Welcome back to another edition, kept you waiting, huh?
I just returned from my trip to Turkey and Greece; we have a few announcements as usual.
I wanted to make it up to you guys for the delay, so I commissioned an artist to make us an official cover drawing; it will go up sometime after this chapter uploads, so I hope you enjoy it. The whole image will also be in the discord server; I'll drop another link at the end if you're interested.
I want to welcome all the new readers who joined while I was gone; I'm somehow on the front page of most favorited Metal Gear crossovers already, another milestone thanks to you guys; cheers.
I also want to give a belated happy birthday to the Metal Gear franchise, turning thirty-five on July 13th, 2022; this series has been a massive part of my life and hopefully yours. All thanks go to Hideo Kojima's beautiful story that made us cry with each installment; here's to you.
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Mandatory Metal Gear reference shoutouts:
Spartan-666: "I AM FUCKING INVINCIBLE!"
^every Servant trying to pick a fight with Raiden.
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Thetruebreh: "Like a certain verse in Mistral's theme: I've finally found what I've been looking for!"
Glad to have you on board!
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Now, this fight was special for me; it was the last minion wave conflict for some time. However, Rider was such a powerful personality in Zero and both my and my beta reader's favorite character in the show.
Therefore, We put in extra effort to do both his character and abilities justice; it won't be nearly as long as the Caster fight, but it ties up nicely.
Also, if you witnessed that fiasco where I tried to rework Raiden's stats a few weeks back, I accidentally uploaded an ancient first draft instead where he was op for no reason; my goof on that, lmao.
With all that nonsense out of the way, let's dance!
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"Conflict is in our blood. We can't deny it. I was born on the battlefield... And I'll die on the battlefield. All I can do is fight, Snake... all I can do is fight." -Gray Fox
As the sun rose over the city of Fuyuki once again, passerby began their day, many driving their morning commute along what was once a mere battleground hours ago.
Trenches lined the streets as though hard steel had torn through the asphalt roads like wet paper. Buildings remained broken along the thoroughfares connecting the metropolis to the world beyond their small city, their remains little more than a composite of rebar, concrete, and shattered glass.
Many paused along their morning drive in confusion, unsure what had transpired, receiving a strange mix of similar yet different responses. Many spoke of natural disasters, earthquakes, floods, the list went on, yet as many pressed for more information, silence reigned, calls disconnected on a whim, never to be answered again.
Such was the norm when even the government lacked viable information, often covering up what they couldn't understand. Their role and authority rested on legitimacy provided by the people; what would they say if they realized just how little their leaders knew?
Within moments, many would push the issue out of sight and out of mind, driving away from the devastation and toward the untouched reaches of the urban landscape. If they were told there wasn't a problem, then it must be okay, right?
A pair of blinds clicked shut, denying the morning light its entry into the darkened den of what could only seem to fit a conspiracy theorist more than any upstanding citizen.
The room was uncomplicated; a simple bed with standard white cloth sheets provided amenities included, yet its newly added contents had transformed the place of rest into a research center.
Photographs and newspaper clippings lined the walls across the room; furniture moved to the side to provide more space. Thin lines of red yarn stretched from image to image, creating a tapestry of interconnections only its owner could decipher.
A man slowly crossed the carpeted floor, his worn black shoes lightly thudding across the material as he observed his craft, his spiked black hair disheveled along with his suit, a norm in his life. Sleep never came often in his career; long missions kept him alert and paranoid, even when off duty.
Even when rest finally came, nightmares of his past thrust him awake, sweating profusely as his past actions and experiences drove forward into his tired mind, refusing to grant him solace.
The man raised a lightly tanned hand, pinching his eyes shut as he readjusted to the darkness of his rented room, venting just a bit of exhaustion from his beleaguered mind before slowly opening once again.
His cold gaze, hardened from years of fighting, seeing far too much for any human being to comprehend, scanned his rented room once again, resting on his worn trench coat, still resting on its hanger in a nearby closet. He checked a nearby digital clock, its red hue citing the time: 8:23 AM, almost time to go.
He took a slow step forward, then another, stopping just in front of his bed before reaching below the furniture piece. His hand grazed a cold metal object before his grip tightened, pulling out a black storage container lined with lead to prevent any unwanted eyes from scanning its contents.
He had paid a fortune to have it smuggled into his home country, but he was cautious; it came with his career. Any mistake, any misjudgment could end in failure or death. The stakes were higher here than ever before, his dream of peace so close, just a week away, if not less, but he could never take a chance; everything had to function without flaw.
Kiritsugu Emiya knew his role; he was not honorable, nor was he moral; anything you were unwilling to do in the heat of battle became an advantage for your enemies to abuse.
The magus killer flicked through multiple locks, some leading to nothing, others to yet more mechanisms to unlock the contents held within. The man paused, taking a calming breath before opening the container, revealing his tools of war.
The Master lightly smiled as he saw his disassembled weapons; his gaze settled on what seemed like a toy at first glance yet acted as one of his most optimal firearms.
His hands nearly blurred as he pieced his weapon together, parts clicking on little more than muscle memory. Within fifteen seconds, he had finished; he lightly clicked his tongue in frustration; that was too slow; lack of sleep was having more of an impact than he thought.
His calloused hand lightly grasped a verticle foregrip, raising his Calico M950 closer for inspection. He grazed a finger along its surface, finding no evidence of blemish or dust, the extra cost for handling paid off.
At first glance, the weapon seemed trivial, its small size making it ineffective, especially when handling other magi, yet its strength lies in that deception.
As the killer checked his magazines, he thought back on his years of experience, countless enemies dying at his feet from this very weapon. Mages were overconfident and obsessive about bloodlines and nobility; that was their weakness.
A relic of the past, many prominent adherents to magical studies lacked any real fighting experience, it came with times of peace, yet they still posed an imminent threat. Whether having taken a life or not, each mage with any lick of training was capable of untold destruction, easily able to kill an average human without question.
The Emiya slowly clicked his suppressor into place, checking the device before reaching for his laser sight, preparing to attach the next piece to his puzzle.
Killing a person was difficult; people could think and act on their own, and the hunter could just as well become the hunted; he had lived a life of conflict and had many tried and take his own life in turn, only to be outsmarted by the magus killer himself.
A mage was something different; many users and families had unique abilities, and no two fights were the same; some were known, others not; the assassin had to remain vigilant at all times. In his life, there was no such thing as being overprepared; every inch given became another foot taken.
The Japanese assassin spun his tool of war in his hand before gently sliding the magazine back in place, always taking satisfaction in the light click of confirmation. He drummed through schematics and mental reminders by instinct; fifty rounds with a fire rate of seven hundred per minute, overkill did not exist in his field of work.
The killer slowly stood back up from his ruminations, his spine lightly popping into place; a lifetime of injuries took its toll, even at his age. The Emiya paced across the room, speckles of sunlight peeking through the defiant window blinds as he approached his coat.
The magus threw the piece overhead, sliding his arms into the sleeves as it fell; he sighed before sliding his calico into a hidden pocket within, choosing to leave the black cloth unbuttoned as he always did. Ease of access aside, he still had several more weapons to prepare, but his mind was wandering, something which rarely happened these days.
The black-haired Emiya turned, facing his wall of information; the divide had been partitioned into seven areas, each depicting an array of photographs with various lines of text interspersed alongside featuring different sets of people.
His gaze drifted along his construct, settling for a moment on one labeled "Lancer." A photograph caught his cold black eyes, a man with rigid features yet unblemished despite his middle age with short combed blonde hair, his blue eyes radiating an aura of haughtiness even when trapped within the still frame of his lens.
The magus killer sighed as a free hand dug through his pockets, pulling out a thin white carton, choosing to ignore the many warning labels strewn about the container. The Emiya doubted he'd live long enough to see those effects take root, and even someone like him needed something to relieve his stress; the assassin was still human, after all.
Appearances spoke far more about a person than anyone could fathom; Kiritsugu had been trained to pick up even the most minute details at a glance.
The Master had unblemished skin, hands without a single callous, evidence of never genuinely working a day in his life. His expression eternally stretched into some form of overconfident sneer; the list went on.
Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald was much like the other ailments that plagued the magical world, achieving his rank through bloodline and lineage without merit, not that Kiritsugu could complain, nor would he. The magus killer could adapt and thrive in any circumstance. However, nobility always acted in much the same way as they did in everyday life when in a conflict.
The Emiya slowly dragged a stick from his pack, placing the dark orange end in his mouth as he slowly withdrew his lighter.
The Master would act on a whim, expecting his superior status to somehow benefit him in a fight, and much like many others, that became his downfall. That behavior was predictable; it had a level of reasoning behind it.
The assassin slowly inhaled the toxic smoke, savoring the minty burn of his favorite brand of menthols, one of the few luxuries he allowed himself in life.
The sleep-deprived killer slowly exhaled a white cloud, uncaring for the broken smoke detector above his head, his form illuminated by streaks of light pouring in from behind the curtains.
The Magnus sighed as he turned, observing other sections of his investigations; black strings had crossed out two portions, one partially, the other entirely. Assassin and Caster, while the former's Master still lived, the others were completely wiped out in a single night.
Despite living in a world of magic and unfeasible possibilities, Kiritsugu could plan, coordinate, and expect certain events to transpire based on logic and reasoning; he lived a life of constantly being as many steps ahead as possible. No plan survived the first landing, yet, for once, the killer felt conflicted and uncertain, and it did not sit well with him.
The Japanese survivor turned, facing a new section, "Berserker," with a single photograph taken the night prior. Two men stood in conversation, a shattered building behind the pair.
The first stood shorter than the other, his pale white skin contrasting with his black hoodie; his features seemed sickly, veins protruding at odd positions as his left arm dangled toward the ground.
Kiritsugu's eyes slightly narrowed as his brow furrowed; Kariya Matou, an inexperienced magus, dragged into this conflict for one reason or another, someone he expected to remain a nonthreat to remove when convenient. Despite controlling the Berserker class, the Servant typically followed a similar trope, outstanding physical capabilities without a single thought guiding their actions; the system turned them into little more than a rabid animal to direct...and yet.
The magus slowly plucked the cigarette from his lips, the object still lightly burning in his hand as he shook a blackened stream of soot away, the ash falling toward the carpeted flooring below.
The other individual in the photo, his Servant, Berserker, remained hidden behind a blackened layer of smog, but the assassin could note the finer details of what was happening.
The figure stood tall with gravity-defying bleach white hair flowing with the breeze. However, something else had caught the killer's eye. Their body was covered; no, it was a thick layer of obsidian black metal interspersed with golden bolts along its surface, something he had never seen before.
The assassin adjusted his black trenchcoat into place, slowly stowing away his tools of war for later use in various additions he had added to the clothing piece over time. Very little of their form exposed any flesh whatsoever, aside from a thin layer of pearl white skin along their face, but that wasn't what set off warnings in his mind.
The two were talking, something he knew a Berserker could be capable of to a limited degree with exceptions; however, two Servants had died by their hands in a single night, which warranted far more than suspicion in this war of theirs.
The lifelong warrior turned, his coat lightly flowing in the artificial breeze as he slowly pulled his unique Contender pistol into a holder hidden just over his heart, slowly making his way toward the door. His cold black eyes sparked to life as his features hardened, his hand along the handle; the killer had work to do if he and Iris were to find the peace they had wanted so desperately.
*Click
...
*Hours later
*Click *Click *Click
A well-dressed figure slowly made their way down the bustling streets of Fuyuki, his form-fitting suit lightly shifting as his shoes tapped along the cobblestone roads strewn about the riverside walkways.
His steel-blue eyes idely studied the broken remains of what was once a department store as the figure slowly traversed the damaged section of the city, a strangely long suitcase ever-present in his pale white hand.
A mild breeze billowed out from the sea, cascading over his flowing blonde hair, several strands shifting in front of his gaze, only for the man to raise a free hand, instinctively rectifying his line of sight with a gentle sweep of a finger.
Raiden sighed as he dodged and weaved through passerby along his path, noting how several seemed to stare at him more than their devastating surrounding as he passed, as though he were the outlier.
Kariya had some business to take care of, but the cyborg figured his "Master" needed the rest; his condition seemed to worsen by the day, so he told the magus that he'd handle it, things were changing, and he needed to orient himself.
Just twelve hours ago, the veteran had butchered Giles, ending his spree of uncontrolled rampage over innocent children; his augmented grip tightened over Murasama's case at the thought.
Men like Caster were a dime a dozen in his line of work, uncaring for what needed to be sacrificed, throwing morals and humanity out the window if it meant taking even one step toward their goals.
The samurai hated many things in his world, but unlike most people, Raiden wasn't afraid to fight for his beliefs, his shitlist was long, but he had the time and patience to check each mark off, one by one.
Jack checked his hud, noting the time as his pace never slowed; he'd be early at this rate, but it wasn't the end of the world; he had things to sort out anyways.
Whatever you want to call it, tyranny, authoritarianism, or their derivatives, nationalism, xenophobia, it all boiled down to the same premise; the strong oppressing the weak.
His brow furrowed in mild frustration as he heard whispers of an "earthquake," no matter the period, there were always lies, the truth so far from reach.
Sure, things changed; kings used to govern because "God says I rule, so do what I say," but the basic premise never left, not even once. Truth means far more than people could ever comprehend; make someone believe your worldview, and they'll bend over while you step on them without a care in the world; the killer fell for those lies once before, never again, but he saw the trend over and over.
