Once again, welcome back for another edition in the series!
As of late, there isn't much in the way of announcements and updates; hard to believe the finale for zero is so close yet so far, all the same.
I wanted to thank everyone for following this story; it's been a fun journey that I look forward to continuing for the foreseeable future. With the resurgence of MGR and the popularity of the series as a whole, I felt it right to make a story out of it, and you've blown me out of the water with your support.
As those in the discord know, I am dabbling with the concept of writing another series while retaining Grail Wars as my main project, it's more of a floating idea, but I am entertaining a story with Sasuke or Madara from Naruto in the Fate universe as a servant with all the Uchiha attitude one could imagine, just a passing thought, but we'll see if I make something out of it or not.
Some of you have asked if Snake and the other characters from the Metal Gear series will make an appearance, which I can confirm, but I can't promise they'll all be Servants or this and that. I'm leaving a big chunk of Raiden's life for FGO, which is quite far away, so I don't want to box myself in with a definitive statement.
Otherwise, I'm honored to say we've finally reached one hundred thousand words with this chapter; I never expected such positive responses to a story I created on a whim; here's to all of you for standing by this nonsense, and here's to more in the future.
Thanks go to my beta reader Afrika for standing by me in this process, you're an awesome friend, and I hope to continue working with you in the future.
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Mandatory Metal Gear Reference Shoutouts:
Reader: I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING.
DMC meme, but I love that series too, so it counts. (sitting in a plastic chair as I type this)
...
Reader: Now, there's a pretty meme! EXQUISITE.
So true.
...
With all that said and done, time to get into the longest chapter I've ever written; let's dance!
...
"The Chinese say 'it is the strong swimmer who most often drowns.' It is because the strong swimmer overestimates his abilities and underestimates the strength of the river." -Mei Ling
...
Purple flames flickered across the night sky, interlacing their ethereal light with the dim starlight above, pouring through the false reality as its borders gave way. Cracks grew along the spherical prison, chunks of glass-like ichor falling toward the ground, only to dissipate into nothingness within moments.
Raiden watched as the world forced its way back into place, the shifting sands beneath his metallic talons flickering like a broken mirage before morphing into the dry grass of autumn. The killer took a slow breath, the dry air no longer present, giving him the refreshing breeze only true nature could provide.
The samurai lightly sighed as his mind reoriented, feeling his counterpart fading into the shadows of his being before the tumultuous pang faded into nothingness.
Raiden's eyes dimmed, returning to their calm blue as he stared downward, watching the remnants of Rider's heart flicker in a brilliant flame as blood and viscera charred into ash before dispersing with the breeze.
The warrior could never describe the feeling of sharing a mind with someone else, giving control to another entity, your other half, but that's what Jack was to him. One couldn't exist without the other, each retaining some semblance of individuality while sharing with the other.
Jack provided the means to fight with everything they had; Raiden never considered himself a genius, but he knew human nature. If you want something and truly desire it, you'll push beyond your limits to achieve it, far more than someone who only half-heartedly pursues their ambitions.
The veteran wouldn't deny that part of himself anymore; killing was an act of evil; yeah, he knew that, but he enjoyed it all the same. That's what made him different from the other "Servants," they preached about higher causes, but him?
A smirk grew on Jack's face as he ignored the distant cries of Iskandar's army, dissipating into oblivion by the moment, calling out for their King to save them, only for no salvation to appear, only death awaiting their obedient existence.
To Raiden, the dead should stay dead; he didn't care about who someone was or how "worthy" they claimed to be of a power no human being should hold; in his eyes, they should roll over and rot. The world moved past kings and noblemen dictating how the people should live, and if they thought for even a second that he would let them try their bullshit again, they would suffer for it.
Raiden slowly flipped Murasama in his hand, watching as its ethereal red glow illuminated the darkness surrounding him in flickering sparks of light before slowly sliding the tool back within its sheathe, audibly clicking shut. The mercenary allowed his mind to clear as his hatred fell away alongside the remnants of a once great army, now defunct before the unending surge of modern cybernetics. Human history was a story of relentless progress for better or worse; cyborgs acted as the newest stage; it's simply nature... following its course.
As the night began to give way, a gentle ray of sunlight peaked over the horizon, illuminating the darkened forest that acted as a battleground mere moments ago. The warrior briefly closed his eyes in thought as a light breeze flickered across his metallic form as the last vestiges of damage faded with the twilight.
Raiden knew that Rider's Master was standing just ahead, but this fight was over; he was just a kid manipulated by a man who knew just what to say to get anyone on his side. Whatever you call them, demagogues, con artists, even outright liars, men like Rider were ordinary in his line of work. Their mindset seemed simple, refusing to take action themselves; they desperately convinced other men to follow their dream instead.
Whether it's one man or a nation, it all revolved around the same nonsense, trick men into dying for causes they would never understand or gain from, then abandon them when they no longer serve their purpose. Raiden knew that game all too well, he might be an American citizen, but his days of fighting for an army were over. The ninja couldn't save the countless men whose lives were ruined by trying to protect their country, but he could stop more people from making the same mistake.
Silence reigned as a pair of green eyes studied the surrounding area, watching the last plumes of purple flames dissipate away, leaving him alone with the unknown Berserker. At one point, the magus would have panicked, but Iskandar had taught him to stand firm despite his insecurities.
His gaze flickered toward the ground as the teen forced his tears away, refusing to show weakness, his King had ordered him to live, and so he would- "These things always end the same way, living a convenient lie until a harsh truth brings everything crashing down."
The former Master's breath hitched as a raspy voice caught his attention, forcing him away from his grief and into the reality surrounding him once more. His form froze, and yet through sheer willpower, the magus forced himself to shift toward Berserker, wincing as he studied his metallic form as his eyes landed along the Servant's exposed lower jaw.
One moment, Berserker acted as he should, a raging beast, tearing out his friend's heart like nothing, excitement radiating from his maddened form, only to fall away into a calm demeanor as if nothing had happened within the blink of an eye.
The Servant sent shivers down the boy's spine, spreading out with each passing second; images of Rider's dying body burned into Waver's mind for the rest of time, resurfacing despite happening mere moments ago.
The man felt wrong; he radiated an aura of both raw malice and utter serenity simultaneously; it was unnatural. Insanity came with the premise of a Berserker, the magus knew some exceptions existed, finding a pathway through the neverending chasm of rage that came with the class, yet this was different.
An audible click caught his attention as the summon's jaw clicked as it settled into place, bringing Waver's rapid breath to a screeching halt. Despite his training in the clocktower, preparing for the neverending surge of chaos that came in a life of magecraft, the uncanny valley never ceased to unsettle the former Master; Berserker appeared human, yet clearly wasn't; it set off a primal fear of the unknown only instinct could give.
Just what had happened to morph someone into such a disfigured state, Waver Velvet couldn't say, but this wasn't the time for semantics. As their eyes met, the teen took a slight step back, the magus feeling the unchecked madness still lingering in his foe's fixed gaze.
At one point, the magus would have run, but these past days had taught him to be his own man; Rider had given him the tools to define himself against his peers; this was no time for weakness; it would besmirch his King's name.
As the metallic figure spoke, his gaze drifted toward the rising sun watching its ethereal glow scatter around their forms; the black-haired magus paused in his retreat, planting a shoe in the crackled earth, forcing himself to see Berserker for all he was worth. "Alexander the Great...he died as he lived, a manipulative conman dragging everyone into the abyss with him, even his own men."
*Bump-Bump-Bump-Bump
Waver's heart pounded in his chest as the man spoke, his fear turning into anger with each word against his King, the man he swore utter loyalty to until the very end. His angst turned into determination as he forced himself to stand tall against the prevailing winds ahead, the gusts billowing across his uniform like a storm of heresy.
With a hesitant gulp, the magus spoke, his anxiety nonexistent in his voice, "Y-You're wrong! Rider...He always wanted to see Oceanus with his friends; how could someone like you ever understand him when you've never even talked to him!?"
Raiden's face remained steadfast as he watched the teen rant; the cyborg had seen this attitude before; indoctrination was a hard thing to break; better to rip off the bandage than a slow, painful drag. His gravity-defying hair swayed as he shook his head in silent disapproval.
The warrior knew he needed a level head for this; you can't solve everything by cutting people apart. Raiden felt his other personality silently disagreeing, yet staying distant all the same as his raspy voice broke the silence."That's war, kid, not the majestic image I'm sure that Servant of yours told you about; there are no heroes, no glorious battles, just men who've never met, forced to kill each other for reasons they don't understand, in a conflict they'd never gain a thing from."
Hidden components whirled back into place as the cyborg reoriented himself, aligning his newly healed parts as he refused to give verbal ground to the teen. "...War is an effective teacher, but it brings nothing but destruction."
Raiden waved a hand, inviting the teen to follow his gaze across the blackened battlespace, dry earth exposed beneath what once held bountiful fields of green grass and plant life. "I don't claim to know everything about you or Rider, but men like him always follow the same path; I've seen it more times than you could imagine."
The samurai's cold blue gaze stared into the very depths of the Master's soul, piercing the veil with each word; "They promise you the world, tell you sweet nothings about their 'grand plans,' and when everything goes to hell?"
A jolt of blue electricity crackled along the "Servant's" armored black hand as old memories resurfaced, trudging up a life of betrayal and misinformation few could comprehend. "Anyone that fails them is left for dead, only to be replaced by some other fool, desperate for a purpose to call their own...someone like you."
Waver's brow furrowed with each passing second, his form visibly shaking in rage as the man exposed unseen cracks in his mental cage. "Shut up! Rider...he trusted me...told me to live for his sake, what conman would do that for someone else!?"
A swirl of leaves rustled as their multicolored swarm blew between the two men, interspersing their argument for just a moment in natural silence, only for it to be broken by a dark chuckle from the metallic warrior, his weapon still in hand. "Typical tyrant, big words with no weight behind them...you know, he told me about some book written on his life, how it didn't matter to him... what a joke.
Raiden slowly twirled his blade in his hands, watching as it sliced through a dry red leaf midair, observing its falling halves as they dropped to the ashen ground below. Their remains would feed the new generation, soon to replace the old; just like humanity, nature was a cycle of birth, death, and renewal. War was no different; conflicts could wither, but their embers would always find a way to ignite the flames of hatred, a neverending cycle of devastation that he swore would end someday.
The veteran wasn't a messiah, he couldn't fix everyone's problems, but the cyborg knew, somewhere deep down, he needed to act whenever possible, no action too small.
Raiden's blue eyes glowed in unseen energy as the warrior pushed on with his verbal assault. "Rider couldn't go without someone thinking about him, so he told you to remember him, that's his nature...everyone's a hypocrite, no man deserves to stand on a pedestal...not you...not me...and especially not a 'King' like him...You saw that army of his, enslaved for the rest of time, not even aware of their indoctrination...is that really what you want for yourself? Have you never had a goal of your own in life?"
Waver glanced down, studying his pale skin, where his command seals once stood, now a barren patch of blank canvas, bringing a pang of sadness to his heart, only to be cast away in a rush of anger. "Tch, you talk about how war isn't fair; all I ever wanted was a chance to prove myself as a proper mage, but because my family name meant nothing. You wouldn't understand, I'm nobody, my teachers...my classmates...no one gave a damn about me... but to him...I mattered; Iskandar acknowledged me when no one else would."
The former Master stood tall, his mind truly set on its ambitions, no longer falling to the wayside of his own mind. "and it's because of that-" the magus snapped his head up, his black hair shifting about as his green eyes roared in determination. "-I'll respect his life, and never call him anything less than my King, it's the least I could do, for a man like him, to recognize a lesser like me."
Jack silently listened as the boy prattled on, his mind absorbing the words so many had spoken before, his expression lightening up as he began to understand the former Master standing before him.
Waver briefly winced as the metallic warrior lifted his blade high, briefly studying its form; his mind raced, wondering if he would end up the madman's next victim...only for the tool of war to lower before disappearing within its sheathe with an audible click. The Servant's voice soon broke his ruminations once more, drawing his attention away from his warranted fears of annihilation.
"You might not believe me, but listen; I know what it's like to be nobody...not knowing where to go...who to trust...hell, I'm not great...I'm no King, not even a nobleman..."
A brilliant blue glow emanated from the mercenary's form, briefly blinding the former Master before pealing away, petals of energy falling to the ground below. As the light dimmed, it revealed the Servant's original form, his augmented components hidden behind a layer of synthetic skin and a well-tailored suit. "I tried for years to be what others wanted; they kept calling me a hero; it felt good for a while...great even...knowing someone approved of you, but eventually...deep down, it eats you alive."
Raiden slowly unlatched Murasama's case, feeling it hum from within one last time before its suitcase appeared within his free hand in a luminous yellow glow before disappearing within. The soldier turned, his facade of normalcy in full effect, appearing as any ordinary person within the crowd, an innocent boy turned into a killer, defying all logic of genes and bloodlines alike by his mere existence.
The samurai briefly stared at the magus, all signs of hatred seemingly dissipated into nothingness. "They talk about how great every Servant is in this war...but me? I'm no one special; I don't have a bloodline to boast about, a kingdom to rule, but here I am, fighting with everything I have for what I think is right."
Raiden slowly turned away from the teen, facing the direction he arrived from, preparing to walk away from yet another hell and toward another in this neverending war. "You don't need special powers or a big name to make a difference...it's unfair, but that's life, you could sit there and moan about your existence...or you work, fight, claw your way to the top of that pile, and when you stand above everyone that tried to stop you...you tell them to go fuck themselves...that's victory...that's conquest...proving your worth with your own two hands."
The barren earth cracked with each step as the cyborg's multiton form left the boy where he stood, slowly making his way toward the wooded path ahead. "I won't force you to change your mind, but if you ever find a war to call your own, a cause you can fight for with everything you have... if we meet again, I'll listen to your story someday."
Waver sighed a breath of relief as Berserker began to disappear within the brush, feeling the atmosphere itself lighten, but his words...the boy couldn't just dismiss them; it bothered him. He took a step forward, then another, mustering his voice before calling out. "Then tell me...what's your name...your true name?"
Raiden paused his trek, a knowing smirk growing on his face as he took in the question; good, he got the boy thinking; that's always the start, but the rest was up to him. These things took time; the killer didn't have a specific ideology in mind, but the more people that genuinely think for themselves, the better, at least in his eyes. For better or worse, free will meant far more than anything else to him.
The warrior slowly shifted his grip along his suitcase as he closed his eyes in thought, feeling the warm sun cascading over his form. Without looking back, his blue orbs reopened, staring out at the road ahead; "My name?...It's Jack...Jack Sears," before continuing on his way, disappearing from view entirely on his own path to conquest.
...
A twig crunched underfoot as the forest began to give way toward the development of modern society, the concrete and asphalt jungle lying in the distance, waiting for the killer to fight within their confines once more.
Contemporary cities always felt off to Raiden, cyborgs were part of these changes, but the soulless husks of identical buildings never sat well with him. His augmented lens zoomed across the skyline, paying careful attention to the few unique structures strewn about, both old and new, living in synergy with one another.
The veteran sighed in mild annoyance; in a few years, all this would disappear; progress is a tricky word; people always assume it means for the better; living conditions, ease of access, the list went on, but every step forward brought new challenges to society, issues that had to be tackled, resolved, in some way, shape, or form.
The samurai paused as the unpaved land gave way to a familiar roadway leading into the city, his eyes briefly settling on a white sign posted along the side, the word "Fuyuki" written along its borders in bright blue coloring.
