Hello from England! I've started grad school and wanted to thank all of you for reading this story; we finally hit 500 followers, and you've yet again left me dumbfounded.
Before we start, there are a few housekeeping things I wanted to get out of the way.
Regarding the Gilgamesh fight, I loved writing him in dialogue and interactions, our favorite Sumerian has one of the best personalities in Fate, but his abilities are somewhat lackluster to write in a fight; far better to see than to read.
I'm delighted most of you considered it acceptable, I don't believe it's my best work, but I tried. Someone mentioned that Gil's clairvoyance should have allowed him to find Raiden in the debris; I questioned that as I wrote it, but I think getting your brain fried with electricity justifies being a bit frazzled, lol.
Regardless I wanted to thank all of you for sticking by me in this process; writing Grail Wars has been a fun journey I can't wait to continue. This story has turned out far better than I ever could have hoped in how many readers I've managed to get for a series and characters that are criminally underused in the crossover community.
After months of effort, we are finally in the end game for Fate Zero. Raiden has come from humble beginnings to take on historical legends, adapting, overcoming, and standing atop a plateau of devastation, too angry to give in and disappear, not while there's still work to do.
One mountain remains, one height left to overcome or die trying for the sake of protecting an innocent girl's life, with Jack's inherited blade guiding him forward into an unknown future. It's time to bring things to a close.
As one of you aptly said, the lightning samurai must face off against the once and future King of Britain; welcome to the last chapter of this arc; let's dance!
...
"If you ask me, there's no happiness to be found in death... no peace either. I'm leaving here alive." -Solid Snake.
...
*Drip-drop-Drip-Drop
Droplets pooled from above, swirling within an abyss unseen by many, and yet one remained, floating about the stagnant waters as he observed the colorful vortex overhead. He studied the images, passing through his own eyes, his actions under the control of another, him, yet not.
He watched on as his other half fought, using means thought impossible outside the realm of science fiction mere years ago, his metallic body moving at speeds faster than human comprehension. Electricity crackled off his damaged chassis as his own synthetic blood vaporized into a cloud of red mist, zipping between chunks of rubble as they flew through the sky as little more than a bolt of lightning.
Few people could claim to understand what sharing a mind with another person felt like; emotions and sensations culminated in what many called a monster in human form, incapable of little more than absolute chaos, and they were right.
His blue gaze shifted as his target came into view, hovering in the air without so much as a care in the world, a confident smirk on his face as he studied his surroundings, searching for his prey-turned-predator. He watched as his armored gauntlets tightened, his fingers twitching in a primal spasm as they dug deeper into a chunk of concrete and rebar, flying through the sky without a care in the world for the havoc he wrought wherever he went.
Human nature is a fickle thing, destined for empathy and sharing with your fellow man, a noble yet instinctive design, but it could change. Create the right circumstances, place the perfect actors, and you could mold anyone into something they should never have become; whether it's S3 or the Sears Program, it all ended the same.
Put a person under enough stress, bring them to their absolute limit; then, and only then, will you see their true colors. Life or death situations expose even the most hidden secrets, saving someone else or yourself, selflessness or greed, any emotion could emerge; every living being had these feelings, but him?
The water shifted as he raised an arm to the sky, his hand grasped into a fist as he watched his multiton form careening through the sky, slamming into his target, his bones audibly crunching beneath his golden armor as spittle flew from his mouth. In that briefest of moments, their eyes met, his enemy's red glare driving him further into his own madness; self-preservation fell to the wayside, only to be subsumed by a primal rage.
Survival didn't matter in his eyes, no, he could die then and there, and his only regret would be that his target lived. His existence was a monstrosity of the modern world, an experiment never meant to see the light of day, to create the perfect killer, to make another Solid Snake, but they didn't understand something about him, something that made him different.
His destroyed body shakily got to its feet, blood pooling around him as his armor cracked and flaked apart, clattering to the broken streets below as he broke into an all-out sprint, racing toward his still prone enemy...Archer. His torn blonde hair parted in the breeze as he lay face down on the road, the sight only driving him to push harder, the pain only making him that much stronger as his body threatened to give out, only to slam another boot into the ground, taking off at faster speeds.
There were always others, more victims, more experiments, whether it was the Lost Boys or the cyborgs; it didn't matter; every single time, he'd claw his way to the top of the pile, only to get dragged into another hell, again and again, his life never changed, but he did.
An innocent child became a hardened killer; his father ensured that would happen, teaching him that violence and murder were acceptable, even normal. He earned his monicker...the Ripper, a name so despised it revolted all who heard it, a boy so heartless he could execute an innocent with a smile on his face. He was a monster, not just by his actions, but how he felt doing them; any man could kill if pushed hard enough, but him?
The man's blue eyes glowed in approval as he watched his metallic jaw slam down on the Servant's exposed tan neck with machine-like precision. Swirling portals opened across the rain-filled sky as golden droplets flickered off the unstable vortexes as weapons flew through the air, embedding into his broken husk. Each moment the sound of bones cracking and flesh tearing filled his ears; whether it was his, or Archer's, he couldn't say, nor did he care.
Seconds felt like hours, even days, the pain pushing him that much harder until it all ended with a sickening crunch as the man's spine gave way, snapping in half like a twig beneath the force of modern augmentation.
You could make someone act like a monster if pushed hard enough, but deep down, they would always know what they truly were; somewhere buried beneath the layers of torment and hatred, something would always remain, holding them back, keeping them in check, but he fundamentally lacked it.
Solidus didn't create him, nor did the Patriots; he could deny it all, play the victim, say it isn't his fault and others would believe him, but the days of lying were long gone, his mask had fallen, and it was never coming back. Deep inside, Raiden knew he wanted all of this, the chaos, the death, the destruction; it didn't matter if it was right or wrong; he didn't care anymore.
Call him sick in the head, a monster, and he'd ignore you entirely; it took a lifetime of hell to understand that the only opinions that truly mattered were your own. The samurai wouldn't stop, nor would he bend the knee; at one time, he'd accept his orders and complete the objective without question, but now?
Raiden would fight and kill for his own ideals, the soldier put his life on the line for the sake of an innocent girl's life, not because his "Master" wanted it, but because he wanted to see her live a life of her own, it was just that simple.
Raiden stared up at the dimming light from above; his ruminations came to a crashing halt as he felt a presence emerge from the abyss below, floating nearby, although he didn't bother to look, knowing just who it was.
A raspy breath broke through the brief veil of silence, interlaced with the sounds of grinding metal, rusted, as though it had remained immobile for some unknown amount of time.
The Liberian lay there, floating above the depths as he slowly listened to the inconsistent sound flooding his systems, his nearly bleach-blonde hair spread across the shifting waters. He lightly sighed; there was never really a reason to speak; the two shared a mind, knew everything the other did, and yet interacted regardless. What to sa-
"Archer's dead."
The veteran paused, his train of thought utterly interrupted by his other half. The ninja's blue eyes shifted to the side, his head lightly tilted beneath the black waters as his gaze met his counterpart's red orb, gleaming a few scant meters away, his form darkened by the surrounding shadows. "Tough son of a bitch didn't know when to keel over."
A few moments passed without a word as the surprise settled within the cyborg's augmented mind. He lightly chuckled, his exposed chassis rising and falling as mechanical components clicked about, adjusting to the sudden change in position. "Is that respect I hear? From you of all people?"
Jack's rusted jaw screeched as it rotated into place, the sound of squelching flesh reverberating across the void with each motion; whether or not the man even acknowledged the pain, Raiden couldn't say. "No, but I had to rip his fucking head off to keep him down, and I still expected him to somehow get up from that..." static flickered across his decayed form as his raspy voice rang out, "this war is out of our league."
Raiden slowly nodded along, his pale skin coated in a fine layer of moisture as the dwindling light from above illuminated his form. He couldn't refute the man this entire time; they'd gone through the motions, relying on sheer luck and stubbornness to win against something they couldn't dream of understanding. "Doesn't matter; Servants can bleed; they die all the same...bad odds haven't stopped us before; wondering about the 'what ifs' won't do us any good."
A dry chuckle echoed across the chamber as a fine rust-colored cloud emanated from the damaged cyborg, expanding by the moment, reclaiming his territory once again. "Lock me away for years, and now you're the one preaching to me?... You're something else."
The veteran briefly paused as he felt a strange warmth in his chest, growing by the moment, his phantom injuries seeingly fading, slowly but surely. His senses were muddled, but he swore he could faintly hear something about a command from overhead; Kariya must be doing something to patch him up.
Raiden shook the matter away; he'd wake up soon enough anyways. The Liberian grimaced, taking a slow breath as he forced himself upright, shakily getting to his feet amidst the shallow waters, standing on an unseen platform lost within the depths of his mind. "You're right..."
The ninja coughed as he forced himself to remain upright, the dim light overhead beginning to expand once more, illuminating his unmoving counterpart, his rusted visage contrasting with the heavenly glow. The samurai panted in exhaustion, forcing his destroyed limbs to move, step by painful step, toward his other half as the man's red eye stared into his very soul in maddened vigilance. "I lied to myself for years, trying to convince myself that you weren't real...that the Ripper was just a myth."
The mercenary's metallic fingers spasmed as his metallic chassis slowly illuminated in a purple flame, its gentle glow rematerializing his annihilated components as his oozing wounds sealed shut with an audible hiss. "You have every right to hate me for what I did, and I can't make it up to you..."
Jack huffed in annoyance as the man continued his slow approach, staring up at the world he had hated for so long, never able to let go of his past, incapable of forgiving the people that turned him into a husk of a human being. "Then you should-"
"But..."
The maniac's red eye flashed to the side at the sudden interruption, seeing his mental cohabitant standing over him, his blue eyes meeting his gaze on equal ground. "that girl...she needs our help...don't just fade away like you always do."
Time moved to a standstill while Jack's metallic jaw clicked about as his exposed rotten flesh flaked off, falling into the water below. A stream of electricity crackled through his strands of white hair as his mania-fueled mind processed the statement. Moments passed before his red eye flashed to life once more "...What do you want?"
The light overhead grew brighter, casting Raiden's shadow over Jack's prone form as a distant voice became audible as their "Master" called out to them.
Raiden's expression grew somber as his fingers twitched in anticipation as the last of his wounds disappeared in a swirl of prana before it flaked away into nothingness. "You're stronger than me...and there's no room for mistakes, not anymore."
The cyborg reached a metallic hand out to his counterpart, his silver-lined fingertips reflecting the heavenly glow. Jack stared at the man in confusion as he spoke, "Just this once... we share, work as a team, no more taking turns, and we end this... together."
As the light began to cascade over the men, their forms nearly disappearing into nothingness, a knowing look grew on Jack's rusted visage as his claw-like hands clasped Raiden's in a vice grip. A fine layer of static traveled between their metallic arms in true collaboration. As the men began to vanish into the mental daybreak, his raspy voice rang out, "together."
...
*Bump-Bump
The cyborg's blue eyes slowly opened, distortions blurring his augmented vision as he studied his surroundings. Laying where he dropped, staring up at the parting rain clouds as the moon shined overhead, cascading across the destroyed city and rubble lining the streets.
The killer grunted in discomfort as he slowly propped himself up on the palms of his metallic hands, glancing around. He sighed as he stared ahead as his eyes focused once more; Archer was long gone, not even a trace left of him, like all Servants in this damn war.
Raiden briefly stopped as a pulse of emotions ran through his head, feeling a presence in the back of his mind sharing his experiences. Jack was always watching, but never quite like this; it felt like someone was standing by his side more than viewing from a distance.
The samurai shrugged it off; he'd adjust to the feeling eventually. Whatever the case, he felt the madman silently approving of his work as the pair studied the ruins of what was once part of the downtown commercial center. Now, where was Kar-
"...You're finally awake, huh?"
The warrior slowly turned, his eyes shifting between a fine blue and a ferocious red as he spotted his "Master" sitting nearby, his back propped against the destroyed remains of a transport truck of some kind, now little more than a smoldering wreck.
His withered visage and white hair were illuminated by the moonlight overhead, a trail of blood running down his chin and toward the ground, culminating in a pool of visceral fluids interlaced with a mixture of writhing worms. His skin twitched as the unseen creatures within fed on his decaying flesh, and his sole black iris stared at his ally in exasperated relief.
The Matou slowly raised his functional arm, the back of his palm facing the Liberian, his red command seals exposed; two nearly faded out as one remained, its barbed form vibrantly glowing across his pale skin. The magus violently coughed, a fresh spew of blood trickling down his face as he faced the ground. "Took everything I had to bring you back...you're a needy son of a bitch...you know that?"
Jack chuckled at the comment as he slowly got to his feet as a swirl of blue light encircled his form, contrasting with the darkness of city nightlife before flaking away, revealing his black suit once again. His "Master" was on his last legs; a reprieve wasn't going to save him, but the killer wasn't cruel when he didn't need to be; he'd give the guy some slack, if only for a bit. "After all the shit we've been through, I'd say we're even."
The withered magus narrowed his gaze for a moment in thought as he the pull on his mana reserves, pausing for the time being. His mind wandered, thinking back to the chaotic events of the past few hours. He slowly hummed as he glanced toward his Servant; they really were two fools fighting against impossible odds. "Yeah...I can...get behind that."
The Matou winced as a fresh wave of agony coursed through his veins, taking a sharp breath as he tried to find the will to speak. The "Master" panted as his weakened body decayed even further by the moment, delaying his inevitable demise by just a bit longer with each forced breath. "...Jack?...what do you think...our odds of winning this are?"
The cyborg slowly walked away from his ally, steadily marching toward his inherited blade as it lay along the asphalt, its red edge crackling with electricity, illuminating its surroundings in a vibrant glow. As the warrior slowly lowered himself, wrapping his metallic fingers along its grip, he sighed. "Those questions never do you any good."
As Raiden raised Murasama to the sky, it flashed in acknowledgment of its rightful owner, reflecting his synthetic facade across its sleek form. "If you want something, then you fight for it with everything you have, don't let things like chance or destiny hold you back; those anxieties mean nothing. It's better to try than sit there and wonder about what might have been."
Kariya watched from his perch along the ground; his functional arm slumped across his knee as his Servant slowly turned, sheer determination across his visage as he stood tall against all odds. He didn't have long to live; the magus knew that; even making it through the night seemed farfetched at this point; he could hardly move, let alone fight. "A while ago...you told me something...about having faith..."
The Matou slowly reached up, clasping his hood before pulling the material away, exposing his bleach-white hair as beads of sweat trickled down his face as the worms crawled beneath the surface, twisting his skin with each motion. "Jack, can I trust you?"
The killer tilted his head in confusion; they'd been working together this entire time; what did he mean? His heels clicked along the roadway as he slowly approached his "Master," standing over him as their gazes met. "Where's this coming from?"
The beleaguered magus sighed, a layer of white smoke whisking away into the evening air as his command seals glowed beneath the moonlight. "I saw more of your memories...while I was unconscious...I think I finally understand you..."
Raiden tightened a fist as the man violently coughed, a fresh layer of blood splattering along the asphalt as he tried to suck in another gulp of air before pushing on, his voice dry and weak. "I saw your childhood...I can't even imagine what you went through, but now I know why you want to help her so much...you don't want Sakura to live a life like yours...right?"
The cyborg sighed as he resheathed his dangling sword, its red light disappearing within its casing before slowly crouching, meeting his "Master" on equal ground. He hated talking about himself, but the man had earned his respect; the veteran owed him this much. "I know what it's like to live in a house like yours, never knowing who cares and who wants you dead. That girl deserves better than all this; she's a good kid in a shit situation."
The samurai's blue eyes glowed as static crackled along his augmented body, his blonde hair lightly flowing in an unseen breeze. "The world doesn't need any more people like me; I promised I would help her; that's all there is to it."
The magus intently studied the man, trying to find any trace of a lie, yet finding none. The Matou's black orb stared into the man questioningly as he spoke, "Are you willing to do whatever it takes?"
The Liberian nodded, his tie lightly swaying with the motion, feeling his blade hum in agreement as he gripped a pale fist in determination, "even if it kills me."
Kariya hummed in approval, his body nearly too weak to function, yet pushing onwards, uncaring for his own mortality. He slowly raised his arm, his hand shakily opening toward his ally, "If I die, will you take care of her?"
Without even a moment of hesitation, the cyborg's hand met the Matou's in a vice grip, "I swear, Zouken and any other sack of shit that tries to hurt her will suffer; you have my word."
The Matou solemnly nodded, his mind entirely made up, deciding to put his trust in another person once again in this strange war of theirs. As his seal began to glow, the magus steeled himself, "Then...Raiden...by my command...use everything you have to win this war."
The cyborg watched as the last seal disappeared into little more than a blurred marking along the man's hand as strange energy surged within him, that same feeling he had before he killed Caster, crashing through his systems as they revitalized beyond standard capacity.
As the glow dwindled, the Matou lightly smirked at the Berserker he called an ally before his gaze fell toward the ground, his eyes threatening to close to the world for good. "I guess I'm not your Master anymore, huh?"
As the samurai remained still, his blonde hair briefly fell over his face as he adjusted to his new parameters, revitalized and ready to end this once and for all. His raspy voice broke through the brief silence, "Maybe, but it means something."
The Matou's drifting attention shifted back toward his summon in perplexion as the man's head snapped up, his blue eyes glowing in determination. "You trust me, and I'll trust you...after all." The cyborg grinned, "that's what friends do, right?"
A chuckle caught the cyborg's attention as the magus laughed despite his ailing health, "Friends, huh? I guess we are...You're something else, Jack."
The Matou's grip loosened before his hand fell to the ground as he stared at the mercenary, his dry blood staining his face and his exposed teeth as he spoke. "Before you got there...that priest mentioned something to Archer...something about the theatre across town...that's where you have to end this..."
Raiden raised a brow; what priest was the guy talking about? he shrugged it off; must be Archer's Master; wherever the hell the guy was didn't matter; he stood no chance without that smug bastard by his side. "And what about you?"
Kariya shook his head as he stared up at the night sky above, his white hair flowing as a gentle breeze blew over his weakened form. "I'll meet you there; not like I'm any good in a fight; I'm just gonna rest for a while."
With a nod, the samurai slowly loaded the theatre's location into his hud, scanning a path through the maze-like metropolis for the last time as static began to flicker across his augmented form. As he stared off into the destroyed urban landscape, his eyes flashed red, "Don't go dying on me; that girl needs you, alive."
*BOOM
As the warrior raced out of sight as little more than a roaring bolt of lightning before disappearing around a corner, the magus chuckled, leaning back onto his resting place. As the last vestiges of consciousness faded, the man could only smile, "I could say the same for you...Jack."
...
An odd silence rang out through the city, only broken by the rumble of a distant engine; city cameras only saw a fleeting object traveling at rapid speeds throughout the barren concrete jungle before disappearing from view. The vehicle's silver frame reflected the interspersed street lights, their orange glow radiating overhead before vanishing, only to be replaced with another in this monotonous urban center.
A gloved hand clenched the brakes as a set of black tires screeched to a halt, dragging marks along the road as their rapid speed ground to a halt before coming to a standstill. As the vehicle lurched to the side, a leather boot slammed along the kickstand, catching the motorcycle mid-fall as its interlocked parts settled into place.
A set of green eyes studied their surroundings, one of the more upscale parts of town, old victorian era buildings interlaced with the commodities of contemporary living, a sense of flare in this otherwise all too bland world before settling their course. An ornate building loomed overhead, fine draperies coating the outside, marble-like pillars layered around the entrance, providing stability and an aesthetic only the upper classes could truly understand.
In a sudden motion, the rider lept from their perch, her golden blonde hair flowing in the artificial breeze as her heels clicked along the ground at once. Her mind raced; she was so close to ending her relentless torment, so near a chance to give her kingdom a more noble...a more peaceful end than its gruesome reality, just a bit more.
She took a slow step, then another, approaching a colossal staircase leading into the entranceway, covered in an immaculate carpet of some fine red material or other covering the path forward. Her gaze softened for the briefest of moments as she studied the details along the building, the sheer elegance of it all.
These things reminded her of better days, leading a kingdom amidst her Round Table's guidance and living according to her destined rule. The knight would never deny she held many regrets of those days, but also a deep longing as well for her lost comrades. The system may have granted her understanding, but this modern world could never feel normal to the Celt.
The legendary figure sighed as she stepped through a small puddle, its droplets splashing away without any particular direction in mind, merely traveling as they went. Artoria Pendragon, the fabled King of Britain, was reduced to such a state after the fall of her lands to the Saxon hordes, but soon this would end.
As she slowly traveled up the stone stairs, she ignored the biting cold of the coming winter as a golden light encapsulated her before flaking away into nothingness. The knight gripped an armored fist as she pushed onward; her mythical yet unseen sword spun in her grip before settling into place, a shroud of wind coating its form.
Her plated boots slammed along the ridge of the stairs as she stormed ahead; as the knight approached the door toward what was rightfully hers, she turned to face the city one last time. She never understood this modern world and its intricacies, the sheer density of it all, businesses, homes, all bound within such small confines.
The King's green eyes narrowed as she observed a trail of rising black smoke in the distance; destruction had become commonplace in recent days as other Servants alongside their Masters seemed to disappear without a trace with little more than ashen wasteland where they once stood, just like the armies that crushed her lands in the end.
Arthur stood so close to her wish, and yet, the knight's mind wandered; How many Servants remained? She could only guess, but a grail appearing indicated that few still stood; who would she face? Rider?...Archer?...or...Berserker?
Arthur was no fool; she knew a predator in the night when she uncovered one; the only Servant she hadn't encountered as of yet seemed to provide the most significant threat. Berserker, a maddened beast, driven to utter insanity through the lens of their allotted class, a pitiful existence no being should endure.
As the clouds overhead parted ways, a gentle moonlight shined over her form, illuminating her dress of delicate blue and solid steel, enhanced by magic to provide an adaptable defense. Her Master warned her of this, for all his immorality, Kiritsugu Emiya had seen conflict; she knew to head his word when needed.
The knight studied the horizon, her focus landing along the distant waterfront leading out into the eternal seas ahead; her mind drifted toward her strange foe from what felt as though ages had passed since they last met, Caster.