Governments were good at one thing, hiding what they didn't want you to see; sure, a handful of people might have seen Caster and his monster, but what of the majority?
The veteran momentarily paused as a group of first responders ran toward a nearby collapsed structure, letting them pass on their next round of looking for survivors of this "disaster."
The cyborg scanned through the internet, looking through news sites in nanoseconds, and very few said anything more than some catastrophe caused by tectonic plates and mass hysteria from the ensuing earthquake.
Jack huffed in frustration, a light cloud of steam billowing upwards before disappearing in the cold autumn air; there were more articles on nonsense that didn't mean a thing; "what products should you buy?" "Does your dog know what you're saying?"
People, human beings, died, and no one cared; everyone just...went on with their lives because someone up above had said everything was fine. His hidden metallic frame lightly shuttered as he chuckled; guess Armstrong was right, fuck this 24/7 internet spew of trivia and celebrity bullshit.
A few rewrites, a few allegations, and suddenly witnesses are little more than conspiracy theorists, a minority trying to mock the suffering of others. The internet connected the world, allowing more access to information than ever before, but it also made things much more diminutive.
People become lazy; why do your own research? Why question authority when a simple search engine could give you all the answers you'd ever need? It was only a matter of time before someone abused that negligence.
The soldier lightly tugged his yellow tie, the material lightly stretching as the warrior pulled the piece back into place. The worst part is that the people above don't even have to do much more than that; people end up policing themselves and others, and eventually, anyone who knows the truth is either silenced or too afraid to respond.
Jack's eyes briefly flashed red, exposing the augmented cybernetics hidden beneath the surface, only to disappear as the cyborg shook the thoughts from his head. There was a time and place for this, but Raiden knew he needed to stay on the ball.
...
*tick-tock...tick-tock...
The day drummed on as any other, distorted voices talking about this and that as the clock moved forward, never too fast, never too slow, always the same.
A pair of violet eyes glanced up from a sheet of paper, another completed assignment, full marks, a hundred percent; their owner should feel pride in their accomplishments, standing ahead of their peers, and yet as always, remained lifeless, without direction.
Their dark hue almost absorbed the light, reflecting a hardened exterior broken by an unforgiving life at such a young age. On the surface, she seemed like any other girl her age, a prodigy with limitless possibilities from a renowned family, certainly guaranteed an easy life. Yet, as with many others, the reality beneath the surface seemed far worse than a glance could tell.
The world of mages and magic was confusing, dragging innocent souls into decades-old feuds that few could even recall the reason behind, scrounging up rules that made little sense in the modern-day. Some practitioners even cite fears of disturbing the balance, inefficiency, and deteriorating power to justify inhumanities beyond belief.
Although she was still young, Sakura Matou understood how cruel the world could be; she silently listened in on nearby conversations, other kids talking about their weekend plans and other aspects of everyday life.
The young magus shifted her gaze toward the chalkboard, her small hands resting atop her lap, studying a drawing of a smiling sun written in chalk, wondering what it would be like, to not live like this, to have friends, somebody to talk to, anyone.
A high-pitched voice briefly broke her stupor, a girl she never learned the name of, jumping around with energy she never hoped to have; "hehe, I totally flunked that test. Can you help me study, Rin?"
A moment passed as the Matou struggled to shift her dull gaze, "Again? Honestly, you're lucky I'm so generous!"
The violet girl paused, staring at her former sister, studying her dark brown hair, and briefly settling on her blue eyes. The clock ticked once again as she remembered that they might have been a happy family just a few years ago, but it felt clouded, a memory she could hardly scrounge up but knew it happened.
They were never allowed to be sisters again, her father had told the young magus it was because of how the world of magic worked, but she didn't understand; why couldn't they stay together?
Sakura lightly shifted as she readjusted the sleeve along her uniform; the Matou didn't know what she felt whenever she stared at her former family, in school, or simply passing by their home, only recognizing a pang of feeling in her heart each time she did.
The heiress glanced at the clock, 3:12 pm; she withheld a sigh, knowing how little awaited her back home in that empty estate. This was a good week for the young magus; she wouldn't have to spend any time in the pit with the worms.
Even after months of enduring those "treatments," as her adoptive grandfather called them, Sakura still couldn't help but shiver, just a bit at the thought.
As the bell rang, the Matou slowly gathered her belongings, a mountain of notebooks reflecting a mindset unfit for someone her age, before slowly making her way out of the classroom without so much as a goodbye from a classmate, an everyday occurrence.
The violet girl slowly crossed through the halls, her dress shoes clicking along the tile flooring with each step, the evening light pouring into the building from up ahead.
As she crossed the threshold, the magus took a moment to adjust to the light of the outside world, her dull eyes scanning their surroundings, seeing parents picking up their children, both excited to see one another before taking off for home.
The heiress watched as friends walked off together, heading off in their own directions before listing her stare down the road toward the wealthier part of town, toward the Matou estate, a lonely walk ahead as usual.
The former Tohsaka took one step, then another, lost in her thoughts, as she instinctively began the walk home, head facing the ground as she always did. The girl briefly paused as she heard someone call out before shutting the sound out, assuming it wasn't meant for her before the sun disappeared ahead, a shadow blocking the source of light from view.
The Matou gazed up, the bright sun momentarily blinding her view before settling on a familiar set of blonde hair. The figure stood tall, wearing the same black suit as always, his pale face pulled into a light smile.
The magus didn't know what to think of her uncle's Servant; Sakura understood the concept well enough; being groomed to contend in a future grail war meant her grandfather forcibly instilled information on it since her first day in the Matou household.
Her lectures involved the class system, among other things; the Berserker was supposed to be...angry from what she understood, just an animal to direct on a chain to their next target, but Jack?
The cyborg snapped a finger, lightly chuckling as she jerked up from her thoughts, "You in there? Heh, might want to pay more attention to the world around you, kid."
Jack was...nice...people always say kids don't know any better, but she could tell when someone wanted something from her, like how Zouken would stare at her like a prize...
The Matou blankly studied the Servant for a moment in confusion; talking was never one of her strong points; Rin was always the more outgoing of the two, "Jack? Why are you here?"
The Berserker lightly shrugged, his suitcase shifting with each movement as his grip never ceased for a moment, "Eh, your uncle was feeling under the weather; someone had to get you, right?"
Raiden slowly scanned the sky, watching as clouds gently shifted overhead, the sun shining brightly overhead; whether in peace or war, the world seemed to move along all the same.
His blue eyes lowered, watching as crowds passed by, some glancing at the strange sight of a white Liberian in the midst of Japan before going back about their business. It never ceased to surprise him how people could live peaceful lives like this, just going about their day none the wiser toward the conflicts so close to their homes.
Murasama gently hummed in its case, the vibration shifting through his augmented arm, reminding the killer of his circumstances. This was a new war, and Raiden only had a few short hours until his next fight; Rider wanted to meet at sundown near the edge of the city, and the samurai knew so little, as usual in his life.
The ninja hummed in thought before glancing back down at his ward for the moment; he internally sighed, seeing her lifeless purple eyes staring back at him. Poor kid... dragged into all this, someone her age should have friends, do everyday kid things like throw dirt and get hurt. Sakura's life was so much like his, stranded in a world of hatred and greed, all alone with only ideology as her mentor.
The veteran patted his pocket with a free hand, feeling his wallet full of...liberated funds...he chuckled; if politicians could steal from the people, it's only fitting that someone use their money for something reasonable, right?
The soldier raised a pale hand, fingers curled as his thumb pointed back toward the center of town, "I'm thinking ice cream, you in?"
The purple-themed heiress paused, not seeming to understand the question for a few moments; Raiden gave the girl all the time she needed; it wasn't Sakura's fault that her family didn't let her develop social skills. He knew that road took a long while to recover; Solidus taught him many things, but not a lot about communicating.
The magus seemed uncertain, staring off toward the shifting and bustling streets behind the cyborg, then shifting her attention the other way toward the family estate, "But...my lesson."
The Servant sighed, "with your grandpa?" getting a nod in response, the killer slowly crouched down to her level, his free hand resting on his hidden metallic knee, "remember what I told you a few nights back?"
The Matou thought without making a sound, ignoring the sounds of excited afterschool plans being made around her, "That I should...do what I...want?"
Raiden lightly smirked before ruffling her purple hair with a free hand, "bingo, now, do you want to go to some boring mansion and study, or kick back and have fun for once?"
The magus froze up as the question set in. Was it really okay to just...not listen to her family? Shouldn't she do as Zouken said? The former Tohsaka furrowed her brow in thought; that house brought nothing but pain whenever she was there, and those "lessons" brought more of the same treatment.
Jack was a new person in her life, but Sakura could tell he was understanding like her uncle, and if he trusted his Servant, then...The heiress took a slow breath, pushing aside her anxieties to find a buried will of her own; she gently nodded, "...okay."
...
*Ring
The bells along the shop door gently swished as the pair entered the parlor; Raiden took in the scene with a strange recognition, feeling that all too familiar cold air near any refrigerated goods.
Sensations were strange to the soldier; first-generation cyborgs couldn't feel much of anything, but years of improved technology and a few upgrades let them enjoy life like they were ordinary people. However, "average" didn't fit his lived experience, but Raiden appreciated it nevertheless.
You don't realize how little you enjoy even the most mundane things until you lose them. Sensory deprivation was used in some of the earliest experiments to create the perfect soldier, but deny someone their humanity long enough, and they lose their mind.
Jack ignored a distant high-pitched voice, "we'll be with you in a moment!" from somewhere buried in the building's backrooms, where his sensors pinged a few workers going about their business.
The samurai lightly smiled as he felt the cold temperature graze his synthetic skin; these things helped remind Raiden that no matter what, he would always be human, and no one could deny anyone that right.
His eyes scanned the store, spotting various old photographs of the family that owned the establishment, taken in black and white; it was always a gimmick he found funny; a picture from 1970 without color makes the store seem more "authentic," whatever that word truly meant, he couldn't say.
The term always bothered the killer; what made something real or not was up to your own perspective; it was like trying to define humanity itself. Whether you're an average person, a cyborg like him, a clone like David...or
His blue eyes glanced down to the purple Matou beside him, trying to peak over the high counter with little success; even a mage... they were all human at heart; if you genuinely believe you're something, then that's all that matters, who cares if someone says otherwise?
Raiden lightly hummed as he scanned the menu before glancing back down at his ward for the moment, "Know what you want yet, kid?"
The magus stared at the cyborg momentarily, studying his expressions with each word; the samurai internally winced; it hurt seeing someone so young always on the defensive. You have to endure a lot to get an attitude like that at her age, and he knew that life all too well. He knew what it was like, sleeping with a knife under your pillow, never knowing who you could trust.
"...Can you choose for me?"
The veteran raised an eyebrow, his synthetic skin lightly stretching, "Why? Don't see anything you like?"
The heiress shook her head, purple hair flicking about with each movement, "I can't see them."
Jack chuckled; that was the issue? Despite having a son of his own, Raiden would never understand kids. Sometimes, they were more intelligent than you could ever imagine, and other times they lacked any and all common sense; how that worked, he couldn't say.
The cyborg slowly crouched, dropping his suitcase before picking the magus up and putting her over a shoulder, an arm propping her up as he stood upright; "Better?"
Getting a hum of approval, the cyborg lightly smiled, remembering something similar with John, part of his "compensation" for launching him to the sky from the swingset that one and only time; he barely went a few hundred feet, he swore.
The kid was all too willing to blackmail his own father into getting him "compensation," but the moment they got to the store, he froze up when he had to talk to an employee for directions. Jack would never understand how that mindset works.
"You know, it's not bad to ask for help sometimes; people are a lot nicer than you think."
The soldier lightly chuckled as he saw the kid eying the purple grape flavor as she idly listened; a nearby clock ticked as the magus lightly sighed in thought; Servants all had some legendary place in history, even if she didn't know Jack's. She knew his name meant something to someone, but here he was giving her advice; she had nothing but questions.
"Do you...get help too?"
The cyborg dryly chuckled, "kid, if there's one thing I know, no one ever works alone." That list was long; men like Big Boss, Solidus, Liquid, and Snake, and even him might have been "legends," although only a few of them would ever accept that term.
Raiden lightly tapped a metallic heel across the checkered tile floor as the pair waited, "You'll never know everything, trust me on that; there's always something else going on that you don't know about, something... underneath. You shouldn't blindly trust anyone, but knowing someone is there for you helps get through it all."
The magus shifted her attention from the cones to the bowls, trying to make a decision as she considered the statement; friends were a luxury Sakura lacked; she didn't know what he was talking about; "...how do I know who to trust?"
The veteran clicked his tongue in thought; he never really had to say these things out loud before; it was more intuitive in his experience, but the girl needed guidance, and no one else seemed to step up to bat. "Well, what am I doing right now?"
Sakura squinted her eyes as she studied the Servant as he absent-mindedly stared at the bucket of the rocky road behind the glass. "...Holding me up?"
The cyborg snapped a finger along his palm, the synthetic skin making a faint clicking sound, defying the dull hum of refrigerators in the empty parlor, "Right, but what if I didn't? Let's say I told you what flavors there were instead; how would you know I'm telling you the truth?"
The purple-themed girl thought about it for a moment, listening to a nearby clock tick each moment, "I...wouldn't?"