The killer paused his march as his mind still wandered; everyone in this war knew something about him; whether they called him a killer or a tyrant slayer, it didn't matter. To Raiden, the only labels that had any impact were his own. Still, the implications always found their way into his strange cybernetic existence, toeing the line between organic and inorganic material.
'What am I?
Cyborgs were living models of these shifts in the global dynamic, machine-like bodies, incredible strength, and enhanced minds, their limits only bound by technological advances, yet many found themselves asking that very question time and again.
The privileged always take things for granted, civil rights and liberties enshrined and bestowed upon them at birth, yet what about the rest of the world? The "others" of society that are often ignored and maligned for not meeting some arbitrary standard. You could label it anything you want, but it always devolved into the strong finding any excuse to hoard power for themselves, damn the consequences.
Jack's blue eyes gazed down at his exposed pale hand, observing the artificial skin grafts stretching over hard metal. Cyborgs paved the way forward for human life; the heights they could reach seemed unfeasible; rapid construction, new medical programs to save lives, the possibilities seemed endless, and what did the world do instead?
Raiden watched as he slowly passed by a roadcrew, men of all shapes and sizes wearing the same standard orange uniform the killer had seen on all prisoners. His eyes briefly scanned a guard as he observed the men picking up various bits of trash scattered along the road before continuing on his way.
Just like them, the cyborgs became little more than forced labor, dragged into hellish wars for one reason or another. Whether you got your legs blown off by an IED, had some incurable disease, or just needed the money, most of them ended up little more than husks in a nanomachine-induced high that only ended at death.
Yeah, they had contracts, but how many men spent decades more in the prison system than their actual release date? Raiden might be an exception to the norm, but most augmented humans never got out of those programs, lost in a sea of bureaucracy and uncaring civilians who considered another human being property. Society didn't want prisoners...they didn't want to see cyborgs, an uncomfortable truth best kept out of sight and out of mind.
The soldier lightly shook his head, chastising himself for drawing on the negatives, his light blonde hair swaying with the motion as his tie fluttered in the artificial breeze. The Sears Program had tried to make more killers like him, but the warrior put an end to it, those kids might be cyborgs, but they had new opportunities. They were the first generation to work civilian jobs, it might seem small, but it was a start.
Jack swore those kids would live normal lives, and he'd kill anyone who tried to stop them from having one; the world didn't need another Ripper, and it didn't need more Snakes; those legacies would disappear with him.
Static flickered about Raiden's form as his systems burned to life, his internal mapping marking out his path as a smirk grew on his face. Not like he planned to die any time soon, he had an innocent girl to save and a war to fight; his life was far from over.
*BOOM
Asphalt burst apart as little more than blackened dust as an impact crater exploded onto the pavement, its cause appearing as little more than a roaring lightning bolt chasing into the distance before rounding a corner, away from sight, vanishing within Fuyuki once again.
...
Morning life mulled on in its daily humdrum only the blight of recently awoken denizens could comprehend, the slightest noise, the most minor of infractions driving men and women to anger before the bliss of their early coffee, its bitter taste reviving them from their unknown stupor.
Many went sluggishly about their day, on the morning trek to work, marching toward public transport like drones following orders, like so many others across the world, trying to make ends meet. Some sat along the myriad of benches and rest stops only for a rapid blur to blast by along the road, their black hair billowing as they struggled to comprehend the burning roadway as a blinding streak of blue light crashed through the metropolis only to vanish as soon as it arrived.
Such sights became all too common in recent weeks, life had gone from the standard this and that toward an uncertainty few could describe, collapsed buildings, shattered sections of the town lay in ruins with crews milling about, what was a blue light compared to that? Within seconds most had pushed their concerns away and began their day once again as though nothing had happened.
As the cyborg blurred through the urban center, dancing between cars of all makes and models, his focus drifted toward the waterfront looming in the distance, scanning through the burnt-out husks of former storefronts and homes.
Raiden knew going into this war that it wouldn't be pretty; fighting in urban centers never was; regardless of the period, civilians always suffered the most from conflict. Innocent men, women, and children made up most casualties, whether from starvation, disease, or outright genocide; countless lives were lost for so little gain.
Jack's blue eyes zoomed toward a collection of emergency vehicles parked in the distance, their workers still pulling bodies and survivors out of the countless heaps of rubble strewn about the destroyed landscape. The soldier clicked his tongue in frustration before taking off at even greater speeds.
War is a dirty thing; it's something the other "Servants" never seemed to understand; it's easy to talk about how noble your cause is from your castle, away from the poor masses beneath your boot. The strong are always the same, only able to destroy and never create; humans are a reflection of their surroundings; these "Kings" were raised to be this way, it was their entire worldview to act better than anyone else, and the killer wouldn't take it kneeling.
Men like Rider loved the guiding hand narrative their type preached like scripture, but it's not hard to be the most intelligent man in the room when you don't let your people learn basic literacy; no human being is better than another; some just have more opportunities, it's that simple.
A thought came to mind, bringing a dry chuckle out of the samurai as his gravity-defying hair flickered with the artificial breeze, imagining any of those types helping someone other than themselves, trying to satisfy anything but their own ego...that's a pretty meme.
Raiden forced his reflections away as he rounded a corner, the Matou residence coming into view, growing closer by the moment. The ninja's gaze narrowed as he stared ahead, observing the property as his momentum ground to a halt, his metallic boots digging a trench in the asphalt as he slowed. Something seemed...off.
The front gate, usually locked shut, remained wide open, lightly swaying about with the morning breeze. As Raiden slowly approached the entrance, his hand gripped its bars, the gateway closing behind his form with an audible click.
A life of hell had taught the Liberian to trust his instincts above all else; everything in his body screamed that something was wrong, but what?
...
Silence...the Matou's had a veritable army of workers milling about their estate at all times, gardeners, butlers, maids, the list went on, doing the gritty work the wealthy never seemed capable of doing; but where were they?
Raiden would never accept a lifestyle like this for himself, but he adjusted to his accommodations, the manor felt empty at night, but there was always commotion during the daylight hours. But...there was nothing, his enhanced hearing picking up almost no sounds whatsoever.
His sensors pinged across the property, his eyes scanning in all directions before the killer paused in his tracks, zooming in on an array of pastel orange objects strewn about the pathway leading toward the house itself.
Jack's brow furrowed as he slowly trudged forward, his instincts on high alert as his grip over Murasama's case tightened. The mercenary slowly lowered himself, picking up the cold metallic object, twirling the very familiar piece in his hand, a bullet casing, but wh-?
Raiden paused as his gaze darted toward the engraved front door of the estate, wholly torn off its hinges with deep slashes strewn across its dense wooden surface. A light flickered from within the almost entirely darkened household, revealing a splatter of blood caked along the wall before disappearing as the illumination died out.
*Clang
The samurai's mind whirled into motion as the spent casing fell to the wayside, and his implanted processors burned into action as thousands of thoughts and scenarios danced through his enhanced systems.
Thousands of questions blurred across his augmented thought process; where was Kariya...dead? No, Raiden would feel something change in that strange connection of theirs...then why hadn't he called him...summoned him...something? While most normal people would run at such a sight, Raiden was anything but; he had no concept of fear, but it was more than that driving him to investigate.
Despite the many issues burning overhead like a spotlight, one stood out in the killer's mind, bringing him closer and closer toward the household by the second in a determined yet cautious stride only years of warfare could bring.
The ground crunched as static flickered about the cyborg's form, his components readying for any possibility to come. The dry dirt gave way to hard cobblestone clicking in resistance as a several-ton war machine approached yet another gruesome scene in his life.
As Raiden crossed the threshold, his stride paused in an instant, his eyes locked downward; mere inches from his boot lay a body surrounded in a pool of blood. Jack's eyes flashed in recognition as he stepped over the corpse, looking at the man's face. One of the head butlers, an old man whose very appearance screamed servitude with his balding head and mustache combed to utter perfection. The two had never spoken, but the Liberian made it a point to know who was meant to be where.
The ninja's gaze drifted toward the man's back as he slowly crouched, putting a finger along his neck; no pulse, the skin felt cold, algor mortis...this was recent, but at least a few hours had passed.
Jack's eyes flashed red, revealing a spiraling network of devices working in unison as he observed an injury along the man's back. No...a series of wounds, each separated by a few inches...puncture marks?
As the Berserker gripped the corpse, he slowly pulled the man over, flipping him onto his back, the same three holes all the way through. His lens zoomed, scanning through the destroyed material and into the fleshy mass below...three perfect stab wounds...whatever blade the attacker used was sharp...with almost surgical precision.
Raiden knew murder like the back of his hand, every corpse told a story only a trained eye could uncover, but this scene felt off, it felt too clean...to precise to be a simple robbery or killing...
Raiden's expression remained static as he studied the foyer of the manor, noting the overturned furniture splattered in human blood; yet nothing was missing...no...this had to be another Master...or someone working with one of them...even getting inside would take an expert given the defense grid he set up...but that was a problem for later.
The ninja tilted his head, watching a stain originating from the marks trickle down toward the floor. The samurai slowly reached out, dragging a finger along the liquid before rubbing it between his metallic appendages.
The veteran's systems scanned the material as dry flakes trickled to the floor below as the viscera slowly fell to the force of gravity along his pale skin. Still moist with fragments beginning to dry out...at least a few hours had passed...
Raiden huffed in frustration as he rapidly shot upright, his boots slamming a small crater into the hard floor below as he ignored a fine layer of dust fry into nothingness along his suit in a burst of electricity.
The killer took off into the estate, passing by an array of corpses strewn about each area. A nearby clock ticked, mechanically ignorant of the world around it as the cyborg approached the central staircase.
A whisk of steam blew from the veteran's form as his internal temperature began to rise as he scanned a near pile of bodies blocking the bottom step...various improvised weapons in hand, housekeeping tools, kitchen knives, dropped where they died...trying to keep someone away.
Sparks flickered about the warrior as power flooded his enhanced limbs and his knees bent in preparation before blasting off into the air. Time slowed as Jack flew over the staircase without effort, sighing as the bodies remained motionless. He hadn't spoken to many of them, but these people weren't associated with the Matou's besides working for them.
The cyborg's eyes burned red as he came to a realization; they had the same idea as him; Zouken's office was downstairs, same as that other shitbag son of his; Raiden didn't know or care if they were dead; they'd get theirs one way or another if he had his way.
The second floor grew closer as the veteran lurched back, angling himself as he soared over the ornate railing before his talons struck the hard ground, tearing into the surface as his form dragged to a screeching halt.
A moment passed as Murasama hummed within its sheathe, sending ripples down its wielder's metallic arm. Jack glanced left, then right, his sensors pinging in all directions. Still quiet, not a soul in sight bu-
*Ding
The ninja's blue eyes flashed down a hallway as his scans picked up a presence; whether or not it was the attacker or someone else, the killer wasn't certain, but Raiden was rarely one to speculate; those days were long gone.
The upstairs seemed just the same as the ground level, albeit the Liberian couldn't spot any of the dead, probably making some last stand downstairs, he'd have to check his footage later, but he had other priorities.
The cybernetic soldier trudged through hallway after hallway, noticing a trail of bloody bootprints heading deeper into the manor...towards Kariya's room. Yet, he turned off in another direction without hesitation, storming through a pristine section of the house, seemingly devoid of whatever rampage took place. His "Master" could wait; Raiden innately knew he wasn't dead, given that the samurai could still feel that strange connection of theirs in the back of his head.
Jack shook his head in denial; no, even if Kariya was dead, this still mattered more...she still mattered more. Raiden wasn't in this war for the sake of it; he had his own reasons; stopping madmen from abusing a wish was just a piece of that proverbial puzzle.
The Liberian paused his trek as his radar began to rapidly ping, detecting a biosignature within; Raiden made it a mental note to memorize the entire property his first night in this war; it was standard procedure for any operation to have a lay of the land, know who was where, when, and why.
Jack knew the room was Sakura's, and his information pretty much ended there; not like he had any reason to suspect or keep tabs on a girl that was a victim in all this; he was cautious, not paranoid.
The "Servant" paused as his enhanced hearing caught no sign of movement from within, yet there he stood, knowing without a doubt that someone was inside. Raiden was never one for being polite...or having manners; he was raised in the jungle by soldiers, and murder didn't take a lot of niceties, yet here he stood, knocking on a door hoping for an answer.
His metallic hands tacked along the hardwood surface of the door, the sound reverberating through the halls of the seemingly abandoned estate.
*Tap-Tap-Tap
Jack lightly sighed in exasperation at the thought of all this; middle of a crime scene, a murderer who may or may not be in the house still, and here he was playing nice; he couldn't help that he had a soft spot for kids, and being a father didn't help.
His artificial features softened as the veteran cleared his throat, pushing his thoughts to the wayside. "Hey kid, it's me; open up."
*Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock
As the cyborg patiently waited, a clock chimed in the distance from some unknown part of the massive property. He wanted to make sure the girl was safe; kicking down her door would do nothing but freak the poor kid out.
...
...
*Click
The door creaked just an inch, allowing the flickering light to sneak into the otherwise dark room; Jack's eyes squinted as his systems adjusted for the lack of visibility, meeting a familiar dull purple lens peaking from the opening.
Raiden lightly smiled in relief as he slowly crouched, leaving his suitcase on the ground as a free hand rested along his knee, meeting the girl at eye level. "it's alright, kid, just me out here, you can-"
The cyborg's gaze lightly widened as the door slammed open, crashing into the hard wall, missing him by mere inches before his "Master's niece practically tackled him, wrapping her tiny arms around him in a death grip.
The Liberian briefly froze in surprise before slowly returning the hug, gently rubbing a hand along her frayed purple hair as she practically buried herself in his suit. "You're okay; I'm here."
Rose had taught him a few things about handling kids; it just wasn't the same as an adult. It's a given that he had to be a parent and catch up on years of not being there for John. Hell, without her, the guy knew he'd be lost entirely, people weren't the easiest thing for him to understand, but he tried for their sake. He-
A sniffle caught his attention as the girl attempted to sputter something out, her voice hitched, "I thought...I...that you were...g-g-"
The Liberian lightly tilted his head in thought, his blonde hair flickering with the motion, before pausing as he felt moisture building in his shirt...was she crying? Why would she-...It all clicked together at once as his features softened in understanding.
"You thought I was gone...didn't you, kid?"
The sniffling grew louder as her breath became rapid, and her grip tightened, hugging the "Servant" tighter than before, only giving a hum of confirmation to the question.
Jack hated seeing her like this, but it proved him right; she wasn't a machine; there was still a human being under all those layers of neglect and abuse. Raiden slowly patted the magus's back in reassurance, "Hey...don't be like that, everything's fine; I'm right here, aren't I?"
...
...
The samurai sighed as Matou's breakdown got worse by the second; sometimes you have to nail these issues on the head; otherwise, a kid could end up hurting themself. Emotions are a hell of a thing, especially for someone who seemed to never show a single one, open the floodgates and watch them come crashing in; he knew that feeling all too well.
"Come on; you give all your friends the silent treatment?"
...
...
"Sakura, just look up; there's nothing to be scared of."
Slowly but surely, the little magus pulled her head from the Liberian's now tear-soaked jacket, her violet eyes puffy and red from her outburst. "You're...okay?"
The veteran chuckled; he swore; sometimes it's like kids hear something, and it immediately just went out the other ear, but he couldn't fault her for caring about him. He raised a pale hand, ruffling her hair with a gentle smile only years of fatherhood could bring, "Yeah, I'm alright...but you're a little shaken up, huh?"
