The Knight braced himself, for he had not been as fortuitous as the once and future king. She had let herself sidestep the barrage of flame–leaving him and the Saint of the Flag.
A twitch of the nerves, a silent groan of shame and resolve overcomes him. Summoning forth a shadow-bound shield from the mana that was his being. He ran to the saint, he bats her away a noticeable distance. She gasps.
The Knight says with no voice "I apologi–"
Flames, with heat vicious enough to burn a mortal man in the mere moments before they could even register the pain, came down upon the once lush green planes he stood upon.
A quick raise of his shield allows himself to avoid the infernal pain. His ambiguous body tenses, he can almost feel the heat–though it is vague.
When the flame stops, he does not register it–his body is pushed. Downwards his stance goes, to his knees it goes, the seared ground flys from the impact.
The Knight is forced to his knees, as the titan lands upon him. The body strains and he can feel what could be a breaking sweat.
Light goes away, and the air of soil and ash comes to him. He'd gag if he could.
The black dragon he learned of from the Sorcerer's Apprentice's allies had landed on him. And it took all the might he could muster to not buckle.
This was nothing, for the Knight had faced hordes of camelot's most fiendish foes–
Felled the Northern God of Thunder, whence he came for recompense towards the Knight after he punished a child of Asgard, who decided to take his bride and attempt to taste her chastity.
Beyond that, The Knight slaughtered man upon man, beast upon beast.
When the King left with the others, he stayed. For that was his duty. To his king, and to his wise master who promised him utopia.
To repay what the King of Knights and Magus of Flowers, Sir Dandel, Lady Evaine (those who took him in as their child) and his uncle had granted him.
No matter the persona he played,
The fool, Sir Percy Du Skadia
The lesser Percival as Sir Tristan would joke.
–That was true though, and I was honored to even be compared…
Or the spiteful suspicion by that evil, blighted, bastard.
'So what? You stand guard while we do all the important stuff–you're as worthless as "Percy". At least he makes me laugh with how much of an idiot he is. But you, you don't even have a title, not even a seat at the table. You're just Merlin's errand boy! His dog! But…WHAT MAKES YOU SO FUCKING IMPRESSIVE THAT MY FATHE–The King won't even ask your name, huh!? Why does he give you the time of day?! Why does he look you in the eye…'
What pitiful creature it was…
In the end, all the Knight had done was to prove he wasn't what ran through his veins.
To prove he was not his despot father–
He was more than the curse,
Greater than a scar left behind by the white drake,
If he fell, he'd stand right back up before his enemy could even enjoy the ecstasy of victory.
The Ebony Blade would keep him going until it was done.
Not even titans from the stars, made of metal and fire, five who became one–could keep him from what he must undertake.
Large odds, overwhelming odds, they were never his weakness.
Which made him blind in the end, as that black dagger went into his back.
It's spiteful being tread upon his corpse, "Get back up from that!"
True death came–
As that abomination's temper tantrum ruined all the good that could have happened.
"..." Relief (or something close to it) comes.
The weight lessens, he makes striding motions to leave the crater the titanic beast had made from his landing.
At a good distance away, he about-faces to see the black dragon, Fafnir, and his dark master.
With a wretched sneer, she looks down upon her golden-haired counterpart as she regains her bearings. "Down on your knees? I wouldn't expect less from a sycophantic fool–still on your pilgrimage to save this misbegotten hellhole you call a country?"
The Holy Maiden Saviour stands with her flagstaff and meets the Dragon Witch's irey gaze. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come forth for but a moment. "Yes", replying as if this was the only thing at this moment, she was sure of.
The black clad saint scoffs "How droll. Even after seeing one of our master's child's closest grovelers succumb to my infernal desires? What an absolu–" without warning a dark slash of dark red comes for her form.
Fortunately, la pucelle could meet its challenge–the blade split the energy and diverted it from her and her pet.
Her flaxen eyes zero in on the attacker who dared to interrupt her. And the sight standing on the ground below her, well it came as a shock on the way. "What the hell are you?" her voice was almost a whisper, her pupils shrinking and sharpening.
A visage like her own, drenched in umbra "Aren't you of the Ruler-class?" the attacker responds with hefty gratification "My reputation should always proceed me, and if it does not–I'll never pity the ignorant sod who sees and hears no evil, for I'll make sure they'll rapidly meet consequences of a such lapse in common sense" Her own insidious irises meet The Dragon Witch's without fear, but with interest.
"A corrupted King of Knights? You shouldn't be possible?"
"And yet here I am." She smiles, "And I could say the very same for the existence of you and the lost girl over there who wishes to save this country that foresaked her. Though, I must say–her response to my inquiries left me wanting" Arthur raises Excalibur to the Dark Saint. "I hope you are able to satiate my wonders."
The shadowed knight clutched his blade, the Dragon Witch's attention solely focused on the King.
He attempted cautious motions closer to her and her steed, but the black tail of the beast was swung in his path.
Fafnir, his gaze filled with vicious intent towards the shadow servant, was keen to watch his surroundings now–so that the master wouldn't be jumped yet again.
It could think. The Knight backed off and made his way to the Good Saint of the Flag all while the King and Witch bantered.
"Your wonders?! I am this country's end–not some jester to entertain you! And I've done enough answering to lords who think they're above me–Artoria Pendragon!" She laughs, "...And who are you to think you're anything better than lowly shit. You're just as much a failure as her! Even more so, your true name is obscured by history itself. What? Is your story so pitiable, they have to raise it up by making you a man?!" she evokes a flame upon her palm "Your deeds are just more proof that there is no saving those vile sinful wretches called humans!" she crushes her palm, and the flames go out with a sizzle.