The madman had summoned a colossal entity from what she could only call the depths of hell itself, easily noticed from their perch along her former quarters, the grand castle overlooking much of the city. She rushed forth to end his rampage and yet found nothing more than barren carnage, only discovering what had transpired through her Master.
A single Servant had decimated and slayed the creature before ending Giles's life, then vanished, the only proof of his existence being a single photograph. The Celt couldn't describe the entity, shrouded within a cloud of blackened smog; he stood, metal interlaced with flesh; his eyes gleamed a sickening red as he manically grinned, his jaw exposed for all to see.
Arthur had encountered monstrosities before, each fighting with animal-like viciousness, and yet, that predatory glare, the sheer manner Berserker held itself, it wasn't by instinct. No, their stature indicated intelligence, a dangerous concoction from the class which granted the greatest strength.
In the distance, a ruptured building finally gave way as tons of concrete and rebar collapsed to the city below, blasting a colossal cloud of dust and debris into the skies as she delved into her thoughts. Berserker's Master, an untrained magus, and yet he stood victorious atop such a grave threat by his own merit.
She shoved the matter aside, knowing the end drew near; she would have her wish and kill any Servant who dared deny her this right. Artoria's grip grew tighter as she approached the door concealing the true prize of this war, a wish, the power to change destiny itself, a mere oaken entrance blocking it from view.
The King reached out, her armored hand gripping the handle as the mechanism clicked before pushing the door open. A dim glow radiated across the room from chandeliers strewn above, casting a light over the decorative rows of blackened leather seats stretching forward. Her gaze followed their path, culminating in a simple wooden stage, polished to perfection as her green orbs focused upon the object of her desire.
Its golden form reflected the light as it gently floated over the stage, too perfect to even touch the immaculately clean platform below. The door swung shut behind the knight as she took a hesitant step forward, then another, a glimmer of hope alighting within her blighted heart.
Arthur watched the chalice as it stood still, almost afraid that it would disappear from sight should her gaze stray away. This object was what she had always wanted, a chance to redeem her past mistakes so that she and Britain could rest in blissful peace once and for all.
The King's throat hitched as she slowly trudged down the carpeted pathway between the isles, her armor clinking with each motion before stopping just before a small set of stairs. She allowed herself a small smile at the Grail's magnificence as she drew closer by the moment.
*Thunk-Thunk-Thunk
Each step creaked beneath her, every squeak sending a new jolt of excitement through the legendary figure; this war had brought countless tribulations familiar and not; fellow Kings that dared question her rule, condemning the wish she so desperately wanted as little more than selfish pandering to her own desires.
Arthur briefly stiffened atop the stairs, her teeth gritted in a brief flash of emotion, her unseen sword shaking beneath her iron grip. What did they know? Rider and Archer both made her endure such mockery when every action, every moment, every single thing the knight had ever done had been for the sake of her kingdom.
The warrior scoffed at the thought; their rule was different than hers, based upon pleasures of the flesh, constantly forcing their whims upon their subjects for little more than personal gain. That wasn't honorable nor chivalrous; the Briton adhered to a stringent code, ensuring true justice throughout her realm; what could despots know of her struggles?
The Pendragon huffed in frustration at it all, it was exhausting, keeping herself in check, living up to her destined role as the rightful King of Britain, but she did it for the sake of her people, just as she did now, so that they may finally rest in a proper peace.
She strode over the immaculate stage, waxed to perfection as its surface reflected the dim glow overhead, each pace marked with years of experience, as though she were dancing amidst others with an elegance otherwise unseen in this dirty world.
The Celt sighed as she approached the Grail, her thoughts drifting toward the sole person she could call a compatriot in these trying times. She stood still as the device floated mere inches ahead, a forlorn look along her features, Irisviel...
The knight wasn't without compassion; it sent a pang of guilt in her weary heart to see her friend in such a state, but she had a role to play. It was a true pity such an innocent soul endured so much agony for the sake of another.
A strand of blonde hair fell to the wayside as the King tilted her head in thought, her mind wandering, finding time for rumination despite the end standing so near. She supposed the modern world had its merits; it produced many evils, many amoral subjects the knight would rather not consider, her Master included.
Irisviel stood as one of the reminders that all periods could produce gentle souls, these brief lulls of peace tended to create such innocence, but others remained on her mind as well.
Few could relate to her struggles; the wary state one found themself in after a lifetime of warfare; she knew little more than the realm of the sword, taking countless lives for her people; it took a tremendous toll with each passing day to remain steadfast on her course.
As the Briton slowly reached a hand upward, an image flashed through her mind, that strange man she had met so few times yet left a lasting impact within her being. Every word he uttered held such gravity the King felt compelled to listen, providing her with needed counsel in these trying times.
His cold, steel blue eyes reflected a life of hardship the knight need not question, for it remained apparent on his visage just as hers, and yet...the man seemed complete, as though he had found contentment in his existence...how she longed to know such a thing...
The Celt's gaze drifted for just a moment, lulling toward the ground in sorrow; how could one live without regret? His advice always seemed so sound, so certain, helping her navigate through the strange diplomacy she found herself in beside fellow Kings, his words holding far more meaning despite being a simple soldier himself.
Arthur lightly smiled at the thought, to think the modern world could still produce such figures...it was both a sadness and a blessing to know others that truly understood her could exist in this day and age...how she wished to talk one last time...
The Pendragon slowly raised an armored gauntlet, the Grail's gentle glow illuminating her metallic digits as her palm slowly opened. Her smile persisted nevertheless, such a strange person; perhaps once this was over, she'd know true peace as he did, that man-
*Bump-Bump
In an instant, the knight's green eyes widened as a familiar sensation burned through her senses, honed to perfection through years of prolonged conflict. She whirled about, the room remaining in a state of utter limbo as silence prevailed until the distant rumble of heavy footsteps drew closer by the second.
Arthur's grip tightened as her mind raced; who would she face? Which foe would the warrior need to triumph over to claim what was rightfully hers? The Celt's heart remained serene as seconds ticked by like hours, a nature carved into her very existence, never letting emotion get the best of her, lest she fall to ruin.
...
...
...
He's here.
*BOOM
The entrance exploded in a ferocious blast, wooden fragments and dust billowing through the air, shrouding the knight's vision as a darkened figure stood within the artificial mist.
Her gaze narrowed, trying to ascertain any defining details to no avail, as the debris crashed along the theatre floor, tumbling before coming to a standstill, an utter silence overtaking the room for the briefest of moments.
*ZZZT
Jolts of electricity crackled from within the storm of ashen waste floating about the air as it slowly spread as the figure within stood tall. The knight took a slow step forward, her sword, shrouded in a ferocious wind, held in caution. That power...Rider? Was that who the Briton was to face, in a true duel of Kingship, settling their debate once and for al-
A dry, raspy voice broke through her thoughts, familiar yet distant within the Celt's mind, driving a strange sensation throughout her with each passing word. "I think it's time we end this game of ours, don't you-"
*Click-Click
A set of heavy boots tapped along the floor, echoing across the chamber as the knight awaited in uncertainty. Seconds passed before a pale hand, coated in crackling static, extended through the shroud before striking out, a single wave of a hand blasting the mist to the wayside.
"Saber?"
Years of combat, a lifetime of war, and ceaseless violence held their mark on the King's mind. She had endured sights that could drive noble men to madness, and yet she remained, ruling with justness as she always had. Few things could truly unsettle her, and yet...
Arthur stood speechless, her mind incapable of processing the man before her, whom she had met numerous times during this conflict. His black suit remained immaculate as his tie swayed about in the artificial breeze. The man's pale skin glistened beneath the gentle glow of the chandeliers overhead. His battle-hardened stance was a distinct contrast to the delicate finery surrounding him, yet he remained.
"...Jack?...I...I don't...why...why are you here?"
Raiden's bleach-blonde hair flowed over his eyes as his gaze fell toward the ground. He lightly sighed as a slight smirk grew along his synthetic features, "You still don't get it...do you?"
It all rushed through the cyborg at once, memories flashing by the day of his arrival and slow but steady extermination of anyone that got in his way. Deep down, the Liberian knew Jack was having an influence on him, making him enjoy this far more than he should. The two had never worked like this before; whether or not there was bleedthrough, the warrior didn't care; it was all part of him anyways.
His dry voice cut through the brief lull as his grip over his unseen case tightened in anticipation. "Assassin...Caster...Rider...and Archer...they're all dead...it's just us now-."
The killer chuckled, his chest rising and falling in a manic rhythm as he dragged a pale hand across his synthetic facade, hiding layer upon layer of metal and circuitry beneath the surface. "Saber...and-"
Raiden slowly raised an arm high as a swirl of energy materialized his suitcase, the weapon within humming to life alongside its rightful owner. His grin grew savage, a deep excitement for the fight to come boiling over to the surface, no longer hidden, all cards shown. His head snapped, his hair shifting to the side as a single lens met Arthur's gaze, his orb burning a hellish red, staring into her very soul itself. "Berserker."
Arthur's gaze widened, her green eyes flashing in realization beneath the gentle glow overhead as the room settled around them, a strange peace entombing the pair before the coming storm. "Jack...you?..."
Thoughts whirled like a maelstrom within her mind as Arthur tried to comprehend what she was seeing, every moment passing by in a blur. Their first meeting...why she had found him so obscure...the words he spoke, where did they come from? Her mind settled its course as the Briton steeled herself, her hands gripped so tight her knuckles audibly popped, "Tell me..."
That creature she saw...its metallic disfigurements, the disgusting way it held itself...like a demon brought into human flesh, and manipulated through the terrors of modern technology... that what his true form? Was it all a lie? Did this coward ever speak a single truth?
Arthur gritted her teeth as confusion devolved into anger, the manipulation, hiding within the shadows to avoid an honorable battle. She slammed a boot onto the stage as she raised her concealed sword, its storm coating shifting into a rapid vortex. "Who are you?!"
Her breath exhaled as a cloud of white vapor, trailing away before disappearing entirely; seconds passed before a sound caught her attention. A chuckle, so faint it was almost inaudible before rising in volume into manic laughter the likes the knight had only seen from Caster's insanity, believing her to be another person all togethe-
"I've had a lot of names."
Raiden took a step forward as the knight readied herself, sword in hand, as static erupted across his form, trailing across his arms as his hair billowed in the artificial storm. He slowly studied her form, years of combat preparing him, her very stance giving him information to work with, to strike at any given moment like a predator hunting prey. "But one stood out, something the other Servants kept saying again and again, but, you know something?"
The cyborg observed Murasama's case as it clicked open with a single command, its concealed sword lifting out of its shelter on its own accord before falling into his waiting hand. As the container disappeared in a flash of light, the warrior held its grip, a finger resting along the trigger of his inherited blade. "I used to hate that name...did everything I could to hide it, suppress what I was, believing some stupid dream that I could live a normal life...but now?"
The air itself burned, resonating in a deep red hue as the samurai unsheathed his tool of war with an audible click, slowly dragging Murasama along its sheathe as electricity crackled along its length. He glanced down, studying his reflection along its form as a blue glow emanated around his body, disappearing from sight for a brief moment.
Saber watched in hesitant caution, her ornate battle dress, its reinforced plating clinking with each slow but steady breathe as she forced her body to remain in a state of serene calm despite her internal turmoils; knowing what was to com-
*BOOM
Instinct screamed at the warrior to move as the floor around her unseen foe exploded in a blast of prana-fueled power, a crater forming where he once stood as he rocketed into the air, barreling straight toward her.
Arthur's green eyes flashed to the Grail before leaping back, her boots dragging along hardwood as Berserker crashed onto where she once stood, the stage nearly giving way beneath the force as blue energy flaked off of him like a torrent. "I'm done hiding it...what I really am...my name is Jack-"
A metallic click reverberated across the chamber as the last vestiges of light dwindled from the warrior's form, his blackened metallic body interlaced with golden circuitry exposed for all to see. Static crackled along his form as a jolt zipped past his gleaming red eyes, boundless connections flashing as his snake-like pupils constricted beneath the light. "The Ripper."
The Celt suppressed a shudder as the system flooded her mind with unknown information. It all crashed down at once as a sculpted personality of the man before her vanished without a trace, only to be replaced with a tale of utter insanity.
That name...everything of his legend revolted the King, a man who brought utter devastation and destruction wherever he tread, murdering anyone who crossed his ire, bringing order to a nonexistent limbo on some crusade for freedom only he could understand.
A righteous fury coursed through the knight as every encounter flashed through her mind once more, his calm demeanor, the pleasantries they exchanged, the words of wisdom she so tried to adhere to, helping the Briton find the will to defy her fellow Kings ...what was real? Was all he ever did for her an act of manipulation?
"Coward..."
Arthur's blonde hair swayed as she slammed a boot onto the stage, boards creaking beneath the force as her green eyes burned to life, meeting the Berserker's gaze with no trace of hesitance or fear as nobility demanded. "You coward! To think I held faith in the words of a murderer! Mistruths and misdirections, refusing to face your foes in honorable battle...have you no shame?!"
Raiden scoffed in disbelief, a deep annoyance resurging with every word the woman spoke, reflecting the exact mindset he despised the other Servants for having. He sighed, "You noble types are all the fucking same; you drone on and on about needing a fair fight, then do the most underhanded shit I've ever seen."
Jack chuckled as his metallic frame bounced up and down with each breath, a spark illuminating his steel-coated legs as his talons extended and retracted, gripping the wooden floor beneath him. "Alexander and his little army... Archer, or should I say Gilgamesh? Flying around, throwing everything under the sun at me...they both died, all the same, you might call what I do weakness, but really, it's yours for not doing what has to be done." His raspy voice cackled as he stared at the Briton in a manic rage, "isn't that right...King Arthur?"
The King's gaze narrowed as the dust began to settle, littering the fine seating and decor in a layer of filth, unfitting for such an ornate chamber. Another act of trickery, fooling her into revealing her name as though she had spoken to an equal all those days ago. The Celt's feelings grew more chaotic by the moment, a fire burning within her as she glanced toward the object of her desire before a chuckle caught her attention.
Raiden took a slow step, then another, concealing the Grail behind his predatory form as his claw-like hands gripped his crackling sword, ready to strike at any moment. Saber mimicked the motion without hesitation, unwavering in her course, "You knew?" A moment passed as her gaze dropped for just a moment as a question boiled its way to the surface of her mind.
The Briton gripped an armored gauntlet as her head snapped up, her green eyes neatly glowing as she stared at her strange foe from a dark, distant future, "Then tell me, Jack, were your words mere attempts at trickery, why...why did you help me find my way?"
The cyborg chuckled at the question; knowing he owed her this much at least, his exposed jaw audibly clicked as it opened and shut on its own accord, the sight sending pulses of disgust through the Celt's being, wondering how such a monstrosity of flesh and metal intertwined came to be. "I haven't lied to you once, but...you haven't listened either-"
As the knight tried to interject, her voice failed to escape before the cybernetic killer pressed on, his gravity-defying white hair shifting about as electric currents ran through each strand. "I told you that only you knew what was best for your own life-"
Time slowed as Raiden glanced over his shoulder, gazing at the object that caused so much destruction, a small chalice, the Holy Grail...it seemed lackluster compared to what the movies made it out to be, but he knew just how dangerous this thing really was. One wish could destroy the world itself, and he put an end to a lot of them by force of will, but one question remained. "but every time we spoke, you always looked like something was eating you alive... like you didn't know what to do...like you didn't really believe in what you were doing..."
Static crackled along Murasama's hellish edge as it lazily spun in the warrior's hand, its smooth grip rubbing against his metallic fingers as it audibly slid. The Liberian glanced toward the Celt, nodding his head back toward the Grail, "What do you plan to do with this thing, Arthur?"
The King paused as a grimace grew along her pale features; so often did she find herself in the throes of her past, dredging through her many mistakes, although it never grew easier to think of in any regard. Questions burned through her mind, does this mere killer deserve the truth? No, but her honor demanded as such; it was her role as a knight to show those who fell to demonic behavior the proper means to live through chivalric duty, no matter the cost. "Indeed, I am the Arthur of myth; I am he who pulled the sword, donning a facade of masculinity to rule my destined lands...but."
The Celt winced, her teeth exposed in frustration as her brow furrowed, her green eyes flashed in a rare sign of emotion, staring daggers at the man who always seemed so certain on his path. A mass murderer, the living embodiment of hatred, Jack the Ripper, and yet he found contentment in his existence while she found nothing more than despair. "I...was unworthy... making blunders in the name of some prophetic life...only for my people to burn away with my kingdom...due to my mistakes, the responsibility lies with me alone...-"
The mythical King sighed as she gripped a fist, staring at the Grail, noting its immaculate golden form, holding the power to end her grief once and for all. "My wish is to give Britain a more peaceful end, without my influence...free from my failures...I wish to back and prevent myself from ever pulling out the sword so that a more rightful ruler may take my place."
Her gaze drifted toward Berserker's weapon, its crackling form burning the air itself, surrounding it in a veil of miasma, such a tainted device, a reflection of its wicked owner, and yet, she wished to know his thoughts all the same. "You once told me to not care for what others thought, but as a King, that is my one duty, and the last service I can grant my people is to ensure I never reign at all."
Seconds ticked by as the cybernetic killer stood tall, his blackened fists shaking in untold fury as his red eyes burned brighter. As he spoke, his breath released a cloud of spark-ridden steam, his voice interlaced with little more than raw malice, "You want to change history itself?"
He slammed a boot forward, then another, wooden fragments flinging into the air only to burn away into charred ash as sparks crackled off his form. "Do you have any idea what you're saying?!"
The warrior swiped a hand across the air, his claw-like extensions reflecting the blue glow of his electric currents, "Your country affected millions if not billions; changing a single thing could destroy everything as we know it, and for what...to satisfy your ego?!
His gleaming eyes stared daggers into the knight's soul as a black smog erupted across his form as prana crashed through his systems, his rage growing by the second, threatening to give way once more into the barren madness within. "Are you out of your fucking mind?!"
Every single wish was selfish, Raiden knew that, whether it was a chance to conquer the world once more or to take the Grail as a mere possession. Greedy? Yeah, it was personal gain; Rider wanted to reincarnate, something the samurai would never allow, but this?
Genocide couldn't compare to what the Liberian heard; this was beyond Caster, beyond anything he could even fathom. His mind almost couldn't understand what he was hearing; countless lives erased, as though they didn't exist...a deep hatred stirred within him as his counterpart drifted toward the same conclusion.
Jack's metallic jaw clicked about, rotating as it adjusted into place as the smog surrounding him grew denser, almost concealing the cyborg from sight, "I used to think you were better than the others, but I was wrong...you're worse."
The vortex surrounding Saber's blade whirled to life, the winds howling, billowing through her blonde hairs as they remained immaculately kempt. "So, you would condemn my wish, just as the others had? Tell me, have you never held feelings of utter devotion, of true loyalty-"
The knight gripped a fist, slamming over her breastplate as the metal audibly clashed, "that you would do anything to protect and adhere to such a burden?"
Raiden sighed as old memories burned to the surface, fleeting images of his life, the world he inherited that he swore to protect for the sake of others, both the living and the dead. David...Rose...John...so many others, their entire existence, even their memories lie at risk. "Yeah...I do...and that's why-"
Red electricity exploded off the killer's inherited blade as it traveled along its length, coursing through his arms as it reflected his will. His systems blipped online, targetting his last remaining foe as he spoke with absolute certainty, "You'll die with that dream, Arthur."
The Briton steeled herself as she raised her unseen sword, both hands along its grip as its pure golden form remained hidden from sight, its true length unknown to all but its wielder. "So be it, then show me the strength of your beliefs, Jack the Ripper."
Raiden slowly gripped his inherited blade as energy poured through him, his limits undone, whether from his own will or the command seals, the warrior couldn't say, but it didn't matter, not anymore. The samurai manically grinned as his eyes flashed a hellish red as his visor slowly clamped shut, "Come on!"
...
A breeze billowed across the barren city, howling through the night as two foes faced off, one an exemplar of nobility and knighthood, sacrificing her very being for the sake of her destined rule, seeking nothing more than to grant her people one last justice. Her foes were many, and yet she persevered for the sake of what was rightfully hers to rule and guide, something she continued to do long after her time had come and passed.
The other stood tall, his cybernetic form an all too common sight in his time, where only the worst could survive, the ideals of old, dead, and gone. A warrior forged in the pits of hell, clawing his way out again and again, losing both his mind and body in the process. Yet he remained, inheriting the tools of his foes, building an ever-expanding identity as he discovered himself, never letting the strong dictate the weak.
The pair slowly circled one another, matching each step tit for tat as their boots clicked along the smooth stage, a show that no other could bare witness to, with little more than their beliefs guiding them forward, an inevitable clash between honor and savagery, safety and freedom, the list went on, although they paid little mind.
*Click-Click-Click
A pair of green eyes flashed beneath the gentle glow from above, their owner, a knight who accepted her fate, fulfilling her prophesized rule to the best of her ability, no sacrifice too great for the sake of maintaining such a legacy. Her mythical sword shifted within her grip, a symbol of her rule, representative of a lifetime of servitude, never allowing herself the privilege of a personal life lest her kingdom fall to ruin, accepting her position for what it was, no matter the cost.
*ZZZZZT
Electricity crackled along the cyborg's metallic form, his visor glowing a brilliant orange as his systems analyzed his foe. He stood at the forefront of modern warfare, without honor, without mercy; the man reflected his father's will, inheriting an ideology of freedom and rebellion, making them his own through sheer force of will. His hatred for tyranny knew no bounds, believing that all innocent lives were worth saving and abhorring privilege of any kind on his path of devastation.
Raiden slowly raised his inherited blade in his right hand, its gleaming red light reflecting off his silver-lined fingers. The warrior aimed Murasama's point downward into its sheathe as his left gripped the trigger, his gaze remaining on Saber, running on sheer instinct as the device slid away from sight.
The killer raised a free hand, his palm open as his tool of war began to audibly hum as a demonic hue exploded from its concealed form. The miasma burst to life as a blinding white light, nearly shrouding the Liberian in its synthetic glow as the red mist overtook his synthetic visage.
...
...
*BOOM
The ground burst as the warrior launched toward his opponent, the red miasma burning afterimages of his form in superheated winds as he charged, his currents carrying him forward toward his foe.
