Disclaimer: I do not own Fate or Worm.

Chapter 1

Her invisible sword parted scale and flesh alike, cleaving through bone as if it were air. Against the sharpness of her blade, it might as well have been. But despite the debilitating wound she inflicted upon her foe, it did little to slow the onslaught of burning talons.

Even then, her swordplay was a whirlwind of dancing steel that humbled any resistance, striking a dozen times for every paltry blow received. Oceans of flesh and blood parted from the monster's form as her mana-enhanced strokes connected, each eliciting a scream from the foul beast.

The Wyrm's flames were a mesh of colors, a conflagration that burned so brightly that it was almost painful to gaze with the naked eye. But while colorful, it consumed no less.

With every step it took, stone turned red and steel liquid. On this moonless night, a road of red shone brightly in the darkness, evidence of the path they had traveled over the course of their battle.

But despite its size and unrelenting ferocity, it was not her match. She had faced men, more divine than mortal, for a mere beast to pose any threat.

Talons struck at her unprotected side. But before it connected, she had judged it wanting - too insignificant even to avoid. The cut landed with a thunderous crash, and the earth fractured beneath her feet, but she was unmovable as the mountains themselves. Its arms shook, vibrating from the impact. But not a scratch dishonored her armor.

When she gazed into the creature's eye, all she saw was disbelief, as if it failed to understand the futility of its action.

Allowing her armor to do its work, she took a step forward-

And in a burst of prana-aided speed, she barreled into the Wyrm's chest, caving in its ribs and flinging it a hundred meters into the sea, a burning meteor in all but name. The water did little to extinguish the flames, but she did not care.

Homes were the accumulation of years of effort, sometimes generations, far too precious for those in the lower caste. She would not permit a brigand to bring devastation to countless peasants. Out here, she did not need to worry about bringing harm to the bystanders gathering around her like they were at a festival.

Saber shook her head in disproval. It seemed that with the wonders of technology, the survival instincts of mankind had plummeted.

"Cease and return to whence you came," she ordered, in all the honor and brilliance of a King. Her voice was one that could halt man and beast alike in which they stood. "There is no glory in this meaningless destruction. Shall you continue, there is no future for you other than pain and blood."

But the fool roared, reason blinded by rage.

Saber frowned in disgust. This battle was worthless. There was no goal to be achieved or a prize to be won. It fought on for nothing more than its wounded ego. If the Wyrm had chosen to retreat, she would not have pursued. She had only entered this conflict to save a girl whose Mystery reminded her too much of the Matou's mage craft.

She did not know the reason or the cause that incited this hostility and conflict. But despite the magi's tall stature, her movements and gait were that of a child's.

Even if she was fighting for the wrong side, and the child was at fault, the punishment had to be befitting the severity of the crime. As a Knight of Chivalry, she could not dirty her honor and watch a brute butcher a girl half his age for some petty offense. A king who took heads for stealing bread was no king but a tyrant, and a man who allowed such injustice was no less guilty.

By now, the Wyrm had grown a second pair of wings and limbs, reaching a height of twenty feet and growing taller, stronger by the second. Its appearance was close enough to that of a Dragon that, for a moment and to her eternal shame, she hesitated.

But that was where the similarities ended. The creature had neither the dignity nor prowess of a divine beast, and seeing this mockery before her stained the very heart that beat beneath her breast. And even if it were, this would not be the first dragon she had slain.

The Wyrm breathed, chest expanding as it gathered its flames gathered around its gullet and exhaled, firing a torrent of white-hot plasma that turned the road into a river of magma. Yet once again, her [Instincts] were silent, and she felt no danger.

A bright sphere of light erupted around her, forming a shield against the Mysteries of this world. Flame splattered harmlessly against her [Magic Resistance] like a wave breaking before stone as she gathered prana to her legs.

With a single bound, she was lightning, splitting apart the white burning flames like Moses to the sea. The Wyrm, too slow to even turn, could do nothing as her invisible blade struck true, deep into its vile heart.

And before it could utter a cry of pain, she called out the name of her Noble Phantasm.

"Strike Air: Hammer of the Wind King."

For a moment, the wind that sheathed her blade dissipated, revealing a glimpse of the golden blade that harnessed the hopes and dreams of humanity. But the beauty was secondary as it was ephemeral to the following storm.