"If that were true, then her story would not be one that many aspire to!" Jeanne, her voice, one as soothing as a melody to the knight, cut through the vitriol of the saber servant and other ruler and grabbed the latter's attention. "History does not look back on her as a failure, but a cornerstone that led to generations and generations of valiance!"
"HA! Yes, the woman who was cuckolded by her most trusted knight, decried by her followers, tricked and seduced by her sibling and felled by her own child–is a cornerstone? Do you even realize how stupid that sounds?"
The Shadowed Knight saw his liege's eyes sharpen, and her blade beginning to radiate with dark power. "Such insolence…"
Jeanne takes steps forward, placing herself between the tyrant and her reflection, with a merciful curve of her lip and pleading amethyst gaze, she spoke "Nothing in life goes to plan, no matter how lofty the goals are. We just have to take solace in knowing that we did give out something pure and good in the world. Something that can be taken and cultivated so tomorrow's innocents won't deal with the wars of yesterday" The blonde explained with an assured serenity to her answer. "We're called the Holy Maiden Saviour…" her gaze became unsure with those words "...so that means our life wasn't in vain…Right?" she bit her lips and winced.
"Right? She says'' her porcelain white lips curve into a self-assured grin "You can't even muster the bravado to lie through your own teeth–hehehehAHAHAHAHA!" her voice ratchets upwards as she throws her head back in pure bliss.
"As farcical as her ignorance is" The King snidely commented with a ghost of a twitch to her brow, "seems her being more honest was an apt wager, Saint of the Flag" she held her blackened blade to her side, the hilt clasped with both hands, with an expecting ferocity. "How do you intend to move forward?"
Her resolution is clear and unwavering. Was she the falsehood, some ignorant ghost of hope thrown to the four winds in a last attempt to save the people who damned her. Was her devotion, the memories of the grace people could grant others, and her feelings of solemn content for her when her end came, is it all truly so hopeless–when the only reasonable reaction one could give for a fate such as mine…is pure wrath. Am I just a fo–
"Oh, that's just fantastic!" Jeanne is ripped away from her crisis to once again lock eyes with those that very much like hers. "Is that the look of your naivety finally being torn to shreds?"
"I–"
"AAAAAARRRRR–"Whatever response she could have mustered was extinguished as a blackened form shot down from the hellish gathering in the skies. Impact blew the Saint forward into the clutches of the Dragon Witch and her pet. While the King of Knights, quick to the draw, found herself in a blade struggle with a newcomer. "-THUR!"
"Bothersome" replied the King cooly.
Jeanne landed, quickly attempting to bring herself back to her feet–only to find the weight of Fafnir's clawed grasp. "GAH!" Her form was subsequently clenched tight.
Breath escaped her lungs and her body trembled as she tried to wriggle and stretch her limbs to break free.
The Shadow Servant saw her struggle. With cause he hauled his body forward, his darkness encumbered blade ready to meet the Dragon Witch and Fafnir's threat in full–
Only for a wyvern (presumably the newcomer's stead) to swoop in an attempt to claw and bite him for his troubles.
The beast raised its hand and brought it to his master, so she could see the saint of the flag up close. "I'll do you a kindness, me. Your death will be quick, only if you say these three words–you are justified. Then.." she snaps her fingers "it'll be over, and I'll make our dark wish a reality, a France where all will know, that they shouldn't have fucked with me! It'll even end the war our good for nothing master forced us into–there will be peace when all those ungrateful sinners are silent. And you won't have to continue to struggle in vain" she pinches her other's chin, letting out a sadistic giggle and a presumptuous leer. "Just three simple words, even a dumb god fearing sheep like you can say those…"
Even with her turmoil, even while on the brink of despair, questioning her own motives and reasoning–it didn't even take a second for Jeanne to utter her answer "I'll never stop fighting for my master, this country or its people. Even if all that I save damn me a thousand fold, because I know in the deepest depths of my soul–all can be saved…" she gags, blood sputtering from her maw "Even you, who claims to be filled with nothing but hate and vitriol!" her voice, though strained, held a resolution like steel. "If we are the same, then I know there must be something good inside you–a glimmer of hope that bites back against the darkness that overwhelms you!"
An Englishman with a paltry gift. He wails for my misfortune.
Why did the executioner allow this?
Why did it matter when I was to die mere minutes after?
Was he the only one who cried for me that day?
Were there others who just weren't able to make it past the guards?
The faces in the crowds–
What they said–
Were they truly all decrying me before my death–
Is this truly what I would wan–
Vengeance is sweet.
The Dragon Witch inhales sharply "grrrauh!" she palms her face and clutches it in agony "you, dumb girl…" she comes to a decision "...YOU'LL SUFFER LIKE YOU ALWAYS HAVE!" with her heel, she taps Fafnir and takes to the skies.
Each flap, a torrent, like that of a hurricane,
They go high,
The black dragon scraped the clouds,
"CHEW HER UP AND SPIT HER OUT! I'd rather not have you getting whatever sickness she has!"
The beast does as his master commands.
And the Dragon Witch beams in insidious pride, and she laughs–lord above, did she laugh…
Jeanne does her best to slip out, but she is two slow as they take her into his maw.
Attempting her best to get bearings and remain alive, the saint throws her body to the center of the dragon's mouth and tries in vain to find just about anything to hold fast to.
