Chapter 7:
Inferno / The Judas of Knights
Unreal. Unbelievable. Surreal.
Those were the only words one could use to describe the clash between the two black knights who waged their personal war under the autumn moon on that faithful night. The cool air was echoing with the sounds of metal striking against metal. The inky darkness engulfing Montressor harbor was illuminated each and every second as a new shower of sparks erupted from the points of impact of sword against spear. The two men, as swift as the wind and as strong as a natural disaster, performed their dance of death with picture-perfect choreography.
It almost looked staged in way.
There was not a single movement wasted, nor a single feint going unpredicted. Both knights were masters of their respective weapons. Their skill had transcended mere human mastery long ago- truly they were the epitome of being a Hero of the Sword and Spear. Their battle could have been compared to the well-known clash of unstoppable force against unmovable object- but only this time both sides were the kind called 'unstoppable forces'.
A hurricane of strikes against a never-ending flurry of jabs.
Their offense was at the same time their defense. Indeed, the battle between the two-forces of nature, a kind of battle one could see only in a Grail War, truly did show off the amazing strength of the two members of the Knight classes.
Lancer's main strength was his speed. Operating on the principal that no matter how strong an opponent is, his strength is meaningless if he dies before using it, the white-haired knight was striking again and again in hopes of taking out his foe as early as possible. Saber on the other hand, while being quite fast himself, knew he was no much for the speed of the most agile of classes. And so, he opted to rely on his Prana Burst to compensate and try to batter through his enemy's defenses with his superior strength. The two black knights' mutual problem was, both their tactics were proving to be equally successful.
That is to say, not at all.
Saber was beginning to understand why exactly the War was considered fair to all participants, despite his class supposedly being the best of them all.
Since the fight had started he and Lancer had left their Masters behind to find a field of their own. However risky it was leaving the girls behind why they waged a battle of their own, the two black knights both wanted a battle where they could fight without worrying of defending someone else. And so, exchanging countless blows all the while, the two men darted around in the narrow alleys between the empty warehouses in search of a battlefield that suited their tastes. At first Saber had thought that if he just used the Burst to equate their agility, his brute strength would manage to batter through. Alas, while Lancer had already lost seven spears, his supply didn't seem to be at a limit. The white-haired Servant pulled out of thin air one after the other, seemingly without consideration for his weapons of choice. Or rather, there was no 'supposedly'.
Saber may have been the wielder of a tainted sword, but even his weapon had a 'pride' of its own. It was a weapon with history, written in bloodied deeds and slain enemies. The crystallization of Saber's previous life, mirrored in the form of a blackened blade- a true Noble Phantasm fitting of a fallen hero such as him. And while Saber himself hated his sword almost as much as he hated himself, he could never deny the 'pride' embodied in his weapon. But it took only one look in Lancer's hardened eyes, only several clashes between him and his foe, to fully realize how little the white-haired knight cared for his weapons. His spears lacked 'pride'. They were just 'tools'. Ordinary… things, meant to be used and thrown away like toothpicks, caring absolutely no history of their own. And yet Lancer kept spamming one spear after the other, proving that quantity could somehow match up to superior quality.
Needless to say, Saber wasn't finding this amusing at all.
To the naked eye their attacks were nothing but blurs- dashing sequences of strikes, jabs and somersaults, accompanied by flashes of red and blue and the vicious clanks of metal. The dueling duo left a trail of shattered ground behind them- even blocking each others' hits made one of them dig trenches in the ground to be able to remain balanced. Eventually, in the middle of one of the many empty warehouses now lacking a roof after their grand entrance, the two black knights pushed away from each other after yet another vicious clash.
They didn't actually disengage because they were tired or out of breath. Rather, after the initial exchange of blows, fully capable of squashing a tank in tiny pieces, the two knights needed to come up with a tactic to defeat their painfully equal enemy. Saber had no way of knowing what Lancer was thinking but he thought he was right to guess that the other Servant was just as bothered by their even chances as he was. Not that the white-haired knight showed any of it- he stood there as stoic as ever, with a trident-like spear loosely rested over his shoulder, and evaluated the armor-clad knight with his cold black eyes. Still, Saber had noticed one distinct advantage during their exchange of blows. The way he was a tad quicker, being able to somehow swing even easier his heavy blade and somehow notice a chink here and there in his opponent's defenses- all clear clues that whoever the enemy Servant was, he had certainly being some kind of royal.
