I do not own Fate/Apocrypha nor any other Servants depicted here.
Bound For Glory
The glass door swung open and the Master candidates rushed out to the balcony. After getting an early report, Gordes led them to the windows after telling Toole to muster the defenses. What they saw shocked them.
A literal army of skeletons and some chimeric-looking fusion of pig and man. The entire plain near the castle seemed to be teaming with them. Further back, one could barely see breaks in the earth where the army seemed to be crawling out off.
"Tch, this doesn't look good for us," commented Rottweil as he made a face, "If Caster can just pull this out from whatever hell hole he made, this is a lost cause."
"This is a preposterous breach of secrecy!" shouted Feend in aggravation, "What in the world is Caster thinking!?"
"Battlefields are a good source of bones."
"Caster! What is the meaning of this!?" shouted Gordes angrily, directed towards the growing army.
"War once raged the country, once upon a time. Coupled with my summons and the bones donated by Assassin of Red, I have many bones for my sculpting and use. As for the swine-folk, they are remnants and results of an experiment when I was alive. Now being a spirit, I have full access to their inchoate flesh. Your flesh and bones, created or otherwise, will make good additions to my army."
"And we are lacking Servants to handle this," muttered Jean Rum with a heavy heart, "This doesn't look good for us."
"Look!" shouted Deimlet as he pointed to the sky.
Something bright seemed to be heading straight for the castle at extreme speeds. The magi wanted to move away before it crashed into the castle but then it somehow changed direction and crashed into the cliffside. Surprised, they left the balcony and headed towards the parapets facing the plain posthaste to get a better look.
White smoke billowed out of the shallow crater at the bottom of the cliffside. Something scrabbled around in the dirt. Loose earth crunched under heavy footsteps. An armored figure in green stepped out of the smoke holding a combat shotgun in his hands. The ionized face peeled back as he got a better look. Skeletons, big and small. Some pig-human creatures of varying sizes. This had Caster of Black's touch in all of this. The grip on his gun tightened, the body of the weapon creaking slightly. The steady beat on his blood, crying out for him to rip the abominations apart. Something he would gladly do. But first, something to even up the numbers.
As he stepped closer to the approaching army, the shotgun disappeared and the large, blocky gun appeared in his hands. He halted in his tracks and took aim, the green cylinder in the center spinning brightly. As the whine of the gun steadily built up, he pulled the trigger. A large, green orb was launched out straight at the largest concentration of enemies.
As the ball of ionized Argent traveled to its destination, arcs of energy lashed out from it. Searing flesh, burning hair, and turning pones to ash. Reaching the point of impact, it exploded and the cascade of Argent energy left behind a crater of blood and gore. Satisfied with the damage done, Berserker swapped out for the combat shotgun. It was time to do some work. Cocking the gun, he broke into a sprint, heading straight for them.
Caster stood stock-still, shocked at what had transpired. He had not expected the Berserker Servant to return to the castle, much less decimate close to half of what he had prepared. Letting out a noisy breath, he turned behind him. The captured Masters were bound in place via fleshy pulsating growths that he had summoned. The three of the Yggdmillenia struggled in vain, the veins bending them tightly and wrapped around their mouths to prevent their speech.
"Still, I have you three," he stated, "Your circuits and seals shall be put to good use should I have need for them."
He smirked as their struggling intensified. Turning back to the battlefield, he frowned. Berserker's guns and his supernatural strength were more than a match for his army. He will need to bolster them. He raised his hands and stretched them out to the wounds in the earth. His hands and the cracks in the void gleamed a brilliant turquoise blue as larger, tougher creations pushed themselves out. Large bone behemoths. Growling, grunting swinetaurs. Even the plants from the Weald took part in this. Shambling fungal abominations and infested, mutated human-like giants.
"Go forth and destroy them. Let their blood soak the soil and feed the great evil within," he declared loudly to a rousing cacophony.
Another swine-folk squealed in its dying throes, its throat gashed open, courtesy of a broken sword taken off a broken skeleton that Berserker crashed through. He spun around, slicing the throat of a swine slasher before stabbing it into a chopper's eye.
"The way he fights truly encapsulates his name," muttered Jean Rum in shock.
"Kind of makes you glad he's on our side," quipped Rottweil with an impressed grin.
Jamming a cleaver into its owner's head, the Mad Servant ripped it out and threw it hard. It spun through the air, slicing off the ear and scalp skin of another chopper, and embedding itself in the head of a third. There was still enough force behind the throw to lift it up in the air and throw its body backward, causing it to land on a swine wretch. It squealed loudly as it struggled to get loose from this particularly porky swine chopper.
"Damn right, it is," grumbled Gordes, looking quite hesitant as he agreed with the Silver Lizard.
"That may very well change if Caster starts taking things seriously," stated Feend with a frown, "I can see worse things approaching."
"Hmph, and here I would have thought one of you Clocktower lecturers to bail out on us and join him," sneered the former Black Faction Master.
"If my life was not on the line, I would gladly compare notes, Yggdmillenian idiot," retorted the von Sembren.
