AN: Okay, first off, sorry this has taken a while. I'm on a work placement at present and don't have much spare time, and even when I do, I'm bloody knackered after rushing around all day. Secondly, I hope everyone in this chapter was characterised well enough, and that things flow well, because it was pieced together several hundred words at a time, instead of in two or three sittings like usual. Third, I can't remember if I've asked this before, but what would you like to see happen in the Grail War? As I've already drastically altered the course of things (Caster's gone and Saber won't be getting her injury for example), I'm essentially flying blind, as I'm really not as familiar with Fate/Zero as I am Fate/Stay Night, as evidenced by how I had to re-watch the docks section of the anime repeatedly to get even this far. Fourth, I've been digging through some old games and stuff of mine, so don't be surprised if there's some odd cameos or inspiration for some things (The Karas anime, for example, is going to inspire one of Harry's aspects). Anywho, please enjoy the chapter and stuff, if you have any questions then go to the forum, following the link that's on my profile. Enjoy!
Beta'd by: NIX'S WARDEN
Chapter 15 – At the Docks
A pebble thrown in a pool sends ripples out to the edges.
However, the water will become still once more.
The same pebble thrown at a mirror will shatter it into pieces.
Those pieces will never again return to being a single mirror.
Those four sentences are important for any mind walker to know, whether their methods are soft or rough, subtle or obvious, simple or complex. What you are doing when you read someone's mind is touching the second most intimate thing about them, the first being their soul, though there is some arguments about that.
One 'sort' of mind reader may force their way into another's mind, shattering it completely, and then hunt for the pieces of broken memories they were searching for. It was a crude, albeit efficient method for interrogating others, and the easier method to learn, if more difficult to put into practise.
Another 'type' of mind reader would be as gentle as they can, their touch as light as a pond skater on the water's surface. They would slide into another's mind with them none the wise, but such a light touch made it difficult to dive into the deeper reaches of the mind without alerting their target to their presence.
When Nel dived into Kariya Matou's mind, it was neither a still pool, or a shattered mirror, but chaos, plain and simple.
Kariya's memories from more than a year ago were dim and blurred, though snatches could be glimpsed here and there. Around his mind was a red haze, anger, frustration, self-doubt and loathing, a roiling, turbulent sea that lacked much coherency.
It was a spider's web, where the struggling flies tangled in the threads were what the man had managed to hold onto.
Aoi Zenjou, his mind itself flinching away from calling her a Tohsaka. Kindness, beauty, the night-time fantasies he'd had of her, the memories of their childhood friendship, the smiles she had gifted him with. She was the clearest thing in his mind, and the spider's web that it was held her fast.
Tokiomi Tohsaka. Arrogance, his 'status' as an influential Magus, the way he'd 'stolen' Aoi from him, the callous way he treated both of his daughters, the power he held that Kariya envied, his smug, condescending smile, and his revolting morals. Kariya Matou hated Tokiomi Tohsaka, hated him with a passion!
Sakura Matou. The innocent, cute younger sister of Rin. A girl that he'd doted on, despite her not being his, regardless of the fact he couldn't stop imagining her and her sister as his own children with Aoi. The girl whose black hair had turned plum, and whose eyes had turned purple, all due to the damned Magecraft of the Matou family, all because he was a coward!
At the center of the spider's web sat an eight-legged worm, a strange and disgusting hybrid of Zouken's crest worms and arachnid. It darted forward periodically, snatching up a memory, a thought, or a feeling and devoured it. Still, despite this, those three areas remained relatively intact.
Nel was about ready to tear her hair out in frustration. Her probe into Kariya's mind was subtle, not that it was difficult to keep him unaware of her, the holes and patches of nothingness gave her plenty of easy ways in. Her irritation was because of the nature of the man's mindscape, and the knowledge that her master, Harry, could do nothing for him.
If the man's mindscape had been more literal, with the worms actively targeting Kariya's mind, then Harry could have undone magically caused damage. Unfortunately, it was more metaphorical, with Kariya 'aware' of losing himself to the worms, and purely psychological damage was not something anyone could cure with magic, not without changing who Kariya Matou was, forcibly moulding him into another form.
'This is unfortunate.' Nel thought to herself, not looking forward to reporting her findings to Harry and Sakura.
xxxxx
"Ah, Kirei, what do your Assassins have to report?" Tokiomi asked his apprentice.