In a sense, Saber hated it, hated having to rely on the twisted mistakes of his past to win this War. But in that case, facing that kind of a strong opponent while his own Master was surely getting her butt kicked all over the place somewhere near, the black knight decided that he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
One second Saber was examining his stoic opponent, demonic sword readied in his hand, and the other he was already dashing forward with his sword pulled back and ready to be swung. He hadn't held back in his speed- he was akin to a giant armor-clad bullet racing towards his foe. But even that speed wasn't enough to surprise a Servant, much less someone as agile as Lancer- and that's precisely what Saber wanted his opponent to think. Halfway through, the black knight pumped his sword full of prana once again. But instead of reserving the gathered energy for the actual strike, he realized the pent-up force through the length of the blade. The bullet turned into a rocket and suddenly Saber was covering ground ten times faster, seemingly too fast for his opponent to react.
What Saber hadn't expected was for his opponent to attack instead of defending- much less by actually throwing his spear. The make-shift javelin certainly took him by surprise. In one single movement Lancer had turned Saber's speed against him. The black knight was going too fast to fully react and the only way to save himself from self-impalement was to veer to the side and thus lose precious seconds. The tip of the trident spear only nicked his armor and he still managed to swing at his enemy. But the few seconds were enough for Lancer to pull out yet another spear out of thin air- one with a peculiar long leaf-shaped blade- and spin to the side, circling around Saber and slashing at him whilst holding the spear like a sword, close to the base of the blade.
The unexpected move made the black knight almost lose his balance when he jumped back- a move that almost proved fatal when Lancer struck from above by releasing the spear to its full length and grabbing it at the very end just before it slipped fully out of his hand. His tainted sword ended up blocking the hit that would have surely split his head clean in two had it hit- but even the ground beneath him gave away as Saber tried to push away the pressing blade, his vision obscured by the shower of sparks.
Not one to pass up an opportunity, Lancer quickly noticed that Saber was trying to push back the blade with both of his hands while he still had one free. Yet another spear appeared in his left hand and, with a triumphant smirk on his aged face, the white-haired knight prepared to pierce his opponent's exposed heart and end this battle once and for all. What he certainly hadn't expected was for Saber to let go with one of his hands and actually catch the spear a mere inch before it could pierce him. With one mighty pull the black knight got the older Servant closer- and promptly used the advantage of wearing a helmet to deliver a vicious headbutt to his enemy's unprotected face.
The white-haired Servant staggered backwards and Saber wasted no time, attacking immediately with a wide horizontal swing of his sword. Lancer managed to block with his spear, only to lose it when it shattered in pieces under the force of the blow and melt in thin air. Trying to squeeze the most out of his momentary advantage, Saber pushed forward relentlessly. Like a hurricane, his tainted sword landed blow after blow, sending ripples through both ground and air and shattering one spear after another in an impressive shower of sparks. Lancer was falling back step after step, unable to retaliate and forced only to defend to keep his life. The scowl on the white-haired knight's face only got sourer when Saber lunged for yet another strike to the side- only to use the Burst yet again to rapidly change direction from left to right completely and in mid-motion. The Master of the Spear did jump back- years of training and honed instincts managed to alert him on time. But along with the deep trench on the ground formed from the aftershock of the blow, his black and worn-out armor was now shattered diagonally in two.
"Tc, too shallow," calmly stated Saber, mockingly echoing Lancer's earlier words.
Plunging in for the kill, Saber raised his sword to finish off his enemy- only to be forced to hastily step back as another lance fell down from the sky out of nothing when Lancer snapped his fingers. The lance turned out to actually have a banner attached to it- a torn crimson rag like the one Lancer wore over his shoulder, with the only difference being the black dragon drawn on it. But just as suddenly as it had appeared, the flag sunk directly into the ground, disappearing completely.
The change in the atmosphere was imminent. The air grew cooler and somehow thicker, as if drenched with blood, and an eerie uneasiness filled Saber to his very bones. Lancer just grinned- a teeth-filled smile befitting of a bloodthirsty predator who had forsaken any and all human feelings. The spear-wielder wasn't even wearing his top armor now, forsaking the ruined chest piece for better mobility. Only the red rag of a cape still hung over his dirty-white shirt.
"If someone has somehow forgotten to fill you in on the rules, Lancer," drawled out Saber in his usual disinterested tone that now was meant to hide his increasing worry. "Territory Creation is a ability of the Caster class."
"All is fair in love and war, runt," replied Lancer with a smirk. "Isn't that what people say?"
"I regret to inform you that I just don't like you," deadpanned Saber. "I really doubt it would've worked out between us anyway."