She avoids the rows upon rows of teeth, though with the wriggling of the dragon's tongue, whatever exposed flesh she has is cut.
I refuse to die here!
She extends her hand out slightly, somewhat closed and vertical in its position.
I refuse to let everything I work for be in vain!
Simultaneously and instantaneously–she summons her flagstaff and jabs it upwards into Fafnir's soft palate.
"GRAAAOOO!" the black dragon howls in pain, opening its maw wide–wide enough for the Saint of the Flag to gather her strength and wits enough to stumble hard and throw herself out and into the air—
She heard her reflection laugh, so taken by the depravity.
The golden blonde's vision was hazy,
Her body bled crimson,
it took alot to kill a servant or seriously down them.
Unfortunately, being nicked by a dragon was enough.
Lord, I'm sorry for my regret, the regret I did not realize…
She reached out to the heavens, staring into the blue sky that went past the clouds.
…I never knew I could do such horrors…
Her hair blew wildly as the air moved rapidly past her, each passing moment, her body going faster and faster to the Earth.
…I still do not understand 'why'...
…even with my resolution, I wonder…
She braced her body to hit the ground.
…who is real?
A form slammed into her, an arm wrapped around her chest and pulled her close.
Thwip! Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!
TTTTTHHHHHWWWWIIIIIPPPP!
Her descent slowed, she raised her head, and her amethyst eyes met the hazel eyes of Chaldea's last master-the last master who had just made a makeshift parachute (what the grail told her the contraption was) from his chalkless substance.
"Apologies for the late flight! But I promise you, Air Parker will take you safely to your destination in no time flat or your money back!" with a cheeky grin, Peter Parker jests.
Perhaps it was the pain overwhelming her or just numbness, but she couldn't help but snicker. Resting her head against his shoulder, she finds calm. "Thank you…"
"No problem, JD–" she feels his body tense "aw crap!"
The roar of Fafnir indicates to her, his change of mood.
She looks and sees the black dragon coming straight for them "Sorry, but things are about to get bumpy–" the brunette lets go of the parachute and the two go into free fall.
Though, even as the two rocket towards the ground–the black dragon was quite faster. Opens its maw and sparking flame it would assuredly incinerate them with. All while his master clung to his neck with a wrathful glee.
Peter rolls him and Jeanne to face downwards and braces himself as Lyon comes rushing towards them. He cringes at the thought of what he's about to do–I'm about to destroy their homes, aren't I?"
Though, consequently–The dangers right behind me, meaning…I really hope so…the coast is–
Twenty feet away from landfall, seconds away from them both being red stains on said land. He aims for the closest and tallest building he could find within the brief moments he had.
It was time to put all the stops in.
"GRRAH!"
Pulling hard, pulling quick–his spider-sense warned him that it was going to hurt. Tell me something I don't know!
The air cuts by them quickly, the motion of their bodies curve violently, its half of parabola from what Peter briefly thinks.–
Meanwhile, Jeanne feels like her stomach is right next to her heart,
The brunette lets go of the webline as the parabola completes, they sail through the air as Fafnir landed, simultaneously, in destructive fashion–
And without a second's hesitation,
Aw crap!
Fafnir spews flames towards their direction.
The buzz of his spider sense and the increasing warmth on his backside, tell to act without a moment's release.
Aiming his free wrists, he thwips, the web sticks and he pulls with a resounding deft in his enhanced body–he lands with a thud, crouched, cradling Jeanne his arms and resting her on his legs as the fire sails overhead, hitting a building.
The structure combusts, and Peter's heart runs cold as he hears what could be death wails from the very same direction before him.
Anger and fear courses through him briefly, Jeanne sees his form become skewed (though this visage of him may have been from her injuries affecting her sight) and Chaldea's last master feels the sizzle of the static upon his palms.
It was enough to cause the saint to gasp a yelp, "Guh!"
His hazel eyes widen sorrowfully, "Oh crap, are you oka–"
"GRAAAOOOOOHHHHH!"" the Black dragon roars, his jowls igniting a burst of flame towards them.
His spider-sense told him danger was coming, though it did not tell him to flee–
Frightened puzzlement briefly flashed over his features, and as the flames were upon the Holy Maiden Savior and the boy known Peter Parker–
"-LORD CHALDEAS!" A voice resolute, incorrupt in its nature makes herself known as the pavement breaks and the noble phantasm is unleashed in full–
The brunette sees the fire pass by him on his left and his right, he looks over his shoulder and he couldn't help but laugh in glee and grief.
There she was, her lavender locks that would usually obscure the left of her ambrosial features, weaving briskly at the force of the fire that blew past her.
Mash Kyrielight held her shield steadfast against the inferno, lilac eyes fierce and teeth bared in struggle to keep herself ramparted.
Through the thrashing and savage flow of the flame, three could hear the beast's vociferating tone as it began drawing closer to them, all while keeping the fire in its throw lit to burn.
Each step shook the ground,
The flames began to rise overhead, causing the shielder's master to move closer to her and for the former to raise aloft her shield as if she were guarding herself from a fire from the heavens themselves.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" Mash cried in painful defiance as muscles tensed, threatening to spasm from the overwhelming heat. Even with her armaments ultimate ability unleashed, whatever the Black Dragon's was composed of–whether it be its original prowess or a boost from his master's power and holy grail–the shield and wielder was pushed back ever so slowly.
Jeanne's vision blurred, and thanks to some numbing from the initial attack–"it feels nice…doesn't it, Peter?" she drew out in a distant tone.
The brunette's entire being trembled, it told him to run but warned him if he did he would assuredly meet death. Sweat glistened his form and steam arose from said sweat.