The air vibrated, shaking like the sea during Poseidon's rage as a typhoon of a waterless tsunami struck, starting from her blade and rapidly expanding out. In an instant, the clear night sky embraced the cacophony of thunder as the winds extinguished the false Dragon's flames in a buffeting cry that ceased all light that dared to shine its path.

An explosion of scales, blood, and flesh followed as the creature was cleaved into twain from what little mass remained. One half flew into the air above, flying among the heavens before crashing down and sinking into the sea, while the lower was buried deep into the molten stones below.

"Enough. You have witnessed my strength and bore the brunt of my blade. To continue is folly. Withdraw," she ordered once more. "I will not warn you again."

The sensible thing to do would have been to ride the slipstream and behead her enemy while it was weak. But this was not her Kingdom, and she did not possess the authority of a King. As far as she knew, she had no right to execute vandals, no matter how heinous they were. And while she was one of royal heritage, she would not challenge the rule of law of this land as long as it did not conflict with her honor.

But nevertheless, she sighed, not in exertion but from the tediousness. This was no battle. While her cause was noble, her foe might as well have wielded flowers. The beast had only lasted thus far because she refused to land the finishing blow out of respect for the governors of this land. But to be forced to continue this farce due to one man's ego was shameful.

Unsurprisingly, the Wyrm refused. Bursting from the sea like the Leviathan of myth, it screamed a battle cry that rippled the very sea. But it was infantile to that of Vortigern, whose roar could shake the very stars or the Warcry of Iskandar that could inspire a hundred thousand to face death. Within seconds, it stood back once more to its full height, an entire five feet taller than before despite having been cut down to a fourth of his size.

Out of everything, one thing she could respect was her foe's perseverance against an opponent that wholly eclipsed its parameters. But considering its rapidly rising strength, it was more likely hoping to drag out the fight until it achieved whatever power necessary to win.

More folly.

It would be dead long before it could harm anyone.

But regardless of her wishes, the battle began anew.

Armsmaster

"Holy fucking shit," Assault muttered.

Normally, Armsmaster would have addressed the man's lack of control over his language, but this time, he let it slide.

By all counts, he had reacted quickly. The moment he noticed the blaze, he switched directions and advanced toward what was rapidly becoming a sunlit horizon. Capturing Lung would have broken him out of his current obscurity and propelled him into the headlights.

But by the time he arrived, he found there was little he could do other than watch as an unknown parahuman dressed in silver armor fought a fifteen-foot-tall Lung with an… invisible sword?

At first, he assumed that the weapon was moving too fast to be seen, but no. She was literally wielding an invisible weapon. He assumed it to be a sword, but it could have been a battleax or perhaps a polearm. Or it might even be a bow.

The idea sounded tacky, but he could see the appeal when he thought about it. To have his halberd obscured from his enemies so that they would not know its reach would give him a major advantage in future engagements.

Ideas sprang from his thoughts in what was the start of a Tinker fugue, but he quickly crushed it despite having half a mind to rush back to his workshop. In front of two massive threats, this was neither the place nor time to be distracted.

The heat was sweltering even from a distance, and imagining what would happen if he stepped any closer wasn't difficult. While his armor was insulated, it was not built to withstand Lung's flames when he had escalated to this level. Even his prized tranquilizer was designed to be used before the Dragon of Brockton Bay could escalate to this point. Once Lung grew past fourteen feet, the only solution was to retreat.

Yet the diminutive parahuman dominated the fight. Her blade delimbed and disemboweled Lung in a whirlwind of cuts and slashes so rapid that he found it impossible to count the blows, much less keep track of her movements.

It wasn't just her speed and strength that mesmerized him. The armored knight moved with such brutal efficiency that the brutally disappeared, and only grace remained. Every stroke of her blade was akin to the elegant stance of a dancer, yet poised to strike with the lethality of a viper.

He could not help but admire the fluidity and ease with which the knight moved, whose steps literally glided her across the battlefield. It wasn't uncommon for powers to grant combat skills, but none allowed for the brilliance that was before him. This was a woman whose skills had been honed by years, perhaps decades, of experience.

"So, who do you think he's with? By the look of the armor, Empire? Or a new hero in the wrong city with a poor choice of costume?" Assault asked, his arms lazily crossed in front of his chest.

