Mordred and I walked down the streets cautiously. No skeletons had bothered us, for reasons I know not. Thankfully, it allowed us to cover the distance to the cave rather rapidly, even with the fact that every now and then we duck into ruined buildings and sneak through clusters of wreckage to avoid being targeted by the Archer.
I feel vulnerable without a physical weapon. Some Magi might argue that the Servant beside me was one of the ultimate physical weapons I could wield, but I would argue against that to the end. She is a person, not an object to be used and then discarded if it fails or is no longer needed.
Speaking off, I can't help but notice the expression on her face. She has been gazing ahead, her brow furrowed. Maybe I shouldn't push the issue, but we're about to face an opponent that could wipe out the entire group in seconds. Anything less than having our heads 100% in the game is unacceptable. I turn towards her, opening my mouth to speak when she beats me to the point.
"Tell me, Master…" Mordred begins, looking at me with guarded green eyes. "Did you mean what you said back there, about having faith?" Why was she asking? I answer without hesitation, however.
"I meant every word. You answered my call on your own accord. Therefore, I doubt you would settle for giving anything other than your best."
"But yet you are willing to trust the Knight of Treachery?" Mordred persisted, a confused expression on her face as she tilted her head slightly as she stops walking. I do the same and gaze down at her.
"Yes."
"But why?"
"Because sometimes, you have to rely on blind trust and faith. Titles do not define who a person is. I only know the basics of the fall of Camelot, but I doubt that it is only your fault, or that you didn't have good reasons for doing what you did. Maybe I am wrong, but I will trust you. We're partners, and partners can't work together if there is no trust," I explained. Sure, I would love to know more about what happened, because I have a feeling there is more behind Mordred's rebellion than I know. However, this is neither the time nor place to ask or push.
Maybe she will betray me regardless of how I behave to her, but if I act like she is going to do so at any second, then that chance will only increase.
Mordred stared silently at me for a few minutes, staring into my eyes. Maybe she is searching for deceit, or other ulterior motives? Whatever she is searching for, she doesn't find.
"…You're an odd one, Master," the Saber finally said, turning back around to resume our march. I follow suit as she continued speaking. "I suppose that I will have to prove you right then, huh?"
Now walking slightly behind her, I feel the soft smile forming with my mouth. 'She is definitely one of a kind,' I reflected in amusement. Hopefully, the next few hours won't be the end of it.
Another ten minutes goes by, and we approach the cave nestled in the ruins of what appeared to have been a local temple. My Servant and I cautiously approached. "Where is he? Do you sense him?" I asked the English knight beside me. A masculine voice from behind causes us to whirl around.
A tall, white-haired man with tanned skin and what appears to be rust stains across his features gazes down in what I assume to be boredom, though his gaze is locked on my Servant as he speaks.
"So, this is the famous traitor. I see that the resemblance is striking. At least, when it comes to looks. At least she didn't destroy an entire nation in what was essentially a temper tantrum because she didn't get what she wanted," the Archer-class Servant observed, his voice as cold and lifeless as steel. Of course, why wouldn't we ever get to fight a friendly Servant intent on killing us. I mean, it wouldn't change having to fight, but at least the banter would be entertaining…maybe?
Mordred growled, her gauntlets creaking softly as she tightens her grip
"What did you say?
"You heard me, child," Archer said without blinking or breaking his monotone. Mordred's body tensed up, like a coiled viper just seconds from lashing out. Her green eyes blaze angrily as her fearsome helmet reassembles itself over her head. My eyes widen as I realize what Archer was doing, and the fact that it is working all too well for him.
"Mordred, don't listen to him. He's just trying to-" I tried to warn
"You bastard!"
Mordred doesn't lunge forward so much as throws herself forward, Clarent held in both hands, ready to deliver a sundering overhead swing. "Damn it," I muttered harshly, realizing that for all intents and purposes, we have given up the advantage of reacting first.
I watch as Archer extended his hands slightly, before two concave-shaped short swords appear, one in either hand. They look to be of a Chinese origin, and one blade is white while the other is black. Where is his bow though? There is no way that explosion from earlier was because of two small swords...right?
