Beta by: Revan64, WriterAnt, QAI521

Her [Instinct] blared as a glimpse of the future was foretold. Without thought or mind, she moved, snatching the two closest and propelling herself backward. The sudden change in momentum would cackle their bones, but it was a small price to exchange for the gift of life.

Yet, the same could not be said for the rest- for those who had gathered at her behest…

In a cataclysmic eruption, a tempest of white flame erupted from within Zao, turning stone to liquid and flesh to smoke. In a moment, all within range were consumed with a blinding light. Time seemed to distort as her senses heightened, allowing her to witness the destruction with surreal clarity.

Though she had managed to distance herself and the two within her grasp from the immediate danger, the lingering shockwave was still relentless as it was unforgiving.

A single [Mana Burst] would allow her to outrun the conflagration before a single spark warmed her skin, but the sudden acceleration would be fatal for any ordinary mortal.

Thus, she became a shield. Artoria pulled the two into her embrace and turned her back to the oncoming shockwave. Her armor would take too long to materialize; her flesh and blood would have to provide whatever meager protection they could.

Not a millisecond too soon, the shockwave struck with the ferocity of a tsunami, shrapnel ripping into her back with a cruel disregard, rendering flesh and causing rivulets of blood to flow. Artoria gritted her teeth, enduring the pain while steadfastly anchoring herself to the ground, refusing to yield.

In her arms, Vincent wailed in fear and agony while his companion remained mercifully unconscious, spared from witnessing the horrors. With time, the shockwaves subsided.

Releasing her hold of the two that were once eight, she turned her gaze backward, her heart brimming with hope against overwhelming odds. Prayers silently formed on her lips, hoping beyond hope that some semblance of life had been preserved even though she understood the futility all too well. And she was right.

Nothing remained except ash and smoke. Not even a patch of skin or a strand of hair could be offered to families in the face of their loss. Her heart sank, but she had not the leisure to entertain emotion. This was no isolated incident; explosions echoed throughout every corner of the city. There was no time to mourn the fallen when the living still required salvation.

"Zao…" Vincent's voice quivered, cradling his shattered arm in disbelief as he struggled to comprehend the disaster. He had been spared the worst, yet his flesh bore the searing marks of flame, and his arm remained shattered. "Zao," he whispered once more, attempting to rise before stumbling in weakness.

"Stay down," she commanded, pressing her hand gently against his unharmed shoulder. "You're in shock."

"Fuck…"

"I must go. It's unlikely that explosives have been planted in the empty field. Stay there. Away from any structures. At least, until the explosions cease."

"… What the fuck am I supposed to tell his mom?" Vincent whispered, his words trembling and his body quacking with the weight of grief as he mourned the death of his hated compatriot. It seemed that despite their conflict, bonds forged with the passage of time could not so easily be broken.

Artoria parted her lips to offer words of solace and strength but found herself at a loss. No eloquent phrases or charismatic persuasion could mend the shattered pieces of a wounded heart, especially not within the limited time they had. For all her strength, she was helpless.

Vincent gazed on in horror, blind even to her presence and words. "Fuck… Fuck… Fuck… Fuck... Fuck… FUCK!" He slammed the ground with both fists in an outburst of rage, shattering the Earth with a blow that could be felt meters away. The burns and broken arm that marred his body healed- no… vanished within a moment, as if erased from existence.

Artoria stepped back, stunned and on guard for any further outbursts. But the boy collapsed to the ground, unconscious, joining his sole remaining friend.

A trigger event?

She winced at the implication but had little time to ponder. She shouldered the weight of both boys and carried them to safety, bringing them to the refuge of the open fields that served as an arena for athletes.

Kneeling on the ground, Artoria focused her mana, channeling its powers into her legs. With a grunt and a heave, she propelled herself into the air, breaking the sound barrier severalfold. Her ascent was reminiscent of a shooting star streaking across the heavens, and as she soared, her armor materialized, encasing her in its protection.

It did not bode well for her to leave them on the dirt, but she had to prioritize. The city was engulfed in chaos, filled with the piercing cries of panic and terror that seemed to echo from every corner. Another explosion resounded in the distance, signifying that more had met Zao's fate.