Loud roaring cries signaled the next wave to part. A trio of swinetaurs leveled their lances at him and charged. After shattering another squad of bone soldiers, defenders, and spearmen, Berserker swapped out his plasma rifle for the chaingun. As it swung into the general direction of the charging swinetaurs, he pressed the trigger. The barrels spun for a second before spitting out their payload. Hot lead slammed into the chargers, ripping through them with great ease. They could only take so much before they fell. There were then two. Finally, one. By that time, it was too near. He stopped pressing down and began to run forward, changing out for the chainsaw. He ducked under the lance point as he sidestepped, swinging the brutal weapon, and ripping through the swinetaur's front trotter. As its momentum ground to a halt due to the pain, he jumped on its back and swung down. It tried to push it away with its free hand, but the jagged teeth tore through flesh, sinew, and bone. He carved through the forearm, then its shoulder, and finally guided inward straight to its heart. He pressed his boot down on its back and tore it out in one go.
"Just... what is he?" muttered Cabik in shock and awe. Turning to his brother, he asked, "Did you get anything from the dreams?"
"A lot of shouting. Chanting. And then... a vague voice spoke about him," informed Diemlett, sounding a little shaken, "Its words burned in my memory even now. It said..."
"In the first age, in the first battle, when the shadows first lengthened, one stood. Burned by the embers of Armageddon, his soul blistered by the fires of Hell and tainted beyond ascension, he chose the path of perpetual torment. In his ravenous hatred, he found no peace; and with boiling blood he scoured the Umbral Plains seeking vengeance against the dark lords who wronged him. He wore the crown of the Night Sentinels, and those that tasted the bite of his sword named him... the Doom Slayer."
Jumping off the body and switching back to his plasma rifle, he let loose a heat blast that pretty much cooked an approaching squad of swinefolk, sending chunks of rancid bacon over the battlefield. He then spun around, catching a slasher's hook. Changing out for the double-barreled, he unloaded point-blank into its helmet, the buckshot shredding everything inside.
Feend scoffed and said, "That sounds like a story cooked up by the Church."
"Story or not, we have a Servant that fits it, do we not?" rebutted the Gale Wheel.
A shadow loomed over him and an unclean giant slammed its uprooted tree trunk onto his body. As it lifted up again, it let out a cry of pain as Berserker punched its kneecap and knocked it over. It had missed and did not regret it in time as he unloaded another shot in its head. Grabbing the tree trunk, he swung it around once before releasing, bowling over a large number of skeletons that were approaching.
A burst of yellow spores suddenly splashed on him. Turning around, he spotted several large fungal humanoids approaching with clawed arms outstretched. It reminded him of the possessed humans he once fought on Mars. A red aura slowly enveloped him as he dismissed the double-barreled shotgun. As he lit up, a red skull slowly appeared over the front of his helmet. He then grabbed a flailing claw of the nearest fungal scratcher and pulled it in, ripping off what passed for its head soon after. He then ran up to each one and tore each one apart. A loud shriek was let loose as a few carrion crawlers launched themselves at him. The first and second get grabbed out of the air and smashed together, both exploding to bits. The third, he caught and pulled it apart. Then, he spun around and caught the extended maw of a large carrion crawler as it shrieked at him. Slamming a hammer fist down and breaking it off, he pulled on the tentacles, bringing it closer and jamming the second mouth into its eye.
Ignoring its dying screams, he burst into movement in search of his next target.
Inwardly, he seethed. How is this Berserker tearing through all this? His personally crafted plans. This will not do. Not do at all.
"Hmmm, mphm mphphm, mmmphmm," sneered Sagara, his mumbling sounding like mockery.
Ah, yes. The Masters that were captured. He had almost forgotten about them. It would be at a time like this to make use of them. Also...
"Did you say something?" Caster replied in an eerily calm tone before turning back to the battlefield, "Berserker seems to grow more powerful the longer he continues to fight. Not to mention he seems to be siphoning energy from every death he causes. So, I wonder what would happen... if the enemies he fights do not exist at all."
Celenike mumbled something else in turn with a frown.
"Perhaps it is time for the three of you to contribute to my plan," he stated as he raised a hand, gleaming blue, and clenched a fist.
"Mmmph-" she was able to sound out before the fleshy grows suddenly grew smaller tentacles that burrowed into them. Muffled cries continued until every drop of power was drained from them.
He chuckled before saying, "Truly, blood has soaked the soil." At this, the earth turned flesh-colored, the ground pulsing with life as it rapidly spread out from Caster's position.
"What is happening!?" exclaimed Gordes loudly, unable to believe what he is seeing.
The earth became flesh at an instant, spreading rapidly over the battlefield. It spread so far it even drew pause from everything that was still fighting or moving into the fight around Berserker.
"You should not have come here, Berserker," Caster's voice echoed out, "But, now, I finally see what needs to be done to destroy you."
"All shall be returned... Heart of Darkness."
The flesh earth moved, swallowing and engulfing everything. Swinefolk. Bone men. Berserker. Even himself. All were taken in by the writhing abomination and into nothingness. And after that, the earth settled down, returning to its original state, as if a one-sided battle had never been fought out there.