Just as Mordred begins to swing her sword upon reaching them, our opponent raised his arms across his chest, the two blades forming an X shape as he parried Mordred's blow. To the Saber's credit, though, the impact sends him skidding back a few feet. He pushes his body forward, delivering a rapid series of cuts and thrusts that Mordred blocks. My hand clenched tightly, fingernails digging into my palms as I watch helplessly.
Sparks leap off of the weapons each time they connect. The moment that Archer eased up on his attacks, Mordred kicked him in the chest with one armored boot, sending him back a few feet, giving her more room for her to use full length of her sword. She swings with a loud grunt.
The white sword intercepted the strike, and the blade shattered. Dropping the hilt of the broken sword, the corrupted Servant lunges with the other sword. I watch in confusion as the discard blade dissolves, and then my eyes widen as it reappears moments later. Noble Phantasm?
Mordred merely growls angrily. "Cheap trick for a cheap bastard!" She snarled as she delivers her own series of wild sword swings. Archer didn't even appear to raise an eyebrow at the insult or the flurry of attacks. Instead, the white-haired Servant alternates between blocking and dodging.
A soft exclamation of surprise from behind causes me to turn around, seeing the rest of my group. Not trusting my voice to give away the ploy, I wave wildly, pointing at the now-unguarded cave entrance. Director Animusphere nodded in reply, lightly shoving Ritsuka and Mash forward. The action causes them to regain their focus, tearing their gaze away from the fight.
Trailing in the rear, Chulainn turned around as the others disappeared into the darkness of the cave, mouthing a wish of good luck to me and my Servant. We might actually be needing it. A grunt of pain causes me to whirl my attention back to the fight.
Mordred stumbles back a few steps, one hand holding her right arm just below her shoulder armor. Blood dripped off of one of the Archer's swords as he gazed in that irritating, condescending manner.
"Another difference it seems. You fight like a Berserker. Unimaginable for any knight, even a treasonous one, would fight like you are."
"My skills are second only to my father!" Mordred snarled, letting go off her injury. If it is any consolation for us, it seems to be nothing more than a deep cut. The sinking feeling of my gut tells me that it may not be the only one
"Empty boasts. The King of Knights fought like a true knight. You will never be one in anything other than title." My servant's figure starts to tremble, her fury building stronger than earlier. Archer readies his swords as his taunting seems to work effectively once again. I point my right index finger at the Servant's face and fire a shot of Gandr.
Not even looking away from the seething Saber, Archer tilts his head to the right slightly, allowing for the curse to fly by harmlessly. At least it seems to have gotten him to shut up. I keep my hand and my gaze focused while I address my comrade.
"Ignore him! Mordred, he's trying to get under your skin. He wants to provoke you again like earlier.
"You remind me of someone I loathed," Archer commented idly, leaping backwards. His swords vanish. In their place, a large bow appeared in one hand, and a long, thin metal object in the other. I assume that it is an arrow. He notches the arrow and pulled back the bowstring with the casual ease that can be seen in one who has constantly been using the weapon. Adjusting his body, he locks his cold, lifeless eyes with mine.
It takes me a few seconds to realize that he is aiming at me.
"There's always the easiest option for taking down a Servant. No matter how strong or skilled, without their Master, a Servant is on borrowed time at best." Damn it! I raise my arm back up and point again at the Servant, firing round after round of Gandr as fast as I can, pumping my Magic Circuits for everything they have. An Aronson doesn't go down without a fight!
A familiar sword moves in a blur, slamming into the bow from the side and knocking both bow and arrow out of our opponent's hands. An empty-handed Mordred pushes forward, her hands clenched in fists as she tries to connect a gauntlet-clad fist or one of her pointed sabatons with the body of Archer as she unleashes yet another flurry of blows. My arm still extended, I blink as the events that had just happened are fully processed.