Saber rushed forth in a burst of prana, matching his speed through sheer force of will; both hands gripped along her unseen blade as she slammed a boot into the ground. The knight raised her destined sword over her right shoulder before swinging with everything she had.
Time slowed as Jack's processors burned to life; the sword, all too visible to his enhanced senses, drew closer, its golden edge reflecting his augmented form as his grin grew manic.
With the twitch of a finger, Murasama exploded from its casing in a blast of fire, its elongated form screeching to life as it dragged along hard metal and into its owner's waiting hand. Raiden gripped his tool of war with the flick of a wrist; the cyborg swung up, craning his neck a mere few centimeters to the left as his blade met Arthur's.
*CLANG
Sparks flew as the Berserker drew his opponent to a standstill with a simple motion, her golden sword's point lying just beyond reach of his exposed neck, passing through his bleach-white hair as he stared down at her, manically smiling in glee.
Arthur's gaze narrowed as her grip tightened, her sword shaking as she tried to force herself forward to no avail; she was so close to ending this, yet feeling all too far. Her mind raced, questions bubbling away to the surface; how could he have known where she would strike? Excalibur remained unseen...unless.
The knight slammed a boot into the ground, lurching back as she pushed off, flying backward before sliding to a halt along the floor. Without a moment of hesitation, the Celt charged, blonde hair flowing as her foe remained stationary, watching her every move as his energized sword lazily rested in his right hand.
Prana surged through the Briton as her shoulders lowered, her blade flowing along her left side, its unseen point nearly drifting along the ground. In an instant, her grip tightened as she swung high, her prophesized sword threatening to cleave the cyborg in two.
The Liberian's visor flashed once more as her blade drew near, the smog growing denser by the second as whisps of red mist began to boil across his form. His metallic arm flashed upward at lightning-fast speeds, his wrist rotating at an unnatural angle as Murasama crashed into its foe once more from above.
A spree of sparks flew past the knight's narrowing green eyes as her mysterious foe remained entirely unmoving. The Briton gritted her teeth before launching into an all-out assault, their blades appearing as little more than swirling vortexes and superheated winds as they clashed again and again.
Left, right, from below, from above, each attack launched was met with practiced ease, the Berserker avoiding her strikes by mere inches...Arthur's mind raced; why?
His swordsmanship was sloppy at best, clearly never receiving any formal training, relying on mere instinct and raw strength to keep her at bay...every killing blow was avoided by mere inches, always lying just out of reach; what was happening? How could such a person defeat so many in so little time?
Again and again, the King's green gaze landed along his visor as their tools of war collided, the device concealing his expressions from sight, only leaving his grotesque metallic jaw exposed for the world to see. Its strange glowing patterns made little sense to the Celt, flashing at specific intervals...it must mean something...but what?
The knight pushed off once more, landing with the grace of the dancer before coming to a halt; the wind howled through the evening skies as darkness began to loom over the city, blanketing the metropolis in its endless veil. She steeled herself, taking a slow breath as a fresh wave of mana coursed through her circuits, reinvigorating the Celt as years of honed practice burned plans into her mind.
Saber blasted off, her steel boots clicking along the floor as she raced toward her target, her sword angled low, dangling along her left as the storm almost carried her forward, each step matching the screeching chaos lying beyond the walls.
Thunder boomed as she struck, her feet firmly planted along the ground as Berserker's crackling red blade rocketed to meet hers once more. Her green eyes flashed as she slammed a heel down, spinning along its surface with an elegance rarely seen on the fields of war.
As the demonic blade swung by from above, its heat caressed the King's pale skin, nearly singing a blonde strand of hair as it passed by before slamming into the floor below. Her momentum carried her forward as Briton raised her arms high, slashing upward as the winds themselves parted ways, streaming around her blade.
Time slowed as the Celt's sword drew near, racing toward Berserker's heart, hidden behind layer after layer of metal grafted onto flesh, threatening to cleave him apart in a single strike. A moment of triumph against an inferior foe, his skill showed promise but lacked any method or form, futile against someone with proper traini-
The knight's mind snapped in an instant, a feeling of utter dread overcoming her as though she had missed something vital. Arthur's gaze flashed upward, watching the man's visor glow, each illuminated square following not her but-
The King's green eyes widened in shock as it all clicked together in an instant, the strangeness molding together into a cohesive answer. "You can see-"
*ZZZZT
Lightning exploded off the cyborg like a torrent as he lurched back; Arthur's blade slid along his chest, digging a trench as metal gave way to a trickle of artificial blood as the Liberian slammed a boot down, raising his leg high.
*BOOM
Bones crunched as the warrior slammed his talons straight into the Celt's stomach; a spray of spittle blew from her mouth before untold voltage crashed through her system. The force rocketed the knight back as she screamed in agony, crashing back first into a solid concrete wall. Dust exploded across her form on impact as she slid back into the crevice of her own creation.
Raiden slowly dragged a hand along his chest, a scraping sound reverberating across the room before raising the appendage high. He slowly exhaled, studying his own blood as it trickled toward the floor. "Making your sword invisible so your enemies can't tell its true length...clever, but -"
The samurai swiped a hand through the air, droplets of his artificial blood splattering along the floor as static crackled around him. His visor glowed as his hidden orbs flashed a brilliant red, "you can't fool these eyes, Arthur."
Jack's mind blurred as he ran through countless scenarios; he was at a massive disadvantage here, Arthur was leagues beyond him in a swordfight, and he just lost his only advantage. Kariya had warned him about how strong the Saber class was, but seeing it in person was different; she was testing the waters, nothing more...no that wasn't it...the way she acted...always in turmoil...it reminded him of something...
Chunks of concrete rumbled and fell to the wayside as Saber pushed herself from her tomb before slowly pushing off as the last vestiges of electricity rang their way from her body, slamming her sword's point into the ground for support as she landed on a knee.
The samurai studied her expressions as the knight rose to her feet once more, wiping a gauntlet along her face as she cleared the spit coating her pale skin before righting herself, taking an honorable stance once more as she stared him down with those gleaming green eyes. She always seemed so prim and proper...but it didn't fit.
Whenever the two spoke, she always hesitated before saying something; it was calculated but not like she was hiding something...no... like behaving this way wasn't natural to her...like it was an act, forced into being...like he used to do...so that's it, huh? A manic grin grew along the cyborg's face as an idea came to mind.
Arthur stood tall in spite of her shorter stature, glancing toward her sword in frustration; the system granted knowledge but never a genuine understanding. She innately knew the word "cyborg" since hearing Berserker's true name, but what was one capable of?
The knight gritted her teeth as she winced, a fresh wave of pain emanating from her shatters ribs as they forcibly reoriented, draining her prana reserves as the damage slowly healed. Jack possessed a ferocious strength and swiftness, it was unnatural, but nothing about this man made any sense.
The King studied her foe as a savage grin grew along his face, knowing he was staring straight at her despite the visor blocking his eyes. Black smog interlaced with traces of red mist blew off him like a storm. Nothing about this made sense; she should have known he was Berserker from the moment they met, and yet she didn't, wh-
Arthur's thoughts came to a crashing halt as the cyborg raised a free hand, a luminous yellow glow engulfing the gauntlet as an object materialized before the Celt's eyes. A small canister lined with intricate circuitry, with the cyborg's thumb resting along a metallic pin before pulling, the piece coming off with an audible click as his hand released the trigger.
The Celt braced herself for the worst as the man gently opened his palm, studying the strange device as it began to audibly tick, its rhythm growing more frequent by the moment.
*BEEP
*BEEP
*BEEP-BEEP-BEEP
The warrior's visor flashed as he lobbed the device upward at the last moment in a lazy throw as smoke exploded from the object, blanketing their surroundings in a haze of white fog as he disappeared from sight.
Saber retained a sense of utter calm as instinct took over, compensating for her lack of sight through utter experience; any move, any sound, she would note, able to predict and react to anything Berserker threw at her through instinct alone.
Silence reigned as the knight awaited their inevitable clash; she hardly needed to utilize her abilities to understand how little meaning this had; her skill was superior, and regardless of tactic, she could-
"Time and again, you people prove my point; where's the honor in hiding your weapon, Arthur?"
The knight glanced about, uncertain of the voice's origin, sounding as though it were everywhere and nowhere at once, and yet the King retained a sense of utter serenity. "Are you not hiding yourself as we speak?"
A chuckle broke out, reverberating across the ornate halls as a predator stalked through the barren traverse, watching, whether from a distance or by mere feet, the Briton couldn't say, trusting her honed skills to guide her blade. "Call it what you like, but I don't mask what I do behind some veil of honor, not like your kind."
*Click-Click
The nearing sound of footsteps drew the King's focus, shifting her stance, following their every movement as she remained in a state of utter awareness. Saber took a slow step forward, her brow furrowed as she spoke, "you claim to know me, but you fail to understand my actions; I am not like my fellow Kings, for my actions have only been for the sake of my subjects-"
A distant crackle of electricity sent the Celt whirling on her heels, bracing for an impact that never came, her hairs standing on end. Something felt off, her instincts were never wrong, but now...they told her one thing before switching to another...as though there were two presences...but that's impossible...it must be some trickery. "I stand as a knight, an exemplar to the people, representing the honor and valor required to vanquish evil on the battlefield, both within and from afar."
A clicking sound reverberated across the space, filling the Celt's senses with an all too familiar sensation of grinding metal as she suppressed an urge to cringe at the feeling. "Every opponent you killed might have been an enemy, but they're still people. Can you be so sure about them being wrong?"
The Celt paused a moment in thought, a lifetime of conflict surfacing from within, countless foes slain, standing atop piles of dead marauders. She shook her head in denial, a blonde strand of hair flowing with the motion. "Foreign invaders sought to pilfer our lands, to take what was ours; I gave them a respectable death on the fields of battle-"
The veil of wind surrounding the King's blade began to disperse, seeing little purpose in maintaining a facade that did not work on her foe. The howls dwindled as she gripped her sword tight, "They made their decisions, just as I chose to sacrifice for my people; I know fully well that honor and merit lose sway in favor of survival; I am no fool to think of all war as just, but I refuse to believe it warrants no respect."
A cackle broke out across the space, its dry tone a harsh deviance from the man's usual tone, as though someone else was speaking. The knight whirled around, seeing nothing as her sword's glow illuminated her surroundings as a voice broke through, raw malice emanating with each word. "Maybe they did get on those boats...maybe they did invade your lands...but you never stopped to question them, did you?...No...you killed them without a thought, locked it away behind a facade of fighting evil for some higher cause."
The voice vanished as silence reigned once more, not a sound emanating from within the building despite the cyborg's multiton form traversing its halls. Arthur jolted as the hairs on her neck stood on end, as though someone was behind her- "Maybe we're alike, you and I..."
Prana surged through the Celt as her glimmering sword flashed into existence, its golden rays lighting their surroundings as she spun on her heel. She raised her hands high before striking down, only for her blade to crash into the floor as though nothing were ever there. She growled in frustration, her green orbs shaking in a rare sign of emotion, "Silence! We are nothing alike...I know of your legend...taking pride in murder and mayhem...who are you to question my resolve, Jack the Ripper?!"
The cyborg hummed in the distance, an unseen grin growing along his face as he watched Saber slowly unravel, her mental walls finally starting to crack. "Me? I know that killing is wrong, but I just don't care, Arthur...I accept that deep desire for what it is, but unlike you...I understand that my enemies don't always have a choice...I know that at the end of the day, they're human beings with lives of their own...have you ever considered it?"
A distant beep caught the Celt's gaze as she heard the distinctive whoosh of another caster releasing its contents as the object clattered to the ground. It made no sense; she should know where he was; instinct made obstructions like this null and void, and yet...it was as though the Berserker planned to strike from two places at once...how was he doing this? She gripped a gauntlet in frustration, "They made their choice to invade Britain, and I struck them down in defense of my lands; I do not need to think further on the matter."
Jack chuckled from within the mist, his crackling sword sending sparks into the air as his chest rose and fell. "Closed-minded, just like all the rest...you like to be heard, but do you listen?... You know...us, cyborgs...we're different than most people, our brains are modified...full of mechanical components, we emit signals, and if you let your guard down, we can hear each other think..."
Arthur slammed a heel into the ground as she swiped a hand across the cloud of smoke, trails billowing away, only to reveal another layer of artificial clouds blocking her sight. "Why are you telling me this?! What do you hope to gain!?"
The Celt gritted her teeth as a distant sigh caught her attention as a voice echoed from all sides at once, as though the man were everywhere and nowhere. "What do I want?..." the killer manically laughed as his mind drew on old audio files, "I want you to listen, to know what your enemies thought while you cut them down."
A chorus of voices rang out as the cyborg's systems dredged through thousands of files, bringing the dead back for all but a moment before they disappeared once more within his maddened mind before settling on a specific instance. Arthur raised an eyebrow as an unfamiliar voice echoed across the chamber, fear-laden in his very being as though he had encountered utter terror. "Oh God...there he is...what did he do to the others?... Why am I even here? I don't want this..."
The sound distorted, the unknown man's remnants fading into the backdrop as Arthur remained steadfast, readjusting her stance as her battle dress flicked about, its metal plating audibly clicking. "These schemes of yours won't-"
"I just want my kids to have a home...a safe life...is that too much to ask?..."
Arthur's thoughts came to a crashing halt as another voice echoed across the chamber, her mind briefly drifting back to those hellish days, fighting off the Saxon marauders, killing men by the hundreds for the sake of her people...there was no dishonor in defending what was your-"
"This isn't fair...my contract ran out months ago...why haven't they turned off my inhibitors?...is that all I am to them, property?"
As a deep dread filled the King's form with each word, a dark chuckle broke out as the sound of scraping metal filled her ears. "Soldiers have changed since your time; they fight, live, and die for different reasons...whether it's for nations, ideologies, freedoms, the list goes on, but the same old men drive ancient feuds into new wars, fought by the young and gullible...but a King like you would know all about that, wouldn't you?"
*Click-Click-Click-Click
Arthur spun on her heel, tracing the cyborg's audible movements as he circled her, always remaining distant yet within striking range. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, "And what was I to do!? Let foreign hordes pillage my lands for the sake of morality!?"
Another cackle broke out, interlaced with the distinctive sound of clicking metal components as the Liberian's jaw rotated. His talons scraped along the floor with each step, tearing trails along its flat surface. "It's the burden of running a state; the responsibility lies on you...and yet...you don't accept it; Rider might have been a bastard, but at least he was aware of it, but you?"
Raiden's visor slowly retracted, his gleaming red eyes piercing through the fog, staring directly at the Celt. "You pretend you're different, running around, playing the knight, preaching to me about how I'm a killer when you've done just the same as I have-"
Arthur's grip lightly shook as she met the man's gaze; she tried to speak, only for her voice to come out as a whisper, "No...that isn't true...I-"
Red waves crackled down Murasama's length as the device hummed in its owner's hand, reinforcing his beliefs. He laughed at the obscenity of it all, "It must be easy, going to war, not even considering your enemies as human beings. Maybe...deep down, you enjoyed it? Why else would you keep coming back to that hell?"
The cyborg disappeared within the smoke, his voice traveling as he slowly paced around the room, his red eyes piercing the veil as though he didn't care if the knight could see him. "How many lives have you destroyed? You probably don't even think about it; you just kill anyone that gets in your way and slap a label of honor on their rotting corpses...just like you're doing with this wish of yours."
Saber's breath escaped as a whisk of steam as the surrounding smoke slowly began to dissipate, her sight extending from inches to feet as the Briton's foe remained out of sight. "I...I...it was my duty as King...I drew the sword from the stone...I needed to fulfill my purpose...no matter the cost."
The samurai paused his stride as her words settled in, old memories surging to the surface, a lifetime of servitude, always fighting for someone else's cause, never understanding a thing. It flooded through him, the manipulation, the deceit, where did it start...where did it end? The warrior couldn't say. "Then your grief is no one's fault but your own; you played the part, never questioned a thing, and now here you are with regrets...just like the men you condemned to die."
As the smoke fell away, Saber remained motionless, staring at the ground as her mind raced. A slow trudge reverberated as the cyborg stomped toward his foe, his metallic frame slowly healing in a flame of purple fire. His grin, no longer present, fallen away to the depths of sheer hatred, his red eyes steeled for the fight to come as a jolt of electricity traveled down his blade. "I think it's time we end this."
Saber's focus flickered, her eyes slowly trailing toward the Grail as it glowed behind the killer, its light shadowing his blackened armor. Why did his words bother her so? How could he speak with such weight as though he had lived through this before? "Then tell me, what would you wish for, were you to acquire its power?"
The samurai gripped his sword in both hands along his right side; its point angled toward the ground as it seared the surface with a jolt of energy. His gaze lowered as he contemplated his inherited blade; it changed his life for the better, finally letting him accept his past for what it was. "I never said I had one, to begin with..."
The red miasma surrounding the warrior surged out, his alternate personality in full force as the two coincided for the first time, their proverbial training wheels cast aside as prana crashed through them. Raiden's head snapped up, his white hair flowing as his eyes gleamed a gentle blue and a fiery red, "I don't need some wish to change the world; anything I want...I take...I carve with my own hands-" his mind flashed through it all, fighting through tyrants and madmen alike, and yet...he couldn't help but respect some of them. The soldier smirked, "on my own path to conquest."
Raiden idly studied the Celt's blade as she stood in silence, observing its ornate blue hilt and golden plating adorned with symbols and ruins the man didn't understand. A gentle glow radiated from its surface...so, that's the legendary Excalibur? The Liberian had seen enough movies to know about it; whether or not it lived up to the stories remained to be seen.
"...bastard"
The cyborg tilted his head, almost unable to hear the Celt as she whispered out an insult before she slammed a boot into the ground, her green eyes flashing in righteous fury as her golden hair nearly covered her eyes. "Then get out of my way; I wish to do things right, to prevent their suffering. Do you not understand this, you bastard!?"
Jack remained unmoving as static crackled along his metallic form as a cold wind blew outside; there was no walking away from this, no peaceful resolution; either he won, or she destroyed humanity as they knew it. His gaze, always hidden behind his enhanced visor, remained unclasped, both identities culminating as one for the sake of an innocent girl's life. "If you want me to move, then come on, let's dance!"
Saber Theme: The Only Thing I Know For Real: Extended
The cyborg lurched back, his arms raised as the hilt of his inherited blade rested along his right shoulder, as crackling energy exploded from the device. His enhanced components blipped online as static raced around his form, roaring towards his talons as the samurai's systems mapped their course.
*ZZZZT
In a flash of light, the warrior slid along the ground, carried by the sheer force of electric fury as he reached his target in the blink of an eye. His blackened wrists rotated as he lunged forward, the point of his hellish sword aimed directly at the Celt's heart.
By instinct alone, Saber swung from below, arching upward as Excalibur's edge deflected her opponent's strike with practiced ease as superheated winds billowed through her blond hair, the heat nearly burning her pale skin as they briefly stood off in a deadlock.
Such things were child's play in Saber's mind; each time they clashed, she slowly adapted to his fighting style, which was ruthless and fast-paced. While Berserker had strength beyond hers, the knight had long since adjusted toward such foes in her life of war. The Celt hadn't expected the man to be capable of seeing her sword, a momentary lull in judgment, and nothing more.
The pair lunged back, their focus entirely on one another as though nothing else mattered, a state of mind only known through a lifetime of war, where the battlefield faded away, and all that remained was the enemy ahead. Their boots dragged along the floor as their swords luminously glowed, one a gentle yellow, reflective of its prophetic nature, while the other roared a demonic red hue, the embodiment of its chaotic owner's will.
As Raiden slid to a stop, his eyes flashed in a burst of mana; his multiton form lowered as the floor threatened to give way, creaking beneath his weight before exploding in a torrent of wooden debris as the Liberian launched into the air, a cloud of dust following in his wake.
The samurai kicked back, rocketing forward with a surge of power, his form tucked into a ball as he flipped through the skies; he raised his inherited blade high as Murasama flashed into the dimly lit air. Before gravity could even take hold, the warrior blasted downward, his sword aiming to cleave Arthur's skull in half.
As the cyborg's metallic form slammed onto the ground in a crouch, the stage buckled beneath him as his sword collided with Saber's; sparks billowed as the King planted her feet as several tons of patriot steel crashed into her from above. Prana roared through her circuits as she gritted her teeth, feeling the superheated air cutting into her pale skin as she slowly slid back, the floor beginning to crack and splinter before the knight leaped back.
*BOOM
Raiden slammed into the ground with an audible thud, the floor buckling beneath him, immediately launching into another assault without giving the Celt a moment of reprieve. Knowing fully well that he had to remain unpredictable and unorthodox if he wanted to win this fight, any fairness would cost the Liberian his life.
The samurai lowered his blade to his right, feeling its grip hum as both armored hands held the device in place, its point searing through the floor like nothing as cracks burned through the material. As Arthur slid to a stop, Jack blasted forward, sparks flying as his weapon carved through solid wood as though it were water, embers landing along the carpeted flooring and decorative seats coating the room as they began to sizzle.
The air screeched as all traces of moisture vaporized on impact, their steam surrounding the sword in a mist of red aura. Raiden clenched his arms, arching his blade as it cleaved into the air. Saber winced; she had no time to dodge, barely even able to react, raising her blade high as its heavenly glow contrasted with the hellish light from below before slamming down.
*CLANG
The samurai forced more power into his systems as he swung, his augmented components rotating along with the motion, the strike slamming into Saber's unwavering blade. The knight's teeth gritted as the heat burned through her armored gauntlets, her boots slowly digging back before giving out entirely.
Raiden swung high, launching his foe into the air as she uncontrollably spun through the skies, rocketing toward the ceiling without any control. The floor lurched as the Liberian launched off in pursuit as static crackled along his form.
Prana surged as Arthur flowed with the momentum, lurching back as she arched her spin, landing along the ceiling with the grace of a dancer as her steel-plated soles dug into the surface. As her foe drew near, the knight lowered her stance, exhaling a white stream as her prophesized sword reflected its angelic glow.
She briefly gazed at her opponent as she studied his form, sloppy, as though he were a child swinging a stick, albeit with a strength the Briton couldn't fathom, not that it mattered; the madman simply didn't know how to properly wield it. As energy surged through the Celt, her green eyes flashed to life, amateur.