"You know... I agree. Where the hell did they go?" asked Rottweil, scratching his head in surprise.
"I believe... a reality marble..." muttered Feend in awe.
"A what?"
"The materialization and projection of one's soul onto reality..." he explained in a hushed toned, before composing himself, "Then again, I should not be completely surprised that a Caster should have such a thing."
"The more pressing issue is whether Berserker could win despite the disadvantage," muttered the Gale.
Things were going surprisingly well. The moment he drew Berserker into his make-shift world, Caster threw out hundreds of illusions for him to fight. These are not ordinary illusions. Oh, no. These illusions could easily fell a normal man and no less dangerous towards a Servant in spite of their frailty. As distractions, these gave him time to mold the rest into the Heart, producing it from memory. All his memoirs could easily recall that magnificent sight deep within the darkest dungeon. It did not take him long. As it gestated, he made himself presentable. By manipulating a larger-than-life puppet of flesh. The illusions melted and fell away, and he stood before the raging Servant with a grim but satisfied smile on his face.
"You think yourself strong, Berserker," he declared through his mouthpiece, "Remind yourself that overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer."
The Servant of Madness raged even further. Blue beams and bolts streaked through the air. Bullets were spat out in rapid succession. Caster's puppet absorbed it all. In return, he vomited out black miasma that poisoned the air all around. He tried inserting visions of horrific effects into the Servant's mind but found them rebuffed and turned away. Bit by bit, the puppet's condition deteriorated. And bit by bit, Berserker had less ammunition with him.
It was soon time.
"Behold, Berserker. The heart of the world. It is the Alpha. It is the Omega. It is your end."
His puppet crumbled away and he revealed the Heart. A grand figure of pulsating flesh, the upper body female in design and fused together. A crown of tendrils upon her head. It looked glorious, the great progenitor of the Earth.
Caster could only chuckle as Berserker cycled through his guns; only a piddling pistol of minuscule damage could muster a shot.
"Do you see now, Berserker? Your weapons matter little here," he gloated, "You cannot siphon energy from something that does not exist. Look at you now. Weaponed weakened and life soon to be laid low. You cannot win."
He could feel the Servant's fiery glare but he kept his composure. So sure was he about his win that he didn't blink when Berserker brought out his chainsaw.
"Now what can that do-"
Imaginable shock emerged where the Servant reared back his arm and threw the melee armament at the Heart. It shrieked in pain as the weapon buried itself in its chest. Wasting no time, Berserker rushed in, took a great leap, and started climbing as soon as he landed on the Heart, heading straight for the chainsaw.
"No, I will not let you!"
Flesh spikes stabbed outwards, trying to both injure and to slow down the Mad Servant as Caster tried his best to get the Heart to remove the chainsaw. It was unfortunate; in spite of the success of the rapidly-forming spikes in perforating his armor, it did little to slow down the Servant. Very quickly, Berserker reached the top and pushed his weapon in further, causing more shrill cries of pain.
"You dare!" yelled Caster as the Heart grabbed at him, trying to throw him off.
His brutality knew no bounds. Maintaining a tenuous grip on the chainsaw with his right arm, Berserker punched the elbow of the Heart's arm as it grabbed his helmet, breaking and snapping it open. He then grabbed the now-useless arm and shoved the bony protrusions into the Heart's throat, stemming her screams permanently. Now a muted gurgle, she tried shoving him off with her remaining arm. He grabbed it and pushed off, using it to swing around. The chainsaw disappeared and the pistol made its reappearance. Taking a careful shot, he sent the blast of plasma into the top of the Heart, where it was affixed to the metaphorical ceiling.
"I will not let you!" roared Caster in anger.
Many move hands grew and sprouted out of the Heart's body, grabbing the offending Servant and pulling him close.
"You will pay for this," the Servant of Magecraft growled out as the Heart transformed. Its center rippled open, revealing a gaping maw filled with razor-sharp teeth.
As the arms threw him inside, Berserker rematerialized the chainsaw and pulled the starter cord. Far too late for Caster to realize that he was the overconfident one.
Two bodies were dumped onto the plains from out of thin air. Both landed on their feet, but one fell to one knee while holding on to a bloodied chainsaw.
"You... It seems that I was off about you," growled out Caster, stepping towards the other as his right-upper body morphed into a grotesque appendage with a single razor-sharp claw, "All my resources, destroyed by you. All those Seals. Precious commodities. All gone. Perhaps it is time to dispense with elegance and just kill-"
BOOM!
"-you..." he wheezed out as he watched the smoke wisping off the barrels of the super shotgun. The same weapon the aimed higher.
BOOM!
The now-headless Caster collapsed to his knees and fell forward, his remains bursting into flakes of black light before dissipating into the air. Berserker rose to his feet and turned around. He moved towards the castle, calmly reloading his weapon while ignoring the wisps of red dust flaking off him. Snapping close the shotgun breach, he took his last step before finally dissipating into the ether, moving on to the next battlefield.
Leaving the remaining magi speechless.
Commentary:-
They called for a Guardian of the Scales,
A Keeper of Balance.
To them, we send only you.
Rip and Tear, until it is done