"Last night, an illusion barrier was erected around the Matou manor, and when it was dropped, the entire building was revealed to be destroyed. The eighth Servant, 'Avenger', is suspected of being involved, as it seems Caster's status is in some form of limbo." Kirei reported. "Also, something seems to be aware of my Assassins. So far, seven of them have been killed, aside from the one that Archer took care of, and not one of them caught sight of their attacker."
Tokiomi grimaced slightly, seeming mildly inconvenienced, but his faith in his Servant being the strongest made him brush it aside.
"An Assassin taken out by one utilising the skills of an assassin? How... ironic." The man commented. "Have any of the masters taken actions that would imply they know about your Servant's true abilities?"
"No, they haven't." Kirei replied. "In fact, they seem to believe that I was an 'arrogant fool' for sending Assassin after you like I did. The only master who seems to be worried about me is the Einzbern woman, and that is mostly due to Kiritsugu Emiya whispering warnings in her ear."
"Perhaps it might be an idea for your Servants to travel in pairs from no on." Tokiomi suggested. "That way, if one is taken down, the other may see the attacker coming. There are enough left to easily keep observing the war too."
That was true enough. The 'Hundred Faced' Hassan had the ability to split into eighty being, and with eight of them dead so far, that left seventy-two of 'him' left, enough to make thirty-six two man teams.
"Very well." Kirei acknowledged the instruction. "Is there anything specific you wish for me to search for?"
Tokiomi considered it for a moment. "We still know nothing of this second Saber, Avenger, and Caster. The first two are your priority, and discovering how Caster is considered neither summoned nor defeated is your secondary objective. Hunt them down and keep them under observation."
"Understood." Was all Kirei said, before turning to leave.
xxxxx
Jack the Ripper, a famous serial killer, was not actually what one would expect.
She was female, for one, and not male. She was a child, not an adult. She dressed rather provocatively, and the only reason she wore a skirt was because Harry had asked her to. She derived no sick pleasure from cutting up corpses, she merely did what she did in pursuit of her desire, to find her 'mother'.
Jack had found her mother in Tamamo-no-Mae, but before her, she had found something she had not been searching for, a father. Her father was young, young enough to be a brother, but he treated her like she was his daughter. He taught her things, he fed her, he even had clothes bought and made for her, though she preferred her 'standard' outfit.
He smiled at her.
He played with her.
She could do whatever she wished with Harry as her father, though she knew that he would chide or scold her if she took things too far. She did not want to push the limits though, she was happy with things as they were, she would be happy if nothing changed for all eternity.
She also sought Harry's approval, she sought acknowledgement from him, and so she had given herself a task. She wanted to prove she was a better assassin than the Old Man of the Mountain who had been summoned by Kirei Kotomine, and so far it had been far too easy.
Jack's stats were above average for an Assassin class Servant, and the sheer volume of Harry's mana she could tap into boosted her abilities even further, going so far as to make her Strength and Endurance both A- in rank. Of course, if Harry ever successfully managed to manifest her as a True Heroic Spirit rather than a Servant, she would become so powerful as to make her old state look pitiful in comparison.
Silently, Jack watched as a group of six assassins gathered together on a roof, not one of them aware of her. Even then, had they noticed her, Information Erasure, one of her abilities, would ensure they forgot what she looked like, and even what skills she had shown.
"The Mist." Jack muttered, and from the lantern hanging at her waist, fog spread out. However, instead of simply appearing around her and her targets as it usually would, she made it slow, gradual. While it may have been relatively fast, having the Mion river that ran through Fuyuki City nearby and the current temperature would give the excuse of it being a flash fog.
Jack looked down at the four knives at her waist, considering one of her Noble Phantasms, Maria the Ripper. There were three conditions to using it. The first condition, it must be night-time. Second condition, there must be mist. Third condition, the target must be a woman.
If all three conditions are met, Maria the Ripper activates like a curse, and the target's innards are forced out of their body. When the conditions are not met, the knives teleport inside the target's body, doing physical damage only. She had four knives, but her Noble Phantasm was only capable of targeting one individual at a time.
Assassin frowned at that thought, wondering why there was such a limitation. Surely, someone with more skill and power could do what one without either could not, right? Therefore, the past year and a half she had spent with Harry, who had even assisted her training, should count for something, shouldn't it? So what if the Noble Phantasm was only supposed to target one person at a time? She could improve, couldn't she?
Of the six assassins in front of Jack, two were female. One of them looked like an older woman, and one appeared to be in her late teens or early twenties. As females, they fulfilled one of the conditions of Maria, the night and Jack's own mist fulfilled the other two.