'She threw her sword like a damn javelin!' I thought, staring incredulously at the knight. Without a sword to block the two swords from earlier, having been re-summoned at some point, small amounts of blood are thrown to the left or right as the corrupted Servant scores minor blows.
I curse as I watch him force Mordred back, the tide of the fight having change again. Even if we buy time for Ritsuka and the others to defeat the Saber-class Servant Chulainn told us about and come to our aid, it might be too late. Mordred's fury is working against her, causing gaps to appear in her defense even when she retrieves Clarent. His swords seem unable to penetrate or damage her armor, but it doesn't cover everywhere.
My eyes narrowed slightly as I creep around to the side, my thoughts running at a thousand miles an hour. I don't have a sword or my makeshift weapon from the start of this nightmare, not that it would have been of any meaningful use in this case. Gandr is a distraction at best. I have one more trick up my sleeves.
A sharp cry of pain distracts me as my eyes snap to my Servant. Somehow, during the rapid exchange of attacks, Archer had managed to badly damage Mordred's helmet, with part of her left face exposed. She stumbled back a step, before growling. I point my hand once more to fire a shot of Gandr, praying to whatever divine being that was watching us for it to work.
The curse flies true. Whether he was distracted or something else, I don't know. What I do know, however, was that the Archer had divided his attention between my Servant and I. This might be our best chance. I draw in a deep breath as I fire another Gandr round that is deflected.
"Mordred! Now!" I shouted. A few seconds later, I hear a sickening sound, followed by the sounds of two metal objects falling to the ground.
Archer looks down at the hilt of Clarent pressing against his chest, a small, sad smile on his lips as the familiar gold dust appears. We did it! Mordred pants, helmet retracted, and blood running down the left side of her face from the cut over her brow. I stare at our defeated foe as he opened his mouth.
"So, it seems that once more I failed her. Perhaps this is for the best…when you see Saber, tell her…that I failed…" The dying Servant doesn't manage to finish saying the last word of his request, having finished dissolving, but I still nod my head. He may have tried his best to kill us, but I see no reason to not at least honor that simple request. I flinch suddenly as I hear a soft groan. I whirl about, frantically staring at Mordred before hurrying over to the injured Knight of Treachery.
I bite my lip softly, worried, as my Servant falls down to one knee, leaning heavily against Clarent. I hurry over to her. "Mordred?"
"B-bastard knocked me around some," Mordred replied in a steady tone, not looking at me. "Don't worry Master, I'm not going to die." That's a relief to hear, as I exhale softly. However, that doesn't mean that we can go running off to support the others. I spend the next few minutes weighing my options. Mana transfer by blood could work, but it might take too long, and considering how I am starting to run on fumes due to being unable to properly rest, eat, or drink, I can't risk it.
Looking down at the red markings on my hand, I suddenly feel stupid. Of course! I could use a Command Seal to heal her. From my research during the past few months before going to Chaldea, I had gathered that there was very little that a well-worded command couldn't do. They were only to be used in emergencies, and my gut tells me that this is a pretty good time.
"By the power of my First Command Seal, Saber, be healed," I intoned in a solemn voice. The top seal, glowing bright red, instantly vanishes upon finishing my declaration. I stare worriedly at my Servant. Like, well, magic, Mordred's wounds began to heal. A minute later, and the Knight of Treachery pushes herself up from her kneeling position. The tears and scratches in her armor and sleeves were gone as well.
"Thanks, Master," Mordred grunted. I nod my head as I stare at the cave entrance. My body shakes slightly from a combination of exhilaration and the draining of adrenaline from the near-death experience. We did it! We defeated a powerful Servant. I didn't let anyone down. I manage to not become distracted with the prospect of being acknowledged for our accomplishment. Maybe Director Animusphere won't even consider giving Mordred a different Master, since I proved that I am competent enough to work alongside her. No, focus. Praises and all can come later, when we are safe and sound in the present at Chaldea.
"You did well. Are you ready to help Mash and Ritsuka?" 'And finish this nightmare?' I silently added in my head.