Jeanne d'Arc, Mash Kyrielight, and Peter Parker—we're going to burn to death, aren't we? The question was dry, without any note of brevity.
The golden locks of her hair weaved within the fiery wind. Amethyst eyes, though clouded, stared into the panicked hazel of the young master.
He cringed and clenched his eyes.
"No!"
His image faded in and out.
"Not with all those people still in danger!"
Perhaps it was pity, perhaps it was the innocence that shined through the guilt, terror and rage–
"DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU NANCY DOWNS WANNABE!" he howled at the top of his lungs
Perhaps it was her wounds taking her wits away, she pondered as the brunette laid her down gently and braced himself against the form of his first servant to keep the escutcheon strong against overwhelming torrent of flame
"WE WILL NOT GO DOWN LIKE THIS!"
But she smiled at his sheer audacity.
The girl who was born from Doremy winced, her joints aching, she coughed blood as all the will the saint could muster–forced herself to her feet and took the back of both Jeanne and Mash. "Lord, have our strength be as steel!"
"MASH–"
Fafnir barrage was directly overhead now, the fire unending as it rained down with a breath on drake's end. His master, Jeanne d'Arc, had a twinge of annoyance at the fact her copy and the strange master persisted even now.
The Dragon Witch was prompt with her next decision and commanded "Fafnir, crush them, would you?" she asked with a caustic leer.
The beast of Nibelungenlied and the Volsunga saga, clenched his pharynx and esophagus which restricted the flow of gas and flame from within its gut.
This action was juxtaposed with the simultaneous raise of his arm, clenching black clawed phalanges into a fist.
The Black Dragon fire ceased and at the moment it stopped.
"-NOBLE PHANTASM NOW!"
–he brought his fist down with all the apocalyptic might his kind was known fo–
The former master of Artoria Pendragon kept himself moving, from rooftop to rooftop. Barely five minutes had passed since the assault on Lyon had begun, and the archer didn't break a sweat–for he was in his element, doing the one thing was still good at, which the Counter Force had fettered him to do until the human order came crashing down.
Which may be sooner than expected with who's supposed to 'save it', EMIYA thought dryly. The Faker stopped (which he only did when the opportunity presented) for a split second, eyes sharp, muscle memory refined to fault, the draw of his bow string perfectly autonomous in motion and release.
The projectile sailed through the air, followed by a second a few feet away from the first. They tore through the wings of a wyvern and sent it spiraling down to the settlement it was raining terror upon.
His bow dematerialized as he leaped to the ground, tracing a short sword to finish off the draconic cousin.
The wyvern was already back on its feet when he rounded the corner to meet it, it bled from its wings, but that didn't restrain it from stalking upon a man unlucky enough to find himself in its purview–
Having fallen to his bottom, shaking with fear, a fear that overwhelmed the instincts of fight or flight. The man screamed like mad, haphazardly crying as a demon seemingly spawned by the beast of the 12th Revelation, approached him.
It salivated ready to intake the flesh, the blood, to regain its health.
"Miséricorde! Miséricorde! Miséricorde!" the man begged through the tears and noise of his own being. "MISERIC–" The felt himself tumble and go face first in a gutter. "EGH!" he exclaimed.
Quickly looking over his shoulder and his eyes went wide. Relief overcame him for a brief moment as a white-haired tanned man clad in a large red coat had pierced the scaled skin of the beast.
The hilt of the blade rested in its chest; the stranger's sword had gone deep. Though the beast was not one to go down easy–it snarled and attempted to chomp at its attacker.
But the man in red was fast, dodging the beast's attempt at taking his top half from his bottom. He shot out his hand, grabbed the beast's horn and swung himself up and over.
Swiftly and methodically, saddled himself on the neck of the horrid creature, raised his arms–blades formed in his hands as if out of thin air–and he thrusted the sharp steel down through its skull.
The man in red leaped off the beast and back to the ground. "I'd suggest you get hell out of here before another one of these tries to make you, its lunch!" He warned sternly before heading in the wild yonder that Lyon had become.
This left resident of Lyon shocked as he watched the scaly creature that was previously just about to him wobble before collapsing to the ground and dissipating in a purplish dark mass of what could have been smoke. "oui…I should do that, shouldn't I?"
EMIYA found himself again free running the upper heights of Lyon, rounding corners and dodging attacks. He gauged when it was appropriate to attack, did so, and moved on without a second thought.
Mentally, he kept track of his kills and so far, –I haven't made a dent. He dryly reasoned, though the re-siege of the city was still in its infancy. That notwithstanding, the swarms of wyverns in the air and cacophony of chaos either from roars, the screaming of people or the destruction of property…well, it told the Red Bowman that the Dragon Witch had supplied herself with more of the draconic subspecies than her vampiric lackeys from a day ago.
A wyvern shot itself right for him. Taking evasive actions EMIYA leaped from the building he stood upon to the street below.
*BRONKASH* went to the structure as the beast crashed through it.
Did that worry him in any way? Of course–I've definitely had worse odds than this, he couldn't exactly pull those memories as they were not him per se, but…
Rapid in his approach–he smashed through the wall of the structure and went about disabling the reptilian terror before it could get its bearings…there has got to be a version of me that'd think this is a cakewalk.