Raiden slowly nodded in agreement, "That's just it, listen...sometimes people won't tell you the truth, or...they tell you their truth; imagine you wanted mint chip, there's one scoop left, but I liked it too; would I be lying to you if I got the last piece and said there wasn't any left?"
Sakura racked her little head on the question but couldn't find an answer, it made sense one way, but then it didn't in another, "yes...no...I don't know..."
Raiden chuckled at her confusion; that kid was smart; most would say no, but she realized there was no definitive answer, good. The warrior lightly bobbed back and forth, the light sway catching the heiress's attention; "sometimes people will do things like that, pretend they're your friend, but in reality, they're screwing you over, but you'll never know unless you see the bigger picture."
Sakura's dull eyes lit up just a bit in realization as the words sank in, "so...a real friend would help you see for yourself?"
The ninja's smirk grew; it took John a lot longer to figure that out, and she was getting it instantly, not bad. "You'll find some of your own someday, people you can count on through it all, and when you find them, don't let them go no matter what..."
Images of Rose, David, and Otacon flicked to mind, so many lives lost along the way, his entire life spent fighting through Liberia, Big Shell, and Outer Heaven, then his own wars...the cyborg lowered his head for just a moment, his blonde hair falling over his blue eyes, "...you'll take on the world with them kid, I promise that."
The magus hummed as she heard someone approaching the counter from the backrooms ahead, not yet in sight; "...are we friends?"
Jack's gaze flickered back to reality; he lightly shook his head with a smile, "Sure...we're friends."
The owner, a woman about Raiden's age with black hair, slowly exited the storage room, gently smiling at the pair waiting for their order as she approached the counter, "Sorry for the wait, so, what'll you have?"
...
Silence reigned as a cyborg lost in time slowly pulled the ornately decorated gate blocking the way into the Matou estate open, the metal lightly creaking and clicking with each motion.
Raiden sighed as he glanced at the looming property ahead; a home could be anything, large, small, that didn't matter; the only important thing was how a place made you feel.
Jack grew up not knowing what a healthy family looked like, his adoptive father only showing an interest in his "development," he clicked his tongue in frustration at the thought. It was just brainwashing, surrounding a child in hatred, everything coordinated to perfection, just so Solidus could prove his theory...
A cold breeze swept over the killer, lightly parting his pair as he allowed his "Master's" niece to pass by, her gaze growing just a bit duller with each step forward.
Solidus knew his status as a clone, not only living in the shadow of his predecessor, a legend who had scorched his name into the sky, but it wasn't just his wish to be remembered...but to foster a legacy of his own; clones couldn't have children, but to him, it didn't matter.
Genetics meant nothing compared to ideology; greatness wasn't hereditary, nor was failure; in his eyes, a child was a blank slate to mold to his whims, to create not only a perfect soldier but a son to call his own.
Jack struggled to remember anything about his life before Solidus destroyed everything he knew, but even those memories faded with time, replaced by someone else, the person he became through his upbringing.
It all came as disparate flashes, the samurai couldn't remember his parents' names, but if he tried...sometimes he could remember what they looked like, like his mother's blonde hair and his father's blue eyes, but... never felt a thing for them, they were gone, and so was the boy that lost them, burned away with his village, replaced by the killer Solidus created.
The veteran gave the Matou a moment as she glanced toward the sky, studying a flock of birds overhead, likely wondering what it was like to be free. His brow furrowed; Raiden knew he had to win this war for the world and her sake, so a child wouldn't have to grow up like him...never again.
Raiden grimaced as his father came to mind, his stern features, the way he held himself like a statue at all times, just waiting for his moment of recognition, to defy his creators and burn himself into human memory.
The ninja glanced down at Murasama's case, the metallic-black material lightly reflecting the sunlight in a gentle glare as his sensors absorbed their rays. Whether you call him President George Sears or just Solidus Snake, the man could never let go of his obsession with rights, liberties, and justice. It consumed him, and he instilled those ideals in his son, no sacrifice too great in his pursuit of restoring American democracy to the people.
Free will meant far more to Raiden than most people, yeah, he could agree to that, but he was more than just an avatar of his father's will. The warrior might be a citizen but would never call himself an American, nor would he call himself a Liberian; he was his own man. The killer wouldn't limit himself to helping a specific set of people; everyone deserved to know peace, away from the prying hands of the powerfu-.
"Why are you so nice to me?"
The cyborg glanced up from his thoughts, noticing a pair of dull purple eyes staring at him with uncertainty as the mansion drew nearer, the sounds of hustling workers growing just a bit louder. The soldier hummed in thought for a moment, "You don't need a reason to be kind, but honestly, kid..." the mercenary slowly scratched his chin as he spoke, "you remind me of how I was as a kid."
Sakura's demeanor sparked to life just a bit more as the soldier spoke; Jack seemed so different from her, "How?"
A gentle wind whistled through the afternoon sky as the Servant lightly smiled in thought, "I'm adopted too, you know?...my family...is complicated, so I know what you're going through, it's not easy...coming home to a parent like...him." Jack couldn't even think about Zouken without wanting to tear his head off, it went unspoken, but the girl was smart enough to know who this was about anyways.
The Matou took a sharp breath as she stopped in her tracks, staring at the man as he turned to face her; for a moment, she thought Jack was just taking pity on her, but...he understood... "How did you...deal with it?"
The samurai's mind whirled for a moment; yeah...he was going to avoid saying 'I killed my dad' like a plague; that was not an idea he wanted to put in her head.
The cyborg ran a pale hand through his artificial blonde hair as he spoke; Snake would kill him for this, but the girl needed hope in her life, "I wasn't alone, I had...an uncle...David, he helped pull me out of my head and find people who really cared about me...a lot like your uncle does for you."
Sakura lightly swayed back and forth, staring up at the summoned warrior, then back down again, uncertainty always in her head, never sure who to trust. "...What about you?"
Jack chuckled; she was really a lot like his son, always anxious. Was every kid like this? "I'm not going anywhere, kid; you don't have to worry about me."
The magus lightly sniffed, whether, from the cold or emotion, the soldier couldn't tell for sure; she slowly took a breath "...promise?"
Raiden smiled, kids need positive reinforcement, and she lacked any of that in her life, but he'd be patient; you don't earn someone's faith in just a few days, but he wanted to help the Matou find happiness somehow. Winning a war was one thing, but a child needs a lot more than getting rid of a bad family; after years of therapy and isolation, he knew that all too well.
The cyborg slowly crouched so they were at eye level, gently raising a hand toward the heiress, "I promise, kid, shake on it?"
The magus stared at the cyborg for a moment, studying him for any hint of a lie, her dull purple gaze flickering to life more than before as it settled on his hand.
A moment passed before Sakura took a slow step forward, then another before walking past his hand and wrapping her arms around him in a hug. Jack's eyes widened just a bit before he smiled, gently patting the girl on the back with a free hand; someday, she could put all this behind her, he promised that much, and even though the cyborg couldn't see, the Matou was smiling, just a bit.
A few moments passed, and the Liberian's smile slowly disappeared as a thought came to mind; his blue eyes flashed in determination as his mind set its course; "Do you think you're ready to tell me about what's been going on with this family of yours?"
...
...
Silence...The cyborg lightly sighed in frustration, shit...he definitely asked too soo-
"Okay..."
Her voice seemed so quiet even the soldier's advanced hearing almost didn't catch it. His suit shuffled as he gently ruffled the Matou's purple hair, a light smile on his pale features, "I'm all ears, kid."
...
later
The front door clicked shut as the old wooden frame settled into place, the dim lights overhead illuminating the otherwise dreary estate. The Berserker class stood still as his ward walked by, a nearby grandfather clock ticking, each second feeling like an hour had passed.
The killer took a sharp breath, his blonde bangs falling over his eyes as he struggled to keep his composure. Jack knew fully well he couldn't lose his cool in front of her, but it was anything but easy. The soldier wore his heart on his sleeve for people like her; what they were doing...it didn't seem human.
The mercenary gritted his synthetic teeth for just a moment, forcibly composing himself as he settled upright, scanning his surroundings. The same ornate decorations, the same lavish bullshit, but it felt...tainted...he knew this family was fucked, but what that girl told him...
The cyborg held himself together until the moment the girl disappeared from sight into the house; he had told her to check on her uncle, saying he needed company, but that was a lie; she didn't need to know the truth.
The soldier rounded on his heel, barreling off into a different section of the manor, the floor cracking and flaking with each stomp towards Zouken's study.
His hidden eyes flickered, sensors embedded into his augmented eyes flashing red with instability as he tore his way through hallway after hallway. It was like the fucking Sears program, but worse; Sakura told him what she could, but neither of them understood a lot of it, but the Liberian knew enough.
Sparks flickered across his metallic form as each new site drove his anger higher; pictures and old portraits of old household heads lined the walls; an entire family of monsters, he'd tear this whole goddamn house down if he had to.
The samurai practically growled as he exhaled a shaky breath; his mind flashed as memories flooded back; one word stood out in their talk...the worms...the same ones he saw Kariya expel once...was that what they did?
Raiden had rarely even seen Zouken since they first met, but he always knew when the man was around; he gave off a presence, something only a few in his life ever did. Cruelty was etched in his figure, the way the magus held himself, and the predatory way he watched his own son suffer with glee on his face like it was a delicacy to behold.
Jack would never deny that, on some level, he did like hurting people, but only those who deserved it. The cyborg had no clue what Kariya's life was like before, but a child? It was Caster all over again; he traded one demon in human skin for another.
Murasama hummed to life within its case as the ninja rounded a corner; his target's room loomed in the distance, his augmented lens zoomed as a figure leaned against a wall just outside the study.
A man with messy blue hair draped over an equally colored pair of unfocused eyes lazily studied a large bottle in his hand, lightly tilting it back and forth as the liquid moved to and fro.
He turned as the sound of distant footsteps grew louder, giving the Berserker a better look as his face slowly contorted from miserable indifference to a dread that only grew as the Liberian got closer by the moment.
Jack's eyes flashed in realization; Byakuya Matou, Sakura's adoptive "father," holding another bottle of imported rum...The soldier's brow furrowed in anger, drunk again, as usual. Raiden never liked him to begin with; what role model can't even sober up around their own child? Fucking pathetic.
As the Liberian got closer, the man shakily stood upright, holding a hand, as he took a shallow breath, "w-what do you want...Berserker?"
Raiden hated people like this, a layer of smug arrogance buried under a mountain of addiction; he had a good eye when judging people, and the way anyone acted spoke a lot about them as a person.
It didn't take a genius to realize these houses cared a lot about their magic and genes being passed to a new generation; if Kariya was his "Master," it meant his older brother couldn't use it, at least not as well as his sibling, then there was the bottle still in hand.
Drinking to drown your sorrows; Jack knew that life all too well; the cyborg would admit, at one point, he was an alcoholic, all the same, thinking Rose miscarried...that was a dark time, but he crawled his way out of that hole inch by bloody inch, finding a new reason to live.
Their eyes met, one blue and fearful, the other flashing red in raw fury as his gravelly voice broke the silence, its sheer bluntness refusing to hide his intentions; "where is he?
Raiden watched as the Matou gulped, struggling to find the words to respond. He hated a lot of things about this pathetic excuse for a man, but what Sakura told him set him off to new heights; he was the one in charge of her..."training," was what he called it; just looking at him made the Liberian want to tear him limb from limb.
The failed magus turned, facing the door, trying to avert his gaze from the killer standing ahead of him even for the briefest moment; "he...he's busy, but you can-"
*CRACK
As the Matou turned to address the Servant, he couldn't even comprehend what he was seeing as a metallic fist slammed into his face. Flesh tore as bones broke on impact, the force blasting the man headfirst into the ornate cobblestone wall before crashing toward the floor face first.
The summon glanced at his hand, lightly crackling in electricity as the bottle crashed to the ground, glass and its brown contents splattering across the cold stone floor.
Jack stood uncaring as blood began to pool around the coward's unmoving form, lightly clicking his tongue in annoyance as he fried a layer of saliva off his hand, the smell of alcohol wafting into his senses; fucking drunk.
The cyborg took a moment to readjust his sleeve, uncaring for the man as he stained a nearby carpet; after years of intensive training, learning the ins and outs of CQC, Jack knew just how much it would take to bring a target down if you wanted them left alive...in this case, for now.
The mercenary smirked as he heard the distinctive crunch of a broken bone as the man struggled to breathe through the destroyed appendage. Maybe the killer used more force than he needed, but for pieces of human garbage, he'd make exceptions; besides, the samurai lived by his own rules and could break them as he damn well pleased.
Without missing a beat, the Liberian stepped over the downed man and toward his real target, Zouken Matou. As he trudged onward, his cold voice rang out through the hall to the unconscious man behind, "Don't go too far...you and I are gonna have a nice little chat when I'm done here, got it?" The killer chuckled as he didn't get a response, his concealed metallic frame bouncing with dark glee, "glad you understand."
The warrior strode forward, the large oak doors blocking his target from view; whether or not Zouken heard him, Jack didn't care anymore. The killer stomped down, his metallic talons carving straight through the ground as he raised his free leg high into the air.
*BOOM
Wooden shrapnel rained across the immaculately clean room, a fine layer of dust blowing across the space as the door imploded on itself, torn apart by several tons of force, turning the construct into little more than debris.