"Yeah. Thanks for the assist, even if it could have gotten you killed." Well, crap. Mordred made sure to add extra emphasis on that last part. Is she upset at me? Think, Jacob, think.
"Thanks for saving my ass again," I quipped in response, earning a brief bark of laughter as we entered the cave. As we start walking, I shot the Knight of Rebellion a side-long look. "That part where you threw the sword…that might have been a tad too much." Another bark of laughter echoes as I shake my head.
I shiver slightly after the last few steps. Not from cold, though it is far from warm down here. Rather, an ominous feeling slams into my body, heightening my anxiety. "We shouldn't be here," I mumbled numbly, fighting down a wave of nauseous. "This place…it feels…wrong." Mordred nodded in response, Clarent resting against her shoulder, eyes narrowed.
"It must be a side-effect of a corrupted Grail," she suggested. I nod before clenching my fists. Damn it, this is not a time to risk a break-down. Not after getting this far.
"The sooner we get to the others, the sooner we can finish this. Hopefully, Doctor Romani has finished whatever repairs to the Rayshift machinery by now," I say, forcing my voice to sound like normal. It felt rather feeble an effort, though thankfully Mordred doesn't comment.
We hadn't gotten too much further into the cave when the ground shuddered slightly.
"Cave-in?" I asked, unable to help the slight lilt of panic in my voice. I had heard of the terrifying experiences of being trapped during a cave-in, and thus wasn't in all too a hurry to gain first-hand experience. Thankfully, my Servant shakes her head before her helmet once more covers her head.
"Unlikely, at least for now." And there went some of my confidence in the situation. Mordred continues speaking, unaware or uncaring of her wording. "If I had to guess, it might be because someone used a Noble Phantasm. Let's hurry up!"
"Right!" I nodded in agreement before forcing my tired body forward, following right behind the knight. Soon we enter a large chamber, and I take a few minutes to take in the situation.
Chulainn's outfit was torn, leaving him topless. His muscular chest bore several superficial wounds, and he was leaning rather heavily against his staff, glaring ahead. Slighting in front of him, an equally battered Mash leans tiredly against her massive shield, as the faint outline of what appeared to be a blue brick wall fades away. If it weren't for Ritsuka holding her up, the Demi-Servant would have probably been on the floor. My fellow Master, aside from one or two tears in his clothing from stray debris, appears to be fine, along with the director and the odd, dog-like creature that had been following Mash and Ritsuka. The ground, however, between them and the pulsing light towards the back of the cave, which I assume is the Grail of this Singularity, was carved out. I suppose that whatever Mash had done to block the attack was responsible for the shaking earlier. I turn towards my boss.
"Director!"
"Took you two long enough. Aronson, is your Servant able to take over? Mash seems to have used up almost all of her remaining strength to block that last attack, and we can't risk Caster any further," Director Animusphere asked me. I pointed towards the armored-clad Servant in front of Mash as Mordred and I take point.
Her skin is pale, unnaturally so. Her yellow eyes stare impassively, reminding me eerily of Archer's eyes. Held before her breastplate was a two-handed sword, smaller than Clarent (in other words, a normal-sized sword), and covered in a massive aura of purplish energy that had taken the shape of a massive caricature of a sword. Upon seeing Mordred and I, the energy begins to dissipate, though a faint outline was still present.
"Is that Saber?" I asked, looking at my fellow Master, who answers with a simple nod. I feel stupid for a moment for asking what was probably a redundant question before shaking my head. "Is Mash ok?" Another nod. However, Ritsuka looked slightly distracted, gazing over my shoulder. A drained Mash was also doing the same thing.
I turned around, having noticed that my Servant was staring intently at our final opponent. Her body seemed to stiffen, Clarent held in both hands loosely, tip pointed towards the Servant. Whether that was in preparation to attack or something else, I know not.
"Father…?" Mordred muttered upon seeing the black-armored Servant.
"Mordred," was the only answer we got. Cold, clipped, and unemotional, in a way like the corrupted Archer. Then the words just uttered by both Servants registers, and only one word comes to mind.
….Oh shit.