Raiden grimaced; this entire situation was his fault; he should have been there, he should have done something, but instead, the Liberian went on some wild chase to kill Rider, he let his personal feelings get in the way, and people died because of it.
"I'm sorry."
The words never came easily from the killer; regret was something he rarely felt, if ever, but kids were different in his eyes; it might have been his childhood, it might have been his role as a father, but he hated seeing anything resembling his life, filled with nothing but deceit, abuse, death, all of it. Every generation should strive to make life better for the next, easing them of the burdens they went through, not spreading them out of spite for lack of hardship.
A moment passed as Raiden listened to the magus seem to calm herself out of hysterics; he sighed, wanting to give the kid all the time she needed, but there was work to do all the same. "Hey, I know it's hard to think about, but do you think you could tell me what happened here?"
Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock
Silence again, shit...he probably pushed too far, which means he'd have to-.
"...Okay..."
Jack paused, almost unable to hear the heiress respond; talking to Sakura was like walking on eggshells, but he'd take this at her pace. He lightly reached out, picking the Matou up by her shoulders before setting the magus back on her feet before slowly rising to an eye-level crouch. The Liberian ignored the stains on his shirt as though they didn't exist; do enough wetwork, and snot won't be the worst thing you deal with on the field. "I'm all ears, kid."
...
Later
The cyborg sat perched along a cushioned leather seat placed atop an old wooden chair, the material lightly creaking from his multiton form; how Doktor managed to prevent him from crashing through floors still baffled the samurai at times.
*Ruffle
A brief sound caught his attention; the ninja glanced across the room, spotting Sakura sitting atop her bed, her tiny hands clasped together like she was meeting a lord. They had moved the conversation to her room; in Raiden's mind, it was better she not see what happened to the rest of the house, considering her room was practically untouched.
Raiden's blue eyes scanned their surroundings once more, taking in the almost spartan-like room, unfitting for a kid Sakura's age. Plaster-white walls with little nooks stuffed to the brim with books the cyborg had never seen, some listing authors, others not, but given the labels of "magic arts" and various symbols he may have seen in movies, it didn't take a genius to guess their purpose.
Jack's fist tightened as he scanned the sparse room, devoid of all sense of personality or individual thought. It bothered him how standard this house seemed to be despite its opulence; there was no soul anywhere; what kid couldn't decorate their room? It felt more military than even his barracks were when he served. While Raiden didn't always understand his son, he supported whatever John was into at the time; he was used to a stream of posters, random toys, and comics strewn about the place, but this just felt...sad. Even the desk he found himself using as an armrest had nothing but work on it; it irritated him.
Otherwise, the room seemed almost devoid of furniture, with a small...he raised an eyebrow with a squint; he knew Otacon mentioned having one to him...small table...put your legs in it for some reason...his mind clicked in realization, kotatsu...that's the word.
His focus drifted, studying the polished wooden surface with a strange sense of Deja Vu; that feeling always bothered the hell out of him, but where did he see one? The killer briefly hummed in confusion before it came back in an instant, right, World Marshal Headquarters...in one of those wooden buildings he may or may not have wrecked on his way upward...actually, why the hell did they have a Japanese Garden?
"...Jack...are you okay?"
The samurai's ruminations stopped dead in their tracks as his mental detour came to a crashing halt. The Liberian lightly chuckled, rubbing a hand along the back of his head, "yeah, just thinking, kid; remind me to take you shopping one of these days."
The purple magus tilted her head, not really sure what to make of the comment, "why do we need to go to the store?"
Raiden lightly hummed as he kicked a foot off the floor, leaning back in the creaking chair, threatening to give way at any moment as its front legs hovered in the air. "Well, you wanted to make some friends, right?"
Getting a nod in agreement, the cyborg gave the heiress a light smile; he was proud; she had come a long way in such a short time; from the girl that acted like an emotionless husk that learned to care about someone else; it was sweet in a way. "Well, you need common interests, find the things you like doing, and someday, you'll find someone that likes it too...and besides..."
The magus slowly followed the "Servant's shifting gaze about her room feeling slightly judged for some reason or other; "believe me, Sakura, life's a lot more than studying; you gotta live for those in-between moments, the memories you make with the people you care about; that's what makes us human, not being cooped up in a dreary house with these old books."
The cyborg was silently glad he could distract the girl from what had happened in her house mere hours ago; that was something he didn't need on her conscious.
Sakura told him what she could, but given that she had spent the entire attack in her room, there wasn't much that could be said. From her story, she heard a loud crash, probably the door breaking down, then the screams, but that wasn't what caught Jack's attention.
The mansion was massive with roaming halls with practically nothing but random European decorations coating the otherwise barren walkways; sound traveled far. After everything had gone silent, the magus heard a single, slow, methodical pair of footsteps heading deeper in the estate, towards Kariya's room, then utter chaos.
Crashes, broken windows, a scream, then utter silence before the footsteps returned, heading back downstairs before disappearing entirely; all of this happened within the span of just a few minutes.
Raiden patiently listened to each word, slowly piecing a narrative together, his processors tearing through questions and receiving few answers. This behavior couldn't have been a Servant, the work seemed far too clean, and Assassin was long dead; no, Jack knew their fights were far more destructive. Whatever happened here was cold, calculated slaughter, something a King or noble wouldn't do themselves...then was it a Master or someone associated with them?
The killer shook his head in frustration, his grimace growing by the moment; there was no point speculating when he could do the groundwork himself.
The floor creaked in disapproval as the warrior slowly stood upright, cracking his metallic neck to ease his unease. As his suitcase settled into his grip once more, Raiden turned toward his ward for the duration of this conflict. "But that's for another day; I'm gonna take a look around, make sure the house is safe-"
The veteran slowly made his way across the carpeted floor, making indents with each movement; as he reached for the doorknob, a tug along his pant leg caught his attention, bringing his plans to a halt. He glanced down, seeing a blur of purple clinging to him with everything she had; "don't go..."
Jack sighed as he slowly dropped down, gently pushing the girl off by her shoulders, facing her at eye level, and seeing a strange sense of fear in those sunken purple orbs of hers. "Hey, I know it's scary, but sometimes you just have to do these things; you trust me, right?"
The cyborg chuckled as she gloomily nodded; it was like John seeing him go off on deployment all over again. "I'm coming back; you don't have to worry about me, kid." With a gentle smile, Jack lightly rolled his eyes, "someone's gotta take care of that uncle of yours."
The magus paused as she took in the Servant's words; it was hard hearing these things, her grandfather, her own family, there was just no hope, but Jack meant what he said; she didn't want him to disappear like the rest. Her throat hitched as it ran dry, emotions running high; she wasn't used to feeling much of anything until recently; it was a hard adjustment; "promise?"
Raiden lightly chuckled at the comment, appearing as little more than a kind-hearted soul despite his cold metallic exterior hidden behind a facade of humanity. "We make a lot of those, don't we?"
The samurai reached out, putting a hand atop the girl's head, matting down the unkempt bedhead in one swift motion; "I'm not leaving you alone, Sakura; I'm coming back, I swear."
The magus studied the Liberian as he spoke, not hearing a hint of dishonesty in his words. Years of suppressed emotions, behind walls of apathy and despair, broken down by one kind-hearted person, she didn't want him to leave...but she trusted him, no...she believed in him. "...can we go out for more ice cream when you get back?"
Raiden's eyes widened a bit in disbelief; that might be the first time she's ever asked him for something; his smile grew a bit; good. As the veteran slowly stood upright, turning toward the door, he slowly gripped the knob, rotating it as he spoke. "Yeah, whenever you want goofball, but remember, don't answer the door for anyone but me, alright?"
As Jack slowly walked through the threshold and into the devastated house once more, his mind oriented itself, motivated more than ever before. As the door slowly shut behind him, audibly locking with a click, his heels tapped along the abandoned walkways once more, headed for his "Master"s room; he had a promise to keep.
...
The ninja's scanners had traced along the floor, spotting a bloody bootprint growing fainter with each step, beginning near the top of the stairs, leading him on a veritable trail of visceral breadcrumbs toward his "Master's" room. The former Snake adjusted his cufflinks as his artificial talons scrapped along the floor with each determined stride. As the metal clicked into place, his mind drifted toward the strange circumstances the killer found himself in, normal considering his life but always unpredictable.
Jack had only been to Kariya's quarters once; on his first night, a few conversations had practically turned his world upside down; magic, feudal-like grudges, and the Holy Grail? Any average person would call them crazy, but him?
The samurai darkly chuckled, his metallic frame bouncing with each breath as his eyes flashed red; it didn't take an expert to say he was out of his mind; Raiden wasn't one to lie about these things, not anymore. He might be insane, but really, did he care? No, and it wasn't because of some "fuck you" to the world...for the first time in his life, the mercenary felt confident, no longer questioning what he was or who he needed to be, whether he was a hero or a murderer, Jack would live the life he wanted and no one else's.
A lifetime of war changes men; you'll never be the same afterward; innocence dies as sin on the battlefield, but if you want to change the world, you have to get your hands dirty. Jack's brow furrowed as the room came within view, its door completely torn through, with the same identical slash marks, thrown to the side like nothing. His life might have been hell, but he'd never regret a thing; it gave him new reasons to live and tools that few had acquired, and if anyone could figure out what happened here, it was him.
...
As Jack slowly entered yet another crime scene, albeit this one not caused by him for once, he slowly exhaled, his blue eyes tracing a thin whisk of white steam evaporating into the air.
The cyborg ignored a pop-up along his HUD warning him of a temperature shift; it didn't take a computer to realize why the room was cold; his gaze toward a fluttering sound, watching as a set of black window drapes billowed through a harsh morning wind, a distinct whistle blanketing his augmented form. Inorganic or not, the samurai could handle any condition; whether it was cybernetics, gene therapy, nanomachines, or chemical injections, humans always found new ways to acclimate to modern warfare.
As his multiton form took a step forward, the samurai heard the distinct crunch of glass beneath his boot; his eyes narrowed as he reached out, gripping the curtain before pulling back, revealing a shattered window with dry blood along its jagged edges.
As he followed the trail downward, his sensors pinged, detecting motion along the ground; as he lowered himself, he plucked the squishy material between his metallic fingers, a worm. Jack gritted his teeth in anger as the creature writhed in his hand, trying to burrow into solid plating to no avail before squealing in agony as raw electricity fried it into nothing more than ash.
Zouken's parasites, disgusting little things, giving someone power in exchange for eating them alive, the same creatures infecting Sakura. Static flickered about the cyborg's form, his suit remaining uncharred despite raw voltage crackling along its clean surface. It was infuriating; those things were killing Kariya; the guy had maybe days left to live; Raiden didn't have time to waste; they needed to end this war and make that wish; soon.
Jack's eyes briefly flashed red as hidden circuits flared to the surface; Zouken would suffer for what he had done; men like him didn't deserve to live; he was beyond redemption; forgiveness was out of the question the second he hurt an innocent child, but that would come later when the killer was ready.
Raiden slowly stood, taking the room in with the caution only years of experience could achieve, his senses and systems coordinating in ways most people couldn't understand, streamlining data collection beyond ordinary means. Kariya had a simple room; considering his relationship with Zouken, it didn't take a genius to know the patriarch didn't care much for his sons, seeing them as tools and nothing more to achieve his will.
The quarters reflected his living situation, albeit with far more books lying about alongside various scattered medicines, his sensors identifying each label by the second. Painkillers? Strong ones, too...he recognized the white capsules strewn near their containers... opioids...he scratched along his chin in thought; was Kariya even aware when they got here?
His stare drifted toward the bed; the large piece lay where it should, albeit the white sheets lay crumbled on the floor, as someone threw them off in a hurry...as the killer followed the trail, he took note of the destroyed furniture scattered across the living space.
Random objects, each adding a narrative to the expanding scenario sketched out in the cyborg's mind; small shelves, bookcases, the list went on, as if someone had thrown them into a blender...Raiden needed to know more.
As the killer turned inward, his systems reached out, connecting to his defense network strewn about the property; maybe they caught something he didn't.
The world dissipated into a vast array of static as the cyborg's mind drifted further into his systems, connecting toward a tapestry of data few could comprehend. As Jack's programming took root, the blurs shifted, slowly forming a tapestry of perspectives scattered about the Matou property.
His enhanced sensors scanned through hours of footage in nanoseconds, peering through the veil of uncertainty with machine-like perfection, watching as workers droned about their day in the emotionless efficiency demanded by the household patriarch. Raiden's mind shifted between video feeds, stopping as he spotted himself leaving the day before, slowly marching toward his "fated duel" with Rider.
His systems expanded, including other instillations into his ever-expanding neural network. The Liberian's mind flashed as motion detectors flooded him with information; motion detected at midnight...
As the feed loaded into place, the property remained still in the cool night, the trees lightly shifting about as a cold breeze billowed over their almost leafless forms, scattering their colorful remains across the decorated property. In an instant, the camera snapped to the side as the warning came through, spotting a shadowed figure racing toward the house.
*Whirrrrrrrrrrr
The entire network flashed to life in a moment, illuminating the figure overhead; Jack chastised himself for putting the cameras for far up; he could only make out...pale skin...a dark suit...disheveled hair.
The man briefly stepped back as auto-turrets strewn about the property spun to life, their barrels rotating into place before opening fire at an unrecognized user.
Raiden watched in mild surprise as the figure pulled a strange blade from his coat...with three metallic claws, deflecting each shot with practiced perfection before charging headfirst across the yard. The figure reached the house with ruthless efficiency; his strange weapon tore through the door, ripping it off its hinges before disappearing inside...then came the screams.
Jack's grimace grew as he forcibly withdrew from his network, slamming a boot into the floor as wooden splinters exploded across the already destroyed living space. His enhanced eyes flashed red in frustration; damn it...he overestimated himself, no...the killer underestimated his opponents.
Raiden was used to having a team, but now...he was alone fighting a conflict he didn't understand, diving in head first without a semblance of a plan. Electricity crackled through his blonde hair, dancing across his metallic skull; this was his fault; those people died. Jack knew, deep down, that this entire massacre was his fault...
The soldier's metallic fist tightened as he shook in anger; he took a step forward, then another, a red aura briefly forming around the killer, growing with each motion. His mind raced, becoming more unstable by the second, everything stood on the line, the entire fucking world, and it could end because of one mistake, one fuck up, and it would be his fault.
Static flickered as his right boot slammed behind him as his chassis rotated before lashing out, his metallic gauntlet crashing into the wall as the entire surface exploded, showering the backyard in a mixture of glass and insulation.
The moonlight shone overhead as Raiden huffed his frustrations away in a billowing cloud of steam, a fine red layer of mist flowing off of him. The warrior stared off at the sky; he needed something, any kind of trace, to rectify this before it was too late.
His gaze dropped toward the ground before widening as he spotted something below where the window once stood. Raiden's eyes zoomed in and shifted between lenses until settling on infrared as a faint trail of dry blood ran off into the distance.
Without a moment of hesitation, the veteran leaped off the edge, his suit billowing in the wind as gravity pulled him toward the ground; as he landed in a slide, his multiton form tore a fine layer of dirt and finely kept grass off their roots, leaving a trail of exposed earth in his wake.
Jack slowly kneeled, his gaze flickering into the distance, following the trail, pointing toward the city. As the Liberian's mind settled on its course, he glanced down toward his encased weapon, feeling it hum in agreement. Raiden smirked as the red miasma began to fade; he had a lead, now he coul-
*Bump-Bump
Raiden winced in agony as his head pulsated like roots were digging into his mind. Everything felt wrong in an instant, the feeling forcing the killer to his knees, hoping it would end soon.