Like a bolt of lightning, she burst toward her foe; Raiden lunged back, blasting into a spin as his red blade became a swirling vortex of death, the pair on a destined collision course. Time slowed as Arthur adjusted her form; Excalibur flashed to her left as she swung, meeting Jack's sword as hers drifted along its edge, refusing to grant him the advantage of his strength.
An array of colorful sparks flew as her blade drifted along its opponent's edge, breaking through the man's haphazard assault with nearly no effort. As Arthur's form blurred behind the man, she spun; following her momentum, she swung with everything she had toward his exposed spine, threatening to end this in a single strike.
*ZZZZT
Saber's green eyes widened, seeing a trail of lightning dancing along the man's form as she remained in midswing, the energy growing more intense by the second before-
*FlASH
Electricity exploded off the ninja in a torrent of energy, becoming a veritable beacon of light in the sky. As static roared through Arthur's nerves, she screamed in agony, her arms spasmed, her blade missing its target, slamming into the Liberian's arm as he rushed into action.
Raiden winced as layers of armor and circuitry were ripped from him, his wrists bent unnaturally as Murasama's crackling red point flashed before his eyes, angling downward. His systems scanned their surroundings, pinpointing Arthur's exact position, comparing it with his schematics...no time to hesitate...in an instant, he struck.
*CRACK
...
...
The sound of rushing electricity broke the silence as Saber remained midair, as time flowed at a snail's pace, her form shaking in pain as she forced herself to glance down as a look of dread crossed her face. "Y-You..."
Impaled through the cyborg's own metallic chassis, slammed all the way through was his sword, its gleaming point breaking through Saber's armor as it stabbed into her stomach. Static remnants zipped through the man's white hair as he suppressed a wince, yanking his sword out as a trail of synthetic blood leaked from his wounds.
Time roared back into place as Saber bleched up a trail of blood, falling to the floor below as a trail of red followed in her wake. The knight forced her damaged body to act, slamming into the stage, using the point of her sword to brunt the impact as she kneeled, her armor clinking with the motion.
The Briton dragged a gauntlet across her stomach, wincing as she lightly put pressure on the wound, pulling back to see a splatter of blood dripping down her fingers, trailing toward the floor. She watched as Jack slammed into the floor with an audible thud.
Arthur hissed in pain as she slowly stood, leaning atop her holy sword as she watched the man stand tall, utterly ignorant of the concept of pain; internal circuitry clicked and whirled, exposed within the hole pierced into his torso.
Raiden slowly raised his left hand, his blackened armor little more than steaming chunks of slag falling to the wayside as they clattered along the floor; his components sparked as he issued mental commands to the limb, running diagnostics as he tried to clench a fist. His fingers briefly spasmed, twitching in random directions before closing shut, a signal delay, shit.
"You-Just what are you?"
His red eyes flashed upward, studying Saber as she slowly rose to her feet, her sword gripped as a trail of blood ran down her ornate battle dress, staining the steel plates in a layer of red. His gaze briefly drifted to the side, seeing a batch of smoldering embers begin to catch fire around the theatre, not that it mattered. The warrior chuckled, "something you probably don't know about cyborgs-"
The veteran lazily threw Murasama into the air, its red waves following its wake as it succumbed to the forces of gravity; as it slowly fell, the cyborg lurched back, his talons slamming upward as they clasped his inherited blade within their grip. A fresh wave of blackened miasma erupted from his form as electricity began to build along his talons, the ground vibrating as untold voltage swam through it- "A few broken limbs won't stop us."
As the cyborg blurred into nothingness, Arthur slowly exhaled as she pushed the pain out of her mind, watching as the Berserker flashed toward her in a veil of lightning. The man spun on his metallic heel, his right leg raised, kicking back before lashing out; Murasama flashed upward as it burned through the air itself.
The King flowed with the motion; her golden blade flashed upward, drifting along the demonic sword's edge as sparks reigned, using the man's strength against him, knocking the cyborg's attack into the sky. Raiden burst into action, flashing into motion.
The samurai's metallic knees bent as he blasted off the floor, tucking into a ball as he rotated backward in a burst of prana; Murasama tore through the floor before lifting off along with its rightful owner. Jack lurched to the side, his entire form spinning as his talons lashed out in a devastating crescent kick from above, bearing down on the knight as its red waves reflected off her golden hair.
As the strike bore down on the Celt, she remained utterly motionless; the cyborg's mind raced as questions arose, why wasn't she-
Time slowed as Saber's green eyes flashed as the man's leg arched overhead, waiting for just the right moment to strike, finally understanding his bizarre means of combat. The Briton's grip twisted as she adjusted her stance, sliding a boot back, gaining traction as her blade lowered. As his demonic blade loomed just overhead, time slowed as she burst into action. Excalibur flashed into the air as its foe began to arch downward, rocketing through the gap in Berserker's defense as she roared in righteous fury.
*CLANG
Raiden's eyes widened in shock as the Celt cleaved through his talons, the force blasting Murasama out of his grasp; the red blade flew through the room, embedding itself into a distant wall as he began to fall back. A voice caught his attention as gravity pulled him downward, "I may lack an understanding of what you are, Jack-"
The Celt leaped into the air, hovering above the warrior like an angel from the heavens above, her blade glowing in triumph as she raised it overhead. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, "just as you lack an understanding of how to properly wield a blade."
*Bump-Bump
Superheated steam escaped the cyborg's metallic jaw as her legendary sword bore down on him, was this it? Did he fail?
*Bump-Bump
Thoughts raced through his mind, wondering how it all came to this; he didn't know about magic; he wasn't some legendary figure, but here the man stood, trying to do what was right, to stop an evil wish for the sake of the world, just like he always had... No, that's not why.
*Bump-Bump
Raiden was selfish; he fought for his own reasons; the cyborg knew this; there wasn't some selfless motivation behind wanting to stop Arthur, some heroic narrative to tell. Her wish threatened his family, the people he cared about, but it was more than that.
*Bump-Bump
Jack knew how harsh reality could be; his childhood was a hell no human being should ever go through, the Lost Boys may have lost their names, but he would never forget the hopeless look in their eyes every single day...The same listless stare he saw in that Sakura every time they spoke.
It started as empathy, knowing what it was like to live in fear, never knowing what your Master had in store for you; he just didn't want another Ripper in this world, one was enough, but things had changed. On some level along the way, the Liberian started to care about her, the job always told him to stay distant, but he wore his heart on his sleeve...what would happen to her if he failed?
*Bump-Bump
Would the Zouken keep abusing her? With her uncle gone, who would help the girl survive in that hellish house? A jolt of lightning ran down his form as his eyes burned, their hidden components exposed as the lens glared red. It clicked at once; she would have no one, just like him, clinging to anyone that showed even the slightest bit of affection, never understanding if they were manipulating her.
Arthur's blade drew near, its immaculate form overshadowing his entire field of vision as it lay inches from his face. Raiden didn't fear death; the ninja knew someday, somehow, he would die on a battlefield, dumped in some back alley, some ditch, only to rust and be forgotten; that didn't bother him; he wanted this life, but that girl?
She didn't need this life, the poor kid just wanted to be with her sister, and yet the Matous tried to enslave her to their whims, make her a loyal soldier, and nothing else...unless he acted.
*Bump-Bump
The pyre burning within began to grow as energy surged through his systems, his mechanical components overloading as sparks crackled along his damaged form. Raiden's legs rotated into place, bending as he rocketed toward the ground, tearing the floor apart as he raised both arms, elbows bent, his palms wide open.
*CLANG
As Excalibur came crashing down, the samurai's hands slammed together, catching the blade between his metallic digits; the warrior grit his teeth as divine energy burned through his armor, frying his components as Arthur funneled more and more prana into her strike. His synthetic blood sizzled and boiled as he refused to give any ground, growling in fury as his grip tightened.
His biomechanical muscles tightened as the veteran pulled up, dragging Saber into the air as she refused to release her destined sword. Static crackled as Raiden slowly spun on his heels, gaining speed by the second as he blurred into nothingness.
The room uncontrollably spun about, appearing as little more than a dizzying whirl as the warrior refused to stop, raising the blade overhead as Arthur helplessly dangled from the side, slamming her boots across his face to no avail. As his reach hit its peak the ninja's grip rocketed downward, slamming Saber back first into the floor as electricity exploded across her system.
Raiden growled in anger, raising her up, slamming her across the ground again and again and again, each impact cracking the stage as the nearby embers began to roar into an inferno, reflecting the animal-like Berserker's means of combat. Arthur's will remained steadfast, but her strength dwindled, her hold slowly failing as her hands slid along the grip of her blade, trailing downward.
Jack dug his heels deep, stopping his spin in its tracks as the samurai's right hand tightened its hold, gripping the entire sword as it pulled downward, dragging Arthur with it as his damaged hand lunged back. His metallic jaw clicked as it opened and closed on its own, his red eyes burning a hole into his opponent's very soul. Raiden's damaged hand twitched and spasmed, its digits going wild before being overwhelmed with a blast of red mist engulfing his form, clenching into a fist through sheer force of will.
Arthur's eyes widened as static erupted along the man's arm, the metal armor glowing as it overheated from untold pressure. The Celt gasped as she felt the sheer madness emanating from the man, like a demon brought into the human world.
*BOOM
In an instant, he blasted off, his fist slamming into Arthur's face as her nose broke on impact, cartilage turning to dust as blood splattered. Her grip gave way as the force rocketed the Celt away, bouncing along the floor, her magical armor clicking with each collision before sliding to a stop.
As the Briton lay there, facing the ceiling as blood pooled down her pale face, her mind wobbled as she struggled to see, everything appearing as little more than a blur. Arthur coughed as she forced herself to her knees, her entire form shaking as red droplets splattered along the floor.
As the knight tried to take a breath, she winced in pain, raising a finger to her nose, the touch sparking a fresh wave of agony, utterly broken. She paused as her mind raced; if her hands were free, where was-"
The world settled into place in an instant as the Celt forced herself to act, her gaze flashing toward her foe. His body was utterly damaged, components leaking artificial fluids and sparks crackling off his blackened form...but there he stood. Jack's head faced down, his white hair spinning freely as the theatre behind him caught fire, burning away before her very eyes.
The cyborg huffed in frustration, the synthetic nerves in his hands scorching, almost torn all the way through. He raised a hand as his gaze flashed up, gripping Excalibur by its edge, its form still burning him despite losing its owner's grasp.
Raiden slowly trudged forward, each step reverberating across the halls, interspersed with the roar of the growing fire as the embers slowly traveled along the floor of the building, finding new kindling with each inch taken. He stared at Arthur as she slowly rose to her feet; his grip loosened as his hand traveled down the length of the sword, catching the tool of war by its point as his raspy voice broke out. "That's the difference between us. To me, anything's a weapon; I adapt, I change, while you're just one trick horse, talking about prophecy and what needs to be done-"
The samurai spared the sword no glance, launching it over his shoulder as it embedded itself near the Grail, its hilt facing the sky as its edge reflected the glow overhead. Years of experience flowed through him as the warrior adjusted his stance, taking an all too familiar pose inherited from the man he admired more than anyone else. His left arm extended as his right fell back, his knees lightly bent as she slowly exhaled his emotions. As his eyes flashed a calm blue, he spoke, "let's see what you are without that sword...King Arthur."
Saber Phase Two: The Only Thing I Know For Real [Instrumental]
The knight swiped a gauntlet across her pale face, wiping a streak of blood away as she forced herself to stand; the only goal driving her forward was the deep desire to aid her people one last time. She studied her foe's stance as his aura shifted, no longer a chaotic maelstrom but a calm wind...how? Such a radical divergence in mere moments, it made little sense.
His stance sent warning signals throughout the knight's mind, she had little in the way of training in hand-to-hand combat, but everything within the Celt knew what needed to be done, the best course of action always within her mind. Her gaze flashed toward her sword, observings its ornate golden hilt interlaced with blue plating; if only she could reach it, Berserker would fall; he stood little chance against her in a duel of blades.
His trickery had only delayed his inevitable downfall, she was learning his tactics by the moment, and without his sword, the man seemed helpless, but his stance troubled the King. She had received some training in the methods of unarmed combat, but the way the Berserker held himself in absolute serenity...it concerned her; just who was Jack the Ripper? The system only told her so much. The Briton pushed the thought aside, knowing it was a tangent she may never fully understand.
The fire roared across the theatre, its smoke billowing upwards as the orange glow contrasted with the summoned warriors as roaring embers drifted between the two. In a surge of mana, Arthur's armor repaired itself, a fresh layer of steel stretching and contorting over the hole as though it had never been penetrated at all. The knight's brow furrowed at the sight; if she were at her true potential, such a strike would fail to even graze her, no matter, for she would overcome this adversity as she had always done before.
*CRACK
Raiden's systems flashed online as the Celt took off, her boots puncturing the floor with each step as she rocketed toward the warrior. The cyborg popped his shoulders in anticipation, the metal audibly clinking with the motion, a sense of calm spreading throughout his form as his counterpart observed from within the confines of their shared mind.
The samurai was in his element; every fight had always been on his enemy's terms, having to adjust to their advantages, using sheer ingenuity to come out on top again and again, but here? A grin grew along his pale face; he was made for this kind of combat, molded, and trained for this kind of life; his skills honed to perfection in an attempt to create another Solid Snake.
As Saber raced toward him, time slowed as decades of combat roared through him, his mind able to predict any move long before she could commit to it, something beyond even his cybernetics, only acquired through raw experience, like a sixth sense, only known to his kind. He might not be one of the sons of Big Boss, but he was a Snake all the same.
Images flashed through his mind as he traced Arthur's movements, afterimages, and predictions burning to existence through his augmented systems, formulated by sheer instinct. She leaned to her right, each step having more pressure than the left, her focus rest not on him but to the side, aimed at her sword.
Arthur would wait until the last moment, raising her twitching hands in a faint before planting her boots, launching off the ground, using her right to add an angle to her momentum, likely an attempt to catch him off guard, spinning as she soared overhead, to land right near her sword. His eyes flashed in understanding, end things here and now, and it would never be game over.
The pyre burning within roared to life as energy crashed through his systems, re-energizing the cyborg as power funneled into his legs, a torrent of lightning blasting off them, tearing cracks through the ground itself. Some part of him saw the irony of all this, constantly prattling on about how he accepted the past. Still, here the soldier was, protecting the memories of his loved ones so that they could be remembered by him and by history...an image of his father flashed to mind before vanishing as he took off at untold speeds.
*BOOM
As Arthur slammed her boots into the ground, the cyborg flashed out of sight, his body little more than a bolt of lightning before reappearing as she took off from the floor. Raiden flowed with the motion; his left arm shot up, his metallic grip clenching her shoulder as bones audibly snapped, his right wrapping behind her torso as he spun with the momentum.
Jack's shoulders clenched as he raised the Celt high, rocketing downward as he slammed her into the stage back first, the ground exploding on impact. The King could hardly react before the cyborg dropped his entire weight knee first onto her stomach, the supports below audibly breaking and buckling as several tons of force crashed onto them.
Saber screamed in agony as her ribs broke apart on impact, coughing a splatter of blood into the Liberian's face as he stared down at her without a care in the world. Raiden's jaw clicked open as his eyes burned a deep red, his raspy voice bringing a sense of terror even to the war-weary knight below. "Take away the sword, and what are you?-" Before Saber could even respond, the samurai raised his left arm, his broken components twitching uncontrollably before slamming down
*BOOM
Blood splattered as several tons of force crashed onto the Celt's exposed skin, bruising her immaculate form as the man continued, the red miasma surrounding him growing denser by the moment. She struggled beneath his form to no avail as he slowly raised his right. "Always ranting about your duty, never stopping to say a word of your own-"
*BOOM
The Berserker growled in untold rage as he stared down at the King, every fiber of his being despising her very existence. Her face slowly bruised as her twitching green eyes stared up at him; how many people had she stared down from above, calling their deaths a 'necessary sacrifice'? How often had she said 'for the greater good?'. How many hundreds of people died for her lies, just for their living hell to be called honorable? "You're just a typical tyrant, just like all the rest, and I'm so fucking tired of it all; nothing is different about your kind; everything you do is just some lie to stoke your own ego."
The Liberian laughed, a maddened cackle reverberating across the burning halls as the ceiling began to cave in, chunks of burning debris crashing onto the seats below. "And to think, I thought you were different, Arthur, that you were better than them."
As Saber tried to funnel prana into her limbs to force the man off, Raiden slammed more pressure into her as she broke into another coughing fit, and yet she persisted, refusing to give in and lose her one chance at redemption for her failures. "I...I could claim such things of you, Jack...I was grateful to meet someone who may truly understand my plight, a person who finally treated me as an equal in these times...and yet you refuse to face me on proper terms...you're...-"
Blood began leaking from the Celt's broken nose as her body shook beneath the untold pressure from above, with the cyborg refusing to give in for even a moment, mercy entirely out of the equation. "a deceptive...manipulative... conniving scoundrel...incapable of waging a just war, always cheating your foes for the sake of victory...slaughtering any who dare question your way of life...and you still find the gall to question my motivations? To call my deads wrong?"
Saber's green eyes burned into the man as she stared into his maddened gaze, seeing past the veil of smog and miasma, uncovering the creature beneath. "You're wicked...a monster denied even human flesh...that's all you truly are, isn't it?"
A moment of silence passed as the Liberian lowered his head, his bangs covering his eyes, remaining utterly still as he took in her words before speaking, Jack reached his right hand back as a yellow light flashed in his palm, an elongated object bursting to life in his grip. "You're right...-"
A manic grin grew along the veteran's face as his gaze flashed toward Arthur, no hint of kindness nor humanity left within him. His raspy, dry voice, interlaced with the growing cloud of red mist as though he were a demon in the human realm, broke out, driving a sense of terror into even her. "I am."
He lunged
*CRUNCH
*Stop Music
Artoria's form shook as a strange sensation overcame her, a dreadful cold breaking into a shiver as her green eyes slowly drifted down. She gasped as she saw a strange blade piercing through...no...phasing through her armor as though it wasn't there...just like Lancer...
The knight gulped before coughing another spew of blood, trailing down her armor and toward the floor, her focus remaining on the blade. The fire's glow reflected off its strange grey form, highlighting the ornate white lining around its edge, trailing upward towards a simple bronze hilt with a blackened leather grip. What was i-
"You know, I don't like using this sword...he deserves to rest after all he's been through...but for you?"
Waves of agony tore through the Briton as the sword moved by mere centimeters, carved straight through her heart and out the back of her armor without so much as a dent in its plating. She gazed up, meeting the madman's stare as he pressed on, "I'll make an exception."
Arthur's mind raced as each word settled in; who was Jack talking about? What did it all mean? Her breath hitched as she tried to move, only for the weapon to dig deeper into her as the knight's body refused to cooperate.
An overwhelming dread settled into the Celt as she stared up at the man, her gaze forcibly shifting to her sword, utterly out of reach; it couldn't end like this...not at his hands...she was better than him...how could it come to this?
The Briton's prana began to dwindle as she grew weaker by the second, the sword giving off a strange sensation within her chest, gently vibrating, making the pain subside as though it was aware of itself, trying to reassure her.
Raiden slowly stood, no longer seeing the point in making the woman suffer anymore; this was over; there was no dignified ending to all this, just one person using any means necessary to kill another, her first and last taste of what modern warfare truly was...another hell where all sense of self fades away, where survival is the only thing that matters.
Deep down, Jack knew that she would have won in a real duel, like his face-off against Rider, but he was beyond playing fair. He didn't need to know what her phantasm was; the cyborg just needed her dead...but on some level, he couldn't help but pity the King, never having a life of her own, a slave to her position.
She might have made a choice to take up that sword, but she was a reflection of her upbringing. Did anyone ever tell Arthur she could say otherwise? Was she raised in violence like him? Taught only to follow a set of orders...him a soldier...and her a King?...it was sad in a way.
A purple flame erupted across the Celt as Raiden stood above her, the waves of blackened smoke and red mist disappearing entirely as the world burned behind him. The man sighed as he stared down at her, seeing emotions running high, knowing she had lost her only chance of what she called redemption; even if it wasn't true, the man knew that feeling all too well, fighting for causes, you don't understand.
Saber remained utterly silent as she stared up at him, a mixture of sadness and contempt across her features as she began to disappear. His blue eyes flashed in understanding, "Arthur...for what it's worth...I hope you find happiness someday."
As the world faded away, the Celt could only stare in contempt at the man above, not understanding a thing about him; one moment, he was cruel; the next, he was almost caring it made no sense...Arthur lightly grunted in frustration; damn it all, she wanted that wish more than that maniac could ever comprehend...Was honor truly a weakness? Did it not hold sway in this modern world?
...
...
The world went white as Arthur lay there, awaiting her inevitable return to the place of her demise. So many hopes and dreams rested on her shoulders, and yet the Briton failed her people once more...what kind of King was she?!
A deep sadness brewed within the Celt as she lay there, her eyes closed, and yet they burned in grief as she allowed herself to expose her emotions, tears running down her pale skin as she pondered her struggles.
Out of all the peoples of Britain, why did she rule? Was there not someone more fit, a warrior who could lead...why her?... What would their lands look like were it not for her guiding hand...what would she do if not burdened with ruling a kingdom?
Arthur's thoughts paused as the question burned away at her, what would she do without the sword? What kind of life would she lead? Would it be filled with joy or sadness? The King simply didn't know; she had spent so long fulfilling her duties, distancing herself to remain just...it never-
"Have you ever taken the crown off to see what lies beneath?"
Arthur's eyes shot open, staring up at a cloudy sky as a deep, dry voice spoke out; she tried to move her form, only to pause, feeling the gentle flick of grass along her armored hands. She glanced down as her finger trailed along the ground, her gaze narrowing as she observed the plants below...gray.
She slowly turned, her mind settling as she realized the pain had disappeared, as though it had never existed. She traced the voice to its origin, seeing fields of the same gray material stretching into the distance as far as the eye could see. It was as though she sat in a world of metal...and yet...a cold wind billowed across her form, her blonde hair flowing with the breeze; it felt serene.