The wyvern's form broke down into mana as the archer climbed back to the rooftops. "..." He sighed, the number of the flying beasts of myth and legend still large in their number. This is crap. He pinched his temples in annoyance. The kid could have easily solved this when we first got here–but no…
His eyes, sharper than a hawk or eagle, zeroed in for millisecond after millisecond. The people of Lyon ran, died, and uselessly hid from the Dragon Witch's horde. He inhaled sharply with a curve of his left lip that revealed his gritting teeth. The bitter scent of brimstone and ash entered and reminded him of days long, long gone.
He was so relieved to find me there…and I repaid his kindness like thi– He shook his head. "Fuck…" he cussed, it was barely a whisper. I can't be losing myself to that now, it doesn't matter anymore. What matters is the here and now…
He began moving again, refinding the target of his frustration. He just has to stick to the formula, doesn't he? All this death was the fault of the other Jeanne d'Arc, but her continued reign had been granted by his master.
Could his master have taken The Dragon Witch out if/when he had the chance. If EMIYA was being honest, before now, unless you were an omega-level mutant, something like a herald of ######## or a mage on par with the best the Association had to offer–he'd say no. But…
{Never underestimate a thief, the lowliest of predators. Their bite and their deception, no matter how miniscule, shall undue all–} EMIYA's palmed his forehead and missed his landing, hitting the side of building and–
*THUD*
—Falling to the ground. He rubbed his neck and growled with an acidic expression. "What the hell?" Point was, Peter Parker can actually fight a servant head to head. With one even believing that he could extinguish their connection to the world if pressure was applied. "In conclusion, Lyon, you can thank Spider-Man for your people dying…"
It really did feel like he was throwing in the towel. The Faker didn't even know why he was bothering at this point. The kid had proved he was out of his depth, on the brink of this whole operation failing before it had even begun.
EMIYA had of course thrown gas on to the fire of the boy's nerves. He's trying to be a 'superhero'-even with everything dead and gone in the present. Keeping his secrets when it should not matter, holding back when it should not matter!
Leaping from rooftops he aimed, pulled, let loose, evaded, sliced, impaled and repeated.
There's no justice in this war, why hold on to those ideals when it's clearly holding him back? "Why do I care?" he asked himself under his breath, "The kid's going to get himself killed anyway from the paths he's on" And I don't have to have been the same sort of idiot as him to predict the outcome of his folly.
*Shlick*-another wyvern turned back to mana.
"I shouldn't give a shit about what he does" He's frustrating to a fault, it was funny at first to see him squirm but now–I think I should have just killed him when he first attacked me, "Better yet, I should just nix my contract on my own, return to the throne and just fade into a hazy memory…"
The archer's muscles tensed, and he cringed, and what if he could learn to let go? Emiya Shirou? He pondered, with wide eyes and a quizzical frown. Where did that come from?
I knew him, 'a him'. He had seen my actions, called me out—and he got me arrested, twice in the same day–but if the path of a hero of justice inevitably led to a guy like me, why was Spider-Man still holding the torch?
I don't know, he's a stubborn moron!
A stubborn moron like I was? Who faced the true side of the world, the ugly side it hid behind a mask–How could someone like that still hold his morals in good faith, when he's fought monsters that'd make the priest that the golden king disgusted or bashful?
EMIYA…had no answer. Carnage, The Green Goblin, Massacre, The Red Skull, ######### and ec cetera upon ec cetera. That's not this kid though, he's not even an Avenger in this timeline!
So, if he was an Avenger, all would be well?
"Shut up!"
Why do you persist like this? He isn't yo–"Yes, he is…I can see it in his eyes, the trauma, the guilt, it drives him like it drove me! Now shut up and let himself be killed or let me do it!"
Whatever that was, what ghost of a voice had crept into the back of his head, was silent–
*BOOM*
Only because the ground shook, followed by the Red Bowman's entire being pounding in warning.
His master was about to die, no ifs or buts about it.
"Ugh…guess Christmas came early, huh?"
Standing upon a terrace, it wasn't hard to find the cause of the minor earthquake.
Fafnir was blocks away, spewing flame and encroaching himself upon something or someone. And I'd wager to guess that it's my dear old master. His nostrils flared as he crossed his arms disapprovingly.
It was barely a question what was diverting the flame from its target, that girl is really the only thing keeping that moron alive. The Shielder's armament was second to none in forging from what EMIYA recalled, and while he was more familiar with blades (some firearms here and there), he knew when something was of a special caliber. He knew not its origin, but due to it being Mash Kyrielight's noble phantasm, it had to be something without equal.
Even with that understood, the heat would, burns or not, superhuman or not–would kill her master. Then Mash Kyrielight, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada, and EMIYA himself will break down into the magical energy that had spawned them.
This singularity would be won by Dragon Witch, and the human order would cease–That's just the sort of karma he deserves The Archer thought callously, though he knew allowing this to play out would go against his contract with Alaya.
He scoffed, I've failed before, it doesn't matter, all this could just be pruned. It didn't matter what he did, all roads, all choices, lead to destruction, no matter what factors are involved.
Deep vindication at the back of his scalp decried the brunette, {Not much was expected from the thief, the dire consequences of them in the role were set in stone the moment it set foot upon this path. There was no other ending to their pathetic life!}
"Tch" The Red Bowman wrinkled his brow at the whisper only to just barely sidestep the flying sharpness of a black key from behind–
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" With a disapproving glower, the once picturesque boyish features of the Japanese Catholic, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada.
"..." EMIYA just rolled his eyes at him "Seeing if our master can handle the frying pan and the fire" he snarked.
Amakusa looked as if he was about to retort but muzzled it "Why did I even bother…I'm going to try and save them, then I'm going to come back and kill you!" With that Amakusa raced, leaping from terrace to terrace towards Fafnir and his master.