*Bump-Bump
Jack gritted his teeth as his eyes forcibly closed; his entire skull felt like it was about to explode. The mercenaries ears began to ring louder by the second, the screech tearing any semblance of thought from his form as he dropped Murasama's case, grabbing at his head to make it stop.
*Bump-Bump
The world disappeared into a blanket of white static as reality fell apart, all noise falling silent as the pain grew worse and worse. A distant noise gripped his attention, the sound of scraping, rusted metal dragging into motion alongside tattered gasps for air...
His mind was forced into action, trying to ignore his suffering by distracting itself; who the hell was tha-
"You're still weak."
...
...
Raiden gasped for air as the feeling dissipated in an instant, falling onto his hands and knees as sweat poured off his face. The "Servant" gulped air down without hesitation, ignoring the dry feeling in his throat as he gathered his bearings.
His HUD flashed warnings as he glanced down, seeing steam pour off of his metallic form in waves, high temperature, and pressure levels...what the fuck...his blue eyes remained dim, almost grey, as he tried to orient himself once again, feeling a hand along the ground to reassure himself that this was reality.
That feeling...he...felt it before...when Sam...-Jack flinched as another pang rushed through his form; he braced himself, only for nothing to come. Moments passed before the warrior found the strength to rise once again on his own two feet, facing off into the distance.
Raiden slowly picked up his suitcase, spotting a jolt of red lightning burst off the material as his hand slowly wrapped around its cold grip. What the fuck was happening to him?
Jack slowly wiped a hand along his forehead, one of the few organic pieces left of him; as he lowered his arm, he watched the saline liquid drip off his pale skin and toward the dry ground below. He slowly shook his head; there was a time and place for this shit, but not now.
As the cyborg slowly made his way forward, following the visceral trail of breadcrumbs, he couldn't help but sense something about him was off. The feeling wasn't gone, just sitting there..in the back of his mind...but he didn't have time to wait; only he could rectify his mistakes.
As the killer glanced over his shoulder, observing the desecrated property with the sun still beaming overhead, scattering its vast array of colors across the war-torn city, reminding him of what he had fought for all his life. Raiden took one last calming breath before pushing forward, ignoring his internal rumblings as they shifted away from focus. Something told him that everything hinged on tonight, do or die, the fate of the world itself on his hands; it was time to act.
...
Elsewhere
*Flick-Flick-Flick
A light click, rhythmic yet forced, reverberated across a darkened space, interspersed by a tapestry of color fluttering in from an array of stained glass windows. Their smooth forms depicted acts of sanctity, the stations of the cross, fourteen in total, each referencing an act of sacrifice for the betterment of humanity. The son of God received a condemnation to death, and his journey toward the redemption of mankind, a staple of the Christian faith reflected in many such churches as this.
*Tss
The match burned to life as the phosphorus sparked a flame into existence. A pale hand shielded its dwindling embers from an unseen breeze before reaching out, lighting a tapestry of ornate red candles, bringing the light into what should act as a holy sanctum.
As the wax began to burn, a figure slowly emerged from the shadows, his stationary form illuminated by the flickering flames, stretching from his arm and culminating over his emotionless face, his dark eyes absorbing the light into the eternal abyss within.
Why did he do these things? Church tradition demanded as such, and yet the priest felt hollow in these deads, these actions which had continued for thousands of years as the Father Almighty spread his grasp across the world.
The Father slowly glanced toward a bible laid across the table, its red cover contrasting with the intricate yet all too simple golden cross in the center, his soul neither feeling complete nor lacking as he pondered its borders. He certainly believed in a God, putting forth the utmost effort in his sermons, yet never feeling satisfaction in his work, never truly understanding why he did anything, always lacking something.
The figure slowly turned, facing away from the altar and into the empty church ahead, row upon row of pews adorned with nothing more than a scattered collection of biblical scripture and pamphlets featuring the liturgical songs. Each hymn was memorized, recited, and forgotten, at the same time of every year, meaning utterly nothing to him, and yet he would execute it to perfection as he would all things on his quest for purpose.
The magus would present his sermon and address the people, drone on about the need to enjoy one another, to live for the sake of others...what nonsense...yet...they would weep at the "magic" of his words, finding meaning in his pointless drivel. Not a single word meant a thing to him and never would; their joy brought him nothing, and their deliverance brought him nothing but further stagnation.
His cold gaze flickered toward the wayside, studying a dry red stain along the carpeted floor; no amount of cleaner could remove the sins of the past, not truly, not even in a sanctum such as this. Death had never bothered the man; people came and went in this church, appearing for some time only to end the same, buried in a coffin surrounded by loved ones, something he never understood the reasoning behind. But...watching them in sorrow always brought out...something in him, a feeling he struggled to comprehend.
The figure would watch from the side as his Father led the homily, cross, and bible clutched in hand with all the reverence and duty expected of someone at his standing, a Father not just for him but for all; such is the duty of a priest.
His necklace dangled as its metal surfaces clang together as the man shifted in place; his focus dropped as he raised a hand, gripping the golden cross and rubbing the material between his fingers.
Should he weep for his Father's death? No, it didn't matter what his wishes were, nor did he really care about his pride in what his son had achieved. Any expressed feeling would be nothing more than a farce, a lie to convey a humanity the priest could never know.
His entire life seemed so clear, his priesthood established, a world of devotion ahead...and yet...nothing...not joy...not sorrow...instead, the man felt as though he went through the motions and nothing more, worse than insanity, simply being, a background character in his own life. He had started this war a loyal soldier within the church, yet another cog...and yet...now?
The priest turned away from the altar, his black leather shoes lightly clicking along the stone floor until reaching another layer of carpet strewn down the center of the church, intersecting the walkways between each set of pews in a fine brown decor.
A rasped gasp for air reverberated across the abandoned halls, driving him forward as a spark lit within his darkened eyes, finding life within the mental walls of dull servitude, never expecting, never wanting anything...until now.
The figure slowly lowered himself, leaning forward as he studied the scene ahead in utter fascination, in a genuine reverence never before seen in his otherwise dreary existence.
A sickly man lay across the floor, his veins protruding with each simple motion as unseen entities slithered just beneath the surface as he groaned in discomfort despite his unconscious state. The priest tilted his head in curiosity as though a nightmare had begun, twisting his subject's restless mind into a state of utter chaos.
The Heavenly Father studied the man's appearance, from his ghastly pale skin toward his bleach white hair; an arm remained limp at his side as his chest slowly and painfully rose and fell each moment, refusing to give in to the blissful rest of death.
Although the priest could not ascertain why the man had piqued his interest, it had become more apparent by the day as his studies persisted in faithful devotion. He reached a hand out, placing it atop the man's chest as though he were comforting him in his final moments, one of his obligatory duties...and yet...
A pulse of mana crashed through the sickly figure's chest, driving the parasites within into a frenzy, his pained gasps devolving into near wails of agony, remaining unconscious all the same. The Father statically studied his pulsating form as his lips began to quiver, stretching into a slight smirk, growing more savage as the cries grew louder.
If only the magus hadn't used such a high dosage, a thought in the spur of the moment, using what he found available to subdue his prey; what he wouldn't give to see him lay awake in his beleaguered state...the priest could have ended the man's life as he wished, just as he did to the Grail's vessel, but...where was the fun in that?
An ornate clock ticked in the distance as the church bells overhead began to ring according to schedule, briefly scattering the man's enjoyment before his mind recentered. Before, he had memorized his schedule to perfection, yet as his endeavors into the world of pleasure continued, his duties began to dwindle to a secondary status, a change...but why?
His listless eyes sparked in intrigue as he studied his subject once more. The unconscious man was wearing a blue tracksuit...unfitting for a war of this magnitude. In an instant, the sickly figure lurched, coughing a splatter of blood along his own clothing alongside a writhing mixture of worms, crawling in confusion after expulsion from their newest host.
Kariya Matou, a man who served no purpose in this war, an untrained magus who by all means should have perished by now, and yet he remained because of his Servant...Berserker.
The Matou's body quite literally giving out on him by the moment, and yet he persisted in some vain hope for a wish, like so many in this war, and yet...this Master felt different, but why?... Perhaps-
"I see you're enjoying yourself, hm? Kirei Kotomine?"
A voice reverberated across the ornate halls of the house of God, the tone a mixture of mocking, condescending and utter confidence, all wrapped within the strange figure the magus called his only ally and partner in his search for understanding.
The Father hummed in agreement, the noise echoing across the halls like a darkened musical tune, defying the holy nature of the house of God he found himself within. As the man slowly rose to his feet, his gaze drifted toward the rafters, watching in indifference as golden particles materialized from thin air, culminating as a figure began to emerge from their dwindling light.
His clothing seemed simple, yet the magus knew far better than to question the Servant; they were likely woven from the finest silks humanity had ever seen. An intricate necklace interlaced with symmetrical rods of pure gold adorned his tan neck as the rest of his form flashed into reality.
His unfeeling gaze locked with the god-like figure's red eyes as his blonde hair swished about; his entire figure radiated supremacy from the uncaring manner in which the Servant leaned over the railing, a hand propping up his chin as he leaned over, his skin utterly without blemish, evidence of a life of complete luxury.
The Master's deep voice, devoid of any passion whatsoever, rang out despite his lack of interest in conversation until recently. "So you're here...King of Kings...Gilgamesh."
Archer's smirk grew as he studied his latest project; he had experienced all the pleasures and desires the world could offer; what was to happen if he introduced such passion to a man who could never comprehend it? His work, like all things deemed worthy of his attention, must be achieved with utter perfection, only fitting for a man of his standing, a height no other could dare to reach.
The King knew his ward well, taking an enjoyable interest in his actions, trying to comprehend the unique priestly figure. His red eyes closed as he hummed in interest, "So I have..."
The legendary hero slowly drifted his gaze toward the Matou, then back toward his student in the art of pleasure, seeing another turmoil in the man's form, reflecting in his very essence; the Sumerian crossed his arms, taking a statue-like posture as all proper rulers should when addressing an inferior subject; "If you wish to speak your mind, I will allow it."
The magus shifted in place, his palms along the back of a wooden pew as he leaned back on its wooden surface, the old bench lightly creaking under the force. The Kotomine took a slow breath, choosing his words wisely to avoid displeasing the King, whose grace could soon turn to wrath with the flip of a proverbial switch; intentional or not, an insult to his person would never go unpunished. "Very well..."
The Master tilted his head toward the unconscious magus as he ignored the man's incessant groaning for the time being; "I will uphold our bargain, but I must ask...why did you want this one alive?"
Archer briefly raised a nearly invisible blonde eyebrow as a grin grew along his immaculate visage; "You still have much to learn, hm? Instead, I'll ask, why do you enjoy watching him suffer so, tell me, how does it make you feel?"
The Father raised a hand to his heart as thoughts raced through his mind, tearing through an entire house of innocents to capture one man, leaving him alive while others perished because of his actions.
*Bump-Bump-Bump-Bump
His heart alighted in vigor at the memory, the suffering he caused, and the pain those people endured; it brought a malicious smile to his otherwise stagnant expression. "...I suppose because I enjoyed it...the feeling made me feel...alive...although I don't understand why..."
Gilgamesh leaned back as he flicked a hand, a bright light cascading over the outstretched limb as the other grasped an immaculate golden chalice bedazzled in a fine layer of jewels; in the other, an ornate clay pitcher filled with the finest wine his era could provide. He smirked as the cup filled on its own accord; "While understanding the reasoning may help, you fail to comprehend the most essential question of all Kotomine...ask yourself...how can I feel more satisfaction?"
The unholy magus scratched his chin in thought, his finger pausing as his head came to rest upon the digit as he pondered his circumstances to no avail. "hm, I suppose one could improve their craft if they wished for greater joy, more effort should result in a better outcome."
Archer lightly bounced as he broke out into a chuckle at the man's machine-like mindset; "Indeed, but the way one experiences something can raise the flavor of the most mundane into the greatest euphoria..."
The King of Uruk swirled his glass in hand, watching as the liquid swirled, reflecting his person yet refraining from taking a drink. "Any wine can provide satisfaction, yet men seek the finest spirits for the greatest forms of entertainment...why?"
Kirei slowly hummed in perplexion; enjoyment of any kind seemed so foreign and different to him; he truly was on the first leg of the journey to living. His dark eyes studied the Servant resting above, the only teacher capable of helping him on such an endeavor. "To pursue different kinds of pleasure...no...experiencing them all at once must provide something unlike any other."
Then and only then did Archer finally take a sip of his lavish drink, noting the dry yet sweet flavor as the red liquid's aroma wafted into his sinuses, culminating in a unique sensation felt time and again in his pursuits for grandeur. The Wielder of Babylon smiled in satisfaction, "indeed; it seems you're beginning to understand...but this same feeling drifts between morals; one can't understand the delight of absolute good without partaking in worst evil...although..."
The Sumerian idly glanced out a nearby window, the colorful surface covering the dull concrete grey of the outside world a layer of blissful lies, his expression growing sower as his brow lightly furrowed. "such labels mean nothing in the quest for the finer things this world has to offer."
Kirei nodded in understanding, knowing full well the Servant's utter distaste for the modern world, in both appearance and governance, yet those concerns did not involve the priest, nor did he really care either way what the planet looked like; he simply wished to comprehend himself and nothing more.
The magus slowly stepped forward, approaching the unconscious Matou as his voice traversed the vast halls once more. "so...you wish to keep this one alive, an act of benevolence to draw a more significant response from the other..."
Their eyes met, one a dull grey interspersed with sparks of curiosity, the flickers of life beginning to unravel within his mind, the other a fiery red, emblazoned with the sanctity of the self and caring for few things otherwise, his status and legacy taking utter precedence. The priest lightly chuckled in realization as it all clicked together at once, "so, that's how it is...killing Berserker isn't enough for you...no...it's something more."
The Master didn't wait for a response, no longer needing guidance on this matter, realizing that not every action needed an efficient outcome so long as one took enjoyment in the results, be they good or bad.
The sound of fabric twisting reverberated across the decorated chapel as the Kotomine pulled his sleeve up, exposing his inherited command seals, their red dashes adorning his arm like a splatter of red on a blank canvas. His grin grew sinister as he slowly approached the sickly figure that was Kariya Matou. "I suppose you've earned this, haven't you?"
In an instant, the Father gripped the Matou's good arm, exposing his own seals, the pattern reflecting a jagged collection of barbed hooks, almost like barbed wire, with one section faded away while the others remained present along the man's ghastly skin. An audible hiss broke out as the diminished symbol began to burn hot as it rematerialized, complete once more. As the limb fell to the floor with a light slap as flesh hit solid rock, Kirei smirked at his handiwork, "with this; you'll struggle for just a bit longer; keep entertaining us, won't you, Kariya Matou?
Archer watched the scene with an amused smile, his wine tasting that much sweeter by the moment as he poured yet another glass. He slowly gulped the beverage, savoring its flavor along his palette, closing his eyes in thought as he heard the priest below begin to move, his shoes clicking along the solid floor. "You've followed through on our deal, handle your affairs-" the King's red eyes flashed open in an instant, with nothing more than passionate contempt on their fiery surface, "I have my own nuisance to erase."
As the magus gripped the door handle, he grinned in anticipation for the battle to come, to meet the man he knew from the bottom of his heart understood his struggle, a mutual in this world of unrelatable, unmemorable faces, Kiritsugu Emiya..." you've shown me many things, Gilgamesh, will you still show me more once this has ended?"