A sound caught her focus as though someone had adjusted themselves, turning to see a man, unlike anything she had ever seen before. He sat, leaning against his knees, his hands clasped over them as he gazed off into the distance toward the setting sun. He wore a strange suit lined with intricate circuitry, blackened plating interspersed with golden lines, his darkened fingers surrounded by a silver-lined set of gauntlets on each arm. The knight paused as she studied his face, or lack thereof, seeing a white helmet, almost as though it were made of ceramic, with a singular red eye in the center, glowing as it studied its surroundings.
As reality rushed into place, the Briton tried to stand, only for the man to raise a hand; his palm open in a calming gesture as his gaze remained transfixed in the distance. "I do not wish to fight you, Arthur; those days are gone; my time has passed."
The mighty King held her stance as she observed the man for any deceit, his appearance all too similar to Jack's for her liking. Her green eyes squinted as the sun glared down from above, casting a shadow over the man's unmoving form. "Who are you?..." She idly turned, facing off into the distance, seeing the same rolling grey hills devoid of any other beings, "where is this place?"
He hummed in thought, his voice echoing from within his strange helmet, reverberating through a set of speakers, adding a synthetic whisk to his tone. "I have no name; my existence is a shadow, obscured behind layers of titles and revision; born on the fields of war; they called me a hunter...a Jaeger, and just as you are a Lion, I am-"
The Celt paused as unknown memories flooded into her mind, flashes of battlefields unlike anything she had ever seen, men armed with modern rifles tearing each other apart before moving on to their next target. A lifetime of conflict flashed before her...places, names, all meshing together into an identity.
Mozambique...the frank nature of a child, the will of a hunter...hearing a name which struck a feeling of awe even in her mind... Big Boss, how she knew it, the Celt couldn't say, but the title alone left a sense of nigh reverence...the perfect soldier... becoming...Null...losing an identity only to regain himself through the man he admired so much...joining his side, earning a title to call his own-
Reality spun into place as she gripped an armored hand; a breeze billowed through her blonde hair as she slowly exhaled a bated breath, "a Fox."
The figure slowly nodded; a moment passed before he reached up, clasping the front of his helmet as its magnetic locks unlatched, before pulling away his mask. He slowly turned to Arthur, his face hardened through a lifetime of conflict, circuitry and metallic components embedded into his pale flesh flashed to life before her gaze, his gray eyes matching his near-white strands of hair flowing down from above. "It's as you say, without my monickers, I do not exist, merely fading into the backdrop of war, just as you struggle to find yourself without your sword..."
The soldier gently patted the ground as his gaze drifted toward the horizon once more, "sit, our time is limited; your corporeal form will disappear soon; there are no threats to face here, merely the utter calm before battle, awaiting a conflict that may never come, always watching, constantly vigilant, the anxieties and fears at their highest, and yet nothing truly changes."
The Briton studied the cybernetic man for a moment, trying to ascertain his intentions, yet, seeing him unarmed and the ease at which he spoke drove a sense of calm to her mind. The knight's mind briefly drifted toward her sword, she checked her person and her surroundings, yet it remained unseen; no matter, she would find it in time. Her armor clinked as she settled down, sitting along the heels of her boots as the man lightly hummed in approval.
A silence brewed as the two rested there, two warriors of equal standing, both laden with regrets, finding a moment of companionship despite knowing each other for but a brief few minutes; such was life on the battlefield. Fox's stare remained devoid of emotion as he spoke in his ever-blunt tone, "I brought you here because I wished to speak with you, Arthur, to warn you of the path you tread-."
The King opened her mouth to intervene, to question where here was, and yet the man continued, oblivious or uncaring for her questions, for the time being, reflecting the name he earned at a young age. "We are within my sword...something I never deemed worth naming, and yet Raiden seems to call it his 'Fox Blade.'" He ruefully chuckled into the distance, "I suppose I can't front him for using it; we are of a similar yoke, after all."
Arthur raised a brow at the name; she had never heard it even mentioned before; who was he talking about? Her mind wandered as she stared up at the clouds, squinting at their dull gray tint as they passed overhead. Was this man...this Fox, the cause of that strange sensation? What magic brought her here, and why did he wish to speak with her? The Celt cleared her throat. "I'm afraid I've never met this...Raiden?"
Frank paused a moment before nodding in understanding, his grey eyes gaining a glint of emotion as he spoke once more, "I'm talking about the man who wields my blade, the Berserker you despise so much."
The knight tilted her head in confusion, not understanding what the man was talking about; she knew her foe's name; the system informed her of that much. "I believe you're confused; his name is Jack...Jack the Ripper..." her brow furrowed as her green eyes narrowed, "a madman incapable of little more than senseless slaughter."
The cyborg ninja briskly raised his hands, holding his mask toward the sun as its rays peered through the lens, shining down on him. "That is one piece of him, yes, but his titles are unlike ours; we may inhabit the names we acquire, but his...they compose his very being-"
Artoria tilted her head in confusion as the man raised his middle and pointer fingers, placing the pair side by side as the sun glared behind them. "the original's mind shattered and reformed, with two new...very different halves composing a whole; his life is an existence unlike any other...tell me, what have you thought of him each time you spoke...from the beginning...to the end."
The dirt audibly crunched as Arthur ran a hand through the material, clenching her fist in frustration as she thought of the man that disgusted her so before taking a calming breath as rationality took hold. Her mind flashed back to those early days in this war, "the first time we spoke...I found him honorable, a rare sign of hope for this modern world, filled with nothing but greed and rampant immorality..."
She thought back to her confrontation with her fellow Kings when she finally took her stand against those who dared question her choices. Memories shifted, flickering toward their second meeting, a brief talk, yet impactful all the same. "his guidance aided me in a moment of need, honestly...-"
The knight let her hands fall to the side, leaning atop them as she gazed off, "I thought of him as an equal, a soldier who understood my plights...I knew from the moment we met... his gaze was hardened by a lifetime of war, just as you or I, yet...despite this...he willingly gave me his words, and treated me as any other...I thought he was kind," she sighed into the air, her breath escaping as a cloud of white steam, "what a misguided fool I was..."
Fox remained silent, contemplatively staring at his helmet, still in hand as she spoke, idly twirling the mask in his hands. He nodded in understanding as it all settled in, "then your views shifted...after today-" as the Celt nodded along, he continued, "You're no fool, Arthur, you just don't understand him...nor do I... but I will tell you this, Raiden has never once lied to you, he spoke nothing but truths whenever you met, he meant every word he said."
She huffed in frustration, confusion running wild as she gritted her teeth, nearly hissing out the words, "then why...why would he help me, knowing we would have to kill one another...it isn't chivalry guiding him, nor some codified principles...I don't understand...why...?"
As the knight vented her frustrations, the man chuckled, a feeling of excitement he hadn't felt in so long, merely enjoying the presence of another person, a kindred spirit. "It's just how he is; Raiden lives by his own morals; he helped you because he wanted to, nothing more, and he killed you for the same reason-"
Before Arthur could interject, the man idly gazed at the sun as it began to set, an orange glow shifting toward the horizon as he watched on as he always had from within the sword, "we're almost out of time."
He turned, facing the Celt as a flash of emotion crossed his face, a flicker of life reflecting a life of pain and suffering. "I won't tell you his story; it isn't mine to speak of, but what you consider his weakness...Jack...his madness, it's exactly that other half that lets him live free, unbound from his chains, to have his own life, not tied to anyone, flowing wherever he chooses."
Fox took a sharp breath as old memories surged to mind, the little girl he loved more than life itself, his worst mistake, and the most incredible blessing to have her in his life. "Raiden's past.. the memes that make up his conscious, they walk by his side in Jack...he learned to accept them because he couldn't bury them any longer...he can't turn away as I did."
Saber winced as memories flooded into her being once more, a name...Rhodesia...she saw flashes of a man and a woman, a gun in her hand, an audible bang...then another...a piercing ring broke out in the knight's ears as her sight shifted, seeing a young girl by a river, emaciated and weak, staring up at her in total blankness with her dull brown eyes as though she merely wanted her suffering to end. A name flooded into her mind, refusing to let go until released into reality, "You had a daughter..."
Fox ruefully sighed as he observed the setting sun, his tone shifting as though the topic had finally covered something of interest, a sign of emotion amidst the barrenness he lived within. "Naomi...She always called me her brother...I never meant to care for her; people of our standing have to remain distant, but-" a pained smile grew across his face as he remembered it all, their life in the West, those brief moments of true peace where they could just be a family. "...I couldn't help but love her."
The man paused as he felt a pressure on his shoulder, his cold gaze drifting to see an armored gauntlet gently gripping him in reassurance as Arthur smiled in agreement. "I understand your struggle; our burden is immense; there came many a time I wished nothing more than for someone to truly understand me, not for the crown I wore, not for the sword I wielded, but...Artoria Pendragon-" She gazed toward the rising moon in the distance, growing more luminous as its stellar rival dwindled, "but what that entails...I cannot say."
"You still have time, Arthur-."
The Celt turned, observing the man as he stared into her, a sense of utter determination flashing within him as a deep fire reignited. "It's not our positions nor our roles that give us meaning; I may have felt alive on the battlefield, but I only felt content when she was by my side-"
Fox slowly lowered his mask, his grip faltering as the device fell to the ground, cast aside as he moved beyond the warzone and into something different, a new mode. As his darkened gloves grazed the gray grass below, he spoke, "I never truly lived a day, always terrified of my past, of Naomi discovering what I had done...I couldn't bare the thought of her hating me...leaving me all alone, but in the end, it was I who abandoned her."
His gaze remained fixed on the Celt as a deep pain burned in his eyes, a lifetime of regret, hating the glory that came with his title, only wishing for rest, only for it to never come. "I kept searching for a battlefield to finally die on, and only when I found it did I realize what I meant to her; that's something I'll never make amends for, and now-"
He raised a hand, the appendage drifting over the barren horizon, "I'm trapped within my own sword, wielded by a man who has everything I never hoped to achieve...just as you're ensnared by a legend you'll never be able to live up to, Arthur."
The man's gaze softened as a gentle purple flame erupted around the Celt, slowly engulfing her by the moment, knowing their time together was coming to a close. He watched as she studied her gauntlets in dissatisfaction, observing the flames as he finished his thoughts. "If you truly care about your people...then it may be best to relish the love they gave to you and live, not for your sword...not for your title...but for you...don't follow my path, it only ends in despair."
The Briton sighed as she stared into the man's pleading gesture, knowing he meant well, but...she slowly lowered her arm from his shoulder, rising to her feet as she stared off into the horizon, a gentle breeze billowing over her luminous form. "I'm afraid it's too late for such change; my mind is set, my mistakes must be undone, the love I hold for my subjects knows no limits, and if they forget my existence...then so be it, I will take that pain...as it is my duty as their King-."
Memories of her life flashed before her, a lifetime of mistakes, never being the friend many needed her to be, and not truly understanding how to handle her "son," Mordred, alongside her sister's incessant scheming. Deep down, she knew someone else could do better and right her wrongs; the least she could do was provide them the opportunity to do such. "We suffer so others need not carry such a burden; it isn't fair; I accept that notion, but what alternative is there? Love requires sacrifice; it's a tragic cruelty of life, and yet I'll receive that responsibility until my role is complete."
Fox slowly gripped his mask, raising the device as it audibly locked in place, its magnetic hold tightening as his voice echoed through its filters. The man behind the facade hidden once more, no longer Frank Jaeger, but a long passed legend renowned for his skill and tragic demise. "You speak of love, and yet you refuse to trust those very people to share your burdens, and that will be your undoing, Arthur-"
Fox turned away, his red sensor flashing to life as his systems came back online, a reflection of the man who wields his blade yet still burdened by his past, unable to move on, even in death. "As Jack always says, the decision is entirely your own; what you do with your life remains your choice, but for your sake...I truly hope you find peace with yourself and the life you lived."
As the world burned into nonexistence, fading back toward that hellish land she called her kingdom, Arthur gazed over toward the man one final time, taking in his features as her mind settled. As she vanished from sight, her voice reverberated across the barren lands, "Then I will fight for the Grail as many times as needed until my wish comes to fruition, to find the peace you speak of..."
...
The world burned as fiery chunks of rubble fell from above, crashing into the theatre and destroying any semblance of finery in this place of merriment and acting. A figure loomed in the flames, ignorant of their burning touch, a crackling grey sword in hand as they remained motionless.
Raiden stood tall as the last vestiges of Saber's existence faded into the wind, a snuffed purple flame and little more. His hand raised, tapping along his communicator as his eyes flashed between a brilliant blue and a ferocious red. Static ran along his armor, trailing up and through his gravity-defying white hair.
His mind settled as his counterpart slowly receded into the depths once more before going utterly silent. Raiden took a slow breath of his own, figuring he would never quite get used to that feeling. He stood there, listening, utterly motionless, before tapping his coms online, utter determination and raw malice interlaced in his dry, raspy tone of voice, "I'll be waiting."
*Click
The cyborg scanned his surroundings as a strange calm overcame his form, utterly ignorant of the destruction surrounding him. Sparks crackled off his damaged body to no avail as he allowed himself a brief respite, staring across the theatre, what was left of it, a smoldering wreck, but none of that mattered.
His gaze drifted toward the object of so much desire, The Holy Grail, its perfect golden material shining like a beacon within the darkness; yellow shimmers surrounded it in a holy light. It almost felt surreal; the War was over; he had won through sheer force of will, never holding back for even a second.
Raiden never claimed to be the strongest, nor did he play the hero; in the eyes of many, he was the villain of this conflict, but such was life; everyone thinks the best of themselves, never for one moment believing they're in the wrong. No matter how much the samurai hated his foes, he would never deny them this right; their thoughts, beliefs, and the things that kept them going were theirs to decide, just as it was his choice to cut them down.
His talons clicked along the shattered floor as he drifted a hand across his torso, wincing as he felt a fresh splatter of synthetic blood leak from his self-inflicted wound, there was no mana left to heal him, but he did what was necessary...that willingness was what let him win in the first place.
The Grail drew closer, its light nearly taking up the veteran's entire field of vision, seeing his blue eyes reflect off the chalice as they flashed in excitement. Desires are a tricky thing; your views are so perverted by your surroundings it's hard to know if you're even living for yourself sometimes...not wanting to disappoint someone, having to meet some arbitrary criteria like wealth and power...whatever you call it, those things hold you down, making anyone stupid enough to fall for their temptation just another cog in the machine.
He contemplated its surface in resolute thought; this thing could grant any wish; he could ask for world peace, end the cycle of hatred, erase things even beyond zero, create a future where his son could live free, without fear...but what was the point?
His damaged left hand spasmed as it clenched into a fist, violently shaking as it tried to resist his will to no avail. There was no point in any of it; the Patriots wanted a world where AI dictated the limits of war to prevent utter annihilation...no human factor, merely proxies dictating the state of affairs, manipulating people...just like they did to him, all those years ago at the Big Shell.
Jack gritted his teeth as he pushed the thoughts out of his mind; there was no point in peace if it wasn't genuine, there needed to be a human hand in it to keep the strong in check; only then would pointless wars come to an end... destroying free will would just be a lie, and it was something the Liberian could never allow.
He slowly unclenched his fist as his sensors studied the object ahead, getting little more than errors...unknown energy source...dna sequence detected; Raiden briefly tilted his head at the pop-up; how could it-"
The warrior stopped himself, pushing the question away; there was no way to get answers anyways, not that it mattered; the killer slowly reached out, his palm open, its blackened material surrounding the Grail's base, ready to clasp it in an instant...he just needed to bring this thing to Kariya, and it would all be ove-
*DING
The cyborg's enhanced eyes flashed to the side, peering through the layers of ashen debris and burning wreckage, watching as trails of flames traveled along the intricate drapes lining the sides of the chamber. His sensors flared, detecting two pairs of footsteps, one trailing directly behind the other...too close. As he gripped his blade in anticipation, the entranceway, coated in layers of grime and soot, burst open.
*BOOM
A pair of boots clicked along the floor, followed by the sound of dragging feet, the latter seeming forced. Raiden stared in acute awareness, his instincts driven by a life of war guiding him forward; two options remained. The Servants were dead; the only threats left were that priest, or Saber's-
"...Jack"
The warrior's breath hitched as his "Master" appeared through the smog, his pale skin coated in dry layers of his own blood, the creatures beneath the surface freely swimming about as he gasped in pain. His gaze flickered toward the side as a metallic object pressed against the Matou's temple as a tan hand, concealed by a darkened sleeve wrapped around his neck in a vice grip; a voice, devoid of any feeling, rang out from the shadows, "so, you've died, haven't you...Saber?"
As the magus stumbled forward, a figure emerged from the darkness, his dark eyes stared ahead, meeting the cyborg's gaze without any sense of fear or hesitance, as though he still maintained a sense of control. Burning embers danced across his tan skin, flickering over his blackened hair. His dark trenchcoat fluttered in an unseen breeze as his grip over the Matou tightened, his form contrasting with the luminous glow of the burning building, threatening to give way at any moment as the supports began to buckle.
Static crackled along the Liberian's form as his grip over Fox's blade tightened. His eyes flashed to life as energy surged through his systems; he never should have left Kariya alone; that was a mistake, and look where it got them; he began to step forward, "you son of a bitch-"
*Flick
The warrior paused as the figure flipped the hammer along his pistol; the veteran stared at the weapon in both hesitance and confusion. Its seemingly flintlock-style appearance was deceptive with its elongated barrel and blocky wooden grip, but he knew better, that gun, he saw it time and again in Liberia as a kid, along with all sorts of scavenged American equipment. A Thompson Contender, single shot, capable of using different kinds of ammunition, effective if you had the skill, but why was a mage using one?
As the pressure tightened, the magus lurched, spewing a fresh trail of blood interlaced with writhing crescent worms as they crawled along the flood. Raiden remained still as the unknown figure spoke with complete authority, "You will follow everything I say, or your Master will die."
Kariya's arms shot up, pulling at the man's grip, loosening it as his veins bulged from stress; the magus took a sharp breath, his voice escaping as dry and shrill, "Don't...-" only for the barrel to drive that much deeper into his skin.
The figure stared at the cyborg, studying the environment in caution as he remained utterly still, using the soldier's "Master" as a human shield. Raiden gritted teeth; whoever this was, he had experience, not within the realm of magic, but something more like his way of life. It reflected in the way he spoke, short and direct, always maintaining a sense of control over the battlefield...there was no easy way out of this.
As the fires crackled on, the mysterious magus stared at the Grail for the briefest of moments, a strange look crossing his face, something between grief and somber understanding before vanishing entirely. "Lower your arm, slowly."
The killer's mind ran wild, he was fast, and bullets wouldn't hurt him, but even he couldn't reach Kariya in time if the man fired, not with how low his prana was anyways, and even then, it would be a maybe. There were a million ways this could go; his counterpart screamed at him to lunge; the Matou was going to die soon anyways; they could kill them both, take the Grail and end this...
Raiden shook the thought away, pushing Jack's idea to the wayside; he was better than that; it didn't matter if it was logical; Jack didn't understand bonds as he did, Raiden cared about his friends, and he'd find a way out of this. As the cybernetic warrior slowly pulled his hand away, a jolt of lightning sparked off his palm, colliding with the object for a brief moment.
As his arm came to a rest at his side, the samurai paused as a strange feeling overcame him, that brief contact...it felt...weird like something wasn't quite right, the mercenary couldn't quite describe it...as though someone was watching him in those seconds before disappearing like it never happened...
His white hair jostled about as he shook his head, disregarding the thought; nothing about magic was normal; why would the Grail be any different? He stared at the assailant as the man kept watch; he had bigger fish to fry anyway. The soldier tilted his head toward the Grail as he spoke, "After everything, do you really think I'm just going to give you this thing?"
The magus clicked his tongue, adjusting his stance as his trench coat fluttered in the movement as burning embers danced across his form. "No...I wouldn't expect someone like you to do that; I've been watching you for some time, Jack the Ripper."
Raiden stood still as his mind processed the statement, confusion running high; he didn't know this man or his intentions; Saber never even spoke of him. He was as much of an enigma as the cyborg, but still...it made no sense. "Excuse me?"
As the man pushed the Matou forward, he followed, his gun never retracting for even a moment as he remained perfectly behind the cyborg's Master. "I presumed you to be an animal, a nonthreat with an inexperienced Master, but I was wrong...-"
His black eyes lit up as he studied the cyborg as trails of electricity ran down his metallic chassis. "I watched you kill Caster for little reason other than protecting the innocent; if any of the Servants were to listen, it would be you."
The Liberian chuckled at the obscenity of it all, waving a hand at the burning destruction surrounding them in disbelief as the Grail illuminated his blackened armor, "you're holding my friend at gunpoint, and you think I'll just...chat with you?" he sighed, knowing there wasn't much choice in the matter, to begin with, "What do you want?"
A stiff breeze billowed from outside as the doors remained open, a trail of smoke wafting from the theatre and onto the streets below. The magus's stare remained unmoving, utterly focused on the Servant before him before flashing to life once more in determination, "We've all been misinformed... about the war...the Grail...everything, it's all a lie."
Raiden's eyes narrowed as his blue orbs glowed against the flames, utterly ignoring the structural instability as he held firm. "And you waited until your Servant was dead to pull this card?" his damaged hand twitched as he grinned in incredulity, "Alright, I'll bite; what exactly are you talking about?"
The magus loosened his hold just enough to let his hostage take a breath; the Matou shook in mild relief as oxygen filled his system once more. Whether it was a sign of good faith, or something else, the Liberian couldn't say. The mysterious man spoke once more, his voice coming off as dry, something the killer only heard from lifetime smokers like Snake. "The Grail itself...it's...tainted; whatever you plan to wish for, nothing is waiting for you but devastation."
A spark ran along the Fox Blade as the man spoke; it all seemed too suspicious; why would he wait until the last second to bring something like this up? Whoever this was, he had experience in their field of work, giving only what was necessary, nothing else. "Tainted?...Really?...You waltz in here, don't even give me a name to work with, and just expect me to believe you?"