Jack stood in the entrance, his red eyes flaring as he scanned the dark room, his sensors detecting a single presence in the chamber, not that he needed them; he knew men like Zouken weren't the type to show fear, if anything, they lived to instill it in others, they fed on it.
A sound rang out from within the study, a rhythmic motion laced with sarcasm despite the lack of words breaking the silence at a slow but steady pace.
*Clap...Clap...Clap
The killer huffed in frustration before swiping out a hand, the cloud of debris crackling away in a forced breeze, electricity flickering off his augmented limb, revealing the man in question, Zouken Matou. The patriarch comfortably sat at his likely centuries-old desk as though not a thing was amiss, a smug look on his sunken face like he expected this.
Zouken's beady glare flashed in excitement as his eyes landed on the Servant, his smile growing more and more by the moment. His voice echoed through the chamber, reflecting an age at which he didn't care to hide his true intentions; sinister couldn't describe the feeling, nor do it justice. "My my...you're quite the source of entertainment, aren't you?"
Raiden's hand gripped his suitcase tighter, his internals whirling to life in raw fury as the ancient Matou continued, his pale, shriveled skin seeming to shimmer as he spoke. "I've been watching your struggle, and I must say...your rampage has brought a joy I haven't felt in years..."
The patriarch's withered form shivered as a dry chuckle escaped his form, exposing his dulled yellow teeth, stained with the effects of age; "Although I must say...I do wish you let that son of mine suffer just a bit more, watching his innocence flounder time and again...it's a pleasure I'll never tire of; it's tragedy at its finest."
The cyborg's synthetic blue eyes narrowed as he gripped his metallic suitcase tighter, energy building in his systems, threatening to give way to a torrent of hatred. "The hell are you talking about?"
The decayed magus slowly stood, his cushioned leather chair shifting with each motion, moving at speeds too fast for someone as ancient as him. The man slowly met the cyborg's gaze once more, his predatory stare all too apparent. "I chose you for a simple reason...rumors of a killer with an untold desire for carnage appearing and causing mass chaos wherever he went before disappearing without a trace...it seemed a waste to not witness your madness for myself."
The Liberian took a step forward, hidden components beneath his facade of humanity rotating with each motion; everyone had a motivation behind their actions, but everything Zouken radiated led the killer to one conclusion, "That's all this is to you...isn't it?" His metallic jaw audibly clicked into place as it deadlocked in place, "you don't care about this war at all...do you?"
The patriarch's savage grin grew as static sparks crackled about the Berserker ahead, watching as his billowing blonde hair revealed a hidden layer of metal. His cold eyes closed in silent approval, "Whether you take the Grail for my whims or fail, I'll enjoy watching the inevitable destruction; bloodshed, suffering, cries of despair as people beg for their lives. The feeling, it's intoxicating, but...you know that joy all too well, don't you, Jack the Ripper?"
The Liberian's brow furrowed as his nails dug into his fake skin, his vision flickering as his systems hummed to life, scanning the Matou as the ancient figure spoke; Raiden knew he lacked information, but to get it, he had to keep the old man talking, his type was all the same. They were like human toys; wind them up and watch them go, revealing far more than they intended; one thing he learned quickly in life, human nature was easy to abuse if you knew what you were doing.
The soldier stomped forward, a plume of dust shooting around him as he slowly strode toward the ancient Matou, his eyes burning brighter by the moment. "We're nothing alike, you sick fuck. I hurt people that have it coming, but you...your own son...your own family...you're just demented, a hollow shell of a man hellbent on bringing the world down with him."
The Matou's eyes briefly flickered before reverting to their static glee, his cane lightly tapped along the ground as he approached the Servant without a care in the world. "We all have our own biases, the flares we add to make the days go by, I merely expanded my horizons, something you fail to do..."
The patriarch's gaze flickered towards the hall, breaking out into a new chuckle as he saw his oldest son's unconscious form staining the path in his blood, then clicking his tongue in disappointment as he saw his chest slowly rise and fall. "Feh, failures like them are little more than chattel to me, possessions to do with as I please. Their suffering will suffice if they can't bring me the Grail..."
The elder magus's grin grew darker as he drew closer to the Berserker, merely a few feet from the man who clearly wanted nothing more than to rip him apart, yet there he stood, confident without a care in the world. "Sakura, however...she bears promise, she might yet bring me the results I need...that is if you fail, of course."
Static crackled as Raiden towered over the frail man, everything in him was screaming to tear him apart, but he couldn't...not yet. His augmented eyes burned a hellish red as he stared off against another madman; "she's just a kid, you son of a bitch."
Zouken hummed in thought as he studied the killer's reactions, his hands gripping his cane as he leaned on the device for support. "Then I suppose you should use that hatred to win this war, hm?"
A dark chuckle broke out from the cyborg as the man spoke, drawing the man's ire as the Liberian continued to mock his presence. "You know...I think I figured you out."
The elderly magus stared at the Servant, all sense of joy drained away into his true expression, his eyes lowered, sunken back into his skull, a cold stare of a killer lying in wait. "What are you talking about, Berserker?"
Raiden closed the distance, towering over the frail patriarch as he stared into his soul. "Your wish...you want to live forever...don't you?" The soldier chuckled as he watched the man's facade briefly shift, a tell. Jack didn't wait for a response; he didn't need one.
"Old fucks like you are all the same; you never know when it's time to disappear and be forgotten." The samurai's grin grew as the man's expression sunk into a glare, "You're greedy; nothing is ever enough; let me guess, wealth and power seemed great at first...but you lost interest... you wanted more..."
The elderly magus gritted his withered teeth, almost hissing at the cyborg as he spoke, "watch your tone with me, remember the man who controls you bends to my whims."
Raiden pushed on, knowing just what buttons to push to set the man further into his irritation, his tone mocking yet factual. "You aren't like me...I was raised to be a killer, but I found a cause to fight for, a reason to be more than a murderer, but you?"
Raiden's eyes flashed between blue and red in agreement with his other half, both sides coming to the same conclusion, one they'd seen so many times before. "Dreams, ideas, beliefs, they outlive any man, but you couldn't accept that...you lived on, and when you realized you couldn't change a damn thing, you got bitter, and now...you're just a sad little man, taking his anger out on children, that's all you are...isn't it?"
The patriarch glared at the soldier as the man dissected him with nothing more than words, "I would watch your step, boy; remember who dictates whether that girl lives or dies."
Raiden's sensors flared as the sound of buzzing grew louder; his eyes flashed as he watched the elderly mage beginning to disintegrate into a swarm of bugs, the creatures flying around him like a gust of plague-filled wind. Zouken's voice rang out like an ethereal call, "remember this, time is no obstacle to pursuing my ambitions, whether it be through the Grail or the worms; my presence will live on as I always have..."
Jack watched as the swarm disappeared in a swirl as though the man was never there; he took a slow breath in the now quiet room as his mind processed his circumstances. Time is no obstacle...the worms...what they do to their victims...
Zouken might not have realized it in his tirade, but he had given the cyborg a lead, and that's all the experienced killer needed; now, it was a matter of time and research.
The cyborg glanced toward his internal hud, his systems activating as processors embedded in his brain whirled to life. 4:34, almost time for his showdown with Rider, the man wanted to meet at sundown; whether or not he agreed because it resembled a movie he once saw, Raiden would never admit to it.
An unknown breeze billowed through the still room as the Liberian turned back, a dark smirk growing on his face as he observed the still unconscious Matou groan in pain as he slowly shifted from unconsciousness. They still needed to have that "talk," and the soldier had a few minutes to spare; what better time?
...
an hour later
*Crunch-Crunch
The cold earth crumbled with each step as a multiton cyborg slowly trudged through the wilderness, his enhanced sensors scanning his environment as he marched on into the looming darkness. Raiden's augmented mind raced through scenarios, compiling new data with each moment.
A twig snapped as the warrior's metallic form crushed the object without a thought; Rider knew he was coming anyway, not like it mattered. The killer glanced down as information dotted his hud, appearing as though his system always knew it.
The Rider class always had some mount, but that term seemed general; it could be anything from a horse to a construct. It seemed obvious, but in his line of work, the veteran could never make assumptions.
Raiden briefly paused, rubbing a hand along his forehead; that feeling never sat well with him, like someone was putting things in his head. The ninja couldn't describe it, he still had a limited understanding of things, like something was blocking him, but compared to his first day in this war...things made more sense since he killed Caster... after accepting his new role as a Berserker.
The list went on English, French, Spanish, and Russian; Raiden knew quite a few languages, a necessity in his line of work, but he didn't need to study these days. Most cyborgs had translating software installed, making everything sound like their first language, but this felt different. Before, the mercenary understood, but now, after arriving in this war, he could suddenly speak other languages, ones he never learned; it came in handy, he'd admit that much.
The samurai cracked his metallic neck, the synthetic musculature stretching with the motion as he exhaled his discomfort. Having something put ideas in his head, though, that was something else. The Patriots did that enough in his life; it took a lot of convincing from his friends to have new nanomachines installed.
Raiden might accept his past for what it is, but he damn sure didn't forget any of the lessons he learned or the trust issues he picked up along the way. Yeah, the soldier could admit he considered Blade Wolf a friend, but that took time, and he always felt uneasy when someone mentioned AI; it didn't sit well with him.
The cyborg checked his internal map, his blue eyes following the random smattering of directions Rider gave him after translating them to a set of coordinates. Raiden briefly chuckled at the landmarks the Servant mentioned; he knew the Greek was ancient, but seriously, get with the times.
A cold breeze billowed through the dense forest, a colorful array of leaves flowing along with the wind, surrounding the Liberian in a tapestry of sailing colors as he walked along. Raiden briefly shifted Murasama's case in his hand, feeling the gentle and constant hum of his tool of war; a slight smirk grew on his face in anticipation of the carnage to come.
Jack wasn't sure if he was the cause behind the blockage or something else, but something was forcing him to not see the bigger picture with how the system worked. It didn't take him long to notice that other classes could figure out his identity after seeing his sword; Caster and Assassin both did the same thing; it was basic logic.
The cyborg furrowed his brow in thought; he'd seen that spellbook...prel...something...like it was on the tip of his tongue but couldn't come out; it was frustrating; this seemed basic to the others, but...not to him.
Raiden shook the thoughts from his mind shoving them away as he drew closer to his destination; the cold gravel-like dirt shifted toward a grassy pathway leading to a clearing up ahead, almost there. If he thought about this sort of thing too much, those pulses of pain came back, and he needed to have his head straight; the Berserker knew fully well a man like Rider wasn't one to underestimate; it was fundamental in how he held himself.
It wasn't just codes like honor that bound men like that; sometimes, it was sheer confidence, a dangerous thing in his line of work. If someone can act casual around their enemies, it means they had nothing to fear or hide, knowing victory was in their hands. Whether or not that mindset was foolish on Alexander's part remained to be seen.
The Liberian's eyes briefly flashed red in determination as the stakes came back to mind; this Grail could destroy the world; that was a risk he couldn't ignore. Jack would approach this like any other fight with everything he had and nothing guiding him but his own hand. An innocent girl's life rested on this war, and he wouldn't fail her like the world failed so many children; Raiden was no bystander.
Leaves crunched and twisted as the warrior trudged ahead, seeing the clearing just up ahead, a gentle light illuminating his path in the densely forested land. If he had time, Raiden would have enjoyed observing his surroundings; the future was a world of concrete and economic desolation; when was the last time he even saw nature before being summoned? The veteran sighed; that was a thought for later, now was the time for action.
Internal components whirled as Raiden's internal radar mapped his surroundings, detecting two presences standing ahead in the center of the opening. His enhanced synthetic eyes flashed a brilliant blue as the tree line gave way, pausing in his trek and staring straight ahead.
A figure sat resting along the ground as another, smaller in stature, stood nearby, both staring at the newcomer. One was a behemoth of a man, his tanned skin reflecting the dimming sunlight as he flashed a white grin, his white teeth contrasting with his red beard.
The man wore an old suit of bronze armor interspersed with layers of leather for more effortless movement. Raiden's processors burned through his circumstances, noting the man's arms were left unprotected, their massive size giving off the impression that the man could easily crush concrete with his fists alone.
Jack's eyes flashed red in excitement, briefly exposing the circuits hidden beneath; Iskandar the Conquerer, one of the most famous men to ever exist on par with the likes of Julius Caesar, a legend whose drive for empire led him across the known world. Raiden didn't need a system to tell him that.
A thunderous voice broke the tranquil sounds of the wilderness, overshadowing the various creatures going about their business as the cyborg's ruminations came to a crashing halt. "So, you've come, Berserker."
Rider slowly stood, pushing himself off the ground with a giant hand, his enormous figure towering over the land itself, casting a shadow over his Master, a frail boy with black hair and quivering green eyes. Raiden clicked his tongue in frustration at the sight; another kid dragged into a war they weren't ready for; even at a glance, the killer knew the boy was green, never seeing combat.
War can change any man; no human being is immune to its horrors; death and devastation bring loss; it's a given in their lives. You get cold to what could bring ordinary men to their knees in fear, and eventually...it's all you know; the battlefield you so desperately wanted to leave becomes your home; it reflects in how you stand, how you live and breathe, it's a part of you as much as any other.
The samurai met the man's red gaze, lightly exhaling a slight chuckle, white smoke rising to the cold autumn sky. "Thought I wouldn't show?"
