"Damn it, just fall already!" Mordred roared, channeling as much of her strength as she could into her arms without also weakening her lower guard. Clarent groaned in complaint as the sword struggled to break past the black metal of the spear of her opponent. The Lancer gave another damn lazy smirk, looking as if he wasn't taking the fight seriously. As if trying to kill her Master, and her partner, wasn't a grave offense a Servant could commit to another.
As if he wasn't taking her seriously!
Mordred, the knight who at the age of sixteen had brought down an entire kingdom! No one, and she meant no one, was allowed to insult her like this and live to tell the tale.
The fact that she was unable to use all of her tricks was only slightly mollifying to the current situation. Otherwise, Mordred would have already kicked his ass with her Noble Phantasm…along with the rest of the bow section of the already ship.
As much as she desired to run him through with Clarent, all the way to the hilt of the broadsword, she wasn't letting her bloodlust completely control her.
Nor was she willing to die. Not again. Especially not after last night.
"Why won't you just die?!"
"You know, if this old man had a golden coin for every single time he'd been asked that question, I'd think I'd be quite the rich man."
"That's another thing! Knock it off with the third person schtick! It's fucking annoying!"
"This old man might consider it, if he was asked by a Saber, and not a braying animal," the soon-to-be-dead Lancer shot back. Growling angrily, Mordred delivered a rapid series of slashes and cuts, but to her growing frustration, the Lancer, though sometimes barely, was able to block every damn one.
"Shut up!" She hissed, adjusting her stance slightly. The Lancer laughed as he started to do something similar. Despite his consistent, laid-back manner, she hadn't failed to notice how his eyes had yet to shift from the scrutinizing look they conveyed.
A minute later, and absolutely no progress had been made. None of her blows were breaking through, and he had yet to seriously strike out at her, beyond the occasional feint. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down, at least for a moment.
"You know, I imagine that when, you're not distracted by anger, you would be quite the fearsome warrior. Too bad that's not the case this time!"
This time, Mordred managed to smother most of her anger. She hadn't fully realized it at first, but the Lancer had been trying to rile her up, and it had worked, damn him.
She wouldn't fall for the same trick twice, not when she had yet to deliver any of the payback she deeply desired to give him. She couldn't use her Noble Phantasm, at least, not yet, but she wasn't out of tricks yet.
Clarent split apart and her armor quickly reformatted itself as her ponytail fell behind her, whipping around in the wind as she raised Clarent towards the sky. The two Servants were far enough away from her Master and the others, so she wouldn't have to worry about accidently striking them.
"Crimson Lightning!" Mordred roared, and her sword turned into a lightning rod. Furious streaks of red lightning shot everywhere around her. To her grim satisfaction, the carefree expression the Lancer had shown slipped for a fraction of a second as a bolt of electricity hit the shaft of his spear, giving the enemy one hell of a nasty shock.
"Ouch!" The Lancer growled, his body faintly smoking as the lightning bolts faded away. "That was careless of this old man. Maybe you're not as thickheaded as you look."
Mordred shrugged off the insult. His opinion didn't matter. And soon, neither would he, and then she threw herself back into the fight once more.
Francis Drake watched in grudging awe as Blackbeard continued to more than just hold his ground. Outnumbered by three to one, her nemesis had quickly proven to be quite capable of matching his bark. Well, at least he had that going for him.
One of the things Drake hated the most were folks who talked a big game but couldn't follow up on their bragging. It didn't matter if the person was a bloody Spaniard, English, or even Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth. Either back up the tough talk or keep your trap shut.
Seeing a brief moment of opportunity, the veteran sailor aimed her left pistol at Blackbeard's face. Before she could pull the trigger, however, she saw a rapid movement out of the corner of her eye, her instincts screaming to either dodge or block whatever it was that was approaching her.
At the last second, she waved her pistol into the path, intercepting Blackbeard's hook as a heavy and painful jarring sensation shot up Drake's right arm. The pistol was wedged in the crook of Blackbeard's main weapon, each pirate trying to push back the other's arm.
This was more a brawl than a battle, though no less lethal. Some might find it odd at the least, but Drake honestly felt like she was enjoying herself. Sure, her opponent was a right bastard, who she desired nothing more than to crush like a weevil that was infesting the ship's hard tack under her heel, but still, the fight was making her feel quite alive, and frankly, a bit nostalgic as well.
She hadn't grown up with a silver spoon in her mouth. No, Drake had grown up on the run with his family during the time of religious persecutions. She had learnt her way in a brawl, long before she could wield swords, daggers, or pistols.