Jack settled herself into a fighting stance, her left leg forward and turned in slightly, her body lowered to provide a smaller target, and her hands raised to defend herself. She liked standing like this, it helped her to concentrate, and that was exactly what she was doing now.
Two targets that fulfilled three conditions, and four more that fulfilled only two. She had four knives for the latter, and the former would be dealt a fatal blow by the curse, the knives themselves being unnecessary. That was what she believed, and so she would make it a reality.
"Maria the Ripper." Jack murmured under her breath, activating her Noble Phantasm, focusing with all of her might on her targets.
The sounds of sharp blades piercing soft flesh entered Jack's ears, and her eyes shot up to where the six assassins had been stood.
She was almost giddy with excitement as she saw the two females with their guts spilled across the roof next to them. Those two were the easy ones. The male targets...
YES!
Two of them had her knives rammed directly into their hearts! A third had it embedded in his right eye, right up to the hilt! Now, where was the fourth?
Ah, there he was.
This one had possibly the most gruesome death of all, ignoring the females with their innards disgorged forcibly from their bodies of course. One of Jack's blades, the one that looked like a hacksaw, had almost completely severed his neck, only a half-inch of skin and muscle left, and he had blood spurting from the wound.
Jack let The Mist fade after collecting her daggers. Another six assassins down, only about another sixty-eight to go.
This was almost too easy.
xxxxx
Within a realm created outside of the regular rules of reality, a realm that was slowly becoming a reality in its own right, the 'Soul World' of Harry, a rather unusual meeting was taking place.
The table the chairs were situated around seemed to have sprung directly from the earth, like a plant, but it was far too smooth to be natural, and far too convenient as well. Five of the seven seats were filled.
One seat had a woman on it. She had spiky white hair, heterochromatic eyes, and a red and black outfit. She was running a cloth over a massive sword that had a revolver barrel built into the blade close to the hilt. This woman was Tyrant, Harry's manifested 'aggression'.
Next to her was a woman with white hair, wearing black and grey 'Victorian Gothic' style clothing. She looked half-asleep, especially with the way her eyes drooped, and in addition to that, she had her elbows on the table, propping her head up with her hands, as if she really couldn't be bothered with any of this right now. This was Serial Phantasm, Harry's 'apathy'.
The next chair was filled by a young-looking girl in a grey swimsuit. There were patches of scales on her exposed skin, her hair was a murky green, and her mouth was filled with many pointy teeth. She was fiddling with something in her hands. Strangely enough, the object she was messing with existed in fourteen dimensions, and was observable in at least six more. Any regular person looking at it would, at the very least, develop a major headache trying to work out how such a thing could exist. This girl was Dream or Destruction, Harry's 'curiosity'.
After that was a male. This one looked rather human, with messy black hair, and a relatively normal outfit of jeans and a shirt on. He did seem very twitchy though, tapping his foot constantly, glancing about everywhere, and occasionally drumming his fingers on the table. The only sign of his inhumanity really visible were his yellow eyes. This was Shadow of the Heart, Harry's 'impulsiveness'.
The fifth figure was also male, and he had a casual, somewhat arrogant, grin on his face. He looked to be around twenty-two or twenty-three, had messy, shoulder length rust red hair, and cloudy grey eyes. It was impossible to see what clothes he was wearing, as there seemed to be an ever-shifting shadow covering most of his body that left wisps of dark smoke behind whenever he moved. This was Twisted Whisper, Harry's 'Irritation' made manifest.
"We gonna get things started already?" Shadow snapped. "Origin hasn't met and accepted his other two fragments yet, so they're not part of this council thing you've got going."
"Very well." Serial Phantasm intoned. "I assume you all know why we're here?"
"Because Origin's a headcase?" Tyrant snorted. "Look, we all know he's mentally fucked up, we wouldn't exist otherwise, but why the hell is that reason enough to drag me away from my fight? I was enjoying that, and now you've ruined my rhythm."
"Origin's mind and soul are fragmented, true." Seri admitted. "The issue is where it ends. How much longer until there's a literal thousand of us in his head? How long until some of us are indistinguishable from one another? There's little difference between apathy and indifference, but just such an aspect coming into existence is a definite possibility with the way he's going."
"Hang on a second." Tyrant spoke up. "I thought all of us being here somehow stabilised Origin's mind. Didn't Dream say something about 'defined limits' and a 'consensus of thoughts', or something like that? Besides, any mind reader trying to get in here is just gonna come face to face with us, ain't they?"