The historical legend hummed as he rubbed his chin in thought, choosing his words, before waving a hand in dismissal. "No, men like us can't walk away from the call to battle; it's in our blood to seek out our next foe."
A wind blew through Jack's blonde hair as he nodded in agreement, "Something like that, after all, we're just following our nature, but I have to ask, why here?"
The Conqueror sighed as he raised an arm, gently ruffling his fiery-red hair in thought, "Bah, while I respect my fellow kings, they tend to involve themselves in affairs that aren't theirs to settle..."
The tan giant narrowed his gaze as he observed the Berserker curiously, his red eyes watching his actions; "You haven't met Saber...have you?"
Jack stared at Rider a moment before his raspy voice broke the silence, "Once...why?"
Alexander brushed a hand along his armor, flaking dust off the material as he spoke, "What did you think of her...not as a Servant...but as a king?"
The cyborg sighed; he came here for a fight, not chit-chat; "I wouldn't know; I'm no king...I was raised by soldiers, not noblemen." A moment passed as new thoughts emerged; Raiden hadn't thought much of their encounter; it was more casual talk than anything.
The Liberian pulled his jacket sleeve back into place, augmented or not; he hated dressing well for a reason; it was a pain to maintain that look. His mind drifted toward the other blonde, she hardly spoke during their talk, but he remembered her green eyes flashing to life at one point in particular...
His blue eyes scanned the serene sky above as wind blew distant clouds overhead, escaping the soon-to-be warzone below. Thinking on it, Saber seemed...uncertain...like something was eating her alive. He pushed the thought away; Jack wasn't a miracle worker, he could only guess her issues, and at the end of the day, they weren't his problems to solve.
The Greek bellowed out a laugh, catching the Liberian's attention, "You're a blunt one, aren't you?" His expression grew solemn, a tired yet firm smirk gracing his bearded face; "If only she saw things for what they were, I wouldn't need to show that so-called King of Knights what a true ruler should be."
The cyborg's gaze hardened as the man spoke on; Raiden didn't need to guess what a conquerer meant by being a king; all despots were the same at the end of the day. You could mask it any way you want, nobility, "For God and country," or his favorite excuse, "for the greater good."
Rider gripped a fist in determination, raising it toward the skies above, "then...and only then can I bring her into the fold; Saber's a shining star on the battlefield; she'd serve my army well, don't you think?"
A laugh broke the man's rant, a dry chuckle coming from the Berserker, mocking him with each reverberation. Jack shook his head in disbelief, "You're serious, aren't you?" The killer turned toward the wilderness, watching as the sun dropped lower by the moment, its gentle glow reflecting off his figure.
"If there's one thing I know about your kind...whatever you call them, kings, nobles, oligarchs, it's all the same at the end of the day...you couldn't fathom bending the knee to someone else, God forbid sharing power."
Raiden's eyes briefly flashed red as they met Rider's, challenging his authority directly. "You're living in a fucking fantasy if you think someone like her would listen to a word you say."
Iskandar raised a fist, gripping an unseen dream, a look of determination crossing his features, his eyes slightly narrowing, "Impossible or not, I'll carve a new world with these hands of mine; conquest takes far more than mere lands, but the hearts and minds of your men..."
The giant sighed in contemplation, idly rubbing his beard with a free hand, "It would besmirch the honor of all kings if I let her stray from the proper path; only then could my dreams be realized."
The Liberian scoffed, a light hiss coming off his synthetic lips; it really wasn't hard to see where the Greek was going with this. "You want to conquer the world again...don't you?"
Rider's eyes gleaned in anticipation, "Yeah...but, you're missing the most crucial part...conquest alone wouldn't suffice, plunder always brought me joy, but nothing brought greater happiness than fighting side by side with my men...my friends, all for my ambitions."
The legend spread his arms wide, his red cape fluttering in the evening winds as storm clouds slowly drifted overhead, darkening the dimly lit sky. "I, Iskandar the Conquerer, wish to be reborn! To conquer a new world alongside my friends, my greatest treasure valued beyond any gold or silver to forge a new empire for my own needs."
The Greek's eyes gleamed a brilliant red as he spoke, electricity crackling about him, causing the man to glow as though the gods had ordained his cause. "You of all people should see, Berserker, this life is truly the only way to experience the splendor of this world, to know the pleasures of conquest, of glory...to bring joy to one friends with each victory, each new site seen burned into our minds forever more!"
Static crackled along the cyborg as he listened, his rage growing by the moment; this is what he wanted...more death...more suffering...and for what? The killer's head dropped, his bangs covering his burning eyes as an inferno swelled within him. "That's what war is to you? A little adventure to have with your friends?...you have no clue what you're talking about."
The samurai's grip over Murasama's case grew tighter, metal parts clicking as the material threatened to give way to several tons of force. The weapon within hummed to life, sending shockwaves through his augmented form. "You talk about conquest...what about the conquered?!"
The Liberian's head lurched up, meeting the other Servant's gaze in a hellish red, his cybernetics exposed without care, only seeing the enemy ahead. "What about the children who have to bury their own parents? The men and women dragged into hell and back for reasons they don't understand?... Where's the honor in doing that to someone who did fucking nothing to you?!"
Rider's excited grin disappeared as the Berserker spoke, turning from a grimace into a scowl; the man swiped an arm across the air; "The world has never been fair; our conquests were in the pursuit of my dreams. The only wars that mattered were my own, my friends knew that well and fought with their lives to ensure it wasn't in vain, and I'll never regret that life; it would dishonor their legacy."
The ninja shook with rage as an old memory came to mind; "All we're saying is... give war a chance!" Jack's augmented mind flickered in instability as images of Sundowner phased in and out of vision, temporarily overshadowing Rider's form; different names, different eras, same sacks of shit, nothing changed.
War had only grown more devastating as time went on. Still, one thing remained the same; civilians always made up most casualties. Innocents were dragged into a conflict kicking and screaming as bitter old men forced the young to fight over nonsense that didn't matter, their greed taking precedence over human life.
The pyre began to burn in the cyborg's heart once more as he felt energy coursing through his system; the killer stood his ground defiantly. "Blind loyalty isn't friendship; it's indoctrination; you built a cult around yourself, and look where it ended...you died, and your oh-so-loyal friends carved your empire up without a care in the world."
Raiden took a step forward, blue arcs of lightning beginning to dance around his form as he spoke; "fanaticism, religious zealotry, nationalism, different labels for the same fucking thing; you lied to your men, tricked them into doing your dirty work..."
The killer raised Murasama's case; the shrouded material materialized before the Servant's eyes before clicking open, revealing his tool of war. The device fell into Jack's waiting hand before magnetically latching onto his metallic hip. He growled in anger; "you waited until they had innocent blood on their hands and then...and only then would you call them a friend...and look where it got you..."
A bolt of red lightning shot from Murasama's sheathe, contrasting with the warrior's glowing cybernetic eyes; "Everyone remembers you, but no one knows the real you, Alexander the Great...a figurehead on a pedestal and nothing else."
The Greek legend stared down the killer as he spoke, his booming voice making his presence known once again; "Be that as it may, how I'm remembered doesn't matter to me; my men forged their loyalty through blood; that's enough in my eyes."
Iskdandar's ornately decorated red cape fluttered in the wind, the animal furs along the neck lightly caressing his skin. "I've carrried their hearts with me wherever my ambitions led, their destinies intertwined with mine...Yet, you stand alone...but I'm not surprised...I've had a suspicion of who you are since we met, but...now..."
Lightning crackled around the Greek's form, illuminating him in the ever dimming daylight, "Glory lies beyond our conflict; one shall walk away and instill his vision upon the Grail, I the King of Conquerers, and you-" Rider raised a fist, his finger pointed directly at the Liberian's chest; "Jack the Ripper, an unknown upstart with the gall to challenge proper rule..."
The behemoth chuckled, a grin growing in anticipation, "it's fitting, isn't it? Since the moment we met, I knew this was where my conquest lay; the only means to convince Saber rest, not on words but action!" Iskandar reached out, holding the grip along his ornate sword, its black color contrasting with the still resistant glow of the setting sun. "It's time we settle this... defeating a so-called tyrant slayer like yourself will prove my right to rule a new empire, with new allies by my side!"
A slight smirk turned into a savage grin as the cyborg took in his words; the man turned, slowly striding toward his own place on their ramshackle battlefield as Rider did the same, his cape billowing as he moved. All sound seemed to fade away as the men faced away from one another, the fading sun and the rising moon, a cycle of conquest and retreat played out since the beginning of human life itself.
Raiden briefly closed his eyes, picturing the energy flowing through his systems; he chuckled as a thought came to mind; "You act like you're going to walk away from this."
A swarm of leaves passed by the giant, a swirl of red over the land going as far as the eye could see. Rider nodded, "Yeah...you should feel honored as my first true conquest of this world, Berserker...But, I'm not unfair; we could call that Master of yours here; I'd like to see your best before we end things."
Static began to crackle along the cyborg's form, the loose ends of his sleeves starting to billow in a false wind as prana coursed through his augmented body. His blue eyes flashed open, gazing up at the dimming red sun, "No, dragging Masters into this would just cause more bloodshed, and besides..."
The killer slowly turned as a brilliant blue glow overtook his form, lightning shooting toward the sky as it trailed along his metallic chassis. A moment passed before the energy dispersed, flaking off onto the cold ground below before disappearing without a trace, revealing his fully augmented combat armor, its gold circuits flashing as his systems realigned instantaneously.
Raiden's exposed metallic jaw clicked into place as his body resettled, his blue eyes glowing brighter as mana crashed through his fuel cells, rolling into his components like a tidal wave. The samurai raised his head high, meeting his foe's gaze, a conquerer and a killer facing off, their ideals incompatible, their conflict inevitable. His raspy voice reverberated across the field, sending chills through Rider's waiting Master as he spoke. "...This is between us."
A moment passed as the hands rested along their blades, their eyes firmly fixated on their opponent. One, a King seeking new lands, new conquests, leading an army of the strong, while the other, a killer forged in war, represented the conquered, those too weak to defend themselves from despots and dictators.
*Click
Metal dragged along their sheets as both men drew their blades, one a tool of the samurai, inherited and earned through bloodshed and triumph. The weapon crackled in red electric fury as it jolted to life in its wielder's hands.
Iskandar briefly studied his own blade; its silver coloring and ornate design brought pleasant memories to mind. A gift from the King of the Cypriots himself, but now was not the time for idle thought. The tool of war rested along his right hand, reflecting the sunlight as the man steeled himself for battle. "Fine...let our ambitions decide our fate, Jack the Ripper."
Red arcs of lightning roared across Murasama's form as the tool of war as the killer readied himself, both hands along its cold grip as it aimed toward his foe. Jack's eyes flashed a brilliant red as he manically grinned, exposing the jagged lines between his flesh and enhanced metal; "okay...let's dance!"
*woosh
The looming winter winds howled in the forest as a pair of green eyes watched two men face off, one a giant of a man, his easy-going temperament suppressed into a roaring inferno of determination, his red eyes beaming with suppressed excitement.
The other, Berserker, a creature Waver had never seen, human couldn't describe its...his features. A body warped entirely into metal, flesh nearly nonexistent as the Servant's gravity-defying white hair swayed, revealing a hidden barcode along his forehead.
The boy gulped as moments passed by like hours; his hands shook despite not being in the line of fire as his internal worries surged to the surface, clouding his mind in a fog of angst. His heart raced as the sounds of the imminent night began to simmer away.
*Bump-Bump...Bump-Bump...
...
...
*BOOM
The ground burst as Rider charged, leaving a fine layer of dust in his wake as he crashed toward his foe. The giant raised his blade, its edge reflecting a blindingly blue light as electric jolts raced across his form.
With a battlecry to rival the gods, Rider swung overhead as the Liberian raised his tool of war to the sky; crackling red sparks fell as it rested mere inches from his visor.
Their tools of war met with an audible clang; sparks blew off as HF steel clashed with magically reinforced arms. Light flickered as dry grass below began to catch fire and spread, forming an expanding charred ring of death, with two Servants at the center.
Jack slammed his metallic talons into the burning earth, digging a foothold as he surged forward, synthetic muscles stretching as Rider slowly lost his hold before sliding back. In less than a moment, the killer spun, Murasama tearing a trench as it dragged along the ground, following his momentum as he swung hard from his right.
The blade burned the air itself as red waves soared in all directions, slamming into Iskandar's tool as the man tried to go on the offensive again to no avail. Jack's processors burned through information in nanoseconds, taking in their circumstances; even for a Servant, without his vehicle, Rider seemed slow, too slow, but they were still testing the waters.
The killer surged forward in a burst of prana; droplets of mildew danced around him before superheated wind evaporated them into steam; Jack swung from his right, his blade roaring towards his opponent's exposed neck only to meet its silver foe once more.
*Clang
Raiden savagely grinned as Rider pushed; his arm lurched back, aiming to slam his tool of war through the cyborg's head with a roar of fury. The warrior dropped low, letting Murasama fall from his metallic grip as he caught himself on his left hand.
Static flared around him as time slowed, his systems targetting Iskandar's wrist as the man slammed down with everything he had. Synthetic muscles compressed as Raiden's talons caught his inherited blade before kicking off the ground, creating a small crater as his weapon collided with Rider's pommel.
The Greek's red eyes widened as the force blasted his weapon out of his hand, the device flipping through the air before crashing point first into the ground, its hilt facing the sky far behind him.