The King of Uruk bellowed out a laugh, his prideful voice audible for all graced with his presence to hear, "You truly never cease to amuse me...I suppose I could find it within my goodwill to guide a weary soul a bit longer."
The door clicked open, the sound of rain cascading over pavement bouncing between the walls of the hollow chamber as a cold breeze whistled within its confines. The Master stepped outside, his voice nearly inaudible as the entrance began to close, yet heard clearly by the King of Kings; "...I'm looking forward to it."
...
*Honk-Honk
Cars blurred down the busy roads strewn about the ever-expanding metropolis called Fuyuki, their forms shifting into little more than blurs of reds, greens, blacks, the list went on in the monotony of daily life. The same model of car, different paint job, uniqueness in the most corporate way imaginable.
These sections of the city were always hectic, the few bridges connecting the urban centers' sides across the vast waterway running straight through the growing town, congesting and emptying out at high and low points throughout the day.
As a myriad of drivers patiently waited for the street lights to turn green, all failed to notice a flash of blue lightning race toward the shore before skidding to a halt in an instant, blasting a scattered array of liter into the air. A fine layer of steam blew off the cyborg as his systems rotated into place, hidden beneath layers of clothing and artificially grafted skin.
The samurai huffed in frustration as he slowly approached a concrete railing, leaning along its cold surface as he stared off across the flowing river. Hard to believe the chaos he put an end to at this very spot just a few days ago...how did it come to this?
Raiden had raced across the city, following the trail with the skill of a hunter, only to be lead in loops across town, it didn't take him long to realize his target was smart, covering his tracks, but he was better.
His enhanced mind flashed to life as a digital map of Fuyuki appeared across his HUD, various editions sketched along its surface in some form of crude artistic representation or a simple name if the Liberian didn't bother an attempt.
The ninja's cybernetics briefly glowed as a thin red line drew itself along the city, plotting various routes running circles around areas of importance, all beginning at the Matou estate. Trails ran in varying circles, almost complete nonsense to the untrained eye, yet the warrior knew better.
He could have hacked the city network again and dug through camera footage, but it wouldn't help; these days, street cameras were too scattered and too blurry to make out anything the veteran didn't already know, but it wasn't the only issue. His target had some form of training, easily avoiding unwanted eyes, exposing as little of himself as necessary in enemy territory, but it didn't matter; the attacker already gave himself away with that goose chase of his.
The "Servant" lightly smirked as a cold sea breeze wafted across him, basking the cyborg in a salty mist before falling away in the wind. Years of enduring conspiracies, facing the unknown, and never truly knowing where the enemy lay in wait taught the cyborg to trust his instincts. Any building could serve as a base of operations, but in this war, subtlety took precedence; if the enemy could find you, they could wipe you out instantly...he learned that the hard way.
It seemed almost too convenient that the church lay in the center of this unmarked zone, but that's what drew his attention. No one would expect the institution governing this war to cheat. Jack had seen this shit time and again, play the role of a trusted ally, then swoop in to take things for yourself; if only Ocelot could see this sloppy work, he chuckled at the thought.
Raiden closed his eyes, feeling the pyre burning within his chassis as it thumped about, mentally pulling him in the right direction toward his "Master," whether or not that helped, the killer would never admit to it; was he stubborn? Probably, but that was someone else's problem to deal with, take it or leave it.
Enhanced metal audibly creaked and popped as the cyborg cracked his neck in anticipation, running headfirst into enemy territory, a trap lying in wait, no plan whatsoever besides killing anyone that gets in his way. His blue eyes shot open as their components began to burn red in excitement as he stared off at the shoreline Caster had summoned his monstrosity from beneath the waves; might as well start another suicide mission where he ended another, right?
As vehicles large and small blurred into the distance, passing over the bridge and onto other horizons, their drivers gave the blonde man little more than a passing glance, seeing little more than just a man going about his business like any other upstanding resident.
...
The sound of swiftly moving cars ground to a near halt, replaced by a cacophony of horns interlaced with cries of frustration and demands to "get a move on." The killer glanced down the road, studying a pileup along the bridge for some reason or other as he readied himself to move on from his brief respite, intent on finishing what he started.
An engine approached the growing lane of vehicles, the audible roar catching the cyborg's attention; although he saw little need to turn, only a motorcycle could make that much noise. Jack never had much interest in cars and other nonsense; his own parts took enough time to maintain, although...
Raiden smirked as he thought back to a joyride on a "borrowed" motorcycle in his relentless war against Desperado and World Marshal. The Liberian might dabble in theft on occasion, but only to people who deserved it; he tried finding the owner to give it back only to find out the damn thing belonged to Jetstream Sam.
The samurai chuckled at the strangeness of the situation; out of any car he could have used, the veteran somehow used his rival's ride to find and kill the man in question, some kind of universal irony was at play there; the "Servant" was certain.
The soldier paused as traffic began to flow once more, the myriad of cars zooming off, making up for lost time, and yet as seconds ticked by...no motorcycle; he raised an eyebrow. Did he imagine th-
"Jack?"
The cyborg froze in place, his figure remaining the same relaxed posture through years of rigorous training, preventing any enemy from seeing his tells, although internally, his thoughts ran wild. That voice, it couldn't be...a second fucking time? No way...The Liberian slowly turned, spotting a familiar set of short blonde hair as his blue eyes locked with a distinctive set of green orbs...shit.
Time ground to a complete stop as his implanted processors tore through scenario after scenario, trying to find a way out of this situation; why the hell was Saber here, and why did she have a fucking motorcycle? His systems scanned the vehicle, noting its expensive silver frame interlaced with a fine coat of black paint, countless editions scattered about the augmented ride, even featuring a few engravings here and there, giving no tactical advantage whatsoever.
Raiden pushed the commentary aside; he did not have time to deal with her yet; who knows how much time Kariya even had left to begin with, with his captors...hours, maybe less...but why was she here?
His blue eyes flickered as his systems examined her expression, mild surprise, recognition, yet not overtly hostile...was she not involved in this? The cyborg needed to know more...this shit was getting old, but he'd have to make due...he internally grimaced at the thought, great, more acting.
The warrior leaned along the railing, suitcase in hand, ready to strike at any moment despite his calm demeanor. He gave the King a nod of recognition, "Artoria, right? Been a while, hasn't it?"
The Briton took the greeting in stride, her leather boot knocking her vehicle's kickstand down in a single, precise strike, letting the bike lean along the asphalt before pushing off, landing on the sidewalk with the grace befitting a King of her standing.
She knew full well that only a few days had passed since their first meeting, yet given the state of her circumstances, each day passed as though a year had gone by, yet something told her the man felt the same given his tone. The Knight slightly smiled at the comment, "I suppose it has. May I join you?"
The Liberian lightly nodded to the side before staring off into the distant city skyline as Saber took a spot next to him as a light rain drizzled overhead, coating the pair in a layer of moisture. As the man stared ahead, a question came to mind, "So, Iris isn't with you?"
The King paused, a look of turmoil strewn across her face as she gripped a fist tight; Jack kept a note on that, her injury was gone...something deep within him somehow knew that must mean Lancer's long gone, exactly why that was? The samurai couldn't say...Jack shrugged; one less problem to handle, he supposed. Arthur took a slow breath before speaking, breaking his string of thoughts, "She's been...unwell as of late."
The ninja hummed, knowing when to prod and when to accept an answer for what it was; she clearly wasn't interested in giving him specifics; pushing would just draw suspicion.
A moment passed as a cold breeze blew from the sea, both Servant's ties lightly fluttering in the wind as the Knight continued, breaking the silence; "I was hoping we could speak again...I suppose I'll be leaving soon."
Raiden glanced at Saber in mild curiosity; every Servant that uncovered his name seemed to either hate him, want to fight him, or some combination; why was she the only one that didn't seem to pick up on his identity? Coincidence, maybe, she hadn't been present to see him fight so far, but who could say? "Back to Britain?..." getting a light nod in response, the man continued. "You know, last time we spoke, I never got to ask, have you served?"
Arthur glanced upward toward the clouds above in thought as light pierced through the shroud overhead; she had driven across the city in a fury; Kiritisugu Emiya was nothing like the man the Knight thought he was, lacking any sense of honor nor human decency. She happened upon Jack by chance; although she would not let the opportunity go to waste, perhaps the mysterious man had some wisdom to ease her mind...she slowly exhaled before responding, "In a sense, war has a way of changing you, doesn't it? Making such things obvious to uncover."
The Liberian lightly smirked at the question, his gaze wandering about the streets, staring at nothing in particular as passersby and cars flew by; "Yeah, you're never the same after your first encounter with the enemy, but change isn't always bad."
The Celt shifted her gaze, studying the man's calm expression as he spoke; it was rare to encounter anyone that could understand her, let alone show the King of Knights any respect, even in the modern day. Yet, there this man stood, treating her as an equal; it was refreshing to the Knight, knowing someone commendable still existed in these times. "How so?"
Raiden glanced at his HUD, checking the time, 4:32; with heavy storms rolling into town, a drizzle would soon become a downpour; he shrugged it off, knowing he would manage. The killer readjusted his metallic grip over his suitcase as he spoke, "military life forces good people to do unspeakable things, leaving them broken and battered, dreaming about a lost innocence they'll never get back. It's justified, hating the world that did nothing but chew you up, and spit you out..."
Arthur attentively listened as the man spoke, listening for any trace of deceit yet finding none, "But, it just repeats if you let things end that way, it's not fair, but only people like us know what it takes to make any kind of difference, large or small."
The Briton nodded along in understanding, her gloved hand gripping the barrier as a somber smile grew along her features, "Your words have merit, but it makes one question if they're truly making the right choice in their actions. I still find myself wondering what my companions would think of my decisions..."
Jack idly sighed; this Servant seemed to have burden after burden on her mind, but where was her voice in all this? Saber always seemed to think of someone else, what they would consider, or asking him what he thought. "That's the problem; you'll never get people to agree on everything; sometimes, you just have to listen to yourself, find what you want, and make it happen for better or worse..."
Raiden met the King's stare with his own, memories of his life of warfare and torment flashing to mind. "I've made a lot of mistakes; it used to keep me up at night, made me drink myself half to death at one point, nearly lost my wife because of it..."
The samurai's gaze shifted and scanned the waterfront as rain scattered in pulsing waves as it impacted the surface. Caster nearly destroyed the city, and now here they stood where he once did the same, two trained warriors looking like entrepreneurs having a casual conversation. "My friends helped me find the way out, so I could live again... just like I'm sure yours would do for you, but your happiness lies in your actions; only you know what's right for you."
Arthur stared in mild shock, her green eyes wide as the strange man revealed just a bit more of his elusive story, making him seem that much more human, exposing his struggles to someone he had just met, but she could relate; her life seemed to be nothing but blunder after blunder. "And here you stand doing the same for me, but tell me, do you regret your past? Do you not wish to have done things differently?"
Jack's metallic frame slightly shook as he chuckled, "Yeah, I've lost a lot of people, done terrible things, but I wouldn't change it for a thing."
The Briton paused in confusion, her blonde hair shifting as she instinctively tilted her head as the businessman continued. "Otherwise, I might not have met my wife or had my son, but it's more than that... my friends died so others could live. Their choices led them to that sacrifice, everyone has an ultimate say over how they live, and they chose how they would die... for others.
The warrior gripped a pale fist as his sensors briefly hummed as his emotions got the better of him. "In my eyes, the best way to honor them is to live on and never forget them. Whether something is right or wrong doesn't matter, it should only be done because you think it's what needs to happen."
Arthur slowly hummed; she couldn't agree with leaving things as they were, it simply couldn't be fathomable, yet the man spoke truth regardless. She pushed off the ledge, standing upright facing her parked bike as she spoke, "You've given me much to think about; you have my thanks, but I have things to attend to before I must depart." before making her way toward the vehicle, her shoes slapping against small puddles as she marched.
The Knight placed a hand along the handlebars, feeling their gritty surface as she prepared for the inevitable clash to come, "I'm glad we could have this talk, Jack; your words have helped more than you know."
Raiden gripped his suitcase as he faced the Servant, deciding to give her one last piece of advice. "Something you should keep in mind, though-" his blue eyes flashed briefly glowed, burning into a deep red glare, "you might have your own goals, but so do others, don't be surprised if someone's ideals overtake yours."
*BOOM
Saber scanned the sky above before disregarding the noise; lightning and thunder were not a rare sight in Britain; although her people often equated such things to Taranis, the King knew better. She spared a glance back at the businessman and paused in confusion; he was gone.
...
Moments Earlier
The sound of high-pitched laughter filled the atmosphere, warming the hearts of many parents as they watched their children take the first steps into the wide world, making friends and having new experiences, under careful supervision, of course.
A man rested along a bench, slouched in exhaustion after a hard day's work, watching as two girls took turns pushing one another on the swing before glancing to the side at the figure next to him.
The man smiled as her features came into view as she turned to face him, her dark green hair fluttering in front of her eyes before a thin hand briefly parted the smooth material out of the way, exposing her beauty, a sight he never tired of, no matter how often he saw her.
She smiled before reaching out, intertwining her hand in his; although the man kept his focus on her porcelain skin, his fingers rubbed along their wedding ring in contentment; this was everything he ever wanted.
The sound of rapidly approaching, clumsy footsteps caught his gaze before an excited scream called out to him, "papa!" the man almost couldn't react before a mixture of purple and brown slammed into him as his daughters hugged him with everything they had.
He gently raised his left arm, pausing as he stared at the limb in confusion, as though he were missing something, before shrugging the sensation away, mopping a hand through a layer of frizzed purple hair.
A giggle to his side brought his attention back toward his wife as she smiled at the scene, her silky voice bringing untold joy to his being, "they seem to have taken to you, hm...Kariya?"
The magus chuckled, staring off into the distance before settling on a businessman wearing a familiar suit, digging through the sandbox with his son on one of those claw-like toys set up in the pit, a short boy with equally blue eyes and gravity-defying, bleach blonde hair. He raised an eyebrow at the sight; why did he feel like he knew that man?...the thought drifted as it came. Maybe his son could be a friend to his daughters? Yeah, that sounded good; it was a nice idea...
The Matou felt nothing but absolute bliss; this life was all he ever needed, a family to call his own with no constraints on his person. Working as a journalist didn't pay the best, but that didn't matter; his family would get the world and then some...maybe later they could go out for-
"Papa?"
His black eyes met his daughter's energetic purple gaze as she raised her hands, covering her face to hide her voice before whispering, "can I tell you a secret?"
Kariya chuckled, Sakura was such a handful, but she always meant well, "sure you can; let's hear it."
The girl's hug grew tighter as she climbed up the bench, her short legs struggling to get a foothold before pulling herself up, reaching her father's ear, voice almost inaudible. "...You need to wake up."
*Bump-Bump
The Matou's eyes shot open in an instant, one still utterly blind to the world as the other orb scanned his surroundings as sweat poured off his face. He gasped in pain as the worms in his system tore into his form, devouring his flesh with reckless abandon.
The magus forcefully reached an arm up, rubbing his eyes to clear the haze of drowsiness away, just another dream. As the appendage moved, he paused, staring at the refurbished command seal, all three present...what? How did he get here?...
It all flooded back in interspersed memories; it wasn't uncommon for him to black out after taking a high enough dosage; his Servant took a lot of prana to maintain when he decided to be proactive, which seemed very common for Raiden.