The only actual threat to her, at least in her opinion, was that damn bloody hook of his. She saw how dangerous it was when that damn bastard had used it to rip out the throat of poor Will. She stepped backwards, leaning as far back as she could without throwing her completely off-balance as she did so. The blood-covered weapon slashed through empty air, and she glared at a smug and leering Blackbeard.
"Hah! I thought that you wanted to kick my ass, hag!" The black-haired bastard shouted tauntingly as he lashed out with his left leg. Drake winced as the heal of the heavy boot slammed into her right shin. Thankfully, nothing was broken, though her leg would sure as hell be smarting in the morning.
Snarling, Drake cocked her free hand back, making sure it was curled as best into a fist considering the empty pistol she was still holding before launching it forward and bracing for the satisfying crunch of her knuckles breaking Blackbeard's nose. The pirate cried out more in shock than pain, but she took full advantage of the momentary distraction. Swinging the not currently trapping Blackbeard's hook to the side like a bolo, she slammed the heavy wooden handle of her primary weapon into his right temple.
This time, though, Blackbeard was apparently prepared for some sort of attack, for at the same instant that she felt her blow connect, pain erupted in her stomach as the smug asshole drove his right knee into her stomach. The force of the blow almost caused Drake to bend over as the air was driven out of her lungs.
More problematic to her at the moment, however, was the tugging sensation as her other pistol was ripped out of her hands. "Captain!" Mash called out, the shy and rather uptight girl shoving her to the side while blocking Blackbeard's hook with that crazy-ass shield of hers.
At the same time, Nero came charging in, the energetic and sometimes uppity blonde emperor displaying a staggering level of agility that would have made even ospreys wide-eyed. Taking the moment to recover her breath, Drake glanced at a concerned-looking Mash. Despite the situation, Drake couldn't help but crack a grin at the pink-haired girl.
"Aw, Mash, you do care!" She cooed teasingly. While she didn't have one of her full breakdowns like she had seen Mash go through in the past, Drake was still able to take some pleasure in the wide-eyed stare Mash was giving her.
"Captain Drake?"
"Don't worry about it, Mash. Let's just take down that rotten-headed bastard once and for all." As if on que, a shocked-looking Nero was flung past them, though Drake sensed, rather than saw, the busty blonde recovering rather quickly behind them. "Ready for one last push?"
"Aye, Aye, Captain Drake!"
"That's the spirit!"
"Random last line fight finisher moments?" Blackbeard suddenly said with a cackle, and for a brief minute, Drake felt the desire to crush the Servant crumbled.
Only briefly, however. Shaking her head, she charged forward, Mash and Nero flanking her.
The next minute passed in a blur of chaos. Blackbeard ducking, dodging, and weaving between the three, avoiding some hits, tanking overs, but slowly yet surely being worn down. At some point, Nero got knocked out of the fight again, and so was Mash, leaving Drake to face off against Blackbeard alone.
"It's just you and me, hag!" Blackbeard shouted mockingly, jumping towards her, readying his hook in an attempt to either disembowel her or rip her throat open. This was that do or die moment that Drake lived for.
Drake decided at that moment to throw any remaining sense of caution to the wind. She swung her left pistol, managing to hook it against Blackbeard's hook attachment. Straining her muscles, the scarred veteran of the seas forced Blackbeard's right arm away from her. Seeing her chance, she then pressed her right pistol against the center of his gut, pulling the trigger.
The sound of the black powder being ignited drowned out the sound of the lead ball piercing the skin. At the same time, Nero took advantage of Blackbeard's broken guard, sliding her extravagant-looking sword through his unprotected right armpit until it burst out the left.
Blackbeard howled in rage, and both Nero and Drake leapt backwards, ready to continue the fight if needed, though it looked perhaps unnecessary, as Blackbeard stumbled backwards, bleeding profusely.
Now, the earlier defeat, and the lives of her faithful crewmates who had fallen both yesterday and today, had been well and truly avenged.
"Ugh," Blackbeard groaned, one hand clutching his gut as the Rider stumbled backwards. "Not yet….not yet….I'm…not even…at my full power…yet!" The enemy pirate roared definitely. Groaning loudly once more, Ritsuka couldn't help but respect the sheer guts and determination that must be keeping the Servant going. "If I really put my mind to it, there's no way I'd ever lose to a Servant or two…let alone an old hag!" He shouted, glaring at Drake with clenched, blood-stained teeth.