"We're all going to die anyway, some of us just more than others…" EMIYA saw Fafnir raise his arm as his maw continued to heave a torrent a flame deep from its throat. That's what's going to happen, no doubt about it. His master was going to get squashed into a mass of blood and flesh.
Lyon, it was overbearing and the sight before him foreboding. He heard screams of the soon to be dead. The screeching of the minor drakes, crackling of fire, and the collapsing of buildings. This was the end. Good, wouldn't have it any other way–
"DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU NANCY DOWNS WANNABE!" The voice struck the archer, cutting through the air.
It made him pause. Do I remember why Tohsaka liked him? A younger voice, a more innocent voice asked him.
"WE WILL NOT GO DOWN LIKE THIS!"
Because he reminded her of myself, how I (used to) never give in even with all of the naysaying. That's also why I liked him, respected him even.
Fafnir clenched his maw, and brought down his fist.
I was a fan once, wasn't I? He groaned–manifested his bow, pulled the string back, traced a spiral blade. He focused mana into the sword, circuits burning, reinforcing it, reshaping it into a slimmer form. Was it more than enough to get the job done? He wondered if it could kill Fafnir, could it kill the Dragon Witch, he figured if it could stagger Heracles from what he recalled in a past life, then perhaps–
Master, if you can hear me…
With steeled eyes and a spiteful frown, "Get bent, Spidey!-CALADBOLG!" he let go…
"LORD–"
A mere moment, a change in the air as danger arose. Fafnir eyes darted to his baffles, and he made a decision–
The Dragon Witch, Jeanne d'Arc, went airborne as her pet bucked her off violently–his tail batting her away.
A surge of blue, straight shot of cobalt mana, came forth–
"-CHALDEAS!"
"THE FUUUCCCKKK!" The master of Fafnir was hurtling across the city.
Channeling her mastery of the grail and her pets, a wyvern shot for her and grabbed ahold of its horn. She was just in time to witness the fireworks.
An expanding dome of red that destroyed all in its blast radius. Buildings were razed and scattered into splinters,
Her wyvern could barely fight its torrent, its wings batting up and down rapidly to stay steady against the air that became picked up by the blast.
It was a spectacle to be sure, as all the light in the sky seemed like but a flame in the shadow of a dark room to it.
The horizon darkened for all who could view it.
And at the heart of it all, "FAFNIR!" she cried in anguish.
Amakusa Tokisada Shirou, crashed through building after building.
His body reorientated itself more times than he cared to count as he tumbled.
And eventually friction did what it was supposed to as the false priest fell into the fields on the outskirts of the city.
Golden eyes attempted to look straight but only met the kaleidoscope of his own fluttering vision as his tanned frame faced upwards towards the sky "What…just…happened…"
He had been perhaps twenty yards away from the Dragon Witch and her pet before an overwhelming spate of crimson blinded him and tossed him away with its power.
"Was that a noble phantasm?" He asked, his world becoming stable. It couldn't have been anything else–such overwhelming power. But who could have– this question became meaningless as a simple and expedient remembrance and terrible worry, yelled at him "PETER AND MASH!" They had been at the center of it–Lord, no!
He turned back to the city as the blast began to weaken and dissipate. Standing staggered from the glorious yet haunting display.
He clenched his fists in distress and ire, feeling the popping of bone, and flush of his flesh. Calmer rationale informed him of the obvious–Peter's alive. He would have been beginning to disappear, breaking down into mana that had formed him and returning to the throne if his master had truly expired.
He smiled, counting his blessings, and thanking the Mother, the Son and the Holy Spirit that the end had not come. The ecstasy of joy was replaced by a bitter understanding and sorrow. It is good that we live, I just hope the casualties of whatever that explosion was, had not been that grand for the innocent that have dwelled here…but there will always be casualties and sacrifices for ones might to be done.
Needless suffering is what it always seemed like for the Japanese Catholic, another attestation of a mindset he had abandoned long ago but could not truly let go of.
A world without suffering, where the innate greed of the human soul could not burden its host. An aspect of him, one that had lived through the grail war in Europe, where only fourteen servants, Jeanne d'Arc and a freed homunculus had battled–whispered in his ear, to let go of this notion and false sobering he had come too in this world where the grail war had stayed in Japan.
I can't, he reminds himself, for he faced the truth in this world.
There was a man by the name of Johnathan Blaze, former carnival stuntman, owner of circus, devoted husband and father to a boy and girl.
He was someone who had lost everything amidst the Lilin Insurrection, but sacrificed his flesh to rebond with God's Vengeance and drag the first wife of Adam down to Hell at the eleventh hour before the dawn of the new millennium.
His sacrifice was great, though he had to suffer for him to make said gambit…but him knowing that his wife and children were in paradise. Perhaps that's what made it worth it for him,
And there was the realization of the truth of his foster brother's intentions and actions when confronted by a man known as Nicholas Fury. All those children, their bodies beneath what was supposed to be a holy place…and those two agents Granted, in their line of work, casualties during reconnaissance weren't rare. And for their child to be orphaned due to their chosen profession was not all but guaranteed unless they were the best of the best–or very lucky.
One would think this would bolster his intentions, that instrumentality for all mankind was the answer…
Instead, his mindset hit a snag, a rampart of uncertainty. Which led to him recalling his venture with the Children of the Midnight Sun and Blaze's sacrifice so that a world where man still suffered could continue.
Thus, resulting in a visit to an old friend and to see the aftermath of Kirei's actions.