All Saber got for his snarkiness was a halberd-like spear flying threateningly close to his head- or rather, it would've flown through it had he not dodged. Now backed-up by the significant bonuses from Territory Creation, Lancer managed to turn the tables around. Wielding not one but two spears, the white-haired knight immediately put his younger 'colleague' on the defensive. It was a storm of slashes and jabs that was literally too fast for even Saber's eyes to see- all he could do to defend was step back further and further and try to determine where the next strike would land by the position of his enemy's hands. It was plain to see that the black knight was getting herded into the nearest wall where he would have no more space to escape- a surefire recipe to get killed. And so, Saber had to find a way out of this rather nasty predicament before that could happen. His Prana Burst was barely keeping him able to prevent himself from being skewered by the barrage of pokes and slashes so using it to batter through was out of the question.
He could use his sword- but he had long sworn that he would be damned before relying on the power of that tainted blade to win. And so, that left only the lesser of evils. Saber was fully aware that it was only being stuck in that particular place that put him in such a disadvantage, but still it was a harsh blow to his pride to have to rely on his Noble Phantasm to survive.
A roar shattered the stillness of the night.
It was only later that Saber realized it had been his. All sanity was swept away by the muddy river of madness. The blood boiled inside his veins, threatening to incinerate him from the inside. And yet beneath all that pain was hidden the pleasure of reveling in that power born of madness, in the primal instincts woven into his very being. His humanity was overtaken by the dragon inside, by the raging beast that oozed crimson prana off every chink in his armor with enough force to make a crater around him and force Lancer back.
With another blood-chilling raor, the beast of a knight lunged forward faster than ever, leaving a crater in his wake and delivering a strike strong enough to literally rip apart his opponent's right arm despite actually missing. A sickly sizzling filled the cool air as the wound was almost immediately cauterized by the burning prana. To his credit, the white-haired knight didn't scream in pain. Not that Saber could actually realize it- with all sane thoughts gone, all the mad knight could think of was destroying his prey.
Kill. Maim. Devour. Annihilate.
And the stench of burn meat was just driving him even crazier. At first he thought it must had been his sanity slipping even further away when he saw his slashes going straight through Lancer- but then he recognized the pitch black mist as the Noble Phantasm the white-haired knight had used earlier to ambush him.
It was a vicious standstill. The raging beast's attacks did nothing but destroy the landscape even more as they passed through his opponent's body as if was smoke and, taking advantage of his momentary invulnerability, Lancer was slashing and jabbing again and again at his foe. Despite having only one functioning hand, the white-haired knight was proving to be quite the undying enemy whilst using the black mist. Unfortunately for him, even his strongest blows only served to irritate the mad knight even further.
Another Prana Burst, this time backed up by his Phantasm, fully blew away the wall of the warehouse- and those of all the consecutive ones down the beam's path. And still Lancer was alive and well, as well as a one-handed man could be at least, despite the beam having passed right through his ethereal form. Saber got ready for yet another mad animalistic leap at his opponent-
-And then he felt it. Somewhere deep within, hidden under the many layers of madness, wrath and rage, the black knight felt his Master lose consciousness. Had he been sane enough, Saber would have noticed Lancer's expression showed clearly that the same must had happened with his Master as well. But since common sense was somewhat lacking now, all the mad knight could do was just roar yet again and try to take it all out on his opponent.
Lancer's lips were moving, forming words that the human Saber could've easily understood- but not this raging beast who knew only to destroy. His burning ruby-red eyes bore into his enemy's, ready to savor the light of life twinkling away as he slashed through him. That was the final, decisive moment and the mad beast was determined to claim victory once and for all.
Only for his enemy to be obscured by the forest of spears that erupted from the ground as soon as Lancer plunged the tip of his spear into it. Inwardly, the mad knight laughed. Be it one or one hundred, Lancer's spears was no match for his might. They were just one last irritating poke by the spear-wielder, his pathetic attempt to delay his inevitable death. And so, the raging beast lunged forward straight through the path of spears with their bloodied tips turned towards him.
The pain that followed overshadowed the madness thousands of times over. It was so unreal it could shatter his sanity more than any curse that flowed into his veins. It was the pain of hell itself, the pain of regret and want of redemption, the very pain he had always thought he fully deserved.
The pain he felt the moment one of the spears touched his skin- it was his payment for being the wielder of his cursed blade and all that came with it. And now, now that he could feel his own bones melting inside him and even his screams refused to leave his throat anymore, Saber realized what Lancer had said just now. A few short words that spoke volumes to anyone who had actually experienced the vicious sting of Lancer's spears.
For every sin and every crime,
From now until the end of time-
I bestow upon you this eternal curse
Of paying back the worth of every drop of blood.
May your screams reach the highest of Heavens
For you shall drown in despair and die.
Look upon these crimson skies and scream in awe.
The hour of your repentance is here at last.