The Matou's head throbbed as bits and pieces flooded back into his distracted mind as the pain subsided enough to gather his thoughts. He remembered waking up to screams, stumbling about in a daze, his door bursting open, meeting a pair of emotionless eyes before the world went dark.
His withered form shook as he pushed off the ground with his good arm, leaning on his palm as he tried to examine the strange room, squinting his functional eye in confusion as a strange recognition settled into his mind.
The ornate columns, the statue of the Virgin Mary overlooking the entire vast chamber lined with old wooden pews; he was in the church...but why?
"hm, I suppose it's time to put the beast down."
His gaze shot upward before the magus winced as a bright flash momentarily blinded him, ignorant of the flashing orbs of light falling to the cold floor, dissipating on impact. As the light dwindled, the magus took a step back in caution, his black orbs meeting a fiery pair of red eyes staring down at him with a gaze the Master could only describe as sheer supremacy; Archer.
The Servant hovered above, adorned in the finest golden armor one could acquire, its fine surface interlaced with the decorate lazuli blues known throughout the lands his kingdom once controlled. The blonde smirked at the man's fear, knowing fully well that he could annihilate the sickly Matou on a whim.
The Sumerian crossed his arms, his armor audibly clicking with the motion as he decided to grace the magus with his words, a privilege few could speak of witnessing. "Rest easy; my quarrel doesn't lie with a lowly mongrel like yourself, but..."
Archer's expression steeled itself before turning into a look of utter disgust, clicking his tongue as though he tasted the most revolting of flavors. "You will summon that animal you so loosely hold on a leash."
Kariya looked on at the figure in confusion; as far as he knew, Archer and Raiden had never even met; what the hell was happening? The Master gulped down his anxieties, trying to find his voice despite the massive presence looming overhead, "W-what do you want with hi-"
The King of Uruk raised a hand, cutting the man off without making a sound as his expression darkened as though the Servant had received the greatest insult to his person, "when did I give you permission to speak?"
A bright light burst to life next to the Servant's figure as a golden vortex rotated in place as a silver blade slowly emerged from the shimmering portal, its form decorated in ancient engravings the man had never seen. Power surged from the golden abyss before prana surged through the sword, the object blasting off toward him at high speeds, intending to skewer the magus alive.
As if on instinct, the Master raised a hand as his command seals burned to life along his pale skin, reflecting a vibrant red in a sea of golden light; "Come to me, Raiden!"
*Bump-Bump-Bump-Bump
...
...
*Clang
In an instant, the "Master" saw a figure emerge in a burst of electricity, then a red slash, almost too fast to comprehend, collided, sparks flew as the weapon blasted off. The tool of war flew through the air, spinning uncontrollably before its point slammed straight through a solid rock wall, embedding itself where it landed.
A figure stood in front of him, nearly invisible as static crackled about his unseen form before his almost transparent form shimmered into a blur, slowly unraveling and revealing his Servant standing before him in his fully enhanced combat suit.
The golden light reflected off the cyborg's midnight black armor as his glowing red eyes met his opponent's fierce gaze. His raspy voice broke the momentary silence as prana crashed through his systems once more, "I don't remember him asking."
The King of Uruk glared down at the figure, his gaze landing along the Servant's hellish sword as electricity crackled off its blood-like visage, shaking the weapon in his metallic hand. "So, the dog has arrived to defend his owner...be grateful I allow you to witness my person, beast."
Electronic components blipped on as hidden components rotated, locking into place as software and hardware interlinked, preparing for another life or death situation. Raiden cracked his neck as he loosened up his stiff limbs; he did not like how teleporting felt; one moment, the killer was about to walk away from Saber, the next, he got pulled through a portal and into some weird magical tunnel, straight out of a fantasy movie, not something the warrior would recommend, but he'd make due.
His lens flashed about, taking in his surroundings as his sensors mapped out the area in an instant, years of warfare preparing him to utilize anything to his advantage.
The cyborg's bleach-white hair moved about as static traveled across its synthetic material as he observed the floating Servant above. "I don't care who you are, Archer; all I see is another dead man that still thinks he matters when not a damn person knows if you really existed, just like all the rest."
The Wielder of Babylon's grimace turned into a dark smirk, lightly chuckling as though he were listening to a child rant; "I suppose it's too much to ask a rabid animal to act in a civil manner, especially one of your standing, but don't think on the matter too much-" The King raised a gauntlet, studying his armor for any imperfections as he spoke, "you'll be put down soon enough, after all...I have other affairs to handle with Rider to dispatch."
*bump
Raiden forced back a wince as the pulsations began once more, burying the feeling until it retreated, for the time being, yet remaining present all the same. Murasama spun in his hand as he anticipated the battle to come, "that's too bad..."
Golden orbs of light flickered off the god-like Servant as a confident smirk grew along his face as he closed his eyes in thought. "I suppose I can't blame you for wishing to extend this meeting; few peasants like yourself are granted the honor of viewing my glory for themselves."
*bump-bump
The warrior's grip on Murasama tightened as it hummed in his iron grip, trying to ignore the growing agony coursing through his mind like an expanding crack across a floodgate, threatening to give way.
Jack darkly chuckled as his eyes forcibly glowed brighter, a beacon of red in this holy sanctum. "Your kind are always the same, making things about yourself...always the center of attention-."
*bump-bump-bump
The Liberian's metallic jaw clicked as it rotated into place, the sound of scraping metal tearing through the King's ears to his disgust. Their eyes met as static burst across the chamber, briefly illuminating the darkened halls before dissipating. "if you took a second to think, you'd realize that Rider's already dead."
The King of Uruk clicked his tongue in frustration as his blonde hair billowed in an upsurge of mana as it coursed through the Servant, "You dare meddle in my affairs?!"
With the wave of an armored hand, a tapestry of golden circles flooded the space behind the man, swirling pools of energy forced onto reality itself as objects began to emerge. The cyborg's systems took them in a moment, ornate swords, spears, battleaxes, the list went on, and yet the veteran remained rooted in defiance, a rebel standing against divine authority.
The soldier's gaze briefly flickered toward his "Master," his sickly form still taking cover behind him. Those weapons were fast, and the warrior could tell; the first one wasn't at full power, not even close. Cyborg targetting arrays prioritized self-preservation, but he'd have to cover for two; Kariya was in no state to move, and Archer didn't seem the patient type; shit.
Raiden exhaled a cloud of superheated steam as his components readied themselves, forcing prana through his electronic circuits as it burned through him. "Don't feel too bad, after all...you'll be joining him soon en-"
*Bump-Bump-Bump-Bump
In an instant, the samurai nearly doubled over in agony as the feeling flooded into his mind once more; his arms shook as he gripped his skull with a free hand, trying to force the pain away to no avail. Reality warped as his lens distorted, rotating in random directions as Archer watched in amusement, his smug grin bringing a fresh onslaught on the Liberian's mind.
The Wielder of Babylon laughed at the cyborg's suffering, feeling pure joy at the sight of such instability. The King ran a head, fixing his golden hair as it smoothed into place; "Unable to keep yourself from running wild, hm? You truly are an animal, aren't you?"
*Bump-Bump-Bump-Bump
Black smog erupted from the ninja in a torrent of corruption as he forced himself to stay upright through sheer willpower. His entire body felt like knives were digging into it. Jack's legs shook, threatening to buckle as he growled in anger, "Shut up..."
Gilgamesh floated back, lazily inspecting his portals as his endless array of weapons materialized from their swirling forms, not even a drop in the water to the treasures he so rightfully held. "I would consider it impressive that you've retained some composure, but..." he chuckled, his voice filled with nothing but gleeful malice, "I suppose even the most rabid of mongrel mutts could perform if trained well enough..."
*Bump-Bump-Bump-Bump
The cyborg's core burned hot as unknown pressure bubbled up from within, his chassis audibly hissing as untold agony exploded across his form, his very mind threatening to collapse on itself. "Stop!"
Archer crossed his arms in contentment, but the Great Sumerian King wanted more; he needed to break this upstart before granting him the privilege of death by his hand. With an unspoken command, a golden spear burst into action near the King's form, launching at untold speeds toward the distraught warrior below.
Time slowed as Raiden's systems began to glitch, errors popping up across his HUD as his programming lost control. Electricity burst across his metallic chassis as he forced his arms to move, each motion threatening to rip him apart.
The weapon's wings reflected the glow of its owner as its bedazzled wings flickered before crashing toward its target, only to be met with a defiant strike from his blade.
*Clang
The tool of war sailed past the cyborg's form, crashing mere inches from him into the hard floor, making an impact crater where the spear landed. It took everything Jack had to do that, just move the damn thing out of the way...what was happening to him?
As the Liberian huffed in exhaustion, Archer slowly clapped his hands in amusement, his condescending smile never disappearing for a second. "So, the beast can dance when commanded by the proper authority after all?"
*Bump-Bump-Bump-Bump
Black smoke exploded off the killer once more interlaced with erratic electric currents, nearly drowning him in their blanket of smog. Gilgamesh watched the spectacle in interest, finding great enjoyment in this torment. "Hm, you genuinely despise me, don't you, beast? My very words bring you such instability..."
*Snap
With the click of a finger, a new array of vortexes opened, countless weapons of all kinds strewn about for the eye to see, polished and decorated to perfection, each one a work of art, an arsenal fit for a monarch. "You've yet to understand why all things rightfully belong to me and no other...your struggle has brought me much entertainment in this despicable time we find ourselves in, watching you fight a pointless struggle... I want to see that hope drain from your very soul; then and only then will I let you die."
*BOOM
At once, dozens, if not hundreds, of weapons burst, flying toward the cyborg at speeds his systems could hardly comprehend. Time slowed as his artificial heart began to race, and prana crashed through him again.
*CRASH
His metallic form blurred into incredible speeds as Murasama slammed into the onslaught, each strike driving the killer back. The first strikes to hit his armor dented it; the next volley pierced his chassis an infinite number of ancient blades blasted toward him from all sides.
Raiden's synthetic eyes flashed red as a bronze sword embedded itself in his shoulder, a fine mist of his blood bursting from the wound as the weapon tore through his armored body, its point piercing out the other side as he continued his defense.
*Bump-Bump-Bump-Bump
The killer roared in agony as the pain got worse and worse by the second; he slammed a boot into the floor as rocks blasted off into the air, static flickering as his blade crashed into battle once more.
This wasn't over, Jack could find an opening, rush Archer with everything he had and end th-
*Bump-Bump
A moment of hesitance, a brief lull, a simple stumble brought all hope of an easy victory out the proverbial window. Pain crashed through the cyborg's mind, bringing all thought to a halt as his nerves lost all control. Time slowed as Raiden watched Murasama fall from his augmented grip, clattering to the ground below... His eyes could barely widen before-
*CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRUNCH
The killer thought he could hear a voice call out his name in terror, but the man wasn't sure...what happened?
Raiden's entire form shook as his head slowly tilted downward, seeing a tapestry of blades, spears, and serrated edges slammed entirely through his combat suit like nothing as his artificial blood flowed to the ground like a waterfall.
*Bump-Bump
The Liberian tried to speak, to gasp, only for a torrent of the same visceral fluid to burst from his metallic jaw as it dripped down his face. His fingers twitched as he tried to force himself to move, to fight, to do anything, only for his legs to stumble before giving out entirely.
The samurai fell to his knees into a pool of his own blood as Archer observed from above, his confident smirk ever present, "You see, this is the natural order of things, you dared to defy your subservient nature, and now you suffer for your actions, beast."
*Bump-Bump
Raiden watched his reflection appear within the pool of blood as he struggled to even remain still; his entire form was shaking, his servos were utterly out of control, and his systems flashed warnings through his mind only to disappear behind a fresh set of new problems and diagnostics. Blood dripped from his mouth, staining his teeth a fine red as he spoke, "What-what gives you the right, to..." he gulped down another onslaught of bile, "to tell someone else... how they should live?"
The Sumerian sighed as though he were speaking to a child as he slowly lowered himself to the ground, his armor clinking on impact. The Servant flicked a wrist as a single vortex opened next to him.
Raiden's blue eyes widened as a familiar red sword slowly emerged from its depths, electricity crackling along its length as it forcibly entered the world. The soldier's gaze drifted down, seeing his own blade, then again as he glanced back at Archer; the warrior couldn't understand what he was seeing.
The Wielder of Babylon smirked at his confusion, standing above the downed man with all the grace and strength an authority figure should strive for when reprimanding an improper act. "As I said, beast, all things in this world belong to my treasury, even that which you so desperately call your own."
Gilgamesh rolled his eyes at the sight of the tool of war, slowly walking about his portal as he studied the HF blade. "Such an ugly device, like all things in this time, trying to emulate our grandeur with cheap tricks and petty inventions...disgusting just like your attempts at reaching our strength through self-mutilation, your so-called 'cyborg' mongrel race, something which never should have existed."
*BUMP-BUMP-BUMP
The veteran couldn't fathom what he was seeing or what was happening. Was this really how it ended, on the floor in front of a fucking despot? Raiden's form shook violently as the blades dug deeper, raising an arm before slamming it into the ground, a crater forming on impact as he growled in anger as his eyes began to burn red.
The samurai slowly rose, his entire body threatening to give out as his hate-filled gaze met the King's with every ounce of strength left in him. "We...are not...a mistake."
Gilgamesh clicked his tongue in mild disappointment as he leaned away from the swirling portal of Babylon, "you still haven't learned to only speak when given permission, dog..." The Servant raised a hand, bringing his fingers together.
*Snap
*BOOM
In less than a second, the false Murasama tore through the cyborg's stomach and out the other end, its HF steel ripping through his body, leaving nothing more than the hilt exposed to the front as its length stretched out through his back.
Raiden could only gasp as the last vestiges of strength faded before collapsing face first onto the cold ground below into a pool of his own blood.
As Raiden faded from consciousness, the man stared at his reflection, wondering where it all went wrong. He wanted to make a difference, to save an innocent life, and this was where it ended?
Archer cruelly laughed as he observed the Berserker's chest rise and fall, almost in disbelief that the Servant still clung to life. "Your ideals are strong; I'll reward you with that recognition...you'll die a monster, just as you lived... face oblivion with stride, knowing the King of Kings, Gilgamesh, snuffed out your life."
*BUMP-BUMP-BUMP-BUMP
Monster...the word rang out in his mind again and again as a voice began to call to him...where did he hear that word before?... that's right...Solidus...
Raiden stared at his dwindling expressions in the puddle as his father's voice called out to him from some unseen corner of his mind. "My clone brothers and I are called monsters...replicates of evil genes...you are one of a kind...but still a monster, shaped by a dark and secret history..."
*BUMP-BUMP-BUMP-BUMP
The warrior forced his gaze to shift, staring at the King of Uruk as he haughtily watched his final moments, as though his death meant little more than entertainment to him. Gilgamesh... a man whose people meant nothing to him, a King who only cared about himself...a monster all the same...
*BUMP-BUMP-BUMP-BUMP
The voice called out to the cyborg once more as his eyes burned a hellish red, "We need to decide which monstrosity has the privilege of survival."...
The world went white.
...
The warrior drifted in a dream-like state, his senses that strange interlink between awareness and unconsciousness. Raiden's eyes slowly opened, glancing about in confusion as he stared at the sandy floor beneath him, a strange red hue perverting his sight.
As he exhaled, the cyborg jolted, seeing a stream of bubbles float above and out of sight as he struggled to move an inch; how the hell was he underwater? The samurai choked down the urge to inhale before instinct broke through the veil; he greedily inhaled, expecting a torrent of liquid to flood his throat, only for nothing to happen.