"That's right." Dream nodded her head. "I think what Seri is getting at is when does Origin stop being 'Harry' and become no more than the sum of his parts, right? We're all parts of him, but currently the whole is greater than all of us combined, because we are limited to incomplete fragments of his soul."
Twisted Whisper sighed. "Nattering about it isn't going to do anything, and what could be done anyway?" He shrugged. "Origin's soul is gonna keep going, no matter what we say, and it's not like we can 'kill' off any aspects, otherwise I'd have done so with that damn pink bitch."
Tyrant smirked at Whisper. "Oh, you seem to talk about her a lot. My, my, has Harry's 'Irritation' got a crush on his 'Affection'? I've gotta say, that's even more fucked up than I'm used to, and possibly even more narcissistic than Origin crushing on one of us."
"Fuck you, Tyrant." Whisper yelled back at her. "You haven't met her yet, so don't even try and tell me what's going through my head!"
"Oh, calm down, both of you!" Shadow growled. "Go back to bitching after this is over, let's just get things done already."
Tyrant and Twisted Whisper remained quiet, but the glares they levelled at each other could have melted mithril.
"Thank you, Shadow." Serial Phantasm said. "Now, can we return to the issue of how to deal with the ever growing number of aspects developing from Origin's soul? He has yet to meet his Affection, and already another one of us has come into existence, his Protectiveness."
"Could we make a pantheon?" Dream or Destruction asked. "This whole, ever-expanding world was created by Harry, so would he qualify as a creator god? If that is the case, we could be members of his pantheon of 'gods'. After all, if we went all out, we could match said gods in power."
"We have no worshippers." Shadow shrugged. "It'd be an odd sort of religion with no followers, no?"
Dream countered that. "What about the Fae, and the other creatures here? They know Harry exists, and they also know this world is his 'sanctuary'. There might not be sacrifices or prayers being offered, but they do offer Origin their respect and thanks, no? It doesn't have to resemble the religions of Earth, we just have to be known."
"Would that work?" Tyrant asked, looking at Serial Phantasm.
"It is... possible." Seri agreed after a little thought. "We would have to become known in our own right, and we are subservient to Origin as the first and the whole being. Being classified as a god while being part of a god... it is a rather unusual concept, but Origin does not really 'do' normal, does he?"
"Right, now that that's done, I'm going, I have a fight I left unfinished." Tyrant said, before vanishing back to where she'd been before she was called to the meeting.
"I'm off too." Shadow of the Heart added, before picking up a sketch pad and wandering off between the trees.
Twisted Whisper didn't even offer a goodbye before leaving.
Serial looked towards Dream or Destruction. "Shall you or I tell Origin to hurry up and meet with his two newest aspects already?" She asked.
"You can do it." Dream offered. "I've got a new project I'm working on right now."
"You've always got a new project to work on." Seri said, but agreed to be the one relaying the message nonetheless.
xxxxx
"Hmm, what's that?"
Helel looked up from the pool of water Harry was using to show them the docks, where Lancer was making himself known. She blinked in confusion for a moment, as Harry seemed to respond to something only he could hear, but then again, maybe he was communicating with someone mentally, and merely verbalised his words out of habit.
"Another one?" He asked in surprise. "Really?"
A few moments pause.
"Fine, I'll do it in a few hours, after the docks, okay?" He sighed.
"Something we need to know about?" Mordred asked.
"Nothing much." Harry shrugged in reply. "It's just one of my aspects telling me to hurry up and meet with my two newest fragments, before things become unstable."
"Aspects? Fragments?" Helel wondered aloud.
"They're representative of certain traits or emotions of mine, created by my splintered soul. Serial Phantasm, the one I was just speaking with, represents my Apathy, and was one of the first three to come into existence." Harry explained.
"So... you're talking to yourself?" Helel questioned. "That's the first sign of madness, you know."
Harry snorted. "Expecting an answer is the second. What does it say when I do get a reply?"
"That you're certifiable?" Helel responded, her tone amused.
Harry laughed. "To any mundane psychologist, I would be. The same is true of virtually any mind healer."
"Enough!" Growled Mordred. "I don't give a fuck if your sane or not, I just want to face Arthur already."
"Arturia, actually." Harry idly commented. "That's her real name at least, though I suppose we'd best get going if we want to be there in time."