Zao… She had promised him, sworn even…

He was not her first failure nor her most grievous. He probably would not even be her last. Nevertheless, it hurt all the same.

Touching down on the ground after covering a quarter mile from her starting point, Artoria leaped once more. Her movements were a blur, a streak of unseen speed as she navigated the chaotic streets with unparalleled agility. Rooftops and alleyways became her path, allowing her to bypass the frantic traffic and desperate crowds that threatened to impede her progress.

As she transversed the skies, her gaze swept over the scenes below. Wounded and lifeless bodies lay strewn across the city, yet she refrained from rushing to their aid. The immediate priority was to subdue the source of the calamity and stop the bombings altogether. Offence was the greatest defense. She could not lose time saving a dozen when hundreds more could perish as a result.

The math was cruel, and Kiritsugu would have approved. The thought itself was distasteful, but suffering would only continue to escalate if the perpetrators were not handled. All other concerns had to be set aside- no matter how much it disgusted her.

Thus, she observed. Meticulously dissecting the aftermath, searching for any clues that might reveal the motives behind this senseless act and unveil the identity of those responsible. But to her bewilderment, there were no discernible patterns or purpose. From venerable establishments to vital medical facilities to fortified guard stations, no place had been spared. The bombings displayed an unsettling lack of discrimination as if the perpetrators simply aimed to witness the world succumb to ruin.

Artoria gritted her teeth as she failed to detect a single sign of her foe. If the explosives were pre-planted or concealed within innocent civilians while the perpetrator remained hidden, she would be forced to remain on the defensive, reacting to each attack that reaped the lives of dozens by the minute.

The attacks appeared to serve no purpose, yet such a large-scale operation would have required extensive planning and resources. To expend so much effort for seemingly no gain was confounding. Unless… unless the chaos itself was the objective… but why-.

A distraction

Artoria reached for the PRT-issued phone. But just as she was about to make the necessary call, it rang. Annoyance flashed across her visage but disappeared within half an instant as she realized it was from the very individuals she had intended to contact.

With a press of a button, she accepted the call.

"Saber," came the gruff voice that had been becoming increasingly familiar. "Focus on the rescue efforts. Save as many as you can. But don't endanger yourself or take unnecessary risks," Director Piggot commanded without a word of greeting.

"What of Lung and Lee?" Artoria inquired, not fully committing to the directive. The chaos would inevitably draw away the city's defenders from their stronghold to assist in the rescue efforts, leaving the PRT's fortress barren of soldiers. If there were any who sought to exploit the organization's current weakness to steal away their prisoners, there would be no moment more opportune.

"Tranquilized. Armsmaster's work. They won't be waking up any time soon."

"I will head to the Rig. I suspect that it will come under assault."

"No," Piggot denied firmly. "You're more useful out there."

Artoria's frown deepened. "If we risk losing Lung and Lee, it will add fuel to the fire. The people's safety is important, but-."

"We are not defenseless," Piggot interrupted sharply. "I know that the ABB may be responsible, but we have measures in place in case they attempt a rescue. Don't worry about anything else and focus on your task."

"… Very well," Artoria acquiesced, though her desire to confront the fiends responsible burned within her. She had her doubts about the combat capabilities of her allies, but they had served as heroes for years. She had to place her faith in them, otherwise, she could be casting unfounded insults.

"… And Artoria? Stay safe," Piggot's voice softened before ending the call.

"I shall," Artoria whispered, though she knew she couldn't fully comply.

As if daring to challenge her resolve, an explosion erupted at her flank, shaking the very air around her. Without a moment's hesitation, Artoria leaped, a bolt of lighting in all but name.

Flames roared and billowed, their scorching tongues lashing out with bits of melted stone in between. They hurled, propelled with lethal force, inching closer to the unsuspecting peasants too slow even to flinch. The devastation was supersonic. But she was faster still.

With but a step, she reached its core. With another, she swung.

[Strike Air: Hammer of the Wind King]

Within an instant, a vortex of swirling gale was born from her invisible sheathe, tearing through the chaos like a scythe. Stone, burning and red, was crushed under the tempest, reduced to nothing but dust. Flames that once engulfed all were now dampened, extinguished by the winds of a wrathful spirit.