Stuck between two kinds of madness, between fury and pain, Saber's brain fought to comprehend what was happening. The influx of memories only increased the pain- or maybe it was actually causing it? He had no way of knowing, he didn't wantto know. All he wanted, all he would've given his very life for was the pain to stop. But it truly seemed infinite, or maybe the excruciating torture had destroyed his perception of time as well.
Lancer didn't even try to finish him off. He just stood there, as silent as ever, and watched the writhing knight with his cold black eyes. His stoic, wrinkled face showed no emotion at all. With heavy steps, the apparent victor walked to his kneeling opponent. The white-haired knight didn't even bother raising his spear, merely holding it loosely in his one remaining hand.
"Black mist…" eventually managed to wheeze out Saber from his place on the ground. "A Lancer able to designate a territory as his own… and most of all… all those spears… there's only one man in history who has wielded so many, isn't there… Executor King?"
"Too bad it took you this long to realize it, kiddo," replied the one who had once been known as Vlad the Impaler. "Some good it is to you now when you are already death," finished the white-haired knight, with his usual gloomy 'smile' still plastered on his face.
Something that was probably meant to sound as a mocking laugh escaped out of Saber's unfeeling throat. The blow to his head by the blunt end of the spear went almost unnoticed, the physical pain being nowhere near close to what the black knight had just experienced. The helmet finally fell off, letting loose the shoulder-length, prematurely grayed hair. The knight's green eyes were sickly and unfocused, still bearing the shock from the impending pain. Saber's skin was as pale as snow, looking almost ghastly.
"And what about you, runt?" asked Vlad in a tone that clearly showed he expected no answer. "Do you actually think one helmet can hide your identity when but a look at that coward's blade is enough for every Heroic Spirit worth his salt to recognize you from a mile away?"
Saber remained defiantly silent, even when the white-haired knight propped up his chin with the tip of his spear.
"Or maybe you are actually ashamed to show your face, aren't you?"
It was both a question and an answer in and of itself. It was something only someone like Lancer could understand, at least partially. After all, each and every one of them was meant to carry their twisted and tainted burden separately.
"Sometimes I think it hurts more if you actually regret it," eventually grunted the white-haired knight, referring either to their mistakes in general or the horrendous might of his Noble Phantasm. Or maybe both. "And this, runt, is the reason why you lost tonight. The difference between the likes of me and the likes of you is that I have accepted this darkness. Each and every sin I made is mine to bear… and so it shall be. You can't change the past, runt. Don't bother with it. You know… in a way, I was the worst opponent you could've ever faced in this War. Guess you're just unlucky."
Silence once again descended upon the duo, only for Lancer's hoarse bark of a laugh to chase it away soon later.
"I must've really grown soft over the years, kiddo. I don't usually make a habit of getting into deep philosophical conversations with the ones I kill."
"I presume you won't be willing to skip the whole killing part?"
With a smirk dancing on his lips, the white-haired knight shook his head.
"This place is not the best of graves for a knight… but we have long since forsaken our prides as ones, haven't we… Mordred?"
Saber didn't even bother with replying. All he could do was clutch his sword and wait for the inevitable as Lancer raised his spear. If he used his sword now it would have surely drained him out of all the prana remaining- but perhaps he could survive long enough for his Master to replenish him. But then again, he could try attacking with an ordinary, less-consuming Burst… and save himself from having to fall back on that hated coward's blade.
"Good night, Judas of Knights," said Vlad with a stoic expression. "And may flights of devils wing thee to thy rest."
The crimson glow illuminated the night as Saber pumped as much as prana as he could into that fateful last Burst. Racing towards Lancer's exposed chest from the side, it split apart the air in a wide glowing arc and forced the white-haired Servant to jump back… only for him to drive his spear straight into the ground, as if he had intended it from the very beginning.
"Abandon hope, all who dare thread my kingdom.
Now and forever, welcome to the Fortress of Impalement!"
And as the night sky was engulfed by a crimson sunset and a barren field spread as far as Saber could see, the endless forest of spears erupted from beneath the ground…
The night sky was gradually getting swept away by the impending dawn. As the darkness receded and the stars twinkled into nothingness, the white-haired knight could only stare at the sky he hadn't seen for centuries and wait until his Master would finally wake up. Meissa had surely severely underestimated her opponent, of that he had no doubt, but from what he could gather, the other girl must had been knocked out as well. She had just probably woken up before his momentary 'liege' and crawled somewhere away. In a sense, Lancer was thankful that said opponent hadn't slit Meissa's throat while she had been still unconscious. Considering what he had gone through during the battle, it would have been a major kick in the gut had Fate left him Masterless in such a condition.