It was but a day later, he approached the house in Queens, unsure if this was the right course of action. He was unworried of being detected, his dear servant had made sure any onlookers but the ones he wanted could see him.
He met one of the agent's brother and his wife–both grieving the loss in their own way. And then he met the child. A brunette four-year-old, with active hazel eyes that looked dull and downtrodden even with the vigor of youth. All the joy the boy like him would have at his age, was gone. Even one so young could understand what he had lost…
After giving his blessings, holding in the urge to apologize and confess to what happened. He met with his old friend.
This friend, Daniel Ketch, his life was not on the upswing, his sister and adopted mother dying by the hands of a rogue Lilin.
He was overcome with the pull of his spirit of vengeance–so much so, he wasn't even able to attend their funeral.
The love of his life had moved on from him. He was satisfied to spend the rest of his life running a bar and being alone. His only companion being that of a bottle of alcohol he could nurse to forget and numb himself, only for the ghost rider to overwhelm him and do the job it was put on this earth to do.
Though apparently he wasn't always alone. Every once in a while, those from the events during the dawn of Millenium visited him if they were the proverbial neighborhood.
From the surviving son of Sparda, the Daywalker, the heiress of the bloodgem, to the Magician of Fifth Magic and co.
As well as poor Bazett.
These visits were brief glimpses of peace for the young man. But they were fleeting.
Amakusa hadn't seen Daniel since the Lilin Insurrection, though he had heard word of his status from the letters he had received from Sara. They exchanged words briefly, and I was all but ready leave and to continue with my path when I saw him in this state and mindset, damn the consequences of going against Kirei and his malicious intentions–
That was until the spirit of vengeance took hold of the body. Daniel's flesh burned in an instant revealing the skull and marrow beneath. With this done, he spoke.
'I know of your intentions, Shirou Kotomine, and what sins you have committed to ensure this new world of which you seek…I only restrain myself from sentencing you for this abominable path due to your friendship with Daniel and Sara…'
The cobalt flames that engulfed his skeletal form burn bright in resolution 'So I shall leave you with this, to live is a blessing, yes. But to live a life worthwhile and pass on is a gift. Our master, your master, made this so that stagnation could not happen, so his children could learn and grow from the past. Using in tandem their greatest tool, free will, so they could decide for themselves how the world shall be and how it will be left behind. And you use yours to tear it away. It is your right granted, but it is not just.'
Amakusa argued of course 'Do you know much suffering is in our world? How many people are sacrificed everyday to perpetuate the cycle of violence? If mankind became everlasting, they would have no reason to fight. All their wants and needs would become things of the past, their innate cravings whether of the mind or body would be null in void.'
'Perhaps, but if that were the case, why wasn't humanity made to be that in the first place? Shirou Kotomine?'
'...I have no answer…'
'Neither do I, as I am but an offshoot of an offshoot of the true Archangel of Justice, who would truly know–that said, his host, knowing full well of this craving and violence, chose to save the world and let it continue. Are you, in truth, willing to damn Blaze's sacrifice and make it meaningless? To forever close the gates of Heaven to humanity with the Third Magic? And lead this world to be pruned?'
'That won't happen, at best the idea of this world and time being erased is theory and at worst fear mongering. The results will be to my expectations and I henceforth bear witness to a grateful world!'
'And thus you will sanction mankind to inequity, thus creating a new perpetuity where the suffering will be untold until our branch is cut'
'And how do you know that? How do you know I'm not fulfilling God's will on my own terms? How do you know I am not right?! As you said, your are an offshoot–you are not one to have truly met our Father during time immemorial and to truly know of his wishes'
'A fair point, but there are those who have risen against. You are already quite aware of that though...'
The Spirit of Vengeance approaches the ruler to stare him dead in the eyes. The Master of the Red Faction's Assassin expected to meet the full might of the Penance Stare only to instead have the Ghost Rider continue to speak,
'A Saint who had been damned yet still fights for humanity and a homunculus who has been given a chance to live and die on his own terms. Along with others who are finding their way with our master's gift, a fallen king who yearns to correct her mistakes, a suffering girl who will inherit vengeance, an heiress of an old guard and a boy caught in the crossfire of his own conviction.' He spoke, his voice otherworldly and haunting yet as familiar as the sound of a crackling fire 'And because I was told to meet you here today. For you already know, deep within your soul, the correct course you should take. You would not have come to Daniel and that grieving child if you had not found yourself with second thoughts, Shirou Kotomine.'
'So what am I to do? Noble Kale?'
'Use your gift, choose valor or blight. I cannot force you, but I do recommend remembering what good has come from this world as you consider. You have been given a second chance at life, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada, make good use of it…'
The False Priest made his way back into the depths of Lyon, saving those he could and slaying wyverns quickly and efficiently.
If this truly is the world I left behind after dying in Fuyuki… He snatched a child who was about to be in the maw of a wyvern, quickly setting him aside and then going about slaying the draconic cousin. There are still problems, there is still suffering. That notwithstanding–
He ran, hearing the child thank him before being lead out of the city by a woman who shared his features
To see that there are those with innate goodness I know to also dwell in the human heart and combat the evils the world creates. I cannot help but feel inspired, especially to see my master having grown up with conviction and morals to stand up for what he deems is right. Granted, those ideals were holding him back at this moment, but in another time, another place, Amakusa could see the righteousness Peter Parker held and how it could flourish.
Best to worry about that later, who knows what the aftermath of that explosion was. He could surmise the cost. Any human who had been unlucky enough to the vicinity of the blast was surely dead.