"Then lead us there already." Mordred impatiently prodded him.
"Fine, fine, I'll lead the way." Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not like I can't freeze time to make sure we get there on time or anything, is it?" He paused for a moment. "Oh wait, I can." He added flatly.
"Just get moving." Helel said. "You know she'll only get worse if we delay."
Mordred snarled at that and took a swipe at the pair of them with her sword, but both of them had moved out of her reach by then, and it wasn't like she was seriously trying to injure them either. The strange camaraderie that was developing between the three of them was, to Mordred, rather unusual, though not something she was entirely against either.
It was... fun.
xxxxx
Lancer, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, stood waiting for whichever Servant came to him first. He wasn't hiding, on the contrary, he was blazing his prana as high as he could, trying to make himself noticeable. Surely one Servant at least would notice him and come to investigate.
Footsteps let him know that someone was nearby, two sets by the sound of it.
Lancer looked towards where they were coming from to see two people, a master and Servant pair it seemed, a female and a male.
The woman, who he assumed was the master, had elbow length blonde hair, and interestingly dual-coloured eyes, one red and the other green. She wore a pair of comfortable looking dark jeans, and a cerise coloured, long-sleeved blouse, with a jacket over the top of that. Her boots had a slight heel to them.
The Servant, on the other hand, didn't wear much of anything. His feet were wrapped in dark cloth, similar to bandages, and his forearms were similarly covered. Hanging from his waist down was a tattered robe, looking somewhat like a skirt with the way it hung. His upper body was naked, allowing his exposed heart to be seen, like someone had scooped it out with a spoon. The opening around his heart had a ring of runes around it. He appeared to be in his early twenties, though whether that was the age he had died at or simply when he was at his best Lancer couldn't tell.
White hair hung from his head, uneven and ragged, with some of it reaching his mid-back and other parts reaching his knees. His eye colour was unknown, as a black cloth blindfold hid them from view. Crawling across his exposed skin were black, vein-like markings that seemed to pulse in time with some sort of heartbeat.
"I have spent the entire day searching for a worthy foe, but everyone just slinks away, hiding in their little holes. You alone have accepted my offered challenge." Lancer greeted his opponent. "This immense power I can feel from here, you are the Servant Saber, are you not?"
"Actually, no, I'm not." Harry shrugged. "I am Servant Avenger. I do not mean to assume myself, but are you Lancer?"
"I am." Lancer replied, a little put off by his incorrect guess regarding his opponent's class. "Unfortunately, I can not give my name. The rules of this tournament are not to my tastes."
"Regardless of rules, I have no reason to give you my name either." Harry responded. "However, with our names or without, we can still fight, no?"
Lancer stepped back with his right foot and raised his spears in preparation for combat. Harry, in his role as 'Avenger', materialised his Fae-crafted falcata blades, Malleab and Izotari. He slid his left foot forwards and turned it inward slightly raising Malleab, his left hand blade, up to chest height, while his right hand blade, Izotari, was lowered until it was parallel with his corresponding leg.
Everything was still for a single timeless moment, and then at some unspoken signal, Lancer and Harry charged at each other.
Lancer swing his longer spear at Harry, who simply ducked under it, before he was forced to dodge left to avoid a jab from the shorter one. That lead to him twirling on the spot, taking a single step as he did so, before bringing Izotari over his head, as if to bisect Lancer from his left shoulder to right hip.
Lancer leaned backwards, leading him into a flip, which conveniently prevented Harry from disembowelling him with Malleab. As soon as that was done, however, he lowered himself with both spears pointing forward, and kicked off from the ground with great speed.
Harry crossed his blades in front of him, and for a tiny fraction of a second, an impenetrable barrier appeared, deflecting both spears upwards, while Harry himself dashed forwards to deal a double blow with both of his blades, only for Lancer to dig the back end of the longer red spear into the ground and pull himself out of the way.
Not letting up on the pressure, Harry completed his movement, letting Malleab sink a few inches into the ground, before twisting his body around it, using the blade as a pivot to deliver a devastating kick to Lancer's ribs, throwing him away to smash into one of the surrounding shipping containers.
Lancer pulled himself out of the container and regarded Harry carefully.
"You are a skilled fighter, and with a two sword style as well." Lancer settled himself back into a combat stance. "It's an honour to fight you."
"You're not exactly unskilled yourself." Harry replied. "It's probably far harder to use two spears effectively, especially with them being two different lengths."