Not that the one once called Vlad had any trust in Fate. To him, she had always been something even more than a fickle bitch. Indeed, Fate had made sure that Lancer's lot in life had been one of the worst for all times- something pretty impressive when it was coming from the mouth of a king.
The blonde next to him stirred a bit but her eyes remained firmly closed. A silent curse escaped Vlad's lips. He would had long hauled her up and ran away if he could- but now with both arms missing that was next to impossible. And so, all the black knight could do was stay near her and pray to whatever gods were left willing to listen to his pleas that no enemy attacked them now. 'Easy prey' didn't even describe their current predicament.
Alas, to someone such as the Impaler, Fate was too stubborn to show some kindness even in his second parody of a life. With a low guttural growl, a four-legged creature slid out of the darkness. Lancer was sure that some of the other Masters, if not all of them, had managed to place familiars nearby to observe the battle. But that kind of a familiar he had never expected to encounter in this War.
The hellhound, because Vlad couldn't think of anything else appropriate to call the foul beast, had a disproportional body covered in blood-red scales. His muscular top half contrasted strongly with his thin, hairy legs that ended up in hooves. Its arms, ending in claws comparable in size to miniature swords, were as thick as tree trunks. Its wolf-like head was adorned with a twisted crown of horns and a mane of burning fire went down its back. Four sulfuric yellow eyes were currently staring down Lancer, as if the creature was trying to decide whether it should devour him first or the girl.
In short, Fate had sent after him a beast straight out of Hell itself when he couldn't even pickup his weapon. Vlad was well aware that there wasn't probably any god in the Universe that didn't hate him, but sometimes they just loved rubbing salt in his wounds way too much.
The black knight stood up with a tired sigh and walked in front of his Master, hoping to at least be able to divert the beast's attention from her. A shorter spear, the shortest one he had in stock, formed out of thin air. Clutching it between his teeth, the white-haired knight stared down the beast, as if facing it armless and with a weapon in your mouth was the most natural thing to do in such a situation.
The hellhound, apparently more interested in such a strange opponent than actually scared by his actions, prepared to lunge forward-
"Gotta hand it to you, bruv, I've seen some batshit guys, but your insanity just takes the cake."
The annoyingly arrogant voice could've been heard loud and clear in the silent warehouse. The speaker- the blue-haired amazingly irritating guy from yesterday whose name Lancer hadn't even bothered to remember- was currently sitting atop one of the piles of boxes and idly dangling his legs. His one visible deep blue eye was observing the situation in a way that was reminiscent of a little boy examining ants under a looking glass. A situation which usually ended with slow, painful and very excruciating incineration for the ants.
The crimson beast looked even more irritated than Lancer at the sight of the newcomer. Probably deeming him the most dangerous pray, which was kinda easy since he was both conscious and had all his limbs attached. With a deafening roar, the creature leaped towards its new choice of prey. It was an outstanding jump, able to cover the significant distance between them in a single instant. The readied claws of the beast were just about to tear off the blue-haired man's face-
-When the hellhound was suddenly struck in mid-air and nailed to the ground by some invisible arrow. Amidst raging fire and terrifying gurgles, the beast's body disintegrated into embers and disappeared into the cool night air, as if it had never existed. Lancer threw a weary look at the far-off crane slightly visible through the hole in the roof- that was the direction from which the shot must have come from, judging by its trajectory. Vlad thought he could see a small figure at the tip of the crane's arrow but the distance was too great for him to make out any details. The black knight let go off the spear and let it disappear into nothingness.
"Friend of yours?" gruffly asked the white-haired man and nodded in the direction where the hellhound had been killed.
"Can't say I've met him before, bruv," replied the blue-haired teen and shrugged. "Although I've no idea why she'd let them attack me, too," mumbled the foreign mage and shook his head to clear his thoughts. "But if I've to estimate I guess, I'd say 'em beasties must be Caster's," he finished loud enough for Lancer to hear- not that a Servant's ears could've missed his previous words.
"What now?" plainly asked Vlad.
"Now I'll go secure yet another ally," answered the blue-haired mage and stood up, almost giddily. "Oh, and that's for you. An…investment in my alliance with your Master."
Offhandedly, the foreigner threw a glistening emerald at Lancer's feet. The prana radiating off the gem could've been felt from three blocks away by even the most amateurish of mages.
"See ya," said plainly the blue-haired mage as he jumped down from the pile and disappeared back into the shadowed alleys.
When the sun rose on that cold autumn morning, the blood-chilling screams of a wounded girl filled the crisp air when she laid her eyes on the lone body crucified amidst the forest of spears.