The onlookers stared at her in awe and shock, too befuddled to have any wit remaining in their skulls to flee. But Artoria moved on, far too occupied to offer acknowledgment.

The passing moments blurred as she moved from one place to another, her actions blending seamlessly. She rescued those trapped beneath the weight of fallen structures, employing her strength to lift and remove debris. She used the sacred blade at her side to staunch bleeding wounds and stabilize the injured, providing relief and aid in the midst of hopelessness. The count of lives she saved became a mere abstraction, lost amidst urgency.

"H-hElp…"

Artoria skidded to a stop at the faint cry, her sabaton grinding through the roof of a warehouse in a mixture of sparks and dust.

"h-HeLP…" Rang the plea once again.

It was coming from below.

Three flicks of her blade opened a hole into which she entered. She dropped down with a thud and looked around, searching for the source. Despite the numerous metal crates obstructing her view, she could tell that the interior was in pristine condition.

There were no visible signs of damage rendered by an explosive, yet a soul begged for help. A heart attack from shock?

"HeL-P…"

Regardless of the cause, her aid was needed. She rushed towards the sound, navigating the cramped crate-filled passage. She turned at a corner and-

What madness was this?

What was it that she gazed upon? What monstrosity?

A demon summoned from the other world? Some Mag- parahuman's chimera?

Because if it wasn't…

Her arms fell to her side, mouth agape in horror as she confronted what was before her.

It was a grotesque abomination. An amalgamation of flesh and agony that contorted and bulged in ways it should not. Dozens of twisted limbs jutted out from its fleshy core, a grotesque tapestry of arms melded into legs, torsos into backs, and mouths merged into a singular monstrous chasm. Hundreds of teeth chaotically filled its gums as they gnashed and ground against one another.

The creature's skin resembled a patchwork of quilt of tortured flesh, covered in bulging cysts and necrotic ulcers. They writhed as they spasmed, twitching and jerking in unnatural symphony as their tendons tore under their own weight. Bits of muscle broke the skin and wiggled, resembling squirming maggots feasting on decaying flesh. With every motion, the creature spewed putrid fluids. A stream of foul pus and scarlet blood cascaded down from every inch of its pores, pooling on the ground to form a repugnant puddle.

Countless eyes adorned its visage, yet each one found her with eerie accuracy. Their eyes locked into hers, their gaze meeting her own.

Artoria prayed… to God and whatever deity that existed within this world that this was an accursed foe. That it was some foul invader from a nightmarish realm seeking to harm and destroy- a creature she could slay without a second thought. But when her pair of eyes met their dozens, she saw no malice or menace. There was only desperation, a plea for an end to a nightmare.

Its singular mouth emitted an indecipherable twisted cry of joy as its wishes seemed to have been granted. With excitement befitting a child, it propelled itself forward towards her despite its mass of limbs moving without rhyme or rhythm. Every agonizing movement crackled bone and squelched flesh. Inch by agonizing inch, all too slowly yet too quickly, it- no… they crawled towards her, leaving behind a trail of bloody yellow.

She stood still, frozen in ice, as horror and indecision consumed her.

What was she to do? What could she do? Should she put them out of their misery? Was there even a chance that they could be saved?

No… She knew the answer even as she asked.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice laced with sorrow and regret. With a heavy heart, she turned away and left, once again abandoning those who needed her aid- not because it was the best course of action… but because it was all she could do.

As she retreated, the cries of joy transformed into a chilling wail of anguish and rage, echoing through the air and haunting her every step.

It was not before she found herself confronted with yet another anomaly. While it was not as repulsive as the previous, it was monstrous all the same and, in some ways, even more so. A frozen field was before her- a family of four locked in a moment. Encased not in ice but trapped within unmoving time.

The father, a tender smile on his face, held his daughter close, affectionately ruffling her hair. The mother, with a playful smirk on her lips, teased her son, eliciting laughter. It was a scene of idyllic serenity, a perfect picture of peace and happiness. Birds and leaves remained in the air, frozen midflight, adding ambiance to go beyond the complete whole.

But behind the tranquility was terror. While their bodies remained without motion, their eyes betrayed horror and despair. Though time no longer flowed for them, it seemed that their consciousness remained intact, forcing them to experience every still second of existence.