"Lancer, stop toying with Avenger." Kayneth Archibald's voice echoed around the docks. "Finish the fight, you have my permission to use your Noble Phantasm."
Harry frowned. "You could have at least said that without sounding so damn condescending." He grumbled.
"Ah, you heard my master, it seems I'm going to have to get serious." Lancer said, dropping his shorter spear. The longer one began to glow slightly, before the wrappings on it began to disappear, revealing the weapon as it truly was.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure dropping your other spear was a wise idea? I mean, I do still have two weapons to your one after all."
"I'll be fine, I know what I'm doing." Lancer replied.
"In that case, I'll match your single weapon with one of my own." Harry offered, Malleab and Izotari de-materialising in his hands.
He shifted his posture and moved his hands, before a spear of his own appeared in his grip. In fact, it was Serial Phantasm's spear, and retained some of her nature. Unlike Lancer's shiny red weapon, Seri's spear looked like a sharpened, wooden pole.
"You wish to challenge a Lancer... with a spear?" Lancer couldn't help but ask.
"And what if I do? It should make things interesting, no?" Harry grinned.
"If that is what you wish." Lancer grinned, happy to have an opponent who seemed to enjoy the thrill of combat like he did.
xxxxx
Kiritsugu watched the fight through the scope of his gun.
He'd already identified Lancer's master and where he was. Avenger's master wasn't making any attempt at hiding either, and he'd been sorely tempted to have himself and Maya take the two out with synchronised fire, but he held off.
Looking to his right, Kiritsugu could see the two Assassins sat on the railing of the crane. Two Assassins, that was what was really irritating him right now. It seemed that the Servant had some sort of ability to separate into multiple bodies, meaning it would be almost impossible to be entirely sure the Servant was eliminated, no matter how many were defeated.
Instead of worrying over that, Kiritsugu observed the Servants fighting before him, and their masters too.
Lancer's master was, in Kiritsugu's opinion, rather stupid. He was stood on top of a roof, when there was bright moonlight, and had made no effort to hide or disguise himself. Avenger's master was little better, but her Servant being so close at least meant that he could quickly react if a new threat were to appear.
Movement at the corner of Kiritsugu's eye made him look off to the right again.
Ah, it seemed Irisviel and Saber had arrived at last, so now they cou-
Wait, what the hell?! Where did that red knight come from?
xxxxx
Clang! Crash! Crack! Thud! Smash!
Arturia deflected another heavy blow while her mind raced as fast as it could.
She recognised this armour, she recognised that sword! Heck, she recognised this insane and unrefined fighting style! Heck, the red knight's face was her own looking back at her!
"Mordred!" Arturia managed to grind out.
"Yes, it's me, father, or should I say, my other mother?" Mordred shot back. "As if I wasn't freak enough already, I don't even have a proper father. I am the artificial offspring of two women, sisters no less."
"It was not my choice that made you." Arturia responded, deflecting a particularly wide swing of Mordred's, grunting with the effort as she retaliated with a swing of her own.
Mordred, her stats boosted higher than normal thanks to Harry's immense reserves of power, managed to interpose her own blade between Arturia's and herself, with a burst of prana knocking it back the way it came. Still, she wasn't satisfied, she wanted to face Arturia at her best, and right now she was boosted to a higher level than her 'father', simply due to who their masters were.
"No, it was not your choice that I was born, but it was your choice to reject me." Mordred growled, throwing herself bodily into Arturia, twisting around to punch her in the face. "What, were you hoping that Lancelot and Guinevere's child would be a suitable heir for you?"
"NO! That wasn't meant to happen either!" Saber yelled, knocking Clarent aside and going to stab Excalibur into Mordred's chest, but her 'son', pirouetted around, and slashed Clarent at Arturia's back once she was past her.
"What the fuck did you expect?" Mordred laughed. "You weren't satisfying her, is it any wonder she sought companionship from her closest male companion?"
"If only they'd come to me before that, we could have worked something out. They didn't have to go behind my back about it, I could have done something to sort it out!" Arturia dodged backwards a step, before throwing herself back into the fight.
"Really? What, exactly?" Mordred asked. "You were the king. Guinevere was your wife. What possible excuse could there be for her to be sleeping with your 'most loyal' knight? Absolutely none at all, that's what."
"Is that what this is about? My failures?" Arturia spat. "As much as I agree that I was the wrong choice for king, you are no better than I. What would you have done in my place?"