A moment passed as the figure remained silent, either choosing his words or deciding on his next course of action; the cyborg stood ready for anything, they had come so far, and it wasn't going to end here. The only sound erupting across the chamber was the ever-growing flames spreading by the moment until the man spoke, "...Kiritsugu... Emiya...I don't need to know yours, nor do I care; far too much is riding on this for pedantic comments; you'll do as I say and nothing more."
Jack raised a brow; the name meant nothing to him, but every word spoken, or lack thereof, drove his theory home time and again; they walked a similar line of life. They came from a world of deception and bloodshed, his usual tricks wouldn't work, and his options were already limited. "Straight to the point, huh? Fine, what do you want?"
The magus slowly nodded, his gaze fixating on the object of this war's desires, his blackened pupils absorbing the gentle glow emanating from the device. "Whatever happened to the Grail is unnatural; its original purpose has been corrupted, manipulated into something evil by an otherwordly force; you need to destroy i-"
"No!"
As the man spoke, his eyes widened as the beleaguered Matou violently shook in his grasp, using sheer force of will to free himself to speak. His arms shook as he resisted with everything he had as fresh streams of blood erupted from his skin as veins burst open. Kariya's head shot up, his bleach white hair flowing as his sole functioning iris stared directly at his summon, "Jack...look at me-"
The magus gritted his teeth as he fought in his assailant's grasp, the man unwilling to shoot, knowing it would cost his only leverage. The Matou's skin bulged and stretched as the worms ate him alive, tearing into his flesh, dwindling his time left even further, "I was a coward...never able to stand up to my father...always running...never able to fight for anything or anyone...our family is cursed because of that man, and I joined this war to spare Sakura that burden...and then you showed up..."
The cyborg stood in silent shock as the magus fought on, staring at him with untold ferocity, his body unwilling to give out until his last breath. "I told you from the day we met that I was ready to die for her...and I meant it...that girl means everything to me...but you showed me something...-"
Even as the gun drove into his temple, the magus spoke through his gritted teeth as the pain from within became unbearable, "...That day, when we killed Caster, you trusted me...taught me what it was like to believe in someone else..." he gently smiled at the thought of it all, "It felt like nothing could stop us...you even made my niece smile, I never thought I'd see it again...but for the first time in months...she seemed happy..."
A strange calm overcame the former Master as the world clicked together, knowing what had to be done. His tone shifted, no longer weak nor frenzied, his voice escaping in a state of complete understanding, "It can't end here, Jack; we both know that-"
Raiden stood, his blue eyes wide open in shock as he stared at the magus in utter confusion; he took a slow step forward, his boots lying mere inches from the roaring blaze from below, "what the hell are you talking about?"
Kariya slowly chucked at the man, and even as his assailant regained control, he ignored the man's demands for silence; it didn't matter anymore; he would speak his mind; the world owed him that much, and if not, he'd take it, just like his summon taught him. "Don't play dumb...we both knew it would come to this eventually...either way, I'm finished, the worms won't stop until everything's gone...won't stop hurting...-
The man's sole black eye shifted toward Liberian's sword as energized static danced along its edge, "there's only one way out of this...to stop my father from ruining her life...like he destroyed mine...Jack...do it."
The cyborg traced his friend's gaze as a sense of somber understanding overcame him; his stance shifted as he stared toward the floor, his white bangs shadowing over his eyes as his grip grew tighter. "Are you sure?"
The Matou slowly closed his eyes, his smile never leaving for even a moment, the world dispersing, leaving just him and the man he was never meant to meet, the ally who taught him so much...some part of him wished they had more time, but life was never fair to him, might as well make it better for the girl he considered his daughter, to prevent her from suffering as he did. "You once told me to have faith...now I'm asking you to trust me...I'm ready...do it."
Raiden ignored the mysterious assailant's threats as his focus remained on the only man he truly considered his ally in this war. His right boot flashed back as lightning roared through him, tearing the floor apart as his arm raised high, and his shoulder lurched back as energy poured out. His systems aligned as his gaze flashed up, taking in the image of his friend; this was his decision, culminating in this very moment, with everything on the line; he would honor that; the samurai owed the Matou that much. As the warrior threw, he could only mutter, "I understand."
...
...
*BOOM
The cyborg watched on as his blade spun through the air, its silver coating blurring the device into a whirling wheel of HF steel. It all flowed through him at once, the day the two met; it's funny, he almost seemed fond of those early days now; he came from a time of technological advancement and political authoritarianism, unlike anything most could comprehend but never fathomed it was like this.
The wind swirled around the Foxblade as it gained momentum, arching its course as it roared toward its targets. The killer thought he had everything figured out, ready to fight his own war against the world system that allowed men like Armstrong to rise the ranks, only to get blasted into a world of magic and nobility; if anything, it almost helped make sense of some of the stranger things in his life, but that was beside the point.
Lightning burst off the sword's vibrating edge as it annihilated any burning particles in its way, cleaving a path straight through the ashen debris. Everything the man saw just made him angry; it wasn't just the Grail...no, these wars dragged the dead back to life, bringing their old feuds with them; they just weren't compatible with the modern world; they're toxic, representing old ideals that did nothing but hurt the innocent and benefit the strong.
For all they're worth, no matter how much they preach, the prominent mage families were no better, acting like feudal lords in a modern nation, thinking themselves better than others just for existing. But they were so preoccupied with themselves, so focused on their petty squabbles; they never realized that war had changed.
A magus took a lifetime to teach, to hone to perfection. Even then, they still suffered from their elitism, making stupid decisions for the sake of honor and nobility, just like the oh so important Kings; the apple didn't fall far from the tree; different era, same fools.
The samurai never claimed he was stronger than the others; physically, he might be, but they had abilities unlike anything the man had ever seen, but their mindset held them back. Refusing to try, never going all out for the sake of some misguided sense of pride, he didn't have that issue; that's the difference that won him this war.
Raiden didn't hold back; he came from a world of guns and steel, where anyone could go cyborg if they had the means and will. Sure, you could get as many augmentations as you wanted and feel like you're on top of the world, but that's not what made him different; no, the only thing that mattered in his time was how bad you wanted someone dead, that was the only way to stand above a sea of upgraded soldiers, only then could you go at someone with everything you had, and more.
The Foxblade crashed toward its targets, its surface reflecting a still image; one man stood firm, accepting what was to come. The other tried to run, his form blurring as he attempted an escape, throwing the former forward as he dove out of the way, matching the slowed pace of time the warrior's processors ran. It didn't matter if the man was using magic; Raiden's cybernetics were better; he knew this.
Words couldn't describe how much the Liberian hated it all; everything in this war screamed of rot, but...his "Master" showed there were still good men out there, trying to do what was right...That's what they were trying to do, right? The two of them, a pair of idiots, fighting against the world to save a little girl that got dragged into all this mess because of some old men unwilling to let go of long-forgotten grudges. The two swore they would protect her and put an end to her suffering.
No matter the cost.
*CRASH
...
As the fire raged on, the crackling of burning wood echoed across the chamber as smoke rose through the air. A thunderous stomp reverberated, then another; what was once ornate finery now turned to little more than crushed waste beneath his multi-ton form as his dull blue gaze stared at the scene ahead, clear as day to his enhanced sensors.
Raiden had trained for these scenarios, always prepared for what was to come; it never appeared as tragic grief, nor did it bring a deep sadness. It emerged as a somber understanding; in his line of work, the most you could ask for was to go out on your own terms; he knew that.
Something that always bothered him was how Snake acted about these things, always distant, constantly afraid to let people in...pretending he was a machine, stoic until the end, a true soldier. Raiden knew he was among the select few that knew what the man was truly like as a person, but that didn't mean they were the same. He let himself care and found new people to let into his life, which never made sights like this any easier.
His master lay there; his limp arm completely bisected at the shoulder as a spew of worms and viscera pooled out of him; beyond the man, his sword lay embedded into the wall, with the assailant's arm, still gripping its pistol embedded into the surface. Sparks ran along the Foxblade as its target lay against the wall staring up at him with those cold black eyes, his trenchcoat sprawled along the ground as blood poured from his wound.
Raiden paid the Emiya no mind, his systems would alert him if the guy tried anything, and he'd deal with it accordingly, but for now, he had more important things to handle. The cyborg slowly lowered himself, observing his ally as the man slowly breathed, staring up at the ceiling as his skin grew pale.
As the veteran slowly reached out, putting a hand on the man's wound to slow the blood flow for even a moment, his "Master's" sole lens shifted toward him, "...Jack?"
The samurai sighed, knowing it was futile, he was no medic, and the man was beyond help even before he got here...maybe if he had known the right people...gotten nanomachines like Vamp, perhaps he could have survived. Still, something in him knew; Kariya was far too gone for it to matter. "I'm sorry it came to this."
The Matou smirked at the man as the worms tore their way through him, ignoring a trail of blood as it trickled down his nose, "...We both knew this would happen; you have nothing to regret...and besides...I'm just a coward trying to-"
"You're wrong."
The magus paused as the Liberian spoke up, his blue eyes glowing as the fire raged around them, the glow illuminating the man's damaged armor as his circuitry sparked. "You like to talk down about yourself, but you were there for your niece when no one else was...you were there when I needed your help...you're dying, and you still only think of others."
The magus chuckled before breaking into a coughing fit, taking a moment to catch his breath as the world began to slowly lose color, "because I'm nothing without those girls...I loved their mother so much, but she never felt the same...I couldn't take living near my father anymore...it was all too much-"
A tear ran down the man's pale face as he spoke as his emotions ran high; he slowly raised his good arm toward the ceiling, clasping a fist in frustration at the unfairness of it all "...so I ran...ran from my problems...and I only came back because I couldn't let Aoi go...I couldn't let that little girl suffer because deep down, I considered her my own...out of some pathetic obsession...that's what I am, Jack, a coward that can't let go-."
The man paused his rant as the cyborg clasped his pale hand with his own, looking straight down at the Matou in utter determination as embers flew through his white hair. "I know what it's like, hating your past, wanting to run away, and I did...for years, I hid from what I was...but I learned something along the way, through all the pain, through all the suffering, one thing stood out-."
The Liberian lightly chuckled, "I never told you this, but the man who taught me everything I know...Snake...he was a clone...spawned from the same evil genes as my father...they were destined to live short and painful lives filled with nothing but war and bloodshed...-"
Raiden smiled as old memories surged to mind, working with the man he idolized beyond words. "but Snake...he met someone, a man who broke through his coding...taught him to live a life of his own, outside of that mode, and he passed that legacy onto me, to break away from my past and into something new..."
The warrior's grip tightened as he reassured his ally, ignorant of the destruction spreading around them, "You love that girl because you want her to live free, away from your struggles, not bound by Zouken or anyone else."
Raiden shook his head in denial as his white hair flowed with the motion, "That isn't cowardice to me, and neither is letting someone you love go; it shows you're human; unlike everyone else, you were the only person in this war to do it for someone else's sake, and I have nothing but respect for that. Kariya, you are a good man..."
The Matou stared up at the cyborg in silence as he took in the man's words before letting out a pained chuckle, ignoring the worms festering beneath his skin as he moved. "You're something else, Jack...but I'll never understand how your life works..."
The "Master's" gaze drifted to the side as he observed the Grail, "You remember earlier?... The promise you made?" As the warrior silently nodded, the man continued, "then I want you to make a new one...one last time."
His grip tightened as his pale skin contrasted with the cyborg's darkened armor; a pair never meant to meet, forming a bond only men knew on the fields of war, hardly uttered of yet ever-present. His black orb stared up at the veteran as he spoke, "Jack...No matter how it has to happen, I want you to keep her safe..."
The Liberian nodded, his blue eyes contrasting with the flames as they threatened to engulf the man where he stood with embers bouncing off his metallic form to no avail as they tried to catch alight, "I'll take care of her; you have my word."
The magus nodded as he observed the man; he slowly sighed as his grip loosened, his hand falling toward his side as he stared off into the theatre, the world slowly fading into little more than a blur. "That's...good..."
The Matou's hand lowered as he slowly pushed himself up, the last embers of life burning away with his surroundings as blood pooled from his wounds. He pushed back, forcing his weakened body to lean against a chuck of rubble, as he stared off into the theatre, away from all the worries of life, merely listing toward his own inevitable horizon. "She looks up to you, you know?...and I guess so do I... you helped me find my voice, make my own decisions...and for the first time in my life, I wasn't scared of tomorrow...living without fear...it's nice...isn't it?"
Raiden's grip over the man's wound faltered as the cyborg watched his chest slowly rise and fall before coming to a halt, his eyes closing as a gentle smile remained ever present as the Matou's form went still, optimistically staring up at the world he fought so desperately against all his life. He stared down at his man's unmoving form, knowing he was well and truly alone now; the veteran could only mutter, "Goodbye...Master."
A moment passed as the man slowly stood in silence, static running along his form as he contemplated his circumstances, he'd lost so many friends, but in his life, these things were inevitable. The only thing left for him was to move forward and finish this, for he-
"You can't go through with this-"
The cyborg's multiton form slowly turned, watching as the assassin-like magus forced his back to the wall, slowly pushing off his feet as blood poured from his wound. He took a step forward, then another, "You'll doom us all if you go through with that wish...any wish will bring calamity, unlike anything you could-"
The man's eyes widened as the warrior utterly ignored him; trudging toward his sword, still embedded in the wall, he slammed a metallic palm over its grip and pulled, the entire surface crashing to the ground in a pile of concrete and dust as he held the Fox Blade in hand as static traveled down its form. The severed arm crumbled to the floor in a heap as the pistol slid toward the magus, although the Liberian paid no mind, knowing it posed no threat to him.
Raiden's gaze remained solely on the Grail as the man spoke, and yet he completely ignored him; he was done listening; there was nothing left for him but to move forward. He took a step, then another, walking straight through the oceans of fire as his sword dematerialized, only to be replaced by another as Dystopia flashed into place, its elongated, three-pronged form vibrating in an energized purple glow.
Without so much as a passing glance, his arm shot out as a beam of energized force launched from the device toward his inherited blade. Murasama's red edge crackled in anticipation as its entire form vibrated as Lorentz Force ripped the tool of war from its prison.
The red sword spun through the air as red jolts of lightning shot across the chamber; Raiden raised a hand, his kunai dispersing just as his sword landed in his waiting palm. He paused his stride as the Emiya called out from the edge of the flames, "That girl will die if you make that wish, do you hear me!? You're damning us all!"
Fire danced around the veteran's armored plating as he stood amidst the burning embers, as he listened to the building list and creak, threatening to give in at any moment. His metallic jaw clicked open as his dry, raspy voice escaped, "Then run or stay here and bleed out, burn alive, or take that gun and end things yourself; I'm finishing what I started."
With that, the man's cries became distant as Raiden marched onward, his eyes solely focused on the Grail as Murasama glowed in his hand; the stage was in tatters, with the stairs leading up utterly destroyed. Power surged as the killer launched off the floor, his boots slamming onto the platform as it screeched beneath his weight.
This war, all this bloodshed, it all culminated in this, a wish that could save the girl he swore to protect. He inherited Kariya's will; it was his duty to finish this; he might have arrived in this conflict unintentionally, but the warrior was more invested than anyone could comprehend, this stood for everything he hated, and it needed to end.
As Jack approached the Grail, its luminous glow burst to life, knowing the victor had arrived to make their rightful wish upon the world. The cyborg's finger twitched in anticipation as he studied its form, as his eyes flickered, with energy dancing along his body. No matter how it had to happen, he needed to protect Sakura; the choice was entirely his.
The Holy Grail sparked all of this, an untold power capable of changing anything within the realm of possibility, and with that power came corruption, not from the object, but from those who sought it. The Masters, the Servants, people who hardly knew one another yet slaughtered each other for the sake of their deepest desires.
Jack didn't know the circumstances which created the Grail, but that didn't matter. The Grail was Zero, the origin, controllable at first, but it sparked new conflicts, created unusual desires, and initiated new wars over its capabilities, and from Zero came one hundred until those in power lost all meaning.
The magus families, and the Church, none of them truly controlled anything; it all led back to the Grail, with them trapped within its orbit, never even realizing their servitude, living, training, and dying for it and it alone, its network reached across the world, and it would never end. Each Grail war would supersede the last, with new tactics and different actors, but the same results. Deep down, Raiden knew there was only one course of action to protect that girl from all this; he had one choice.
To send Zero back to nothing.
His hands clasped Murasama as it flowed to his right, his boots sliding back with the motion as the warrior clenched his shoulders. Static ran along Murasama's length as power ran through him, knowing this was his choice and his choice alone. In a flash of lightning, the warrior swung, his blade cleaving through the air as superheated afterimages followed in its wake.
*CRUNCH
Time slowed as the Liberian observed the Grail; its magnificent form lay still within the air, as electricity danced between its halves as they hovered in the air, the luminous glow dwindling by the moment...it was over...and with this, he could finally put an end to Zouke-
*Drip-Drop-Drip-Drop
The warrior exhaled a stream of superheated air as his eyes narrowed, seeing a strange rain of red liquid falling from above. He slowly gazed toward the sky and froze in utter disbelief and confusion at the sight. Like a swirling vortex suspended in the air by some unseen force. Everything in his being felt wrong as he stared into its depths...just like when he touched the Grail earlier.
Was it actually corrupted? What the fuck did he do?! The cyborg took a slow step forward, then another as droplets rained down around him, he raised a hand, allowing the liquid to splatter and trail down his raised digits, is that bloo-
*CRACK
Like a torrent from the skies, the sphere fell apart into nothingness; the liquid rained down from above. The Liberian could hardly react, his mind all too distracted to notice the thunderous downpour from above until it was on him...what?
The samurai vanished beneath the waves in an instant, the world going dark as his very being felt like it was on fire, an agony unlike anything the man had ever felt, like every inch of his nonexistent skin was melting away as his mind began to fade.
*Bump-Bump
Jack winced as his head throbbed like something was tearing its way in as he desperately tried to resist to no avail as he felt his components melting away at their seams. He couldn't move, couldn't act, there was no fight in him, only the relentless ringing in his ears as the pain grew unbearable...the world went dark.
...
Darkness prevailed as the soldier lost all sense, unable to see and not a sound to catch his focus, feeling as though he lacked all form entirely. How long had he been there, minutes, hours, did it even matter? These sensations weren't foreign to him in the slightest; he had gone through VR training more times than he could count, and sensory deprivation was hardly a new thing in his life.
There were always risks in those tests, he knew of far too many men that went insane from the procedures, unable to discern reality from fiction, but something always kept the Liberian grounded. Back then, he never questioned it, but his hatred for his past always brought him back...but now, he knew it was Jack, far too stubborn to give in to some illusion; his counterpart would always find a way out.
The cyborg pictured himself floating amidst a void of emptiness and obscurity, feeling an odd presence surrounding him yet remaining distant. His mind made connections as he placed himself within the construct; unseeing, the man stretched an arm forward, breaching through the illusion of empty space as his armored fingers tore through solid ground.
Slowly, the world around him phased into being, imagined and forced into place as though it had always existed. Raiden was no fool; he knew exactly where he was, having spent so much time here trying to claw his way into sanity all his life; he was in his mind.
The Liberian's gaze oriented itself as shapes and colors spun before him, culminating in a static gray hue as a tunnel formed around him, stretching far into the distance. He looked down, seeing the same armored plating as always as he clenched a fist before pushing himself off the ground and onto his own feet.
His brow furrowed as he studied his environment, his systems were offline, refusing to function, but this place felt off. There was nothing, no wind, no smells, merely the blank walls surrounding him, the stillness reflecting the stagnant dread filling his form. The man couldn't quite describe it, he had faced men and monsters alike, but this felt different, as though it was predatory, watching him from afar, waiting to strik-
"Fascinating, you took so little time compared to the last; you're a resilient one, aren't you?"
The warrior paused, turning around as a voice echoed from all directions, eyes narrowed, awaiting any presence to enter his vision, only for nothing to come, just the strange emptiness of wherever he found himself. He paused as his mind began to rotate pieces into place; that voice, a woman's, he'd heard it somewhere.
She laughed as he took a defensive stance, his hands raised, poised to deflect any strike as boundless training flowed through him. "But I suppose that's to be expected; you were made for this, after all, weren't you?"
Static coursed around the cyborg as he slowly made his way forward, his entire frame energized on high alert; something was off about this place, a wolf's den he couldn't describe. "What the hell are you talking about?"
A gentle hum broke out as though the unknown woman was in a deep state of thought, its soft rhythm contrasting with the near blankness prevailing in the tunnel. "Your mind is unlike any I've ever seen, fragmented yet bound; even if you lack the full story, an identity remains...I can help you fix what is missing, Jack."
The mercenary darkly chuckled, shaking his head as his white hair flowed over his blackened armor as his jaw audibly clicked open, "What I want is for you to get the fuck out of my head."
The world began to shimmer as the man lost his balance, his components keeping him upright through sheer technological capability as the ground beneath him seemed to shift as the voice grew louder. "Can you honestly say what you want? You play a strong role, but beneath it all, there's a sadness you keep from prying eyes."
As a motion flashed in the corner of his eye, the warrior turned, lightning exploding out of his form as it arched across the shifting landscape, only to hit nothing, merely burning scorch marks on what was once a wall, now a strange liquid, moving as though it were alive. "You're afraid...of growing distant, losing your humanity to those layers upon layers of metal that you call a body...no; that's not quite it."
Raiden paused as decades of experience flooded through him, knowing all too well the distinct feeling of a presence behind him. He slowly turned, ready to attack at a moment's notic- "Iris?"
The woman he had met at the start of all this, Saber's false Master, the man almost couldn't fathom it; why was she here? She stood far shorter than him, wearing a pure white dress interwoven with golden strands of silk, contrasting with her white skin as her red eyes stared at him in a strange sense of supremacy, as though she were certain of herself.
The woman slowly raised a hand as she brought her middle finger to her thumb, a dark smirk growing along her face; this had to be another illusion, they may have only met for a brief moment, but the cyborg knew that woman was far too kind for her own good. This wasn't the person he made idle small talk with; it couldn't be- "You're not afraid of what you are, but you're terrified of becoming him."
*Snap
Reality vanished beneath the Liberian's feet as the entire world went dark, as though none of it had ever existed; he felt the wild billowing upwards from below; he was falling, but where?...No, he wasn't.