Artoria was uncertain whether this… time stasis was transient or eternal. She desperately hoped for the former, silently praying once again for a glimmer of mercy. But the orchestrator of this hell would never be so merciful. Even being burned at the stake would have been a kinder fate.

Pragmatism tugged at her conscience, urging her to leave the doomed family and press on, just as she had forsaken Vincent and the warehouse laborers. It demanded that she prioritize the salvation of those she could still save rather than futilely expending time and effort for those whose fates were sealed.

It would have been the right choice. Perhaps even the moral one.

But she could not. She would not. Not again…

Artoria reached for a fallen stick and partially inserted it into the field of stasis, testing for any reactions. Half of it remained trapped, frozen in time, while the other half remained free. She sighed in relief, glad that her experiment hadn't resulted in anything more catastrophic.

With a thought, she dispelled her left gauntlet and extended her index finger, readying her blade in case of an emergency. There was a chance that her [Magic Resistance] could dispel this mystery and free the family trapped within. If it failed… a finger was a cheap price, but those trapped inside would be…

Her [Instinct] flared in alarm, warning her against the course of action. But she ignored it. The odds of success seemed low, but she had to try nonetheless.

The tip of her finger met the field.

But the mystery did not collapse.

Artoria closed her eyes with a shuddering breath.

She had failed.

Again.

With bitter frustration, she swung her blade, severing her own flesh and butchering her finger in a single swing. Even before her blade cleaved through bone, Excalibur staunched the flow of blood. But despite its regenerative abilities, what was lost would remain lost, its powers insufficient to regrow flesh and bone.

She searched for any glimmer of a solution, any alternate path that could become the key. If her [Magic Resistance] had failed, then it meant that the mystery was so far beyond human comprehension that it rivaled or was superior to Rank A magecraft.

But no matter how she searched, nothing caught her eye. No solution presented itself.

Thus, with another futile whisper of an apology, she turned and left, abandoning those that needed aid.

Again.

Relentless explosions echoed in the air even now. Every leap was synonymous with another wave of cries. Along her path, she met others. She saved those she could, but…

Some were crystal, others charcoal, while many lay unmoving, bleeding from their throats as if their vocal cords had burst from screaming.

But despite the horrors, Artoria moved on. There was nothing she could do for those who had already passed.

Thus, she ignored the writhing puddle, dropped past bloody sculptures, traveled through a field of organs and viscera, and stayed silent as the foregone begged for mercy.

Again and again, she left them, powerless as the enemy massacred the people she had sworn to protect.

As time went on, the number of wounded and dead only increased as the bombs became increasingly esoteric. The ones that she could save became fewer, while the dead only continued to rise.

For each one that she saved, there were dozens more she could not.

If this was a battle, she had already lost.

This was no foe she could defeat. This was not an arena where she could win. There were no armies to dismantle, no strategic choke points to safeguard, no supplies to raze, and no cities to capture. She could not predict when and where the next explosion would occur, nor could she take any action to stop the destruction from happening. No matter how many she saved, there were always more.

It was at this moment that she tasted true helplessness.

And she hated every moment of it…

At the sound of shattered glass, her gaze darted toward the source, catching the sight of multiple men brazenly plundering stores without a shred of disguise. Anger ignited within her eyes at the sight. Their blatant greed even while their fellows were dying by the minute, was foul- so much so that she could feel the bile rise to her throat.

She could not alter the course of the bombings. But there were other battles to be fought—the restoration of peace. Riots were akin to a virulent plague, originating from a single individual and swiftly proliferating like a relentless contagion, enveloping the city in a sickening rot. If left unchecked, more would be harmed whether directly or indirectly than the bombings themselves.

To conduct effective rescue operations, the rampant chaos had to be subdued, lest the defenders find themselves fighting a two-front war.

With a snarl, she propelled herself from the rooftop, hurtling downwards and colliding with the ground with a thunderous impact. The shockwave sent the looters sprawling to the ground, bewildered by the sudden turn of events.

"Surrender. Or do so with suffering. I care not," she growled.

