My Caribbean Green eyes glowed with mana like two slitted moons as I stared down upon the onslaught below from the top of the Colosseum. Two large groups, as if opposing tides, crashed into each other to do battle. On one side were the Greeks and on the other the Romans. The terms Greeks and Romans are pretty much synonymous with right and wrong respectively. Romans are the enemy and must be exterminated for the safety and security of the Greek people. It is simply my moral obligation to kill Romans on sight as a Greek. Regardless of how each instance of offense started, the fact remains that Romans have been the source of my, and other Greeks', suffering in life. Nothing would be more satisfying than the absolute annihilation of all things Roman.
Both sensing an incoming opening with one of the individual fights below, Master and I looked at each other and nodded. I hitched forward and shot to the ground. With me here, we would have the number advantage. Paris, the wife-stealer and the one who caused the Trojan War, danced around with a man with dark blue-purple hair in hot pursuit. A feral air surrounded him as if he had lost his sense of reasoning. He donned black Pteruges rimmed with gold and gold-plated armor with black highlights in the chest area. As if to match the whole color scheme, his eyes were black with red pupils. His bright red cape waved behind him as he leaped forward again at Paris in a Superman pose. Paris again skittered off to the side and jumped back. Two leaps back rendered a distance large enough for Paris to summon his weapon.
It was a comically large black crossbow over three times his size.
If he was going to be able to fire off that shot with something that unwieldy, he would need even more distance and time. I had doubts in my mind if his short arms could even draw the crossbow back. It seemed like a poor weapon of choice, and an even worse match-up with
Paris fired his crossbow with a huff.
How did he already-
In response to this sudden attack, the Roman slowed down his charge to sidestep and, with a sweep of his arm, used his vambraces to deflect the arrow into a Colosseum wall. The man grimaced with disgust. "You pesky twerp. That's gonna leave a mark." Normally, I wouldn't be able to hear one's mutterings from this distance, but as Servants, our base senses are greatly enhanced compared to regular, non-magic-using humans. It also seems that my initial impression regarding his sanity was off. He is at least capable of coherent human thought. He was right, too. A rough and jagged ravine had manifested on what was once a beautifully unmarred golden surface
With a shudder, the man let out a war cry. "ROOOHHHH-MMMAAAAHHH". Nevermind. Roman trash will forever be Roman trash. As if possessed by spirits, his eyes let off an oppressive red glow as he bellowed toward the sky.
My experience told me that for Paris to get a clean shot off, I needed to busy this Roman in close quarters and force him to offer his back to Paris. Is what I would say if my instincts said I couldn't defeat him by myself. I materialized my Noble Phantasm. Golden light particles congregated into a trident drenched in arcs of yellow electricity. They didn't burn me, as they're manifested from my own mana. How absurd would it be for my own ability to be dangerous to myself? In response, the Roman beat his hands together, letting red arcs of mana writhe about, and stomped the ground in preparation for another charge. I cracked my neck to the side, which the Roman took as a signal to close the distance. He let a right hook fly and I swerved left. Small red lightning arcs tickled my face as his fist drove past. He followed up with a cross and I jumped back to open the distance. I cocked my arm back and shot my trident straight at his chest. Again he deflected it with his vambraces and sent it quivering on impact with the ground. Splaying out my hand, the trident spun back into my hand. For the second time this match I launched my trident, but by using my mana, guided the trident to hit his arms perpendicular to the angle which he blocked with. This tactic was enough to shatter his vambraces and pierce through his forearms. A successful tactic, I would say. Calling my weapon back, I prepared to finish my opponent. The trident glowed slightly brighter as I prepared it for the final strike. There was absolutely no chance that he could run, as my trident could easily chase him down. Three strikes and you're out.
Clang. As I let my trident set sail again, I noticed movement in the corner of my eye. A curvy red-rimmed black sword was thrust in front of the Roman just before I was able to make a hole in his torso. Holding the warped sword was a girl with beautiful green eyes in a puffy red dress. She had quite a developed chest. Her proportions were perfect, and the fact of the matter couldn't be ignored no matter how hard one tried.
From what I collected before I entered the fray, she was the second strongest of the enemy in terms of raw strength. It's a wonder how she is able to output that much power through her svelte arms. She reared her arms back and swung with absolutely no technique behind it. It was as if she treated the sword like a club. What a gorilla. I opened the distance again and she posed in a proud, wide stance.
"Umu! I am Emperor Nero Claudius! There is no other more beautiful and intelligent than me!" The man, whose hands were now limp at his sides, whipped his head up towards her with a confused grimace.
"Nero, why did you say your True Name? Did your Master not tell you to keep it a secret?" The Roman seemed shocked that the girl, now revealed to be Nero, would so freely distribute this information. According to what I was told by the Holy Grail when I was summoned, Nero was the fifth emperor of the Roman Empire, known for her cruel persecution of the Christians. Her full name is Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, and has a particular weakness to poison. She is particularly tyrannical and haughty, which are traits unfortunately not uncommon in rulers throughout history.