Raiden slowly closed his eyes and took a breath, he paused as the smell of roaring smoke and ocean water flooded his senses. His blue orbs reopened as an array of colors blurred into recognizable shapes...his brow furrowed as he slowly turned, studying his new surroundings; where was he? Why did he feel so light?"
His gaze drifted downward as he went silent in shock, no longer wearing his cybernetic form, the armor, the weight, all of his augmentations gone, as though they never existed. He raised a hand, studying an old black glove he remembered seeing years ago; he pulled back the material, his blue eyes widening, seeing nothing more than pale skin...what was happening? Did he finally go off the deep end?
He shook his head, his blonde hair flowing before staring down, seeing a tapestry of ornate, smoothed-out, black tile roofing, seeing his reflection in the material as a slick layer of running rain traveled down the surface. That wasn't him...this was years ago...it ran through him at once...Big Shell...the deceit...all that planning to finally take down the Patriots...only for Ocelot to betray his comrades, sending Arsenal Gear colliding into Manhatten Island...he remembered falling...landing atop Federal Hall...him and-
"Your feelings for him are complex... toeing the line between love and utter hatred, you claim to have moved on, but he has never once left your mind, always wondering what he would think of where you went. Do you seek his approval or his damnation? Do you regret his death or celebrate it? Just who is he to you?
The man paused, struggling to find an answer; his life was complicated; he knew that but the Liberian always had a hard time placing the man in any camp of thought; it was practically impossible, "I-I..." He paused as instinct made the hairs on his neck stand on edge as a sound broke out, heavy footsteps on tile; no, it can't be-
*Click-Click-Click
A gruff, deep voice, interlaced with the hardness of old age, echoed across the broken monument of American liberty, "You were born not from a mother, but at gunpoint...your identity erased and molded, reshaped to suit my needs... You were a killer, a natural-born leader, defining yourself amidst an army of others created to inherit my will, to pass on a legacy my clone genes would not allow...and here we stand once more, at the location of your greatest sorrow..."
Raiden silently shook in trepidation as his emotions ran high; this couldn't be happening; this wasn't real. He slowly turned, pausing in shock as his gaze locked with a singular blue eye, staring into his very soul as the other remained concealed behind an all too familiar emotionless visage. "It's been a long time, Jack...my son."
A sight the warrior never could have fathomed witnessing once more, the man stood tall as an ocean breeze billowed through his slicked-back white hair, his wrinkled visage and cold stare reflecting his state as the perfect clone of the man who caused so much chaos, Big Boss. The former president's heavy exoskeleton shined in the moonlight as its tendrils whirled about of their own accord.
Raiden took a step back in disbelief as he stared at the man that brought him into this world of secrecy and madness, a man who raised him as his own yet always sought to mold him into his inheritor. He was a man who valued freedom for the American people above all else, with no sacrifice too great, with his ambitions knowing no limits, even if he had to create an army of child soldiers to achieve those means. "Solidus?...No...I killed you myself...this isn't real, none of it is..."
The former president gripped an enhanced fist, turning it about as his combat suit flowed with the motion, inspired by the synthetic musculature of Metal Gear Ray, granting its user inhuman strength, even by their time's standards. "Jack...You know as well as I the importance of memory, the lens through which we view history...our history...to some, you and I are little more than actors playing a part, a soldier, and a president, but to those who know the truth, we live within a dark and secret world, veiled in the shadows of deception and betrayal...both equally valid...just as the world we find ourselves in now, this may be another lens, but it's just as real as any other.-"
The clone's expression tensed as an old hatred bubbled its way to the surface, reflecting a lifetime of rebellion, refusing to accept his place in the world, seeking to carve his own path, an exon amongst the forgettable flock. "Memories may change and alter as time goes on, but our feelings remain the same, but those emotions are malleable; by controlling the means of interpretation, the way in which we remember...the Patriots could turn love into malice, and their victims would be none the wiser, believing as though it had always been the case...just as you learned to despise me..."
Raiden stared at the man, still in utter disbelief, but the way he spoke, it wasn't just a fragment of his broken memories, repeating things on a loop...no, his father was standing before him, living, breathing, and even speaking to him...something wasn't right. He slowly inhaled, still awing at his restored senses, feeling the gentle lick of sea salt wafting through his senses, "My feelings are my own; I'm not the immature boy you faced anymore; I can make my own decisions, choose my own wars, I don't follow orders, not now, not ever again."
A chuckle broke out as the clone ran a hand through his beard before tilting his head upright, the starlight from above illuminating his metallic form, "And yet you chose to continue my conflict with the Patriots, even after I was gone, you could never let those memories fade... you truly are my child-
"No-"
The man paused as Raiden took a step forward, his blue eyes gleaming directly toward his form, "They used me in their sick games...in some twisted effort to control people's minds...their actions...S3 made it personal, I couldn't just sit by and let them destroy free will, that's now how I am."
The former president hummed in thought as he listened, lightly sighing into the cold night as he exhaled a cloud of white smoke, "Those ideals you fight for...along with your revolutionary nature are just a reflection of my beliefs, instilled within you from a young age...why resist it, why don't you just accept what you were meant to be...a killer, why add these false layers of perception?" He slowly trudged forward, staring the samurai in the eye as they stood face to face, "What do you hope to gain by avoiding my legacy at every turn?"
The veteran stood still for a moment as a cold wind billowed by, wafting over his skin and sending long unfelt shivers through the soldier's form. His mind fell into a trance as new thoughts emerged; this entire conversation was wrong, like something was off-key, oh so slightly, but he latched onto it...and it all clicked at once. His chest rose and fell as the warrior broke out into a dark chuckle, "You're playing a role you don't understand."
The former president stared at the man a moment, his sole eye narrowing as he took a sharp breath through gritted teeth, "What?"
Raiden stood tall as the ground beneath them shifted as reality itself seemed to spasm, an array of colors and material blurring and writhing for a brief moment before settling back into place. "My father never cared about what others thought; he just wanted them to have the right to think whatever the hell they wanted and to be remembered for that in history, not through some bullshit lens, but as a fact that he, George Sears defeated the Patriots, and he died trying to achieve that dream...you're just grabbing at straws, aren't you, trying to turn me on my head?"
As the world violently shook, the ninja glanced downward, seeing the same dematerialization spreading across his form, the pyre within began to roar once more as a blue light erupted around his him, encasing him within its confines before blasting off, revealing his augmented combat form once more. "I'm done playing your games; there's nothing you can say to convince me that I'm wrong..."
As the cyborg slowly trudged forward, the apparition fell back, each step nearing that much closer to the roof's edge. As the clone gripped his swords in anticipation of a battle to come, he failed to notice a bubbling red mass shifting beneath the roof's surface, rising behind his form. "What the hell are you?"
Raiden manically grinned as static ran along his form, his thunderous footsteps echoing across the barren cityscape as he stared at the rising tower of blood and viscera forming behind the entity, fully aware of his mindscape once more. "You should know...after all, he made us."
*CRUNCH
The sound of roaring electricity broke through the veil as the false Solidus shook, his sole eye slowly but surely traveling downward, seeing little more than red as a crackling blade extended from his heart, piercing through his dated armor as though it didn't exist. Raiden's voice rang out once more, interlaced with what one could only call cruel glee, "isn't that right, Jack?"
His gaze listed, turning oh so slightly to the side before coming to a complete halt, meeting what could only be described as malice incarnate as a red eye stared back, the smell of rotting flesh invading the man's senses. "Y-you?"
The cyborg's counterpart remained unspeaking, the only audible noise escaping being the clicking of his exposed jaw interlaced with the sounds of gasping as he forced each breath down by sheer force of will. A demonic grin grew along his destroyed visage as the floor beneath the pair began to shift and give way bit by bit until falling away entirely, revealing the bloodied domain the man called his home within their shared mind.
Raiden ignored the clone's pleas and obscenities as he slowly fell beneath the surface of his mind toward the unknown depths below; he didn't know what the man planned to do with him, nor did he care; it just wasn't possible to get in his head, not anymore. He slowly marched forward as the false reality surrounding him began to fall away into utter whiteness.
He stood on the precipice of the void, seeing the all too familiar sea of devastation and darkness lying below, something he had tried to hide for years, but it was high time he accepted that for what it was. The samurai stared down at his father's face, not liking the uncanny look of fear the man showed, something the real man would never do; he shook the thought away as his blue eyes glowed, "whatever you are, he's worse."
The false Solidus tried to yell out, whether for mercy or something else; Raiden couldn't tell, as the waves below engulfed him entirely, his voice escaping as little more than a stream of bubbles disappearing into the depths, reaching toward a nation he couldn't quite create, just as he had before.
Raiden stood there, staring downward even as nothing remained visible in sight as the world began to collapse around him, his thoughts laying elsewhere as he pondered the man that entity tried to emulate. His childhood remained fragmented, but he slowly pieced things together as time went on, remembering more and more of what that man did to him.
The warrior couldn't say a lot about his father; calling their relationship complicated felt like an understatement, but where there was pain, there was a beauty to it all, he supposed. They hated each other but cared all the same; he would never deny the memories the two had made together, they formed a part of who he was, and that would never vanish. As reality surged into being, he pictured Solidus once more, gently speaking out to no one but himself, "I don't know what we had, but...despite everything that happened...I miss you."
The world faded away.
...
Fire roared in the distance as the remnants of what was once a burgeoning metropolis burned to the ground, its buildings and occupants left scattered and broken, following a wake of destruction left behind what one could only call liquid death, a strange red substance, consuming all that dared cross its path. What exactly it was, few could say; the material had vanished as soon as it arrived, leaving nothing but endless carnage as far as the eye could see, with only diminishing pools lying across the land, rapidly evaporating by the moment.
One such puddle remained, swirling about the battered remains of what was once a theatre, standing as ground zero from where the unknown tsunami had originated. The material shifted about, writhing as though it were alive before its behavior shifted, coming to a pause before rapidly bubbling away, coalescing amidst a central point as though trying to battle an unseen foe.
...
...
*SPLASH
A metallic arm jutted out from the lake of visceral destruction, a trail of red fluid traversing down its length as an open palm slammed onto the hard ground above, tearing tracks through what was once a solid foundation.
Static crackled along the limb as another shot out from beneath the mire, both digging into the ground for support as a figure slowly emerged, pulling itself out of the sea as a torrent of liquid dragged down its form. As their knees hit solid ground, they moved at a slow crawl forward, each motion denting the earth beneath their weight, coming to a slow pause as they exited the pool entirely.
*ZZZT
In a blast of electricity, the liquid coating their form exploded off, splashing along the ground as the burning city illuminated their armored form as golden circuitry flickered to life across their augmented body. Raiden panted in unknown exhaustion as he lurched to the side, falling onto his back as he faced the sky above.
His head felt like it was going to explode like he had gone through VR training eight times over, but it was beginning to pass, the discomfort dwindling by the moment. The samurai slowly raised a left hand, rubbing it along his pale face, lifting the digits once more as he opened his eyes, staring into his reflection along the sleet silver-lined surface of his fingers.
His brow furrowed as he pulled the digits closer, looking at his reflection in utter confusion, swearing he saw his eyes glowing yellow for the briefest of moments, but as he blinked, they returned to their normal static blue. The veteran pushed the matter aside as he checked once more, figuring it was a nonissue for the time being; he must have been seeing things...wait...
The cyborg spun his arm without seeing so much as a trace of damage, merely the same components it always had, fully operational...how the hell? He growled in frustration, pushing the thought aside as he slammed his palm to the ground, then the other; there wasn't time for bullshit, it worked, and that's all that mattered.
As his legs buckled and shook, ninja slowly rose, refusing to rest for even a second, his will unrelenting, superseding the limits of bodily function, all for the sake of achieving an inherited wish; it wouldn't end until that moment and that moment alone. A roaring wind billowed overhead as the soldier stood tall; the horizon blackened as smog rose across the land.
Raiden's blue eyes squinted in confusion as he scanned his surroundings, his systems blipping online as they stretched across the landscape, detecting nearly no signs of life except a few remote pings. A charred piece of rock exploded beneath his multiton form as the man took a step, then another; the building lay in utter ruins... like a bomb went off...what the hell happened here?
His head listed, staring toward the darkened sky, the roof, the walls, the ornate tapestry adorning the complex, even the stage he once stood atop was gone, as though it never existed; in its place stood a smoldering crater intermingled with puddles of that same strange liquid. He stared into their depths as a deep revulsion bubbled within the killer. Manipulation, playing with someone's mind, and for what? He'd never kno-
*ZZZT
A distant crackle caught the warrior's gaze as he followed the sound, seeing his sword embedded in the ground itself, its hilt facing the sky as its electrified edge roared to life as its rightful owner drew closer by the second. As he trudged across the barren land, his mind wandered as his gaze listed across the area, not seeing Kariya or the Emiya's bodies anywhere...were they destroyed, moved, or something else? More questions than answers, just as always in his life.
Nothing ever made sense, whether it was in his life or this world of magic the man found himself in; any normal person would lose their mind if you told them about the Grail; summon some "heroic spirit," a legendary figure from history, have them duke it out, winner takes all, like something straight out of a movie.
Jack was never the type to think highly of himself; how he qualified as a "Servant" the Liberian couldn't say, it seemed an odd fit, throwing him against Kings and madmen...well, he fit in one of those camps, he supposed, but still. The "how" never mattered to Raiden; there was never one definitive reality anyways; feelings mattered far more than anything else.
As his sword drew near, the killer marched on, reaching a hand out as his mind wandered, Kariya had summoned him, and he worked with the guy, not because he had to, but because it felt right; that's all there was to it. The samurai slammed an armored fist down, clenching the grip of his inherited sword as Murasama hummed in response; call him impulsive, but he did what he-
His ruminations came to a crashing halt as the veteran stared out across the city, no longer obscured from sight. Ashen debris burned away into the sky as smoldering craters lay where colossal buildings, the symbols of modern life, once stood, their components lying about the land in a sea of devastation.
The cyborg's hand remained along his blade as his eyes shook, unwilling to accept what he was seeing, his mind racing as he saw puddles of the same material strewn about the former metropolis. His augmented sensors zoomed, seeing countless bodies lying about, some buried beneath rubble, others horribly charred and burned, their faces contorted into an agony the Liberian couldn't describe.
No...Raiden turned, looking in all directions as panic-induced mania drove him forward, looking across the barren lands; miles upon miles of destruction lay before him, with the theatre lying as the epicenter for a wave of destruction, unlike anything most could comprehend. No...was this...
*DING
His lenses zoomed into the distance, following his radar as it pinged; there had to be someone...something left in all this-his breath hitched as he saw a figure dressed in black, shambling through the battered urban landscape as though he had lost all hope, clutching the gaping wound where his arm once stood as he aimlessly wandered forward, Kiritsugu Emiya...
It all settled at once, the man had spoken nothing more than truths, and Raiden never considered a word he said. He stood there, watching the man wander as though there were nothing left to live, searching aimlessly as embers ran across his black hair as the city lie in ruins...The ninja's mind raced; what had he done...
Raiden gritted his teeth as his lips quivered, his grip slackened, as his arm fell to his sides. He stared out in disbelief; he was the one who destroyed the Grail...he did this...How could he-
He stood there amidst untold carnage and bloodshed; how many had died because of him?...Just days ago, he had done everything in his power to save them from Caster...this...this was worse...words couldn't describe it...disgust...sadness...untold regret ran through him.
The sound of burning material broke through the veil of silence as the Liberian fell to his knees, his palms impacting the ground as he stared downward in shock, his feelings in utter disarray. As he remained there, his form shook, taking sharp, hitched breaths of polluted air, with each motion fueling a slow but steady release of red mist across his body.
Thoughts ran wild as all sense of stability broke within the soldier's fragmented mind. How could it come to this?...how could he not know?...His armored fists clenched as energy surged across his augmented form, his systems growing more unstable by the second. Faster than lightning, his arm flashed into the air before slamming down.
*BOOM
again
*BOOM
again
*BOOM
and again
*BOOM-BOOM-BOOM
The samurai kneeled, panting away his frustrations to no avail as his rage grew by the second, the miasma growing worse and worse, spreading across his form as his exposed jaw audibly clicked about in a mania-fueled independence. All he ever wanted to do was help the weak...and this happened...
The very earth shook as lightning exploded into the night sky, followed by a trail of superheated red mist. Molten chunks of debris violently shook as electricity roared atop a plateau of destruction, rising into the air as the man manically growled into the night. His hands clenched, burning through the ground itself while black smog erupted across his form, blanketing him beneath its veil once more.
Logic fell to the wayside as utter insanity took hold as the warrior took a deep breath, feeling the burning heat of the collapsing city with untold rage consuming his very being, removing all traces of sense and reason. Pictures, fleeting memories flowed through him, Kariya...Sakura...all tracing back to him...that old visage...those hollow eyes...the elated grin whenever he saw his own family suffer...he knew this would happen...no he wanted to see them burn...the cyborg's eyes flashed a demonic red as his head snapped up, facing the sky as he screamed to the world beyond as his counterpart took hold, "Zouken!"
*BOOOOOOOOOOOOM
The remnants of the once great theatre, a place of merriment and excitement where one could fall to the whimsy of fantastical showings, exploded into utter nothingness, crushed before the unbearable weight of reality. The cyborg surged forward, ripping his embedded sword from its hold as he rocketed across the city as streets passed by in a relativistic blur.
Memories burned through the warrior as his hatred grew, each step tearing through solid asphalt as untold destruction followed in his wake. He raced by the waterfront as an image of Caster flowed through the Liberian's mind. The river broke ways as he charged across, the water boiling and evaporating on contact as he barrelled through the urban landscape once more.
There was nothing left of him, merely the instinctive drive to kill, driving what was left of the man forward as Jack tore through street after street. His mechanical components rotated into place as he spun on his heels, slamming down on all fours, skidding to a stop at an intersection. Time slowed as he pivoted, passing by the same church, its destroyed exterior reminding the killer of that smug, shit-eating grin, those red eyes looking down on him...
As if by instinct alone, the man reached down, squeezing his sword's metallic trigger as Murasama rocketed out of its container into his awaiting hand. The blade's red surface burst to life as its hellish light illuminated the streets as it uncontrollably hummed, reflecting its wielder's instability as untold energy exploded through the device.
Superheated steam escaped his exposed jaw as the veteran swung, the very motion breaching the sound barrier as it audibly burst, a wake of superheated wind following him as he moved at speeds beyond comprehension, burning his image into the trail itself. As the madman swung, a colossal wave of red energy burst from his blade, tearing through solid brick-like paper and ripping the upper building from its foundation as it tore clean through.
Time slowed as Jack swung, again and again, each arc of energy ripping through the foundation before the remnants could even fall an inch, annihilating ornate stained glass and fine statuary, tearing the very building into little more than burning slag as reality blasted black into place. In less than a second, nothing was left of the once holy place, now tainted, as its components shot into the sky as the warrior took off once more, burning his way forward, only one target left in his being, one focal point for the untold hatred bubbling within his very existence.
...
*Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock
The decorative clock chimed on and on, as it always had, its old wooden surface coated in layer after layer of paint reflecting several lifetimes of use, passed on through generation after generation of family rule. An artifact amidst a sea of others, and yet, its owner could say just where it was acquired, how it came to be within his possession, though not by knowledge of one's lineage, for he had no interest in such foolishness.
Inheritance meant little to the man; aside from continuing his family line, their existence meant sweet nothing in his eyes, mere playthings to do as he wished with, as was his right as patriarch. At one time, he was different, optimistic, with dreams of creating a better world, but that man died long ago, spoiled by the ceaseless flow of time, corrupting even the noblest of souls into a frenzy of bitterness and despair.
The elderly man gripped his pen tight as he finished writing yet another document, another record of his nigh ceaseless being; whether it was some personal affair or treatise on the fine magical arts mattered little, merely a hobby, a passing time at best. He did not need to leave a legacy, for the decays of time had little effect on his being; at one point, many would call him ambitious, ever persistent in achieving his ends...but why bother? There would always be a time for victory, but he would relish in the pleasures of the journey itself long before it came to an end; there was no rush in his state, merely the ceaseless inevitability of his assured victory.
Whether or not his goals would culminate today, in a year, or in a decade did not matter within his cold, unfeeling eyes, for he would always remain. Actors may come and go; his supposed family would gain and lose members, and yet he would persist as he always had, knowing that someday, his time would come, Zouken Matou would rise into further greatness; such a thing wasn't a belief but a guarantee.
*Tick-Tock
The sound of ruffling papers broke out as the man set his document down atop his lavish wooden desk, carved by the finest hands of a time few could claim to have lived through themselves. The patriarch glanced toward its ever-moving hands as a dark, minuscule grin grew along his withered face as his loose, pale skin stretched outwards, "I suppose it's time-."
The withered magus raised his hands, connecting his boney fingers between his cold black eyes as they shifted oh so slightly to the side, silently studying the pathetic figure awaiting him near the door. The man stood, wobbling as he attempted to remain in place, his blue hair utterly disheveled. as his black suit remained wrinkled, his "son" utterly drunk as always.
The patriarch's dark grin grew as he studied the failed magus before him, relishing in the way the man winced at his very glance. The servile man was a failure, incapable of inheriting any semblance of magical prowess; he was little more than a toy, utterly worthless aside from a few brief moments of enjoyment, then to be cast to the side and forgotten until the next session.
The Matou had little use in his life for those who could not meet even the most basic of his needs; even his supposed grandson showed utterly nothing in terms of viable skill, risking his entire bloodline. His son deserved every punishment for this, and he reminded him every day that his beloved wife lay at the bottom of the worm pit because of his ineptitude. The elderly man slowly exhaled his contempt for the man's existence as he spoke, "Byakuya..."
The blue-haired drunkard shot up from his stupor, raw instinct alone guiding him to avoid his father's wrath at all costs, knowing what the man was capable of, a message instilled in him from a young age. "Y-yes, sir?"
*Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock
Beads of sweat poured down the man's pale visage as he buckled beneath his father's stare, never quite certain what thoughts ran within the man's mind, anger, hatred, joy; it was never absolute until he chose to act. The elderly magus glanced toward the door, "that brother of yours has failed...you are to get the girl and begin her training once more; she's had it far too light as of late; put her in the pit for at least five hours, remind the brat of who rightfully controls her."