Raiden's components roared to life, his wrist rotating like a machine, defying human biology as his crackling tool of war crashed toward his foe once more in a red wave of death.
Time slowed as Rider's instincts forced the man to leap back in an explosion of prana; the giant gritted his teeth as the superheated wind tore through his armor, leaving a narrow gash across his colossal chest.
The Greek slid along the ground, ignoring the growing flames as he came to a stop. The legend wiped a hand along his wound, savoring the rush of blood only the heat of battle could bring before gripping his fist in determination, a grin growing on his tanned face.
Iskandar chuckled as Jack's visor met his gaze as the device radiated a brilliant orange glow in an intricate pattern of lines and shapes, hiding eyes from sight. The Conquerer stood tall once more, chuckling in anticipation as his opponent readied himself for another assault. "Heh, this is a proper fight, but... I think it's time we took this seriously."
Raiden's grip on Murasama tightened as his lightning blew off his blade in a storm of HF power; his raspy voice overtook the sounds of growing electric fury. "Then let's finish this, you and me."
Iskandar's chuckle turned into a bellowing laugh, his thunderous voice catching the cyborg off guard. Jack took a step forward, his multiton form cracking the ground with each stomp, "The hell are you laughing at?"
*WOOSH
The killer took a defensive stance, his weapon held in a vice grip as a strange wind burst into existence, surrounding Rider's form as his cape blew through the mysterious storm. White particles dotted the air around them, flashes of light as far as the soldier could see. The Greek's voice broke his confusion, "who said I was alone...Berserker?"
*BOOM
A blinding sphere of light erupted from the Servant, crashing towards the Liberian. Raiden's gravity-defying hair flew in all directions as his armor reflected the strange glow. Before the killer could react, the mysterious light overtook his form before the world went white.
...
Jack's mind raced as his systems went haywire, flashing warnings across his hud, running diagnostics on both the killer and his surroundings. The first system to reboot was his external sensors; he paused as he internally read their report, 100° Fahrenheit ...what? That had to be wrong...there was no wa-
*Flash
Reality crashed into place as his visor slammed open, the metal clicking as his parts rotated back into a resting position along his head, his white hair parting out of the way.
The cyborg's blue eyes widened as he realized he was staring down; hell, for a second there, the warrior thought his entire system hard crashed...is that sand?
The veteran stood upright, feeling the rough and coarse material through his talons; hundreds of questions ran through him; what the hell did Rider do? As the mercenary gazed up at the blue sky, not a cloud in sight, he turned, seeing dunes much like the one he stood atop coated the barren landscape.
Raiden's grip over Murasama tightened as static crackled along him and his sword, their colors refuting the desolate sands around him with their vibrant glow. The ninja clicked his tongue as his systems failed to determine their location.
*Unknown please be advised, contact-
Jack dismissed the pop-ups with a mental command as he turned, scanning the wastes for any signs of life, exposed golden circuits reflecting the bright sun overhead. Wherever he was, the killer knew this involved magic somehow, either teleportation or something else...not that it mattered. The cyborg spun his tool in his hand, its superheated surface instantly turning a line of sand into smoldering glass on contact.
The warrior raised an eyebrow at the sight, so this wasn't some illusion; then, where the hell was-
*Ding
The warrior paused as his internal radar detected a significant enemy presence approaching; as Jack turned, his blue eyes widened before they flashed a vibrant red in realization...so that's your play.
*Thud...Thud...Thud...Thud
The earth itself seemed to rumble as lances jutted into the sky, growing closer by the moment as sand parted, projecting into the sky like a shroud. Although, the cyborg didn't need sight to understand what was heading his way.
A colossal army of men marching as one, each donning an ornate set of metal armor, some a fine steel, others coated in a layer of gold. Every piece was decorated in ancient symbols the killer only recognized from his movies.
The Liberian's enhanced eyes zoomed, spotting engravings of Zeus, Poseidon, and more, marching across the barren wastes in pursuit of endless conquest artistically alongside their believers.
As soon as they arrived, the army stopped, each man staring at the Berserker ahead, their numbers uncountable, as though an entire nation faced off against one man.
An ethereal voice rang out as each soldier dropped to a knee, honoring Rider as he materialized in a swarm of glowing orbs of light, standing at the head of his legendary army. Raiden's eyes narrowed at the sight; slaves blindly devoted to one man; it disgusted him to know he ever considered himself a loyal American, but that was behind him. The samurai threw his tags away and never looked back.
Iskandar raised his hands, his colossal form dwarfed by his followers, their numbers only minute compared to the desert sands themselves; Raiden scoffed as Rider's men flashed to life, intently focused on each word as if they were scripture, pathetic.
The giant spoke, his voice echoing across the desolate land, reaching even the farthest man without concern, "My armies once crossed lands much like this, traveling far and wide in pursuit of my dreams...so loyal they follow me even in death... and still, you besmirch that honor, Berserker."
A roaring purple flame burned across Rider's chest, sealing the wound in a burst of prana, the color illuminating his tanned features, exposing a look of sheer pride as he spoke. "No plunder, no conquest will ever match our bonds, forged through fire, defiant through time, the true representation of my kingship!"
Raiden defiantly stared as their eyes met; despite the distance, both men felt their ideals clashing; even so far apart, they knew this was where things had to end, liberation or subjugation, the people or the ruler.
The King of Conquerers smirked as his men cheered in triumph behind him, their cries supporting his words. "They are my greatest weapon, my most faithful friends, my most potent noble phantasm, Ionian Hetairoi!"
Lightning exploded across the battlefield as Rider's ornate chariot burst to life ahead as the man lept onto his vehicle, his cape flowing behind him. The myth took his place, holding the reigns leading to his legendary beasts, a grin stretched across his face, sure of imminent victory. "Now...let's finish this, Berserker."
Silence reigned until a chuckle broke out, then soon became manic laughter from ahead; Rider's gaze narrowed as his steeds dragged their hooves along the sand. Jack stood tall atop the dune, no end in sight to the army he faced alone, and yet...he felt...excited...to crush that many men under one tyrant's illusions...
His systems scanned his foes, taking in their armaments, swords, scabbards, spears, wearing heavy plated armor, with sandals on their feet. The warrior couldn't help but laugh; Rider expected to win with an outdated army like this?
Jack savagely grinned as he approached the cliff's edge; a rolling hill straight downward lay just meters ahead, his heavy frame trudging pits in the ground as he marched without a care in the world. Cyborgs were built to face armies far more advanced than this...and it's time to show these "ancient heroes" how war has changed.
The pyre within the Liberian began to burn hotter as more prana flooded his systems, no longer denied its course; the energy crashed through his components once more. The killer met Iskandar's gaze as a billowing black smog erupted from the Berserker's metallic form, its plumes rising to the sky like a smokestack built from a lifetime of deception and hatred.
The ninja lept off the edge, slamming onto the ground below as fine, grain-like particles blew into the air around him. The soldiers ahead hitched their breath as their eyes landed on the Berserker, seeing his inhuman form built into a metal husk. Anxiety began to build as the flowing smog parted, revealing his exposed jaw and hellish red eyes staring back at them, a demon wearing a facade of humanity. The Servant's raspy voice brought some men to the verge of shaking in fear, its tone nothing more than excitement fueled by madness itself, "Have it your way..."
Raiden glanced down at Murasama as it waited eagerly in his hands before staring at the men ahead, his focus landing on Rider, his hands firmly gripped along his reigns, waiting for his opponent to make a move. The mercenary shook his head, his white hair flowing as he shifted, his neck audibly popping as it cracked. Rider represented everything the man hated, authoritarianism, greed, indoctrination...killing him wasn't enough.
The samurai resheathed his sword, the device audibly clicking as it slid away from sight. Raiden lurched, reaching behind his back and over his shoulders; the men ahead watched as two colossal machetes materialized in a flash of yellow light in his waiting hands.
The Liberian raised his right hand, inspecting one of the identical weapons, one of his personal favorites, Bloodlust, another of Raiden's harvested tools of war, yet an old classic of his. Solidus had taught him to respect his blades, yet in the jungle...in war, machetes were more than just a means to fight; they represented a struggle of the people against tyranny and authoritarianism.
Raiden slowly inspected the blade, looking along its grey surface, before noticing the delicate white lines on its edge. His father taught him many things; fighting for liberty through any means necessary was always a building block in his new identity, and his weapons and will act as a mechanism to enforce those ideals.
The cyborg slowly began to walk forward, each step of his augmented boots bringing a new sense of dread to his opponents, still uncertain of what he truly was. Raiden's eyes flashed a brilliant red as his visor slammed shut, denying the men any witness to his humanity, hidden behind a shield of smog and metal. Jack's manic grin grew by the moment as his mind settled on its course, Revolution.
Rider's grip tightened as his beasts of war began to bellow, superheated steam escaping their forms as blue lightning crackled with each step. His brow furrowed as he raised his sword high, his men losing all sense of fear at the sight of their King standing against terror incarnate, meeting its gaze unwavering in his beliefs, as though his godlike form protected them from harm.
The giant gritted his teeth as a strange red mist burst to life across Berserker's form as he slowly trudged toward their position, a scare tactic. The Greek lowered his weapon, its point facing his distant foe, his triumphant voice audible to all, "My loyal friends, you've stood by me beyond time, beyond our era, our destiny is within reach, Oceanus lies ahead, forward!"
Raiden continued his march as the earth itself began to rumble as thousands of men roared alongside their King before charging with reckless abandon, following their tyrant as his chariot burst to life, its wheels flying over the flat terrain without resistance.
Jack scoffed as he studied the men, their manic features enraged with just a few words from their tyrant; static flickered across his form, dancing over his stolen blades; a puppet can never be a soldier, and it was time to break this illusion.
Rider Phase One: Khamsin Theme - The Hot Wind Is Blowing
A brisk walk turned into a sprint before the killer dropped his head low, his bangs shielding his visor before the ground itself exploded in a shower of superheated glass and debris. Blue arcs of electricity raced over the warrior as he ran straight toward Rider as the man surged ahead of his forces.
Jack ignored the distant orders being called, watching as the Greek army formed up; his grin grew; a shield wall won't save you. The cyborg's form flashed in a new burst of speed, meeting Iskandar's charge in a moment; the Greek braced, ready to meet his foe himself before his augmented legs slammed into the ground, leaping far into the sky as the King's eyes widened in realization.
The veteran soared through the open air, defying human biology as he watched line after line of men break formation to follow his course to no avail. His enhanced mind burned as his processors formulated battleplans in nanoseconds, outnumbered but not even close to being outgunned; he could end this and go after Rider, but really...
The Liberian's white hair flew upward as he slammed down in a burst of energy; a soldier donning steel plates gazed up, squinting in the harsh sunlight through his helmet before letting out a sharp gasp. Bones dissipated as blood splattered, turning the man into little more than flesh and fine red lacquer, coating his allies in his own viscera as a multiton cyborg crashed to the loose ground below, a plume of dust rising into the air.
Raiden's systems pinged his surroundings, hundreds if not thousands of enemies on all sides, his only ally his instincts...his manic grin grew...this was a dream come true.
In less than a second, the killer surged forward from the dust cloud, his gaze meeting a commander as the man stared at the debris in confusion, still registering what had happened. The mercenary slammed his boots down as he swung his arms wide. His pincer blades gave off an ethereal orange glow as his elbows bent, slamming the two together, tearing through the man's armor and torso like nothing.
Blood burst like a torrent as his lower half slumped over, his thigh bones jutting out as his intestines leaked out from above, coating the ground before the Liberian threw his arms back, launching the man's dying form far behind enemy lines, relishing as he heard a distant splatter.
*Ding
The cyborg dropped low, falling back, catching himself on his hands as a javelin flew overhead, slamming into another soldier's face, breaching through its thin armor. Raiden smirked as he heard the distinct squishing sound as it destroyed the man's brain, oozing out of the wound before his corpse slumped over, twitching before going still.
These weren't soldiers to him, just cowards, incapable of thinking for themselves, just listening and obeying. You could call Jack a machine all you'd like, and he'd point out a thousand men who acted like one, deep thought nonexistent, taught to follow orders and nothing else; the same shit happened in every time period, different lies, same results.
Jack flashed into movement, launching off the ground, forcing his augmented body to spin, again and again, becoming a veritable wheel of death as Bloodlust's twin blades crashed through bodies like nothing, gore and viscera exploding into the air like a smog of death.
Men screamed as their armor melted away under HF steel, their flesh boiling and evaporating on contact before crashing to the ground, their blood forming a growing pool of viscera with each new addition. The samurai tore through their ranks, his blades skewering men of all positions into little more than mincemeat, their corpses unrecognizable before flying off once more, bringing chaos wherever his path brought him.
Soldiers were a complicated part of humanity, an essential aspect of a functioning society; they were a sign of order, progress, centralized institutions seeing the value of keeping the people safe, their borders secure, and yet...
The samurai landed in a crouch; his visor flashed orange as a colossal man, standing almost on pair with Rider himself, raised a massive sword overhead, aiming to crush the cyborg where he stood. Static roared as Bloodlust slammed together, its pieces magnetically locked before soaring straight up, cleaving the man in half from below.
The blade stopped halfway as Jack watched the life drain from the man's eyes with glee before slamming a boot backward, the component bending at an impossible angle as he caught a man by his neck, his talons tore into tan skin like nothing as he held him in place.