Nero turned her head back to the man while wearing a large, confident smile. "Don't fear! The name of this beauty should not be held secret. It doesn't matter what they do, since my genius surpasses anyone and everyone. Umu!" During her pompous speech, I lunged at her with my trident extended ahead of me. In her arrogance, she will have that beautiful head lopped off. Before the three prongs could begin working into her flesh, she leaned back at an incredible speed and extended her blade toward my chest. I instinctually pulled my arm back and parried the counterattack. I snapped my head down to watch for follow-up actions and made eye contact with her. She still wore that same beautiful smile on her face, unfazed.
"You're pretty handsome." What? A compliment in a fight must only be to throw me off. A tactic revealed is a tactic failed. I didn't reply and twirled the trident forward in an arc so that the tail would crush her lower body. She evaded with a hop back and I followed up with two more sweeps with the tail end of my trident and a stab at her chest which I somehow missed. I guess her earlier comment must've had some sort of effect. My subconscious seemed to deter my attacks from her chest area for whatever reason. She gracefully hopped back, one hand caressing her sword, one hand holding her dress up as if she was some sort of princess.
I got into a low stance to strike her. I unleashed three stabs in rapid succession, but to my frustration were all parried. Let's see if that was luck or talent. I barraged her with countless stabs that she was able to somehow swat away every time, even the ones that would have only barely grazed her. Her purre visage betrayed no knowledge of being in battle.
An arrowhead budded forth from her stomach. I had been so focused on Nero that I forgot about the other Roman. Fortunately, Paris and another servant, who Nero had previously been engaged in battle with, had roughly finished him off. His body was already beginning to fade away into golden ash with seven arrowheads poking through his chest along with ribbons of exposed flesh. He donned a remorseful defeated expression as he lay propped up by his elbows. I'd say he was about sixty percent translucent. That is how we servants die. We fade away and return to the Throne of Heroes until we are, by chance, summoned again by a master somewhere in the world.
Nero looked at the wound on the side of her stomach. More than just the pain, she seemed upset that her image was ruined. "We're leaving, everyone. This battle is not important enough for me not to radiate beauty throughout its entirety." Nero glanced over Paris with dulled eyes then turned her head up to announce the next tactical move. "Everyone! We're leaving now!" With a yank, Nero tore out the arrow and threw it at Paris' head. He tottered to the side just in time to only receive a scratch to the cheek. "Tch, brat."
Nero turned around and began walking to her master. The other individual battles had come to a stop, as the Greek servants seemed satisfied and likely needed time for recuperation as well. The Holy Grail can wait. This large-scale encounter only occurred by chance; we were originally there for vacation. Where was "there"? According to the knowledge I received when I was summoned, this was Manhattan. There were many tall buildings that made for an intriguing landscape view.
As Nero stepped off the Colosseum, it began to crumble into golden dust and blow away into the wind from the top down. Yes, Nero had created the Colosseum. Before I lost my footing, I leap onto the jetski and sat behind Master, who had come down from the top of the Colosseum just fine. Yes, the fight took place on a construct that somehow floated above the water and we were leaving on a jet ski.
My Master turned back at me and looked me over. "Are you hurt anywhere? Do you need ambrosia? I know you probably feel fine but it might be the adrenaline telling you that you're fine." Oh, boy.
I smirked. "You don't have to worry about me, worrywart Master. I can hold my own." I materialized my trident under her neck and she froze up. She straight at me in my eyes as if pleading that I spare her life, yet she doesn't want to because she doesn't know why. My smirk grew into a big grin. "Just messing with you! I obviously wouldn't kill you. I thought you were the child of the goddess of wisdom." I just know that she was desperately thinking through all the things she might've done to piss me off. She became flustered, which was even better. The reward of practical jokes is the victim's reaction. The more radical the reaction, the more amusing. I draped my arms over her shoulders and rested my chin on my left shoulder after returning my trident into spiriton form. Pointing forward with a carefree smile, I exclaimed, "Let's-a go!" With a little grumble, she revved the engines and tore away from the other combatants.
As we jackknifed through the waves, we saw the other modes of transportation of the other masters and servants. There were seaplanes and other jetskis and even a yacht. That master with a yacht must come from an affluent mage family. The bulbous orange setting sun on the flickery glistens of the water with cotton white clouds created a picturesque view that made one dream of a peaceful, tropical lifestyle. I looked down at Master who was also looking out at the ocean. The sunlight on her modest frame gave her a glow with her illuminated golden plume blowing past in the wind cusping her vibrant tan skin. Her face made me smile; she's rather pretty.
When we pulled up to the docking port at Camp Half-Blood, nobody welcomed us. I got off first and offered my hand to the fine young lady. She accepted it with a smile and we headed back to our cabins. I entered spiriton form, dissolving into a golden mist, as we approached areas with other campers to not draw unneeded attention. My host's body is supposed to be at his mother's apartment for the entire summer. I wouldn't be able to pass off as Percy Jackson even though our minds are shared now. Who am I? I am Perseus, son of Danaë and Zeus, the king of the Gods, and slayer of the Gorgon, Medusa. Servant: Lancer.