"If you can blab like that after a fatal blow, you certainly got some guts," Drake remarked, equally as impressed by Blackbeard's defiance as everyone else watching was. Ritsuka watched as Drake paused briefly, before she continued speaking. "I don't respect you, but I won't deny that I am impressed. The great pirate born over a hundred years after me. I know that you wanted my Holy Grail—"
"And Euryale," Ritsuka said, unable to stop himself from speaking aloud. Thankfully, other than a quick but stern glare from Mash, no one reacted to his little outburst, and Drake continued her monologue.
"But give up. That's my treasure. Treasures of the sea have no rightful owners. 'First come, first served'. That's the rule for we pirates, is it not?"
There was a tense period of silence as Ritsuka's eyes darted between the two pirates. From all of his prior experiences with the unpredictable enemy Servant, he wouldn't put it past Blackbeard for him to attempt one last desperate attack.
Then, Blackbeard gave off a bark of dry laughter. Taking a deep breath, Blackbeard finally answered. "Yeah, that's right…Feels good…What a feel-good conclusion…That's how a pirate should be—"
Suddenly, Jacob's voice rang out from behind Ritsuka, filled with alarm and urgency.
"Ritsuka! Look out!"
Once more I cursed the fact that neither Mordred nor I knew the True Name of the Lancer she was engaged with. Whoever he was, he certainly hadn't been a slouch in life, despite what his apparent mannerisms would imply. Was it an act, or something more?
I couldn't help but feel as if the Lancer was actually just toying with my knight. The thought pissed me off, and I had absolutely no doubt if Mordred was thinking the same thing, she was absolutely livid. Even though I had noticed how she had reigned in that infamous temper of hers after a bit, it still flared up from time to time, and was usually accompanied with a rather noticeable increase in both quick and heavy attacks.
If it weren't for the fact that the rest of our group was aboard the ship, I'd have given her my permission to utilize her Noble Phantasm. No doubt that Clarent Blood Arthur would have ended this fight by now, especially if it were to be reinforced with the extra power of a Command Seal.
I stiffened as another thought suddenly popped up into my head. Maybe Mordred's opponent was toying with her, but what if he wasn't? I had assumed that he wasn't taking the fight seriously, but what if he was just putting up a front. Aside from a few blows here and there, he wasn't actually going on the offensive. Like as if he was just waiting for someone or something. What if he was buying time? And if so, for what?
Yet another pirate at that moment tried to take advantage of my focus on the Servant battle, somehow managing to avoid the attention of either Sasaki or Jeanne. Raising his sword over his shoulder, he started to swing the cutlass as hard as he could, intent on trying to kill me.
With a single and controlled flick of my wrist, my sword caught him right below the elbow, the sharp blade of steel cleaving through skin, muscle, and then bone. The enemy pirate paused, staring first at the severed arm, still clutching his cutlass, lying at his feet. Then he looked at me, then his bloodied stump, before looking back at the floor as his brain tried to process both what I had just done as well as the delay in the sensation of pain from the amputation.
Wishing to show mercy before the full force of the pain could hit him, I stabbed forth with my sword, piercing his heart. Another flick of the wrist, and I withdrew my sword as the now-lifeless body crumpled at my feet, like a marionette whose strings had been cruelly severed.
…I had been spending too much time around both Nero and Sasaki when they were reciting poetry. Speaking of the Japanese Assassin, I noticed him nodding his head towards me with that typical lackadaisical, almost serene look of his.
"A clean kill," Sasaki commented softly as another lull overtook the three of us. The remaining group of enemy pirates formed a half-circle around us, each one of Blackbeard's followers watching us with wary expressions, but none of them feeling bold enough to try their luck again and see if they could do better than their numerous, fallen comrades had done.
I split my focus between both the weaker lackeys with whom we were engaged in a stand-off with, and the Servant battle between Mordred and the Lancer. My knight had finally managed to inflict a few wounds, albeit each being of a superficial nature. Still, progress was progress, after all, and I felt that it wasn't going to be much longer before she finally landed the decisive blow.
Apparently, fate seemed to have other plans in store for us, however.
Suddenly, I felt something from behind. I couldn't quite describe it, but I wasn't the only one to feel it, it seems. Mordred and her opponent, weapons locked against one another, suddenly paused, having also sensed whatever it was that I did.
Then, to my shock, the Lancer began smirking. With a sharp cry of shock, pain, and outrage, Mordred was sent skidding backwards a few yards, bent forward slightly from the mighty kick of the Lancer. Crimson lighting began to crackle and dance across the length of Clarent's blade, and the Knight of Rebellion crouched down, preparing to close in on the Lancer once more when the green-wearing enemy half-bowed at us in a clearly mocking manner.