"It is a she," Armsmaster replied. "She may wear a full helm, but her armor resembles that of a traditional European dress while her breastplate leaves room for a female's secondary sexual characteristics."

"Okay… That's interesting and all. And creepy… But who do you think she is with?"

"Too early to say. Her armor lends credence that she is of the Empire, but they would not allow a new cape to be alone, much less one this powerful. Kaiser would have challenged the ABB out in the open simply to gather an audience and spread the word that his gang has a parahuman that could face Lung."

"So a hero then? Finally, about time we get a new one!" Assault exclaimed, smiling from ear to ear in relief. "Would have hated to tangle with- Ouch!" He grimaced as Lung exploded from inside and out in a spray of gore. "Did… Did Lung just die?"

"Unlikely. At this point, even decapitation will be insufficient to kill him," Armsmaster rebutted.

"Aww man- I mean, that's a relief!" His fellow hero quickly changed his words at his disproving glance. "But for a newbie, she certainly does fight well."

Armsmaster nodded approvingly. "She has prepared well."

While her armor was plain and brutally utilitarian without a single embellishment, he could tell even from this distance that it was masterfully crafted.

Furthermore, every action of the parahuman was filled with confidence and finesse, something that came only with experience. While it still irked him that an unknown had stolen his spotlight, such professionalism and preparedness was something he could approve of.

"So what do we do now?" Assault asked. "Piggot's not going to like us sitting around and twiddling our toes."

"As of now, nothing other than waiting for reinforcements. None of us will last under that heat, and as long as the new parahuman keeps the battle at the shoreline, we don't need to worry about collateral damage."

That the said parahuman was clearly making an effort to keep the battle centered near the sea raised his own mental evaluation of her. Most of his powered kind, even heroes, would not have spread a glance at the destruction they left in their wake.

Especially Glory Girl.

"Brute 8, Blaster 7, Trump 5, Mover 6, Striker 3?" He mused, estimating her tentative ratings. Any of those would have been beyond troublesome to deal with. But put together into a single person? That was a nightmare.

"Damn," Assault whistled. "But Trump? Where did you get that from?"

"Lung's flames are being rendered impotent. It could be a barrier, but the blasts are being negated rather than simply being blocked."

"Seriously? Well geez, someone won the lottery. You think she's immune to all blaster powers?"

"Perhaps. Or perhaps not." Armsmaster admitted. Even an estimated rating was useful, but incorrect ones were fatal. It was better to go in knowing nothing than to know wrong information.

A call interrupted his musings. It was one he had been expecting yet dreading. Yet, he accepted it with the professionalism expected of a Protectorate hero.

"Director Piggot," he greeted, his voice the usual monotone. His colleagues mockingly whispered that he was more machine than man behind his back. And they weren't completely wrong.

He never knew what to say, how to say it, or who to say it to. So he spoke succinctly and without emotion. It wasn't to say he was without it, but he found his life to be easier when others took the initiative to stay away from him. It was for the best, considering most of his interactions went poorly.

"Armsmaster, what is your status, do you have visual?"

"Unharmed. We have yet to engage," he succinctly replied. "An unknown parahuman is engaging Lung."

"You are to subdue both immediately," Piggot ordered. "We cannot have Lung burn down the city because of an uppity parahuman too stupid to have sense."

"Impossible. Lung has escalated too far. In a few minutes, he will be the same size when he drove back Leviathan," Armsmaster observed as the sea began to boil.

For a while, the other line was quiet.

"… Hero or villain?"

"I am not aware of any parahuman that fits her description. But I would lean toward Hero. Villains don't concern themselves with limiting needless destruction."

"Neither do heroes," Piggot scoffed. "If it comes down to it, can you take her?"

"In the future? Possibly. But for now, I discourage engagement," he advised, ignoring his superior's barb. Given enough time and proper strategy, he had a chance. It was a low one, but not zero.

"Even if she is new and inexperienced?"

"Even then," he confirmed. "If an opportunity shows itself, I will take it. But for now, all we can do is wait."

Would appreciate reviews. Especially if the story is interesting or not.

This was something that I had in my head for a while. I'm not sure if I will continue this, but if it gets enough interest, I will consider it.