The Liberian's mind raced; shouldn't he be drowning? What the hell was going on? Where was Archer...everything clicked into place, oh, that's right...he lost...one slip up, and that's all it took to bring him down.
His metallic arms shook in resistance before giving way as his rage took hold, slowly dragging along the sandy surface before rising and slamming down onto the unseen ground, striking something...soft...Jack's mind flashed in surprise, not knowing what the hell that just was.
With renewed vigor, the Berserker slowly propped himself up along his hands, dragging himself to his knees and onto the strange substance before raising his head. His jaw lightly hung open in shock as he scanned his surroundings.
Bodies, torn to shreds, their limbs, organs, and agonized expressions statically floating as far as the eye could see. His lens looked up, seeing a similar sight far above, with the looming light of an unseen sun piercing through the veil of viscera, an ocean-stained red.
Raiden didn't need to look down to know there were bodies underneath him; the mercenary knew damn well what human flesh felt like; he'd killed plenty in his time to understand that sensation. He clicked his tongue in frustration as he slowly rose to his feet, studying his surroundings as he noticed the elevation, a mountain of death beneath an ocean, a stain hidden in plain sight.
The cyborg trudged through the wasteland of death, crushing rotten, outstretched arms, knowing at one point their owners likely tried to claw their way out to no avail.
As the warrior reached the edge of an organic cliff, his eyes widened as he observed countless other bloody hills in the distance, forming an artificial chain with no living soul in sight.
Oh...so that's it.
Raiden's chassis buckled as he began to darkly chuckle at his circumstances; this must be hell...surrounded by his victims...damn it! He slammed a boot down, tearing a massive crack in the mound's surface before the ground began to shake.
The cyborg could hardly gasp as a crack turned into a chasm; the cliff gave way beneath him as a torrent of bodies crashed toward a blackened abyss below, dragging him along for the ride.
Bones crunched as flesh burst beneath Raiden's form as it coated him in a layer of filth the man couldn't describe before he slammed onto the ground, blasting a layer of silt into the waters around him, completely blinding the man to his surroundings.
The killer remained unmoving, lying on his back amidst the gore and destruction; he always said that death didn't scare him...it never would, but...damn it!
Raiden lashed a hand to the side, his gauntlet crashing into an exposed skull as it burst apart. The Liberian shook in silent rage as he berated himself; he failed her...didn't he?
The thought settled into place as bubbles streamed from the killer's metallic form as his rage grew by the moment. Was this really how it ended, lost in some chasm, letting an innocent girl down because he was too weak?
*CREAK
Raiden paused as an unknown sound broke through the void-like silence before remembering something; he had heard it earlier. Like rusted metal grinding for the first time in years, as if someone had turned on an old machine.
The man listened attentively as the sound of pained gasps for air drew closer, as if the person was suffocating, each breath agonizing yet forced. He instinctively flinched as a dark, raspy voice broke out, not hearing it, no, like it was in his head, probing him.
"Pathetic."
Raiden rapidly turned, his bleach white hair dancing about as he studied each direction as the sounds grew closer, not sure of their origin, like it was everywhere and nowhere, the cloud of debris blocking his vision. "Who the hell are you?..."
Silence...only the sound of tearing rust filling his enhanced senses. Static flickered across his form, acting as a beacon of blue light in the darkened void; "Answer me!"
A clicking sound reverberated, bouncing off the chasm walls like chattering bones interlaced with a strange squish of destroyed flesh. "...You already know that answer...like a warden releasing a prisoner, you hold the key."
Raiden reached a hand out toward his hip, ready to grip his sword, only to glance down in confusion; it wasn't there. He paused as the sound of dragging chains tore through his mind as the voice pressed on, "You are a failure, a so-called 'hero' that enslaves himself, afraid to show what he really is to the world."
The samurai gritted his teeth as his brow furrowed, swiping a crackling hand into the void in denial, "You have no fucking clue what you're talking about; I know what I am; that lie died a long time ago."
Raiden's eyes flashed as the dust cloud began dissipating; particles fell to the sea floor, revealing a darkened figure looming in the distance, slowly dragging himself toward the Liberian. A malicious laugh broke out, "has it?...then tell me, why are you here...why did you lose?"
Static flickered about the "Servant's" form as the water began to warm, shifting from an unsettling chill to a near boil in moments. The Liberian tried to speak but couldn't find the words. He took a moment, steeling himself before responding, "after I took down Desperado, I thought I could take on the world...but I was wrong..." the Berserker chuckled, "he threw me around like a fucking toy."
The voice hummed as it marched onward, almost within sight as the figure spoke, "Then you know what must be done."
Time froze as Raiden stared at the emerging figure; his eyes widened in surprise; a tattered and rusted suit of metallic armor, creaking and crunching with each motion. His gaze drifted upward, wincing as he saw the man's exposed jawbone, loosely hanging from his artificial skull; blood pooled from within the container as a single bloodshot eye gazed from within the void, piercing through the darkness and into the outside world.
The figure's form violently shook as he drew closer, his tattered blonde hair swaying about his exposed skull as his flesh audibly squished with every motion. He took slow, violent, raspy breaths, forcing himself to move; whether the man was ignorant of the pain or felt it at all, Raiden couldn't say, but as their eyes met, it all clicked together...this was his other half, the part he denied for so long...Jack.
Time has rusted his metallic chassis, but his anger toward the world has never relented, never forgiving the men who turned him into a monster, and so he waits out his imprisonment in patient malice and cold detachment.
Raiden paused as he heard a hissing sound, turning to see the bodies surrounding him begin to evaporate into a fine red mist as the ocean itself began to twist and writhe as it boiled away toward the surface.
Jack's sole eye flickered, burning a bright red as he studied his counterpart's blue. Static burst from the figure's destroyed body as he spoke, "let...me...out."
...
Kariya watched in silent terror as his Servant and single ally remained motionless on the floor, certain that they had failed, knowing that Raiden would soon disappear along with his only hopes of saving his niece.
Archer nodded in satisfaction at the sight before glancing the Master over, the mere look forcing the magus to stumble back, falling to the floor as the man stood above him like a god. "Be grateful my student took such interest in your suffering, lest I skewer you now."
The King of Uruk turned away, facing the exit as he spoke, no longer even willing to sully his senses with Berserker or his deformed owner, "You still have a use, unlike that animal of yours."
*ZZZT
The magus paused, spotting a zap of electricity flicker off of his Servant's body from the corner of his eye. Did he imagine that? As Archer continued his tirade about his glory, the Matou paid no mind as he watched the cyborg for any sign of life.
*TSSSSSS
The killer's blood began to shake before erupting into an all-out vibration as its droplets rose into the air, only to dissipate into a fine red mist as it blanketed the man's body as his systems roared to life.
The samurai's arms violently shook as the embedded blades twisted and turned in place as unknown energy slowly pulled them out as a gauntlet gripped Murasama's hilt, the force burning through the blade as jolts of power jutted out across its HF edge.
The Liberian slowly rose onto all fours as the weapons retracted, the tools of war, a mixture of silver and gold acting as his proverbial chains, no more. The arsenal levitated above the ground as blood seeped from his wounds, the liquid boiled as it oozed, joining the red miasma as it soared toward the sealing, his jaw violently clicking as his other personality took hold.
...
...
In an instant, the blades fell at once.
*CLANG
*BOOM
Gilgamesh paused his ramblings in perplexion, turning his head to punish whatever or whoever dared to interrupt his word-
*Bump-Bump
His eyes widened, seeing a blur of red slashing toward his exposed neck; in an instant, the god-king raised his gauntlets to deflect the blow, only for it to change course at the last second, careening upward as it superheated the very air around its form. Time slowed as the King of Uruk saw his own shocked expression reflected along the blade's length before the world went dark.
Archer stumbled back, screaming in agony as his eyes melted down to the sockets, blood bursting in a torrent down his immaculate visage. He slammed a golden boot down, bursting through the floor as he swiped a hand in rage, "You dare!"
Kariya froze as countless portals opened across the chamber, hundreds of blades, far more than ever before, in all directions with weapons of all makes and sizes. He watched as Archer huffed in a fury at the very idea that an unwanted would dare defile him in such a way. "Begone!"
In an explosion of prana, the blades shot out; time slowed as a figure blurred about the church, moving at impossible speeds as a red mist followed their every movement as thousands of red slashes burst through the air, tearing the decorative tools to shreds.
As their remnants clattered to the floor in a mixture of wooden fragments and metal slag, the magus scanned the room before spotting a whisk of red land in front of him, seeing his cybernetic ally, but something felt wrong.
Raiden...but it wasn't him... their connection felt...tainted, like an entirely different beast was linked to the Matou instead of his ally. Red mist blasted off his damaged body as a dark, raspy voice echoed across the holy chamber's walls, "A monster, huh?"
The killer raised a gauntlet, rubbing it across his face as a chuckle turned into manic laughter, his voice emanating a presence of sheer hatred and utter insanity, sending chills down his "Master's" spine. "You can do better than that, can't you, golden boy?"
Static roared across the chamber as the cyborg's entire body shook with untold pressure as a dam of power threatened to give way. "You know...people used to call me the White Devil..." the samurai laughed at the thought; "a child gunning down grown men with a smile on his face...but now?"
Jack's white hair billowed upwards as the energy blew through its synthetic strands as it reflected the demonic light; "Actually...how about I show you?
Murasama spun in the maniac's hand as he lowered himself, both hands along the grip as its red surface crackled in red electricity. His head faced the ground as prana surged through his annihilated circuitry, forcing its way through as his components began to buzz with overload.
The warrior's head shot up in an instant, staring straight into his opponent's soul, his blood-red eyes glowing in the darkness like a demon piercing through into a holy sanctum. As his visor snapped shut, his gravelly voice, wary from not reaching the surface in months, manically spoke, "I think it's time for Jack...to let 'er rip!"
Archer theme: The Stains of Time- Extended
*BOOM
Faster than human comprehension, the cyborg took off, his form little more than a roaring streak of lightning. The floor blew apart, its rocks vaporizing on impact with the toxic mist spewing out of him like a torrent from the fires of hell, coating the air in a fine layer of corrupted miasma.
The killer manically laughed as he launched through the air, the very particles themselves unable to move so much as a nanometer before crashing straight into Archer in a multiton tackle.
The King of Uruk could hardly gasp in surprise as the pair crashed through wall after wall, inches of solid stone giving way like paper as the crazed samurai pushed on with untold force until breaching the veil into the outside world.
As rocks scattered across the pavement, Jack launched off the ground into the sky, the momentum carrying Archer toward the street as cars swerved out of the way, their drivers racing away from yet another disaster plaguing their city.
The city whirled into nonexistence as the maniac flipped through the skies with reckless abandon, a downpour of rain coating him in a fine layer of water, refreshing the alternate personality as he walked without chains.
As gravity began to take hold, Jack's demonically red gaze flickered to the almost ant-like figure of Archer down below as his grin grew wider. It was so rare for him to have complete control like this, constantly dealing with Raiden stopping the man from having his fun...but not now; he could finally let loose.
In a surge of mana, the warrior blasted downward, his crazed laughter ringing out across the city for all unfortunate souls to hear its presence, utter insanity. Instincts flared as countless portals opened up across the sky surrounding him; even blind the fucker could still find him?... Good, he liked when they struggled; it made breaking them that much better.
Murasama flashed in his metallic hand as electric currents roared across its form, jutting out across the air, traveling through the droplets of water themselves, giving him an idea, but that would come soon enough.
The weapons fired at once, surrounding the metallic psychopath on all sides, threatening to skewer him into oblivion; time slowed as he studied their forms, recognizing a few.
Spinning before him a large pair of metallic scissors, the blades closed into a fine point; their black handles magnetically interlocked as golden bolts flashed in the blinding light of lightning strikes overhead. The madman's mind flashed in recognition, Bloodlust...
Cybernetic limbs flashed into motion as droplets of water remained statically locked in place as processors dragged time to a near-total stop. As the killer swung, Murasama glowed a blinding red as it collided with the twin blade's edge, the force blasting it off into the cloudly skyline. As his sword annihilated each projectile in an instant, a passing thought came to mind, Sundowner's weapon...then who else is out there?
As the blades fell to the concrete jungle below, the killer's jaw clicked in anticipation; How many more times could he make them suffer before they disappeared for good? The possibilities seemed endless...his visor glowed orange as energy surged, studying his target below, all good things in time; after all, only a few seconds had passed.
In a burst of prana, the cyborg surged downward, his armored knees slamming into Archer's stomach as bones audibly crunched beneath his slightly dented armor. Jack leaned over the Servant like an animal on the hunt, his components hissing from massive overload as his gravelly voice overtook the man's gasps for air. "You still aren't trying...that little pride of yours keeps you from putting effort into anything, doesn't it?"
Archer's form shook in rage interlaced with a primal agony his Kingship refused to let him acknowledge as he forced a new array of gates to open around them, "You dare touch me?!...you filthy mu-"
*ZZZZZT
Gilgamesh delayed his onslaught of insults as a crackling sound broke the ambiance of modern city life, breaching through the ever-present dripping of the rain as it fell from above. The King's breath hitched as the sound grew closer, soon feeling raw heat mere centimeters from his unblemished skin.
Jack raised his gauntlets as electricity flickered between his metallic hands as the red mist exploded across his form, growing by the second as he darkly chuckled. "It's too bad...I don't have that problem."
In an instant, pained confusion morphed into an untold torment as the killer shoved his metallic thumbs into the Servant's destroyed eyes, the flesh audibly squelching as he dug deeper. Archer's body writhed as unchecked voltage surged across his body, his nerves frying as he twisted in agony.
Jack's white hair billowed upwards as his currents danced across his damaged form, as his boiling blood drizzled down to the Sumerian below, burning his exposed skin on contact. His demonic laugh filled the King's ears as the Sumerian clawed at the ground for relief to no avail.
Jack's mania grew worse by the moment as he watched the tyrant suffer; it was like a fine wine to him, making the powerful scream in terror, only letting them die when he was done with-
His jaw hung open in shock as a gate opened directly in front of his chest; the soldier reacted immediately, slamming his talons into the hard pavement before launching backward, only for the blade to follow his course, launching at high speeds, slamming into his chassis, the force sending him careening through the sky.
Jack spun uncontrollably as a strange chill ran up his spine; his visor flashed as he glanced down, spotting a rapidly growing stream of ice emanating from the weapon, coating his armored form; what the fu-
*BOOM
The cyborg slammed back first onto an upper level of a nearby skyscraper, partially built, its skeletal form jutting into the sky like many of the other structures in the developing metropolis. Glass shattered, falling to the city below as rebar and concrete bent and buckled under the force before collapsing on top of the cyborg, flash freezing beneath a layer of ice.
Archer lightly panted as the pain subsided, forcing himself to his feet to retain a sense of dignity as a purple flame erupted from his destroyed eyes as a hand covered the wound. The King stood tall, unwilling to admit the beast had managed to hurt him to any degree; such an act would damage his pride to an ungraspable degree.
The Sumerian moved a tan hand, parting his grime-covered golden hairs as his right eye reformed, revealing his fiery red gaze filled with nothing but malice; "You dare touch me with your filth?!"