"Well, a sincere thank you to you and your fellow Master, kid. You've made this old man's job far easier. Take care!" I blinked in utter confusion at the Lancer's words. I started to open my mouth, fully intent on demanding he tell me just what the hell that meant. But before I could, however, Jeanne pulled me to the side, the eyes of my self-declared adopted older sister wide with fear.
Then, with a sudden burst of energy, Mordred's current nemesis broke away, and charged forward, slipping past us and then leaping over the raging fire separating the bow of the Queen Anne's Revenge from the stern.
The area where Ritsuka and the others were. With their backs to us.
Shit!
My brain rushing like crazy, I could only think of one potential outcome. The Lancer was about to try and kill both Ritsuka and Drake while the two were busy. I whipped over to Mordred.
"Come on, get me over there! We have to stop him!"
"Right! Forgive the discomfort, Master!" Mordred said. Before I could ask, I found myself swept off of my feet, being held in a crude imitation of a bridal carry. I couldn't help btu grumble softly. I know that last night I had essentially referred to myself as potential being the damsel in distress when I called Mordred my shining knight in armor, but I didn't expect her to take that part of the metaphor literally!
If it was to save my friends and teammates, however, I was more than happy to endure any amount of embarrassment. Then, we were flying through the air, as Mordred used her Mana Burst ability to give her lower half of her body extra energy to carry us both over the gap, like the enemy Lancer had done just a few seconds before.
The smoke stung my eyes, and I closed them as best I could as Mordred and I leapt over the raging inferno still being fought in the bowels of the Queen's Anne Revenge. When I opened them, it was to see Nero, Mash, Ritsuka, and Drake all gathered around a badly-injured Blackbeard, with the enemy Lancer rapidly approaching the group form behind.
"Ritsuka!" I shouted as the wind wiped past my face, ignoring my remnants of discomfort at being held in a bridal pose by Mordred as we began to descend from the super-powered jump. "Look out!"
Ritsuka's eyes widened as he saw the rapidly approaching Mordred and Jacob. Then he noticed the brown-haired Lancer from yesterday, who was much, much closer to him. His weapon was lowered, and it appeared that he was intent on running at least one of their group through, quite possibly Ritsuka himself, considering the attempted assassination of his fellow Master in the last encounter with the still-unnamed Lancer.
"Mash, Drake, get back!" Ritsuka called out, tugging Mash to the side with him, while Nero did the same with Drake. Ritsuka closed his eyes, expecting to feel that long blade at the end of his spear to pierce through his armor. But that never came, and he opened one eye with a growing realization of horror.
He had miscalculated who the Lancer was targeting, as he heard a sickening squelch as Blackbeard's subordinate thrusted the tip of his weapon…
…Into Blackbeard's chest!
Original Endnotes: And done! Damn it, Teach! So, what did you all think of the fight scenes? Were they enjoyable? Sorry if any feel shorter than they should be, but at least in regards to Mordred and her opponent, I plan on having a final match between the two, with the ability to go all out on one another. Also, be prepared for a number of changes to the remaining part of the Third Singularity now, partially because of Medea being part of Jacob and Ritsuka's crew here, and partially for other reasons TBA. Also, who's ready for Mordred and the other Servants to face off against one of the most dangerous Servants and Berserkers in all of fate in a few chapters?!
Now, last chapter I mentioned something about London. The Will to Fight will not be covering London proper. It will cover before and after, and the events will still occur that do in-game essentially, but they won't be discussed in great detail like the past three singularities have been. Before you break out the pitchforks and torches, allow me to explain. I plan on writing London as a Ritsuka and Mash story, focused solely on the two, for reasons that will be apparent later on. It does still happen canonically, and as I said, it will be its own story. Jacob and some of his Servants will be dealing with a side singularity. Namely, one that involves a certain Dragon Witch who's going to be joining Chaldea. Hopefully, you'll all find this to be acceptable? I will of course provide a more in-depth explanation both in end notes and in the story as we get closer, but I wanted to mention this now so that everyone can start getting used to the idea, ya know?
Now, for the question(s) of the chapter! First up, what are your top five favorite Noble Phantasms? Secondly, what's your most and least favorite Greek myths?
As always, thanks for all the love and support you all have given me, and for reading yet another chapter of The Will to Fight! I hope you enjoyed it, and I can't wait to read y'alls thoughts and feedback! Have a lovely day, and see you in the next chapter!
Updated Endnotes: Sorry for the delay, IRL stuff and all. God, job searching is such a pain right now. Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter and story so far. If you want to skip the wait, the more up-to-date (and my original) version of Will to Fight can be found on AO3, with Chapter 141 having been posted yesterday. Have a good day, stay safe and healthy, and see y'all in the next chapter.