him off, but get him as far as you can."
"Stop, Berserker."
The cold and unforgiving voice that was Illyasviel's rang through the night, instantly causing the atmosphere to freeze over. In the resulting silence caused by her one command, the child-like Master walked over to her massive Servant and put a hand on his leg.
"That's enough," she said. She was confident in Berserker's abilities, no doubt, but she was not stupid enough to misread the situation. She may look like a child, but she was still a magus – she was not reckless enough to plunge her Servant into a battle when so many irregularities were present. Not to mention the whole situation was confusing her to no end and was giving her a migraine. "I'll withdraw for tonight. Try not to die before the next time we meet, onii-chan."
Smiling lightly at the utterly bewildered expression on Shirou's face, Illyasviel cast a look of disgust towards her doppelganger and let her Servant pick her up. Just as she was about to tell Berserker to leave, a familiar and irksome voice stopped her.
"Wait!"
"You again?" Illyasviel asked irritably. "What do you want?"
"I… You… I…" Illya stammered, unsure of what to say. After all that had happened, her brain was hardly working properly anymore.
"What's with that? Some sort of spell?" Illyasviel asked coldly. If this was supposed to be a joke, it was not funny. "If you want to masquerade as me, you'll have to do better than-"
"Y-you have a mole in an embarrassing place!" Illya exclaimed, her face redder than a ripe tomato. Casting Shirou a shy look between words, she stammred, "U-um… That is… It's… It's at…"
"Let's go, Berserker," Illyasviel commanded without another look at her, and her giant companion abided without a word. It was unclear if she had even heard Illya's embarrassing declaration at all.
In the wake of the huge gust left behind by Berserker's leap, was nothing but an awkward silence. For a few moments, no one said anything, until a wounded Rin walked into the smoldering battlefield.
"Rin-san?!" Illya and Miyu called out, running over to her.
"Stop right there," Rin said sternly, holding up a hand to stop them. "Come any closer, and I'll shoot you."
"What are you-" Illya began, but the rest of her sentence was interrupted by a red-cloaked figure landing gracefully beside Rin from the air. It was her Servant, Archer, and on his shoulder was someone even more familiar. "K-Kuro?!"
"She's fine," Archer replied, setting the unconscious girl down on the ground. "Are you alright, Master?"
"Yeah, more or less," Rin replied. "That brat was pretty good for her size… but that aside, is that who I think she is?"
"You're probably thinking of the right thing," Archer nodded, staring at Miyu who was still donning her battle outfit and wielding that holy sword. "But I'm afraid I have no more answers than you do."
"I see," Rin sighed. "Well, we're going. No use hanging around here anymore."
"Hold on, Tohsaka!" Shirou said.
"Wait, Rin-san!" Illya yelled at the same time.
"And what, Emiya-kun?" Rin snapped, completely ignoring Illya. "Do you expect me to stay around you and your shady group of… girls?"
Without waiting for his – or anybody's, for that matter – reply, she walked away, with Archer following right behind her. She had not said anything as she went, but no one dared to follow after her; the danger in her tone as she regarded Shirou's group was real, and the venom in her voice deadly. She clearly viewed them as nothing more than dangerous, unknown elements, and there was no telling what she might do to anyone foolish enough to chase after her.
Leaving a heavy silence in her wake, Rin disappeared from sight. Helpless despite their fighting strength, the rest of the group could do nothing besides watch them go without a word.
Bazett panted heavily, clutching the slash wound on her shoulder. It was not fatal, but it was still a cause for concern given the difference in their fighting abilities.
The swordsman in front of her was skilled, and not only that, he was beating her while holding back. From the way he attacked, it was clear that this man had no intention of killing her, and the very thought that the difference between them could be this great infuriated Bazett.
She had defeated the Class Cards Lancer and Archer by herself. Despite being Heroic Spirits brought to life, they had fallen to her abilities. She was not one to boast, but Bazett was confident in her abilities to face just about anyone in combat. However, she was hardly able to keep up with this swordsman. Was he using some sort of spell to boost his abilities beyond hers?
"By now, you should know that you cannot win," Assassin said. "I will request of you once more: leave this place."
Naturally, Bazett did not listen, and as she took a step forward intending to continue the fight-
"As I feared, you're weak, Sasaki."
A thin beam seared through the air between them, piercing Bazett cleanly through the heart. Assassin, looking just as shocked as the victim, made to rush towards her and catch her fall.
"What do you think you're doing?" a woman's voice echoed around him. Materializing at the top of the steps from a swirl of purple particles, the hooded woman that was his Master smiled.
"That was uncalled for," Assassin protested. "There was-"
A violent impact exploded across his back, almost knocking him off his feet. Recovering from the sudden blow and turning around, Assassin almost dropped his sword in sheer surprise.
Wasting no time, Bazett leapt towards him, taking full advantage of his surprise to continue her assault. No one could blame him for being caught off-guard, since she had really died from the previous attack, but all it took was that one moment for the tide of battle to change.
Or at least, it would have changed, if not for the presence of the hooded woman.
Multiple beams of light crashed upon Bazett, mercilessly assaulting her without leaving her any openings to escape. The seemingly endless barrage of raw mana exploded along the stone steps, leaving behind nothing but craters in their wake.
"My, my," the Servant Caster muttered to herself. "She was able to revive when her heart stopped… a rune of resuscitation? Pretty rare a spell for a magus of the modern era… And pretty powerful as well…"
Hovering in the air just above Bazett's unconscious body, Caster's lips curved into a malicious smile. It was an expression that sent chills down Assassin's spine no matter how many times he saw it, and he wanted very much to slay that witch right then and there.
"Such an interesting specimen," she whispered. "Guess I will have some fun with you before I entertain my… guests."
Echoing across the night and shattering the otherwise tranquil air, was Caster's triumphant laugh.
Whew. Still lots of stuff to cover before I can even go to the fights proper. Next chapter'll give Illyasviel some screen time and development. Hope it works out.
If you're wondering why the fights are so short now, that's because I didn't want to have lengthy fights right off the bat; I wanted there to be adequate buildup before having one, and generally those moments should be a sort of climax. If I make the fights lengthy here they'll just be there for the sake of being there and I didn't want that. Hope you'll bear with me for that one!
See you next chapter!