Archer gripped a fist as his nerves resisted yet gave way to his commands, as all things should in this world which rightfully belonged under his magnificence. His sole functional eye flashed toward the frozen rubble in disgust, "To think I would scrape the dredges of my treasury to put an animal down...this act won't go unpunish-"
*RRRRRRRRRRRRR
Red mist exploded around the improvised tomb as the magically enhanced ice resisted for the briefest of moments before succumbing to the storm of hatred rising beneath, soon melting before dissipating into a fine cloud of steam.
Archer huffed in frustration as a new array of gates to his vast treasures opened across the sky, illuminating the dreary concrete landscape he so dreadfully knew as the modern world. He watched as the rubble began to vibrate and shake as several tons of rock tried to keep his opponent down to no avail.
*BOOM
Slabs of concrete and rebar shot into the skyline, their pieces crashing through nearby windows and utterly annihilating parked cars below as a figure rose from his artificial tomb.
Jack slammed a boot along the building's edge, staring down at the god-like King below without a care in the world as he reached a free hand, yanking the embedded sword out of his chest as his artificial blood mixed with the rain as it spilled down his form.
He slowly traced a hand along the wound, refusing to let his prana reserves heal a single trace of damage, savoring the pain. Solidus raised him to be a murderer; he didn't care to comprehend empathy, trust, or understanding; they were foreign and distant, best left to his other half.
Every cut, every wound, every bullet made him that much stronger, letting him feel alive for the briefest moment, driving him to seek a better high again and again. Blue static erupted across his arms, traveling across his blade as it audibly hummed, "Is that the best you've got?"
Archer ignored the comment as he slowly levitated off the ground, rising high above the streets until he floated above his foe, glaring at him through his sole functional lens. "My true treasures are for worthy eyes alone, mongrel, unfit for your bottom feeding class, regardless I grow tired of your incessant need to defy me."
The madman lowered his head, his bangs covering his eyes as he cackled before a brilliant yellow glow sparked to life in his freehand. He slammed a boot forward, digging into solid concrete as he lurched his shoulder back, taking a pitcher's stance before launching the unseen weapon.
*BOOM
The killer broke the sound barrier instantly, the light blasting off the elongated tool of war, revealing a midnight black shaft with a sharpened high-frequency blade on each end, L'Etranger, his favorite polearm.
As the spear flew through the sky, The King of Uruk hummed in mild annoyance before snapping a finger, a singular portal opening before the Sumerian's outstretched hand. Jack's systems buzzed as he scanned the strange object, like a golden spearhead, its top half almost encased in a talon, with a black sphere resting along the top.
The foreign object launched in an instant, both spearheads meeting; Jack's unseen eyes widened as his weapon shattered...no...vaporized into a cloud of black smoke as the tool raced toward him, changing course on its own will.
Time slowed as the warrior let the blade draw closer, feeling the familiar pull of electricity radiating off the weapon, yet different like this was...purer than his...Murasama crashed through the air, searing the very wind, vaporizing the water itself as it slashed upward; the tools of war met as a strange energy violently resisted the cyborg's weapon. Static flared as HF Steel met an unknown reservoir of magical power.
Jack's grin grew as the strange golden tool cracked, laughing as his sword won out, cutting straight through the device as it exploded in a shower of smoke and electricity, the force blasting the cyborg back through piles of construction materials.
*CRACK
Jack's visor flashed to the side as fractures began opening up across the cold floor, traveling up the support pillars and across the grey ceiling. The lines expanded as jolts of lightning burst off of them, ripping through solid rock-like paper.
*RRRRR
The foundation shook as the pillars exploded in a flash of prana-fueled electricity, the entire upper level caving in on itself as thousands of tons of material crashing down at once. As dust blew across the city skyline, blinding the outside world to the catastrophe, only capable of hearing the sounds of tearing metal and crushed rock echoing across for miles.
Archer nodded in satisfaction at his work; burying that...thing alive seemed a fitting end, crushed beneath a world the creature didn't comprehend the order of; although slightly irked at the necessary use of force. The beast was not worth using Vajra in his eyes.
The King of Uruk shrugged the thought away with a smirk, swiping a layer of dust off his ornate armor; he proved once and for all a Berserker would never be worthy of his most prized possessions; getting the scraps and little more should be satisfactory to any dog after all.
The Sumerian's mind wandered, onto more refined topics, more so on that which he had not yet acquired, the most coveted prize of all, Saber. The King's eyes flickered alive at the mere thought of her beauty; perhaps he could-
*ZTTTTTTTT
Archer's gaze shifted toward the rubble, seeing a thin layer of electricity dancing along the debris, breaking his fantasies of splendor as the currents exploded into a torrent of power. Rocks and metal chunks began to twist and writhe as they levitated into the air as hundreds of tons worth of rock violently shook.
The pile gave way as it slowly lifted, revealing the tattered form of his adversary, his visor utterly destroyed, red eyes flaring as he forcibly pushed against hundreds of thousands of tons worth of weight. His midnight black armor flared as water droplets vaporized on impact, interlacing with the darkened visceral mist pouring off the "Servant."
As Jack's entire body creaked with each motion, his head snapped downward; his rage-filled gaze meeting Archer's as he lifted a leg forward, slamming a crater down onto the floor below as several ton chunks rained down to the city below, crashing through storefronts like an avalanche of destruction.
The killer didn't give the man a second to react; he lurched back, blood pouring from his open wounds as his augmented arms audibly cracked under impossible levels of pressure before surging forward, the structure launched across the open air, scattering like a meteor shower rocketing straight toward their target.
Gilgamesh watched the debris in interest as it approached him at breakneck speeds, uncaring, utterly unconcerned; with the wave of a hand, his gateways to Babylon opened once more, an array of destructive phantasms set to destroy the entire onslaught in a moment appeared. He chuckled at the obscenity of it all; what a fool, thinking such a barbaric move as throwing mere rocks would do anyth-.
His red eyes widened as realization flashed into his mind; Berserker was gone as if he didn't exist. He scanned the horizon as his weapons launched, destroying any projectiles with the possibility of even grazing him; such an uncouth attack deserved no recognition.
As the Servant's eyes scanned his surroundings, he failed to notice a spinning chunk of rubble flying high above the rest; time slowed as Jack rotated into place, his metallic claws and talons latched onto the rock surface as his teeth held Murasama in a vice grip.
His eyes burned a hellish red as he launched off the surface, blasting the rock skyward as his multiton form raced downward; Gilgamesh could hardly turn as the killer slammed into him with everything he had. Electricity raced across the cyborg as the pair flew across town, stabbing into Archer's skin as Jack yanked both arms behind the man's back, flesh tearing as his body resisted to no avail as the pavement grew closer, falling several stories each second, the veteran uncertain if even he could survive a fall from this high again.
Swords flew at all angles, impaling into the warrior's frame, skewering him alive as he manically laughed, refusing to let go for even a moment before the two crashed onto the hard ground below, with the Liberian bouncing across the road like a rock on water. The world went dark as he skidded to a stop.
...
*Bump-Bump
The world faded back in as a high-pitched ring filled the killer's ears, his red eyes flashed open, and his feed cracked to oblivion with spider-like reflections of each object; the fall must have broken his sensors.
The madman struggled to take a breath as his body creaked with every motion, feeling like it was on fire, he didn't know what Archer hit him with, but it didn't help that he slammed into the ground like a fucking maniac doing it. His neck popped as he shifted to the side, his fractured lens following the trail of his own blood toward the hole Archer landed on, his eyes staring at the King's body as his chest slowly rose and fell, not dead yet.
Valves popped and hissed as even the miasma fueling Jack's rage began to dwindle, his electric currents little more than a spark as he shakily stood upright, studying Gilgamesh for any activity. The man seemed just as worse for ware as he did, but he couldn't know for sure.
Animalistic rage took root as the warrior stomped forward once, and again, and again, his eyes landing on Murasama, the red blade lying between him and Archer...his target less than a hundred meters away...one chance to end this...do or die.
Power surged across his annihilated systems, sending pulses of pain across the man's mind as he stumbled forward, each step faster than the last as metal fragments flaked off his body as what little blood he had left dwindled into a mere drizzle, and yet he pushed on, rushing Archer with everything he had.
A stumble turned into a limped jog before blasting off into an all-out sprint, his right hand grabbing Murasama by its grip as he charged with everything he had. The Lost Boys, The Patriots, all the suffering, all he endured flashing through his mind as his mania drove him forward, all for the sake of killing another tyrant, nothing else on his mind as his sole purpose pushed his limitless anger to new heights.
Time slowed as Jack drew near; he slammed a boot down, both hands gripped along Murasama's handle as it flickered on and off, desperately trying to hold on to strike its target down. He swung hard, his blade carving through the air-
*CLANK
Jack's breath hitched as his arms stopped mid-swing, his sword lying just out of reach from Archer's exposed neck; he tried to surge forward, driving every bit of strength left in his body to no avail, hearing the distinctive rattle of chains behind himself.
The cyborg growled in fury as the binds yanked his arms apart; he spun an augmented wrist at an impossible angle, making a complete rotation, defying human biology as Murasama slammed into the material, only to bounce off of it like nothing.
Archer slowly rose to his feet, a chunk of his face split open, blood pouring down his visage, staining his blonde hair red as he stared at the cyborg with every ounce of hate in his body. "To think...I would be forced to use that which I named after my greatest friend...to hold a mere wild dog down...unforgivable..."
Jack stomped down, his talons digging tracks into the paved road as his heart began to race, a second wind driving him forward to crush another bug in his way. The chains rattled yet refused to give any leeway as the maniac lunged like an animal bound to a chain, his mind racing back toward his enslavement to other ideologies, bending to another's will.
Gilgamesh raised a broken arm, reaching into a single portal as he hacked up a trail of visceral fluids gasping for air as he spoke, "...your existence is an abomination...that I will erase..." the Servant paused as he gripped something, slowly withdrawing the device from its shelter.
As Archer slowly withdrew the blade's golden grip, its extended rain guard with intricate blackened engravings sent a strange shiver down the cyborg's spine; its mere presence felt wrong like it could actually make the man's words come true. The Sumerian grimaced at the sight of his struggling foe, "I loathe having to use such a possession on a lowly mutt like yourself...using it to annihilate Caster's monster seems preferable to this waste...but I grow tired of your folly; I wish to ensure you don't crawl away yet again."
The King of Uruk forced back a wince as his broken arm fully withdrew his prized possession, audibly popping as it moved; the sword's blackened surface interlaced with a futuristic red glow faced the sky as its owner held it high for the man to see. Gilgamesh darkly laughed as he stared at its form, "My sword cleaved the world itself; I suppose one might call it an honor to die by such magnificence..."
*Bump-Bump
Everything in Jack's being screamed that he was outmatched, utterly, entirely, without question; Archer was better than him but refused to try until he forced his hand. His enhanced mind raced; he needed to win...he needed Gilgamesh dead...the chains rattled as he shook once more...can't move...his eyes flashed toward his sword as its edge began to glow once again, knowing what had to be done.
Archer laughed at the Servant's silence, presuming him to have finally given up hope; he pondered Ea's form, a transcendent device only fit for a true ruler like himself and no other. The blade that destroyed anything in sight, worthy of a proper King's attention, who better than the almighty King of Kings? No answer would suffice aside from his own name.
The blonde closed his eyes in anticipation, feeling elated at the mere thought of killing such a foe; he paused his ruminations; perhaps he did enjoy this feat...reminding him of his days hunting monsters beyond man for daring to harm his lands. He shook the thought out of his mind, knowing he would savor thi-
*SLIT
The King's eyes flashed open in a moment as a sound caught him off guard, widening as his foe's crackling red sword flew past his face, leaning back as its point careened just before his neck. His gaze followed its path as it embedded into the ground; he turned toward the beast, a last ditch effort to survive? Perhaps he-
The Servant froze as Berserker rushed him at untold speeds, staring in disbelief as the man's severed arms crashed to the ground behind him, the chains still wrapped the limbs as the madman raced forward with every bit of power left in him.
Time slowed as Archer swung wide from overhead; Jack's eyes flashed red at the motion, sloppy and full of openings; he probably never had to do more than point and shoot whatever that fucking thing was. His damaged sensors detected motion behind him; the chains were already racing toward him again; this time, the samurai couldn't get out if they caught him... static flickered as his mind settled on its course, all or nothing.
The killer lurched back, sliding along the ground as the blade passed overhead, humming as it passed over him before his talons slammed into the pavement, launching him toward Archer. His metallic jaw opened wider than humanly possible, almost unhinging itself before slamming shut with animal-like viciousness over the man's exposed neck.
Jack raised the man high, not giving the Sumerian a second to react as the chains wrapped around his torso in an instant, his vice-grip tightened, feeling bone and flesh crunching beneath his jaw before pushing down with everything he had. His roars of rage interlaced with Archer's gurgled cries as he helplessly swung his arms as hundreds of portals opened up, launching projectiles as they impaled the cyborg again and again.
The cyborg roared in agony, each strike making him press harder and harder, feeling his teeth grinding into a spinal cord, his mind racing, knowing this could be the en-
*CRUNCH
...
...
The rain fell harder as Kariya raced through the annihilated streets of Fuyuki, searching for his Servant through the wreckage as his clammy skin pulsated in agony as the worms tore into his flesh, trying to restore their lost reserves. Raiden had almost killed him with how much energy he took tonight, but it suddenly dropped to nothing out of nowhere minutes ago.
The Matou's mind raced, was his ally dying? Did he defy every possible expectation and win? The magus couldn't say, and so he rushed through the wreckage of what was once the downtown of this city, now little more than a wasteland.
The Master reached an intersection, a feeling of sheer dread overcoming him as he felt his connection with Jack fading away. His black eye flashed to the side as he heard a strange sound in the distance like something had snapped.
As he limped forward, the Master raised his good arm, biting his hoodie sleeve, exposing the command seals along his hand as he raced toward a corner, not knowing what lay in store for him, but preparing for the worst, something that Servant did that seemed to rub off on him eventually.
The magus braced himself before turning, pausing in shock as thunder boomed overhead, the rainclouds above interlaced with lightning strikes above.
Raiden stood tall, an armored body limply lying along the ground at his feet as his white hair coated over his downturned face. His arms were gone, cut clean off, and yet there he stood, clinging on to life with every scrap left in him.
Jack's red eyes glowed as he stared at the lifeless body below him, letting his jaw unhinge, allowing Archer's severed head to fall from his augmented visage, his teeth coated in the man's blood and spinal paused, taking a slow, pained breath as the city collapsed around him, showering the area in rubble and debris. Warnings flashed across his HUD to no avail, too many to count, not that he had the strength left to do anything now.
The samurai lurched back, facing the skies above as rain coated his pale face before screaming with every ounce of will left in his body, surviving against impossible odds despite everything working against him...beating a vastly superior foe by nothing more than the man's own pride holding him down...and yet Jack stood victorious.
As his eyes faded into their standard vibrant blue, the Liberian gasped as his overworked circuits finally gave out, falling backward onto the ground before the world went dark.
...
That's a wrap; finishing up the Archer section with a single chapter, we only have the finale left in the Zero portion of this story before moving onward to Blade Works.
Graduate school starts very soon, so I don't know how that will impact my workload. On top of that, I'm going to be moving to England for a few years, so we'll see how things go from here.
I apologize for the sheer length of this chapter, but I hope all of you enjoyed the ride, we've come a long way, and I'm glad to have met each of you.
If any others want to chat and discuss metal gear and fate (mostly memes), feel free to join our discord, the community is pretty large at this point, and I'm happy to meet more on you whenever!
Code: re4pvJ9pRa
With all that said and done, take it easy, and I'll see you in the next chapter, the finale/Saber showdown!