The knaves, once brimming with misplaced confidence, scrambled to their feet, their visage rapidly turning a sickly shade of pale as their fortunes reversed swifter than a blink. Only a single individual remained on the ground, a flicker of recognition passing through his eyes followed by a sigh of resignation.

He was the wisest of them all.

The others… chose poorly.

One of the miscreants, abandoning his companions, chose to flee. The rest proved far braver. Or stupider. They brandished their firearms, none greater than a low-caliber pistol, and opened fire.

Swiftly, she moved, a single step carrying her meters forward, piercing through the hail of bullets as they ricocheted off her armor. Too slow to even flinch, the fools continued to fire. But while they were sitting ducks, they mattered little in terms of priority.

They were stationary.

The one fleeing was not, and she would be damned if she lost sight of him.

Slipping past the brigands, she closed the distance between the coward, and before he was even aware of her presence, a soft block to the back of his head rendered him unconscious.

Artoria turned, facing the those that remained. But to her astonishment, they ceased their futile offensive.

And turned on each other.

"Stop!" Shouted the hairless one, his gun aimed at his comrade's head. "I'll kill him! I'll fucking do it!"

Confusion and shock swept over the last of the armed trio as he stared at his fellow in betrayal. "Cred…?"

"Just shut up and follow my lead if you want to get ou-," he began, before staring blankly as the gun fell to the ground in halves, several fingers accompanying its descent.

Before the fingerless, hairless cretin could scream, Artoria struck a single blow to all their temples, sending them to kiss the dirt unconscious.

"Ouch," muttered the sole vagrant wise enough to surrender as he stared at the amputated bleeding digits. But while he knelt with his hands raised in the air, she could see no fear. Only amusement at what had transpired. "Fraulein… That seemed rather excessive. What would the Protec-," he started before he was silenced in the same manner as his comrades.

She had little desire to stain her ears with the words of a madman, especially when there was so little time.

The vagrants had been stopped. Yet, it was a mere surface treatment. While she had addressed the symptoms momentarily, the underlying malady threatened to breed further chaos. Although a cure eluded her grasp, she could, at the very least, suppress the sickness until a remedy could be found.

Leaping once more, Artoria ascended to the pinnacle of a telephone pole, positioning herself at a height that ensured her visibility to all while still being within recognition. A [Mana Burst] across the city's sky could have cowed the chaos, but only a tyrant rule with fear. Knights, noble and true, inspired. What the people needed most was courage and hope.

"Hear me," she began, challenging the full extent of her [Charisma]. Though her voice did not echo with thunderous volume, its resounding clarity reached every ear within miles. This technique had been honed amidst the tumult of countless battles, designed to transcend the earth-shattering cries of the battlefield and reach the ears of her loyal soldiers.

For the first time, she employed it to pacify a panicked populace. This was not a skill she had expected to use in this life, but she had found a far worthier application of it. She only hoped that her own despair could not be heard from her voice.

As her voice cascaded through the air, the chaos that once engulfed the surroundings yielded to the reassuring wave of her words like crashing tides breaking upon a steadfast shore. Movement stilled, frozen in suspended animation, and all who bore witness turned their gaze upon her, their visage a blend of shock and confusion.

She had captured their attention, but it would not suffice. Before she could rally the populace, and inspire their spirits, the shackles of fear had to be shattered. And what better hammer existed than the searing intensity of anger?

Fu pressed his hands firmly against his ears, trying to block out the deafening noise of screams and calls for help. He told himself he owed them nothing. He couldn't even help Zao, so why risk his neck for strangers?

In the darkness beneath the rubble of what once was a hospital, he huddled, making no move or attempt to escape the prison of metal and concrete. And why should he? He chose to be here, knowing it was one of the safest places in the city.

The masses veered away from the bombed areas like it held the plague, but they were fools. If only paused to think, they'd realize that those spots were ironically, the safest havens. After all, it was unlikely there would be a second bomb so close to the first.

But to be fair, he had known about Bakuda's plans days ahead and had planned his refuge accordingly. Others weren't as fortunate and couldn't stop to think rationally.

With each explosion shaking his shelter, followed by more desperate cries, he urged himself to ignore them. Like a mantra, he repeated himself, desperately trying to suppress any guilt that gnawed at him. But despite his efforts, he couldn't shake off the sickening sensation in his gut.