Soldiers were replaceable, mere cogs in a machine; you serve a purpose and nothing else, taught to never think, to only listen to orders, and for what? To some, it was God and country, others democracy; whatever the reason, it all led to one thing, greed, from those willing to send others to die while they conveniently have an excuse to not serve themselves.
Blood burst as Jack's blade forcibly came apart, tearing the man's body in half as his superheated bones evaporated into a cloud of fine white dust, flowing out of his form as he crumbled to the ground, dead.
The still living soldier struggled against the warrior's vice grip, slamming his sword into his reinforced armor, only for it to clang off as sparks flew. The killer grinned as he spun, letting go as the man fell to the ground before screaming as a metal boot crashed through his skull, fragments exploding across the landscape alongside bits of flesh and brain matter littered with bits of broken metal as a fine layer of sand coated the material.
But this issue was more than just one class abusing another; no problem was that black and white. Soldiers and society are two halves of a functioning whole; one can't work without the other. His mind burned as he thought of Outer Heaven, a nation of soldiers, their only home on a battlefield.
Raiden knew that militaries could be abused and taken over by hostile forces, but they could also maintain peace and keep the dams of hatred hidden in each nation from breaking loose. But, a military with no country to protect would make peace a distant memory. An entity like that would only care about profit and maintaining a status quo of destruction. He swore the world would never see another Outer Heaven, and he intended to keep that promise here.
*Ding-Ding-Ding-Ding
Time slowed as the killer's sensors detected strikes coming from six directions. He smirked as static built across his chassis, piercing his veil of black smog as he erupted into the open air. As energy crackled along his form and into the air itself, the men could barely register what was happening before he struck.
*ZZZT
Screams of agony rang out as the cyborg poured more power into his attack, lightning crashing through men all around him, using their bodies as a vector as the charge attempted to ground itself. Flesh fried as blood boiled, their corpses becoming little more than charred husks as they dropped lifelessly to the ground.
Regardless of race, creed, gender, religion, or any other building block that made you up as a person, everyone needed something to come back to, a home, something to keep you grounded in reality.
Steam poured off the ninja's glowing palms as voltage dissipated; the samurai sighed in alleviation as roaring purple fires coated the barren circle surrounding him like an arena of carnage, with him at the epicenter.
Raiden might enjoy war, the rush of battle, the act of killing, it all kept him going, but he knew where his heart belonged; his family kept him from taking the deep plunge. Love isn't indoctrination; you give as much as you take; it's reciprocal and unconditional.
The mercenary turned, facing the men around him, studying the anxious looks along their faces as they saw his rampage. Jack almost pitied them, latching on to a brotherhood that didn't exist with a King at the helm; no ideals can perfectly match your own; that's a fools dream, a lie many men live with as they fight for causes they don't really understand, hoping to find a home to call their own.
That's just the problem with people like Rider; their men are only loyal so long as they think their strongmen can keep them safe. A real soldier does his duty for his own reasons, family, community, and society, working together for the greater good. Still, reality was cruel; the systems that be morphed a distinguished career into something wicked for their own purposes.
Raiden's gaze narrowed as nearby officers reminded their men why they fight, hearing cries about "the King's will" and "in his name." Useless words meant to enforce their propaganda, it disgusted the cyborg to know he fell for those lies at one point. Men like Rider were all the same; they convince you of their superiority, their "civilizing mission," painting innocent people as barbarians needing guidance just to commit unspeakable atrocities, making their own men into the savages they feared, just to dump them to the side when they weren't useful anymore; this was personal to him.
The killer let his weapons go, the men watching as they faded away in a flash of light, digitizing away into his unseen storage compartment. Jack gripped his sheathe, unlatching its magnetic grip before holding it for all to see.
The warrior's hand rested along Murasama's grip as its bio scan acknowledged its rightful owner, audibly unlocking with a click. Red arcs of lightning billowed across its surface as the cyborg slowly withdrew his blade, its fiery red material as the device slid out of its container. The ninja held out his sword, inspecting it, remembering his past, yet accepting it all the same.
The killer spun Murasama in his hand, searing the air as it rotated in the palm of his metallic grip. The warrior pointed it forward as his visor unclasped, exposing his glowing red eyes, cybernetics flaring as electric currents danced within his lens.
Jack's systems flashed, scanning him on all sides as men poured in, some taking hesitant steps forward, others waiting for the ninja to strike out; he smirked, it didn't matter, but it was always fun watching them squirm. The Liberian readied himself, watching in interest as his blade turned the ground to glass on contact as his arms lowered; he grinned as an idea came to mind; he saw this in an action movie once, so it should work, right?
There were thousands of men in this army; Raiden knew he could kill them all but couldn't afford to take his time; the longer he was away from his temporary home, the more danger it put his "Master" in alongside his niece. He might not be a doctor, but Jack knew the Matou had days left at most; he practically had to drag him back to the mansion the other night; no, this ends now.
Raiden watched as a soldier gritted his teeth before letting out a roar of righteous fury, banging his sword along his shield before charging the Berserker as his allies stood idly, bystander effect in full swing. Raiden's tactics were a lot more than just brutality for the sake of it; they were psychological; even pirates knew that even if you aren't skilled, you can still scare the living shit out of people.
The man slammed an armored sandal to the ground, sand billowing as he gripped his sword and thrust its sharpened point toward the killer's heart. Time slowed as the Greek grew a smirk, confident of victory.
Time slowed as Jack turned with the grace of a dancer, the weapon missing him by mere inches, every movement planned, coordinated to perfection. Murasama flickered to life as the man dove past the warrior's waiting form before Raiden swung low.
Bones audibly snapped as his HF blade tore through both knees in one slice; the man gasped before his upper half slid along the slag of what was once his legs before crashing to the ground face first in agony.
The Liberian chuckled in glee as he saw the man trying to crawl away, his comrades backing away in terror at the sight, abandoning him to his fate. Raiden took a slow step back, lurching a leg behind his form before slamming forward, his metallic boot meeting the Greek's exposed neck.
*Crack
With a single movement, the man's head exploded into the air, his long brown hair flowing before crashing down and out of sight; Raiden's chuckle turned into a dry laugh as he heard a distant scream off in the distance where the skull had landed.
The cyborg audibly popped his own neck at ease, taunting the men around him as electricity began to roar off of him in waves. The killer's systems mapped their trajectory, molding an idea into a true battleplan; it's time.
Jack took off in a flash, slamming through fully armed men with the force of a truck, the impact blasting them into the sky only to be torn apart by superheated winds from below, their remains showering their friends in their blood as they dissipated.
As Raiden charged, he dragged Murasama along the ground, blasting a massive plume of dust and burning sand into the air, the tower growing larger and higher by the moment. The warrior flashed as little more than a burst of lightning as his eyes glowed red, faster.
Rider watched in the distance as a cloud of debris shot into the sky, his brow furrowed as he gritted his teeth, watching as the material began to spin, a breeze turned into a raging gust as the Berserker formed an artificial dust devil, its aerial currents intermingled with red hot waves from his phantasm.
Iskandar growled in rage before slamming down on his reigns; his beasts of war bellowed in agreement before taking off into the sky, heading straight toward his foe as he drew his sword, racing headfirst toward the looming tower above.
Raiden watched as men tore their hands into the ground, only to be blasted upward in his veritable tunnel of death before being ripped to pieces, their bodies scattering with the wind as he swung Murasama with reckless abandon. The storm had grown larger, picking up material as it drifted across the battlefield, pulling hundreds of men into its chamber as the killer cut them down without a care in the world; it was efficient and maybe a little fun, he could admit that much.
*Stop Song
*Ding
Jack's augmented heart steadily thumped as he turned before lurching his head back, watching as a silver sword passed by his exposed eyes. One of the soldiers had managed to anchor himself with his own heavy armor; the cyborg hadn't even noticed.
As dust swirled around the ninja, he slammed a metallic fist forward, snapping the man's wrist as he forcefully blew his weapon out of his hand. As the Greek screamed in agony, watching his hand dangle uselessly, Raiden struck out, gripping his neck tight, lifting him into the air as the soldier's legs kicked the warrior's chassis in futility, wincing as his open-toed sandals crashed into hard metal.
The swordsman gasped as his vision began to cloud, unable to talk a breath as a demon out of hell strangled the life out of him. Berserker's raspy voice drew fear out of his hardened soul; this thing wasn't human; nothing was capable of this level of carnage besides a devil...like the one he faced. "Do you want to dance too?"
*Ding Ding Ding
Jack paused as he heard an approaching sound, uncertain of its origin, like an ethereal yet familiar warcry, surrounding him on all sides. The man in his grasp struggled as the Liberian tried to determine its source to no avail; his systems flashed a warning as the storm blocked them from initiating a proper scan. His mind raced, just wha-
Rider Theme Two: Red Sun-Extended
Raiden could do little more than narrow his eyes as Iskandar burst from the storm, lightning crackling along his form as his golden chariot barreled toward the cyborg with reckless abandon.
Time slowed to a halt as the killer tried to angle his body out of Rider's trajectory to no avail, watching as one of the black oxen lowered its head, revealing the legendary King leading them into battle. Iskandar stood tall, his features contorted into a righteous fury as he cracked his reigns once again. The beast roared before slamming its horns into Raiden's armored chassis, embedding into his torso as they lifted him into the air; blood burst from his exposed jaw, dripping onto the creature below as they took off into the sky.
Dust blew through Jack's white hair as Iskandar's war cry pierced the howling winds, crashing through the storm of his own creation before breaching the veil into the open sky. He gazed down, seeing the army below blip into little more than dots as they rose higher by the moment.
With an unspoken command, the Oxen flipped its head forward, blasting the impaled cyborg off into the sky as Rider chased after him, aiming to skewer him whole as he drew his sword, as his cape blew through the wind, giving off the image that even the heavens above would kneel before him someday.
Raiden's mind raced as he soared through the clouds, his systems assessing the damage as he thought. Warnings sounded in his head, severe damage; multiple leaks detected; he forced the prompts away; it didn't take a genius to see the Liberian was losing blood like a busted fire hydrant. Those horns missed his heart by a few centimeters; Jack knew he would have been dead if he didn't angle himself at the last second; that was sloppy.
Raiden blew through a cloud layer, coated in a fine layer of water droplets as they intermingled with his leaking fluids to the grounds below; he needed to do something, fast. The warrior sheathed his blade, feeling its hum simmer down within its container.
Jack flew higher in a burst of prana, slowly gaining control over his spinning form as he angled his legs upward, his hair flowing downward as he faced Rider; the giant roared in victory as he neared his target. This idea was stupid, and the cyborg knew that fully well, but he lived for the unorthodox.
As the chariot drew closer, a brilliant yellow flash materialized in the cyborg's arms as Iskandar narrowed his eyes, squinting through the flare as a strange metallic device emerged in Berserker's grasp.
Raiden smirked as his signature weapon for airborne targets burst into existence in his waiting hands, its long metal frame bulky even compared to his enhanced body. The FIM-92-Stinger, equipped with infrared guidance and anti-flare technology. He smirked as he studied Rider's chariot; not like he needed to worry about that. The killer knew damn well this wouldn't even dent the thing, let alone destroy it, but that wasn't what he was aiming for, not even close.
His vision blurred as his systems connected to the MANPAD's targetting array, forcing his mind to adjust to its new perspective. His midnight black finger rested along the trigger as he lined up his shot, seeing Rider's mouth ajar in surprise before he lowered his aim.
*Beep...BEEP BEEP BEEP
*BOOM
With a flash of light, the rocket burst from the chamber as the force blew the cyborg back, breaking his momentum, allowing gravity to carry his multiton form downward, watching his weapon in action as he let its launcher fall to the wayside before disappearing.
Iskandar roared, yanking on his reigns, trying to turn away at the last moment to no avail, watching as the rocket slammed into one of his Oxen; the beast roared as it bucked, flames exploding along its form. Phantasm or not, Raiden took a gamble; animals ran on instinct. Before the warrior fell through the clouds, he watched the beast go wild, rushing toward the ground, bucking and thrashing, trying to extinguish the fire engulfing it in agony.
Jack manically laughed as he burst downward in a blast of prana, his metallic heels absorbing the impact as he crashed into the ground like a meteor, carving a massive crater as he landed. The killer slid along the sand before slamming his hands into the earth, dragging himself to a halt as he gazed up at the sun above.
Power surged into his enhanced limbs as the ninja lept from his self-made cavern, cresting the rim before landing on solid ground once again. His red eyes flashed to the side as he saw Rider's army approach from a distance, running with everything they had, too far away to matter; he had all the time he needed to end this.
The cyborg gazed up, spotting the flaming chariot as Iskandar wrestled with his beast to gain control, the ground growing closer by the moment as if Jack would pass up an opportunity like this. The warrior dropped into a runner's stance as electricity blew off him like a torrent, arcs dancing through the air as blood leaked from his damaged frame to the sands below.
The veteran's mind raced, calculating Iskandar's position and velocity. His processors burned, predicting a landing zone about half a mile away, but that was guesswork, animals were unpredictable, but given that the fire had spread to both, it was anyone's guess where the chariot would end up. The Liberian forced the issue out of his mind; if it landed somewhere else, he'd get there before it did; he made do with his circumstances and adapted accordingly.