"I would not have been in your place." Mordred retorted. "I would not have taken a wife like you did. Sooner or later, your lack of an heir would have been brought up. It would have been much better to seek out an appropriate successor, even an orphan, and teach them to rule after you had passed on, but no, you just had to do it the hard way, didn't you?"
"I had to do it!" Arturia shouted, her swordsmanship slipping slightly in her anger. "I was a king, I needed a queen!"
"And what then?!" Mordred yelled back. "When you have no child and your subjects are hounding you with questions why, when you have your people wondering if you are impotent, or your wife barren? What do you do when you have no one ready to take your place when you fall? Is it any surprise Britain fell so soon after your death when you can't think about what comes after?"
"I could ha-" Arturia raged, before being cut off.
"You're living in the past! You don't even live in the present or look to the future! You act like you will always be king, you fail to see that nothing lasts forever, and brought ruin on your own head!" Mordred snarled.
With a wordless scream of fury, Arturia matched Mordred blow for blow.
xxxxx
"So, do my spear skills match your expectations?" Harry asked Lancer, jabbing Serial Phantasm's weapon at him.
"Your swords moved more fluidly, but you are also rather good with a spear too." Lancer commented, swiping at Harry with Gae Dearg.
Harry planted one foot in front of Lancer, before bending his legs, only to straighten them, shoulder barging Lancer and knocking him back a few steps. He immediately took advantage of the opening with a few rapid fire jabs from his chosen weapon.
"That spear, it drains anything that comes close to it, doesn't it?" Lancer asked, having noticed that whenever he came close to the weapon, even blocking it, his prana was being drained away bit by bit.
"And your spear, it cancels out any magic it touches, does it not?" Harry asked in turn. He already knew that, just as he knew who Lancer really was, but this wasn't about that, it was about playing the role he was in. In reality, while Harry was matching Diarmuid the entire fight through, he was using such a pitifully small fraction of a single percent of his power that it simply wasn't funny.
That wasn't to say he wasn't enjoying the fight immensely, because he was, it was just that Harry felt like a bit of a dick right then, as Lancer was obviously putting far more effort into the fight than he was. For the spear-wielding Irishman, this was a test of his skill against a strong opponent. For Harry, it was like playing tag with a slug.
A particularly skilled slug, bit a slug all the same... or perhaps a snail.
When Harry saw Lancer's tactics change, when he saw that he was being led into a trap, he followed. He let it happen, as he knew exactly what was going to happen next, and as much as it would be a lethal hit to almost anyone else, to him it barely rated as an inconvenience.
Of course, he had to make it look good at least.
A burst of prana from beneath Harry's feet launched him at high Servant speed towards Lancer, who made as if to knock him aside with Gae Dearg, but at the last moment, he kicked Gae Buidhe up into the air with his foot, and with one motion, removed the wrappings on it and jabbed it forwards into Harry's heart.
The suddenness of the action made everyone stop what they were doing, even Mordred and Arturia halted their furious assault on each other.
"I'm afraid that this is the end of the Grail War for you." Lancer said. "Even now, the curse of my spear is preventing your wound from healing, and not even a Servant can last without a heart. You were a strong, and impressive opponent, farewell."
Lancer nodded his head in 'honour' of the fallen Harry, but was brought up short by a bark of laughter.
Harry reached up with his free hand and gripped the short spear that was impaled through his heart. Straightening up, he yanked Lancer towards him, driving Gae Buidhe even further through his body, until it protruded out of his back. Still he pulled, until he was face to face with Lancer.
"Did you think I didn't see your trap coming?" He asked. "Even if the red spear was your only Noble Phantasm, that's no reason to drop your other one, is it? Of course, it might have helped had I not known who you are, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. Your features are those of the Irish, and that beauty spot below your right eye is rather telling. Your two spears, Gae Dearg and Gae Bidhe, were simply confirmation."
"How are you still alive?" Lancer demanded. "My spear is through your heart... Battle Continuation?"
"No, nothing so fancy." Harry replied. "Tell me, what would you expect to happen when using a cursed spear against someone who absorbs curses, Diarmuid?"
"Absorbs curses... you mean-" Lancer said, only to cut himself off. He jumped backwards, yanking his spear out of Harry as he did so.
Taking another look, the black mass that was Harry's 'heart' instantly began to reform. After all, his heart was not flesh and blood, it was a mass of condensed curses that took the form of a heart, and acted like one should. No curse could stop Harry regenerating, as it would just end up a part of him anyway.