What if he had gone to the Protectorate? What if he had informed them about Bakuda's plans? He would probably be dead, parahuman or not. Rumors had it that she had secured powerful allies to compensate for the losses of Lung and Lee.

They must have been powerful with a capital P if it gave her the guts to declare war against the entire city.

A couple hundred lives weren't worth that kind of trouble, even if he was now a parahuman- a courtesy of the bomb that was implanted in his head.

Honestly, the powers he got were worth the ordeal. For one, it let him extract the bomb from his skull, even if he couldn't do the same for Zao. Life was cruel, giving and taking with an unfair balance that seemed to lean heavily toward the latter.

Zao… he was probably dead by now. Fu hoped that he found a painless death.

But hey! At least he was a cape! A grin spread across his face at the thought of his newfound abilities, potent enough to make him a powerful addition to any gang.

And all it had taken was… was…

He did nothing wrong. They would have done the same. He owed nobody anything.

Fu closed his eyes, trembling.

He did nothing wrong. They would have done the same. He owed nobody anything.

He did nothing wrong. They would have done the same. He owed nobody anything.

He did nothing wrong. They would have done the same. He owed nobody anything.

He did nothing wrong. They would have done the same. He owed nobody anything.

He did nothing wrong. They would have done the same. He owed-

"Hear me," a voice silently thundered, shaking him out of his reverie.

What the fuck was that? He could have sworn the voice was no louder than a whisper, but he heard it as clear as day even through the chaos. It was a paradoxical experience, barely audible but unmistakable and brimming with authority and power. In the silence, her voice rang like the church bell, stealing away the-

Wait… silence?

It was at this moment that he noticed just how quiet the world had become. Bombs still exploded, but the once accompanying screams were not absent, swallowed by a hush. Just as he was about to peek through the cracks of his shelter, the voice continued.

"Why dost you flee, leaving behind your brethren? Like rats and mice you scurry, gnawing at the limb caught in the trap, forsaking your humanity in a deluge of blood and tears.

Foul…. How foul… To witness the decay of your mortal coil, turning its back on fellow souls. To pluck out mine eyes would be a blessed mercy, for it would spare me from witnessing the destitution of your spirit.

Are you not ashamed? Does embarrassment not grip your heart at such humiliation and indignity? What dost you await? A savior?

Cowardice… Such cowardice..."

Raging anger consumed him, each word from that arrogant bitch igniting an even hotter flame that burned through his fears and worries alike. Who the hell did she think she was lecturing him? What right did she have to pass judgment on his decisions? She knew nothing about him, nothing about the struggle just to exist in this fucking city.

In this godforsaken place, the only truth that mattered was the perseveration of one's own life. Fu had learned that lesson well. Friends, family, lovers—they were all expendable if it meant securing his survival.

That was why he was breathing! That was why he survived! That was why… he was alone.

"Oh? Does your fury rise at my words? Good. Perhaps you are not yet lost. Hate me. Revile me. I care not. But if you dost, then prove my errors whether out of spite or love.

If your fellow man stumbles, become his pillar, providing stability and support. If they cannot walk, become his leg, so that he may reunite with those he holds dear. If they are wounded, be their healer, mending their injuries and spirit alike. And if they are trapped, save them, breaking down every barrier that confines them.

Do so. Show me my failings. And have no doubt you can.

The fiend deceives you, denying what is rightfully thine, seeking to scatter your spirit like ashes upon the wind. But do not crumble, nor grant the wretch satisfaction. Levy your strength, let it converge. Bind your weakness, intertwine them with resolve.

Cast off the shackles of cowardice. Rise above what you are. This is your trial. Best it. Look upon your brethren, not as strangers but as the faces of your beloved kin. Save them, become worthy in the eyes of honor, and in doing so, you shalt find salvation."

*****Bakuda's Workshop*****

"Well… that won't do," he said, shaking his head as the evening's amusement was halted by a single individual. "That won't do at all. What do you think Baku- oops, sorry. That was insensitive."

All comments and reviews will be appreciated. If you got criticism, give it with a why.

P.S. I'm never writing another speech….