Raiden's metallic frame creaked in disapproval as his legs hummed to life, embracing the pain of each motion before exploding across the barren landscape, tearing his way toward Rider's projected landing. The soldier appeared as little more than a blinding streak of light before pulling Murasama's trigger blasting off the ground as he caught his crackling tool of war in midair.
Rider growled as he yanked on his reigns, beginning to get a semblance of control before he froze, every instinct screaming at the giant to move. His heart raced as his eyes landed on Berserker's approaching form, years of combat taught him when to trust his body more than his mind, and without so much as a thought, the man dove off his vehicle to the sands below.
The Greek Conquerer could only stare as time seemed to slow, watching as Berserker's form moved at impossible speeds, his red blade tearing through his Oxen like nothing as thousands of strikes landed in an instant. Their blood crackled with godlike vigor as lightning poured off in all directions, both from his mighty steads and from the cyborg himself.
Raiden manically grinned as he crashed through a fog of viscera before blasting off in a burst of prana, carving through Rider's chariot as superheated metal slumped to the ground below, turning the vehicle into a smoldering wreck as he blew through into the open sky, his sword giving off red sparks in approval.
Wreckage and debris rained down from above as Rider steeled himself for battle, gripping his sword in his right as he grimaced, watching his mighty phantasm's destruction. His arms pulled tight as Berserker landed, sliding along the desert sands on his metallic hells before coming to a halt, facing away from the King and toward the endless wastes.
A warm breeze flickered across the cyborg's form, small arcs of electricity crackling off dust particles landing along his golden bolts, giving off an ethereal blue glow beneath the blackened layer of smog. Raiden closed his eyes in thought, "Growing up, I never understood why I liked the battlefield, but I never felt at ease doing anything else."
Rider stood tall as he heard distant shouts from his men, calling out his name in adoration. The tan giant smirked, rubbing a hand along his frizzled red beard, "Yeah...I could never stand court life; politics bored me, but..."
The giant gripped a fist over his heart, a looming shadow growing from his firmly planted form over the desert sands, conquering even the sunlight if but for the briefest moment. "It can't be helped; Aristotle taught me to value my friends, it's a given that I would do anything for my men, my Kingship went toward Conquest and nothing else, to fulfill my dream, brought upon by their loyalty, it inspired me to keep going...to find Oceanus for myself."
The cyborg turned, facing the legendary King, as his gaze flickered between a vibrant blue and a demonic red. Raiden smirked, "I used to think that was the only life I could have, but my friends...my family taught me how to live outside that world, to be more than a killer, but I always came back. Some part of me always will return to this hell, whether it's to protect the weak or because I like it...I can't say which matters more, but I know one thing..."
Rider smiled knowingly before slowly bringing a finger to his mouth, blowing a calling whistle before a colossal lightning bolt crashed next to his waiting form, his cape billowing in the wind as his mighty stead materialized.
Bucephalus, the legendary maneater, its black fur radiating a sense of dread few but the Conquerer himself could muster. Iskandar hummed as he gently patted his mount, memories of old days flooding to mind as he closed his eyes in agreement. "Yeah, this ends here...But, I'd like to meet you again someday, Berserker, not as Servants, but as men."
Raiden watched as the Greek hopped atop his horse, feeling his sword hum in his hand, waiting to strike. A flicker of blue electricity danced over him as his eyes melded back into a fiery red as he stood off, "In another life."
The Greek could only nod in agreement; only one of them was walking away from this. Men of their standing knew this dynamic all too well, they may be enemies, but there would always be a level of respect regardless of circumstance, but the time for talk was long over.
The thundering of movement broke the silence of hooves as both men charged with everything they had. Iskandar the Conquerer riding his most steadfast stead as his metallic foe raced on foot, lightning dancing around both men as they reached one another in seconds.
Rider slammed his sword down with everything he had while Raiden dropped low, the blade slicing off a piece of his hair as it crested just above his skin as his currents carried him along the shifting sands.
The killer turned as he swung, Murasama's red edge carving through the horse's legs in one fell swipe; the mighty beast squealed in agony as it impacted with the hot sand, launching its owner away.
Iskandar growled in defiance, tucking his momentum in a roll before taking off toward his foe, his glory on display as even without a mount, the Conquerer forced himself forward with everything he had. The land splintered and cracked beneath his mighty army as he faced off against the Persian hordes, and they soon would again.
Raiden's eyes burned as his augmented form slowed to a stop before taking off toward his foe at greater speeds, roaring across the desert before leaping forward, closing the distance in nanoseconds, refusing to stay on the defensive.
Jack gripped his blade tighter as he raised Murasama over his head before crashing down in a blast of energy, red electricity bursting as it slammed into Rider's waiting sword. The pair held their ground for a moment before the cyborg twisted his augmented arms, pushing Iskandar back with force beyond human biology.
As the Greek dug his heels into the ground, he surged forward, his sword aiming to carve a hole straight through the Berserker's chest to finish what he started.
Raiden lurched back, energy pouring off his chassis as his blood continued to stain the sands red before slamming a boot into Rider's stomach, the force making the King blench as spittle flew from his mouth.
Rider roared in defiance as he slid back, charging once more with reckless abandon, his sword raised high, gripped tight in his colossal hands, swinging down hard, aiming to cleave the cyborg's head clean off.
Time slowed as Raiden resheathed Murasama, his finger waiting along the trigger as his hand lay in wait. Sand particles danced around the pair as lightning surged through them, forming a fine rain of glass, reflecting a rainbow of colors from the sun above.
As Iskandar's sword lay just above his artificial flesh, the trigger activated with a click; in a burst of flame, Murasama shot into the killer's waiting hand as he swung up. The wind burned a demonic red before HF steel crashed through Rider's left arm, bone dissipated as blood boiled before Raiden's blade shot all the way through, the motion blasting the now torn-off limb into the air.
Blood flowed like a waterfall from the giant's wound as he tried to slow his charge, stumbling before catching himself, wincing in pain as his red gaze widened at the sight of his missing limb. The King forced his body to move as his essence drained, slashing and hacking at Berserker with what little energy he had left.
Raiden moved with the grace of a dancer, easily dodging the clumsy strikes as he watched his opponent grow weaker by the moment, blood loss becoming more detrimental by the moment. Lightning danced across Iskandar's blade as he tried to raise it overhead, only for a red blur to slam into its hilt, knocking the sword far off into the distance.
The Greek took a sharp breath as he stared at the warrior ahead, his vision beginning to blur before his legs began to shake. His thunderous will gave out to the needs of human anatomy, falling to his knees as the sands parted.
*End Song
The Conquerer forced his head to rise, just a bit, meeting his foe's gaze, "So...this is how it ends?" he lightly chuckled as he took a raspy breath, his features beginning to pale, "I almost don't mind this..losing to a fellow warrior...but damn it all...I wanted that wish, to try again."
Raiden sighed as he stood upright; this fight was over; he doubted Rider could even stand, let alone pose a threat to him. "Your Master still has seals...but you don't want to use them, do you?"
Rider smirked as he studied his foe's pale features, beginning to understand the term 'White Devil' for himself... "my strength is my own; I don't have any use for those symbols; what's mine is earned...by my own hands, otherwise...there's...no purpose in it."
Jack shook his head, his bar code exposed in the harsh desert sun as his hair parted out of the way. The warrior slowly circled the Greek, watching as the life faded from his body by the moment. "I guess we can agree on something after all..."
Rider slowly gulped, feeling his dry throat struggle to swallow even air at this point wretch as he willed it to move; "I never cared for history...I...saw a book about me recently...what a joke, they couldn't even get my life right...all that mattered to me...was the memories I made with my men, I don't care about being remembered..."
Raiden's mind flickered, memories of Solidus coming to mind; the two couldn't be more opposite, and he couldn't fully agree with either. He slowly strode forward, approaching the Servant from behind as he spoke, "You're wrong...you talk a lot about your friends...the bonds you shared...those are history too, your meme...the things you've said, the life you lived alongside those men, and how that shapes their minds, their hearts...that is a legacy that lives on without you being there."
Iskandar slowly began to close his eyes in thought, his mind drifting toward his Master...no...his friend willing to stand by his side as he fought, only to be denied that during this fight, maybe he did have a new legac-
"Rider!"
A yell broke his ruminations; his vision slowly focused as blood leaked from his exposed wound, coating his legs in his own viscera. There stood the friend in question, Waver. Tears began to build in his green eyes as he shook in place. The Greek wanted to chuckle; after all this time, there was still so much he wanted to teach him...so lost in his thought, the King didn't hear the distinct sound of someone approaching him from behind.
Rider slowly shook his head as a smile formed on his face, "Even in the end, you're by my side, huh, Wav-" *Crunch
The Conquerer paused as he felt a sharp pain in his chest, only able to turn his head oh so slightly, seeing Berserker's red eyes staring into his very soul, his hand embedded through the giant's back, gripping his heart tighter by the moment.
*Bump-Bump
Static flickered about Raiden's form as the black smog grew denser, his mechanical jaw clicking in place as it rotated, "Do you feel it? The pain...the terror...the uncertainty about when your life will end at the hands of someone else?"
*Bump-Bump
Iskandar gasped, coughing up blood as the vice grip tightened even more, threatening to stop his heart from pumping altogether as he felt metal digging into its soft surface. A moment passed as Jack listened to him gasp in pain, "I want you to remember this feeling...what your victims felt when your men burned their homes to the ground on your orders, killing thousands because of your selfish desire for plunder and murder."
*Bump-Bump
Raiden slowly lurched back, his form bathed in a layer of black smog and red aura shooting into the sky, a demon brought to life from the pits of hell. His voice rang out, bringing terror into Master and Servant with each raspy word, "the world...doesn't need...men like you anymore."
Flesh snapped as the killer ripped Rider's heart out as his body slumped over, his eyes briefly meeting his Master's tearful gaze before going still, a small smile present on his face. Jack felt the object thumping in his hand; electricity flickered before his metallic grip slammed shut, the heart exploding in a rain of blood and viscera as his systems absorbed their prana.
The warrior stood tall, watching as the false reality he found himself in began to crack and crumble, pieces of the sky falling away, exposing the true stars above. He turned, staring at Rider's army as they, alongside his body, began to dissipate in a whisk of purple flame.
...
The distant sound of seagulls crying overhead broke through the veil of unconsciousness as Iskandar's eyes shot open, a hazy layer clouding his judgment; where was he?
The King stood tall before turning in a rush of movement, Waver...where is...the giant paused in realization; he lost...didn't he? The man gripped a fist tight as his gaze fell low, seeing a layer of rocks beneath his sandalled feet, covered in a layer of moisture...water?
A breeze billowed across the man, his red cape flowing with the wind as a familiar fog began to roll in, blanketing him in a shroud of uncertainty. He slowly squinted as he saw the ocean, the familiar smell of salt water filling his senses.
The man hummed in thought as the fog whisked apart, just enough to see a shadow in the distance...the sight of his greatest despair...knowing that land lay beyond the body of water, that his journey had not ended.
Iskandar turned, looking behind him, expecting to see his most loyal friends by his side once again...only to see...nothing, there wasn't a soul in sight. Even as he called out for his men, even for his mount...he received not a single answer...
After what felt like hours, the man began to wander, his sandals clacking against hard rocks; he paused his trek as a grin grew on his face, seeing something in the distance.
The giant ran with everything he had, expecting to reach a clearing to greet his men in triumph, only to breach through a layer of fog, seeing the same distant shoreline as before, and here he stood...alone...A Conquerer with nothing left to take...and no men to lead. He slowly sank to the ground in disbelief; this was how it ended...not in glory...but in solitude?
...
Jack stood tall as his armor clicked together, forcibly healing from the induction of prana into its systems, combat no longer on his mind. He resheathed his sword, watching it latch shut as a sound broke his train of thought.
*Ring-Ring
Without a word, the cyborg raised a hand, activating his receiver as a static-filled voice reverberated through his mind. "My dream...to see Oceanus...side by side with my most loyal friends...why? Why do I stand alone?"
The cyborg slowly raised a hand, clicking a button along the device, taking a slow breath as his eyes turned a gentle blue once again, suppressing his other half as it entered a deep slumber. "You reached the hearts and minds of many men...but never realized...not a single voice had touched yours."
*Click.
...
And that wraps up the entire Rider arc in one go; I wanted to thank you all for your patience with my trip taking a month and then this chapter taking its sweet time.
I will say, a lot of that Raiden vs. the army fight was inspired by Madara fighting the Shinobi alliance in Naruto, which suits how that fight should go.
Anyways
I'm still in disbelief with how many of you tune in for this, and it means the world to me, I know I'm not the best, but I'll try my hardest to get there someday.
With the mushy nonsense out of the way, we only have two chapters left in the Zero section of this story; I hope you're all ready for what's to come.
In other news, we always welcome more people in the discord, it's pretty much 90% shitposting, and the other times it's a discussion about the pairing or general metal gear/fate nuances. Feel free to join, there are quite a few of us at this point, and I'm always happy to meet more of you awesome people!
I'll drop the code again (this site refuses to let me post links)
re4pvJ9pRa
I have to note that Turkey and Greece were a very enlightening trip and greatly inspired a lot of what you saw here; they are fantastic places; I highly recommend seeing them someday if you can. I'll definitely show pictures on the server if people want to see them; I'll also upload the full cover photograph there once it's up on this site.
With all that said and done, I hope you all have a great day/night and take it easy; I'll see you in the next one; cheers!