"Against anyone else... that would have been a fatal blow." Lancer remarked, settling once more into a combat stance.
"True." Harry agreed. "Or at least, almost anyone else, there's always exceptions after all."
Harry held Serial Phantasm's spear in his left hand. He held out his right and in it manifested Tyrant's sword. There was a sickening cracking noise, before the flesh of Harry's left shoulder burst apart, and from it came a third bony arm, which soon held Dream or Destruction's whip. A fourth, bony arm erupted from his right shoulder, and in its grip was a morning star, Twisted Whisper's weapon of choice. Harry's hair came alive, and the ends curled around, grasping copies of Shadow of the Heart's daggers.
"What are you?" Lancer asked, seeing Harry undergo a slight transformation.
"I'm someone who doesn't properly fit into one of the seven standard Servant classes." Harry shrugged, which looked rather odd on someone with four arms. "Now, shall we continue our little fight?"
"Avenger, above!" Helel barked out, earning a sigh off Harry.
"It seems we're about to be interrupted." He said. "As my master has noticed, we have more company."
Harry leapt backwards just as Rider's chariot came crashing down. Incidentally, his jump had put him in close proximity to Irisviel, who had apparently unconsciously gravitated towards Helel when Mordred and Arturia's fight had gotten a little too out of hand.
"Yo." Harry greeted the silver-haired woman with a small salute.
She seemed startled for a moment, and then confused when he didn't immediately take advantage of her proximity to him, especially considering how far away Arturia was right then.
Seeing that, he rolled his eyes, not that it could be seen behind the blindfold he currently wore.
"Don't worry, I only attack those that piss me off. You're not on that list, though from what I've seen so far, Lancer's master's a bit of a dick, so I might take a swipe at him if he irritates me." He offered. "You have nothing to worry about from me, so relax. Besides, I think the new guy's got something to say."
Harry indicated Rider, who did indeed have something to say.
"All of you, sheathe your blades, for I am a king!" Rider called out at the top of his voice. "I am Iskander, king of conquerors! In this battle for the Holy Grail, I am of the Rider class of Servants."
"What the hell are you thinking, announcing yourself like that, you idiot?!" Waver, who was stood next to Rider in his chariot, asked him.
Harry had to agree, even if he was amused by his antics, Rider really didn't know when it was better to be a little more subtle. The expressions on the faces of everyone present were simply exquisite, Arturia's and Diarmuid's especially, as the two of them hadn't expected the grandiose man to turn up, and not like he had either.
He had to suppress a laugh when Rider flicked Waver right on the forehead. By Azi Dahaka, he was glad you could take photos in a penseive, he was so going to tease Waver with this when he got home. Of course, he'd probably get a few photos of Iskander himself, and perhaps even get the man to sign them too, Waver would like that no doubt.
With Waver's interruption dealt with, Iskander continued his spiel. "Fate has brought us all together in this place to do battle for the Holy Grail, but first I wish to make a proposition, an offer." He thrust his arms outwards and up in an expansive gesture as he finished his proposal. "What say you to yielding the Holy Grail to me and joining my glorious and invincible army?!"
"Does he seriously think this would work?" Helel muttered to Harry as Rider continued.
"Perhaps." Harry shrugged, leaning towards his 'master'. "No offence to the guy, but he seems to be more brawn than brain right now."
Irisviel, who was the only one close enough to hear them, giggled at that.
"Hm, I'm afraid I must decline your offer." Diarmuid was the first to answer Rider. "As tempting as that offer may be, I may give the grail to but one man, my new avowed lord and master, and not to the likes of you, Rider!"
Harry decided to add his piece. "Sorry to say this, but conquest isn't something I'm interested in, and while I do exchange services from time to time, I serve none but those I choose myself, and you are not one of them. Better luck next time though, I've gotta say, your... introduction was really something."
"So it seems negotiations have failed, how disappointing." Rider grumbled.
Harry then felt a fluctuation in Kayneth's soul as the man recognised Waver.
Sighing, Harry fell backwards, a chair appearing to catch his fall. He conjured one for Helel too, and even one for Irisviel, who seemed surprised by it, but after a moment where she prodded it, as if to see if it was real, and not merely a projection that would fall apart in an instant, also took a seat.
"Might as well get comfortable, it looks like the battles have been put on hold until everyone is done chatting." Harry grumbled, before using his limited control of the Denial of Nothingness to create a few tubs of a certain snack food. He offered it to Helel and Irisviel.
"Popcorn?"