A moment passed as the servant-like son tilted his head in confusion; his heart raced at even the notion of speaking to the patriarch in any way which could even be construed as insulting. He forced the thought away; better to be safe than sorry, but just what was driving the man to such unnecessary cruelty? Even by his standards, it felt like too much...but what choice did the man have but to respect his father's will? The Matou could only nod his head, "I understand," before turning toward the door.
Zouken watched in disinterest as the failure walked off; he stared at him in utter contempt, mere cannon fodder, a servile being to use toward his ends and nothing more. As the man slowly reached for the door handle, the patriarch grinned; that girl...his adopted child...she showed remarkable promise; he could make use of he-
*BOOM
A distant blast rocked through the property as the very estate shook on its foundations; the men couldn't even react as distant thuds grew louder and louder as something tore its way through the house, ripping apart the very floor as it charged. Byakuya could only gasp in surprise, turning his head toward his father in utter confusion, "W-wha-"
*CRUNCH
Zouken watched as a metallic hand shot straight through the wooden door, static dancing around its augmented components, slamming straight through his "son's" torso and out of his back, gripping the man's bare spine as blood splattered. There was no time for sound, no means to react before either of the men could even speak, the hand clenched, yanking back as untold force pulled the man straight through the door, shattering it into pieces as its debris carved through his flesh and into the darkened hallway.
The patriarch could only hear the man's screams for a brief few seconds as viscera and flesh splashed into the room before his cries went silent. He remained seated in a sense of utter calm as a metallic figure trudged into the room coated in human blood. "So...you've finally lost it, haven't you...Jack?"
The cyborg stood, his entire form blanketed in layers of red mist interlaced with black smog, his jaw clicking open and shut as his eyes twitched, flashing between red and blue as though there was no mind behind his facade of humanity, utterly lost to the world. In his right, Murasama glowed an unholy red as its energy spiraled out of control. In his left, stained in human blood, unseen to the patriarch, a yellow glow flashed within his enhanced grasp by sheer instinct.
The Matou chuckled, leaning into his desk as though this was the finest entertainment, a surprise but a welcome one all the same. "I must say...you lasted far longer than I anticipated...the madness is no laughing matter...to think you survived its grasp for so long...I'm impre-"
Faster than comprehension, the Liberian slammed a boot forward; his shoulders lurched back as he threw with everything he had. A familiar three-pronged kunai flashed through the air in an instant, its point slamming into the patriarch's chest, the force rocketing him back as the air itself blasted apart.
The elderly magus flew across the decorative chamber; he tried to disperse, only for his worms to clench out of control, forced into maintaining their form as magnetic power held them together. He crashed to the floor, tumbling to a stop as he slammed back-first into a wall, a spew of blood splattering from his mouth on impact.
As the dust settled, the Matou could only gaze up, staring at the cyborg with untold hatred, "You dare...do you have any idea what I'm capable of, boy?"
*BOOM
Jack took one step, then another, each a thunderous cacophony toward his target, the culmination of everything he found sickening in this world of magic. The smog grew denser as he watched the man weakly try to dislodge the blade to no avail, his weakened form no match for modern technology.
Zouken could only watch as the man slowly approached, knowing this was a monster of his own creation, something that never should have been summoned. Beneath the layers of metal and mutilation, there was nothing left, little more than an animal, and the patriarch had lost control. His coal-black eyes reflected the glowing edge of his foe's sword as the man drew closer. He wheezed out a breath before coughing another stream of blood, trickling down his wrinkled visage as he spoke, his voice laced with raw malice and contempt; "Y-you think this changes a thing?...That you're the first to make an attempt on my life?... Listen well, beast...that girl will suffer for your insolence."
The Berserker stood above the man, his mechanical body uncontrollably twitching as his systems went haywire, his vision little more than a bloodied red as all logic dispersed. Words lost their meaning, merely entering the swirling pool of madness within his mind before vanishing entirely. There was no conscious thought, simply action-
*FLASH
In an instant, the warrior shot out a hand, gripping the patriarch's neck as he dragged upward, the embedded blade carving a trench along the wall as they met at eye level. Zouken's pale arms gripped the man's hands, trying to pry them off to no avail as a dark grin grew along his face, "Strike me down...and that brat will suffer a fate worse than death...you are nothing but an impediment...I will find life anew."
The patriarch could only watch in disgusted contempt as the Liberian's exposed jaw clicked about of its own accord. He winced as the summon's grip tightened, pulling the man closer as Dystopia tore through his flesh. The man could only gasp as their gazes met, watching in horror as the cyborg's red glare flickered toward a tainted yellow. His raspy voice shifted, its tone taking on a dark malevolence. "And everywhere you will meet oblivion."
*CRUNCH
The Matou shook as the warrior surged forward, slamming his sword through the man's chest as it pierced through the wall and into the world beyond. Jack's grip tightened as electricity surged, flooding the dying man with untold levels of voltage as he screamed into the night as the worms within fried to blackened ash. The killer refused to stop for even a moment, manically laughing in sinister glee as the man went silent, lightning flying in all directions until the man's corpse itself burned away into nothing.
The ninja roared in manic delight as the man dispersed into obscurity, with Dystopia clattering to the ground in confirmation. He stood there, staring at his hands as they shook from raw fury; it was over...all the suffering he caused...Zouken Matou was dead. He lurched back, roaring into the world, but as he proclaimed victory, a passing thought burned through the layers of madness and utter insanity, bringing a brief moment of mental reprieve.
Something Kariya had warned him of the day they met...but what? Everything felt hazy...like he was swimming in a bog trapped within his own mind...something about not being able to kill his father...because...what he could do to her...to-
*CRASH
A distant sound, so faint the average human couldn't hope to hear it, a thud, the noise only a human body could make as it crumbled to the ground, flesh impacting a hard floor. While bizarre to some, Raiden had killed enough men to understand even the most obscene aspects of war...but wh-
It all snapped together at once, "Sakura!'
His eyes widened in realization as they burned back into their static blue hue, with the layers of smog dwindling as the killer forced himself back into panic-induced sanity. A single name, a passing thought, brought everything rushing back into place as he took off running through the house, resheathing his sword as he tore through hall after hall on nothing more than memory.
As an all too familiar door flashed into view, the cyborg's momentum refused to stop for even a second as he went barreling straight through the hardwood. Splinters and debris exploded across the room, showering it in a veil of dust as he scanned his surroundings, following the sound of weak breaths until he spotted her. Laying in the corner, she bunched into a ball along the floor, facing away from him as she gasped for air.
Raiden glanced down at his metallic visage, worrying for the briefest of moments that he would scare the poor kid if she saw him like this, but there was no time for that. The soldier ran, sliding along his knees, reaching the purple magus in seconds. The Liberian gently put a hand on her shoulder, "you okay, kid?...Sakura?...Come on, this isn't-"
Years of combat training took over as he gently flipped the girl over; she looked pale, sickly pale, taking rapid, shallow breaths as her eyes remained unmoving. The veteran softly put a finger to the magus's neck, waiting a moment; her pulse felt unimaginably slow. His mind raced; what the fuck was wrong?! He wasn't a doctor...shit shit shit.
Jack took a calming breath as he collected his thoughts; this wasn't the time to freak out; he knew these situations well enough. There wasn't enough time to get the girl to a hospital, even if there was; how the hell would he explain why there were-it all clicked together at once, the worms.
That's what it was...Kariya had warned him that Zouken had infected her with the fucking things...he thought the man just meant she would suffer a death like his...he gritted his teeth as a trail of blood began to leak from the Matou's nose, pooling to the floor below. What was this, some kind of dead man's switch? The samurai gripped a fist in anger; what kind of sick fuck would do this to a child?
Raiden shook away his frustrations; there had to be something he could do; he just needed to think...to see...A moment passed as the warrior issued mental commands, flickering between lenses...settling on infrared as he traced heat signatures, seeing dozens if not more across the poor kid's form, but his gaze listed...toward her heart...what the fuck?
The Liberian stared in confusion; there sat a signature far larger than the others, digging its way upward...his systems had so little to go off of, but its trajectory wasn't aiming for the heart...it was going...up...the where didn't matter, she'd bleed out long before then anyways.
The soldier ran a hand through his white hair; he was a killer; patching someone up was one thing, but this was borderline fucking surgery; he couldn't do this. Raiden stared down at the girl as she struggled to even breathe...would modern medicine even help? This looked like something even a doctor from his time would struggle with...there were so many...eating away at the kid...
The warrior stood, hands running along his head as he pleaded with himself to think, to figure something out...time was ticking...Even if he somehow pulled the things out, she'd just bleed out on him; she wasn't..."Vamp..."
An idea burned its way into the ninja's mind; there were so many ways it could go wrong...he'd have to write code on the fly...hope to whatever God was out there that she didn't reject them...pray he had enough to make a difference, there were millions of the things in him...but would it be enough?
Raiden shook his head in refusal; there was no time to question; if he didn't try something, the poor girl would die anyways. He gripped his inherited blade as he slowly withdrew Murasama from its container. The cyborg flipped his tool of war in his hand, holding the edge sideways as he raised a free hand, his systems mapping out exactly what needed to be done to make this work.
His systems worked overtime, programming, coding, and formulating new directives as the swarm of nanomachines within burned to life. They were made to work within the metallic confines of a cyborg, not within flesh and blood, but in theory, they were all the same; give a few new orders, it should work. Give the things a sample of Sakura's blood, tell them it's safe, then purge anything else, then the hard part. They needed to repair damaged tissue; Vamp was proof of concept, able to take machine gun fire to the chest and walk it off like nothing, but his nanomachines were programmed to work for him; this was a gamble at best.
Raiden knew how stupid this was; so many things could go wrong; the girl could reject the artificial blood, the nanomachines could fail to follow his commands, or do more damage themselves...but he couldn't just do nothing...he cared about her too much to let that happen...and he made a promise.
*CRUNCH
The killer refused to even wince as he sliced a chunk of his finger clean off, the bits of metal raining down to the floor as his synthetic blood sprayed out. As the man kneeled down, a layer of electricity raced across the broken digit, burning away anything unnecessary. He remained there a brief moment, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder, sighing away his anxieties; he lined her arm up as he spoke, bringing the homemade syringe closer, "You'll be okay, kid, I promise."
...
Hours passed as the cyborg patiently waited for any signs of improvement, but there was no time to rest; the man could only breathe a sigh of relief after enough time had passed to say she wasn't rejecting the transfusion, but the rest was up to the machines. There was no rest, he every time the man stopped paying attention, worms would writhe their way up from some corner, trying to crawl over to the girl, only to get vaporized by raw voltage.
The cyborg wasn't a fool; he wanted to exterminate the whole house, but leaving the kid alone wasn't an option; Jack had no fucking idea how many of the things were lying around, but his guess? Thousands...millions, it didn't matter, they'd all burn by the time he was done, but all things in time.
It was frustrating beyond belief not knowing what was going on; the most the man could do was track heat signatures and direct the swarms toward problematic areas with nothing more than his training in human anatomy guiding him forward. It was touch and go for hours on end, destroy one, repair the damage, move on to the next, but things seemed to get better when the one near her heart finally stopped moving.
Raiden gazed out the window toward the rising sun; the city still lay in utter destruction, but he had another task to focus on; questions burned through the Liberian's mind like nothing else. How much time did he have? What would happen when his energy reserves hit zero? Could he protect her...follow through with this promise?
He gazed down toward his hands, his own wound having healed some time ago; he reached out a hand, readjusting his sleeves, hiding layer upon layer of metallic components from sight. He had switched back to his regular form hours ago; something told him a traumatized kid wouldn't want to see an exposed cyborg the moment they woke up...he'd tell her some day...but not no-
*Ruffle
A tired groan caught the man's attention, he turned, seeing the young magus shifting about in her sleep in discomfort. Moments passed as her dull purple eyes slowly but surely opened, squinting in utter confusion. "...Jack?"
As the girl spoke, a gentle smile broke out across the man's face, his blue eyes remaining ever static as hidden components deactivated, no longer needed. In the back of his mind, he'd keep the machines on for a while, let them run their course. "Had me worried there...feeling better?"
The heiress slowly sat up, clenching her tiny hands in perplexion, feeling better than she had in a long time like some ailment had utterly vanished. She nodded, her purple hair drooping with the motion, "Mhm..."
She tilted her head in perplexion, studying the man, feeling as though she were missing something until a spark of realization flickered within the magus's dull purple eyes; "But if you're still here, then...did you-"
Jack gently grinned, standing from his perch along the wall, slowly approaching before reaching out a hand, ruffling the girl's disheveled hair, "Can't hide anything from you, huh?" His smile grew, although slightly pained for reasons the girl didn't understand. "We did it, kid...it's over..."
As the words sunk in, the girl tried to stand, only for her legs to give out before she could even kneel, having to settle for stretching her arms out like a child. The Liberian chuckled at the absurdity of it all, scooping the magus up into a hug as she clung to him for dear life. "You'll never have to deal with your grandfather ever again...I promise."
The purple magus dug her head into the man's shoulder, she never understood why Jack was always so kind to her, but she was glad to have him in her life. It felt too good to be true; she wasn't stupid...she knew this meant Zouken Matou was dead...but she didn't care...good riddance...but a question lingered on her tired mind, "Where's Uncle Kariya?"
Raiden could only sigh at the thought the man was his friend, and while he was used to death by this point, he could still grieve for the loss of someone the samurai cared for; it's just who he was. The poor girl wasn't well enough to get some bad news like this, the ninja wouldn't hide it, but she'd find out when she could handle it. The cyborg slowly walked across the room, through the broken doorway, and off into the house, "I'll tell you about it later; now, how about some breakfast? I'll make your favorite."
The magus hummed in thought as she leaned over the man's shoulder, idly staring at the broken remains of what was once her door, before deciding she felt too tired to question it. "...can you make pancakes?"
The warrior scoffed at the notion, his blonde hair flowing as he moved, "Can I make pancakes? You name the type, I make it, kid, whatever you want." And as the pair disappeared into the house, the sun rose over the city on a new day.
...
Epilogue Theme: Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker: Heavens Divide
Weeks later
A cold breeze billowed over the city of Fuyuki as denizens went about their morning routine, slowly adjusting to the devastation lying just within eyesight no matter where they found themselves in the urban center. Locals couldn't quite figure things out; for weeks on end; there was nothing but chaos amidst their streets, nothing more than tales of utter havoc and mayhem, missing children, freak accidents, the list went on, then nothing.
An odd stillness ran through the city, to the people's relief, bringing back a sense of normalcy into their lives as they began the long process of rebuilding and grieving their dead. Things would never entirely be the same, but as with all things in the modern world, they would move forward and progress for better or worse.
Amidst it all, the Matou estate stood strong as ever, the eminent estate looming over the land like a beacon of wealth and splendor over the common masses. It was a confusing state of affairs, rumors spreading by word of mouth that all three men in the family had perished during the disaster, having been at some showing for a play at the theatre before it tragically burned to the ground.
As one child remained overseas, some worried for the wellbeing of the young heiress, all alone in that giant property, but as some had recently seen, a distant relative of some sort had come through, opting to raise the girl as their own until she was old enough to manage the finances herself.
Many didn't know what to think of the man; his tall stature and wild blonde hair did little to convince many of their family connection, but he had the paperwork to back things up, which settled the matter quickly. Many went on to disregard the subject entirely, seeing it as a nonissue amidst an ocean of real problems faced by their community; what was one tragedy amongst the others, right?
As the last vestiges of fall faded into nothingness, the biting chill of winter drove into town once more, blanketing the ground in a layer of soft white snow, its purity a welcome contrast to the constant battering the townsfolk had endured.
Raiden stood tall in the grand yard of the Matou estate, overlooking much of the property as ornate statues and leafless hedges lined the walkways as far as the eye could see. The Liberian wore a simple winter coat atop his suit, not that he needed it, but the man had to keep up appearances.
It was never easy laying low, but for the time being, Raiden had to preserve what mana he had left; whatever gave him this body back gave him a long-lasting charge, but it would only get the man so far. He shook the thought away, he'd figure something out, or maybe Sakura would; the girl was clever; either way, there was a solution out there, and the man was confident in her ability.
The veteran sighed into the biting cold of winter, his breath escaping as a cloud of white smoke, standing before a stone marker raised above the ground. He traced a synthetic finger across the surface, feeling the words etched into the material itself...Kariya Matou.
There was nothing left of the man to bury, but Raiden felt it was for the best to give the girl something to remember the man by; it took some time to tell her, but something told him the girl would never forget what her uncle did for her, nor would he. His blue eyes softened as he stared down at the headstone, "it's been a while, huh?...I'll tell you, it wasn't easy faking the documents, but a few bribes here and there and I'm officially your niece's 'long lost uncle.'-"
Raiden whimsically chuckled for nobody, in particular, finding the entire situation funny in its own way. Part of the cyborg knew the man probably didn't mean 'raise her' when he asked him to protect her, but what other choice was there? The veteran knew firsthand how awful the adoption system was; he wouldn't put the poor girl through all that...and besides...although the samurai hated to admit it...Sakura grew on him...seeing her happy meant the world to him, and after everything she went through...the kid deserved everything and then some.
The soldier slowly brushed away a layer of built-up snow from the top of the stone as he slowly gazed up, staring off into the distance and toward the center of town. Words couldn't describe how awful he felt about his mistake, but who knows what would've happened if he actually went through with that wish of his? He gazed down at the grave in forlornness, "Never would've thought we'd become friends...I wish you were still here...to see her grow up-"
Raiden gripped a fist in frustration as old thoughts emerged, "I tried bringing her back to her mother...but she didn't want anything to do with the girl...something about 'honoring her husband's legacy,' what a load of bullshit" He darkly chuckled at the memory, "it took everything I had in me to not rip her limb from limb...what the fuck was I supposed to tell Sakura?... 'your mom doesn't want you?'"
Raiden sighed away his anger, knowing it would get him nowhere; what's done is done. His blonde hair swayed in the evening breeze as he pulled up his jacket, readjusting its sleeves as he spoke, "You can probably guess...she didn't take it well...but look...I made you a promise, and I know this isn't what you wanted, but...I decided to take care of her until she's old enough to watch out for herself...-"
Jack gazed up at the evening sky, watching the sun slowly but surely fall downward; it always fascinated him how the days seemed to get shorter and shorter. Lying low had its perks, he supposed. "Anyways...the church has been quiet lately...no word on that priest...I don't know if he lived or even who he is...- his blue eyes glowed, exposing the intricate lines of circuitry beneath the surface, "but I will find him...it's ironic, the man I want to kill is nowhere to be found, but I still don't know what to do about Saber's Master..."
A chuckle broke out as the man spoke to the grave, knowing it was empty, and yet he droned on and on as if he needed to vent his frustrations somehow. "I found him within days, living in some house in town...I was going to end things then and there, no loose ends, but he had a kid with him...I just...couldn't do it; he looked just like Sakura, you know? Those dull eyes...I couldn't bring myself to hurt him...I don't know if I'm getting soft or what, but...it is what it is."
His cybernetic eyes flashed to the side, observing his HUD for the time; almost time to make the kid dinner; it's funny; usually it was for John; kid ate anything just like his dad, but now he had a shockingly picky eater to take care of, her way or the highway. Jack smiled at the thought, supposing they were alike in a way.
He stood there a few brief moments, examining the grave, long having given up the futile battle against nature as snow began to coat the black market in a white blanket of frost. "Almost time to go..." the warrior kneeled, sitting at eye level with the grave as he spoke, "I won't forget what you did for her, Kariya, and neither will she...I won't let your memory fade into the twilight; I'll carry you with me just like all the others; your meme hasn't ended, not as long as I'm still alive."
The cyborg's metallic knees bent as he slowly stood upright, raising a hand to brush a layer of built-up snow away before slowly marching toward an uncertain future as the Matou estate loomed overhead. There was a war to prepare for; in ten years' time, new actors would rise as another Grail War broke out, and he'd be ready for them. He glanced over his shoulder one last time, "see you later...partner," and as the Liberian turned toward the house, beginning his march one more, his eyes flashed red, knowing there was work to do.
...
Author's Notes:
Congratulations on making it to the end; this chapter was above and beyond the longest thing I've ever written, and hopefully, we can go back to nice 17-20k word sections in the future.
On a personal note, I'm well aware I have very likely upset quite a few of the Saber fans out there, but I'll restate, Raiden won that fight by cheating and leaning on his advantages; whether or not you agree with that is your choice, but I've made my bed with this. Arthur has leagues more skill than our favorite cyborg, but I contest a combination of augmentation and willingness to do anything it takes to win an acceptable counterweight.
Also, I will level with you, Arthur didn't fire Excalibur for the simple reason that Raiden is far too fast to get hit by something like that; I'm not here to show off my main character as some god amongst men; I preferred showing off her skills as a swordsman, and I think we've established Jack is a drop in the water compared to what she can do, but he cheats, so it's cool.
Anyways
Words cannot express how happy I am to finally reach the end of Zero after months of effort and going beyond 150k words to do so, amassing quite a few readers along the way. I'm happy you're along with me for this ride, and I wish you nothing but the best.
On that note: amidst a sea of questions, I decided to make a QnA post, here are quick few rules, everyone gets a single question (if it's multi-layered, go for it, but don't try to squeeze like 5 in one), I won't give any massive spoilers, but if people have questions about the pairing or this or that, feel free to ask, and I'll answer to the best of my ability. I'll make the post roughly a week after this chapter is uploaded.
There will also be a discord Q&A at some point where we talk it out in voice chat (even though discord members can just ask me questions whenever I'll still do a discussion at some point, so keep an eye on that if you're interested.)
Graduate school has been going quite well, but my workload is ramping up, alongside a need to storyboard quite a bit for blade works; therefore, expect a longer delay for the start of the new saga. I'm sure, as many of you can probably tell, things will be very different; I hope you're looking forward to that!
Personally, I look forward to writing a Sakura that isn't entirely traumatized by living with the Matou family; who knows how far she'll go without Zouken looming overhead?
With that out of the way, I hope you take it easy and have a nice day; make sure to ask something for the Q&A if any questions come to mind; I enjoy talking about the story and where it's going, so have at it!