An unfortunate result, one that Amakusa would have to worry about and mourn later. Though even with this gauged, he couldn't help but to spare a few words between the sounds of his own steps,
"...In this life you embraced them with your tender love; deliver them now from every evil and bid them eternal rest…"
The fires that surrounded him,
"The old order has passed away, welcome them into paradise,"
The cries of terror from man, and ecstatical roars of drake,
"Where there will be no sorrow, no weeping or pain,"
The slashing of a refined blade through scaled flesh,
"But the fullness of peace and joy with your Son and the Holy Spirit forever and ever."
And, of course, his own pounding heart.
"Amen."
"THE HELL WAS THAT!?" Peter Parker asked, his voice sounding far away to her.
The girl from Chaldea, her nerves screamed at her, her chest beat like it was going to pop out of her ribs. She couldn't help but breathe heavily after what had just occurred.
The area surrounding her looked as if a bomb had been dropped down upon it. The buildings were gone, the grounds scorched and dug up to create a literal dent in the earth.
Everything but the small patch of bricked pavement her shield had guarded was still intact.
It had been a struggle to even stand against it, the blast twisting everything it came across in mere seconds. She had called upon all the mana she could muster without dematerializing to redeploy her noble phantasm when her senpai sensed the attack from Fafnir coming and yelled for her notice.
It was a close call, they'd been lucky, very lucky. "Heh…see, senpai…" her body felt weightless "...I told you your luck wasn't that baaaaadddduuuhhh…" her knees buckled and her master was quick to catch her.
"Mash!" his voice was still distant yet drew closer, she could hear the worry in his voice. Her hazy lilac eyes met his tense hazel "...good job…" he said with a reluctant smile.
She beamed "Thank you, senpai…"
Jeanne d'Arc, who rested on Peter's shoulder, who seemed to be in an even dire straight than the shielder, her once pristine appearance in disarray, her garb torn with cuts and bruises on her arms and bleeding from her lips–she grabbed Mash's hand shakily. "Quite valiant…Mash Kyrielight…your master is blessed to have you…as his shield…*cough* *cough*"
The lavender head's eyes widened. "Oh no, Ms d'Arc!"
"I'm fine…I have enough mana in me to keep together…though I do not know how long that will last…" the ruler admitted tiredly. "You…used your noble phantasm twice…how are you holding up…"
"I could probably walk, but I don't believe I'm fully operational at the moment to continue fighting or do anything strenuous, I'm sorry senpai…" her lilacs were disheartened to say the least.
"It's okay, Mash…" his hazel eyes drifted to his command seals "Tch" he grimaced.
That said, Mash was quick to give a solution with a blush "There's…always one option…"
"Quite…" she answered back with a sheepish smile at the absurdity of it all. "...though, I don't think this…is the place to have one's chastity broken" she blushed, her amethyst turned away from the brunette
Mash's senpai's eyes stared a thousand yards, like that of someone about to meet his death. "..." COLDSHOWERSCOLDSHOWERSCOLDSHOWERSCOLDSHOWERS— "IguessIcouldbleedonyouguys!" His answer was rapid, his voice cracking.
Jeanne laughed at his prompt response, washing away her bashfulness "That's…more appropriate for the situation I…suppose…Peter…"
A puzzling feeling overcame the shielder for a brief moment through the fatigue, and she couldn't help but–
The three were brought out of their conversation as a low growl pulsed its way through the air.
Doing his best to keep the ruler and shielder comfortable, Mash's senpai moved to look past Lord Chaldeas.
Lo and behold, was Fafnir, laying dead center of ground zero of the blast zone. A large chunk of flesh was torn from his body. He had only one wing left. The black dragon panted, his eyes staring vengeful daggers at the shielder, ruler and master of Chaldea.
"Grrrrr"
"Crap…" The brunette stated bluntly.
Mash felt her master's body tense, and without a second to ask him or process this, her and Jeanne were forced to the ground with her master.
A fast wind rushed over them, as a wyvern nearly grabbed them, its body knocked Lord Chaldeas off its post, and it slid into the chasm a mere ten feet away from Fafnir before dematerializing.
"You. Bastard!" her voice was so much like Jeanne d'Arc, but Mash knew it wasn't. "-the audacity and sheer cruelty of it all"
The Dragon Witch rode upon one of her lesser drakes, posturing upon, her arms crossed, a grim and wrathful snarl upon her pale lips and eyes that looked like they burn a glacier just by staring at it.
"Cruelty, you wanna talk about cruelty?!" Peter per usual, was quick to retort. Then he double-takes, fully absorbing his surroundings and a fearful realization overcomes him "God…"
"Whatever sort of gambit this was, I have to say, congratulations!" she snarled "Holy Maiden Savior and Strange Pathetic Master, you killed plenty of my pets and who knows how many ungrateful sinners–just so that you could injure my dear Fafnir. It is a blessing (as loathe as I am to say such a vile word) he did not die!" her entire body shook with rage.
"Okay look, that was not us! (at least I don't think it was)" Peter admitted, growing pale as his eyes darted to the sky expectantly. "I mean I can't make explosions! Can you, Mash?! JD?!" he paused and grace a reluctant frown "...I can't say it didn't help us though…fuck…" he said under his breath.
"Yet another lie, just like when we first met…heh…and liars deserve punishment!" she snapped her fingers. And the skies directly over the chasm soon became a frenzy of wyverns that had left what they were doing to answer their master's call. "Now–" she pointed down at the three in judgment "-TEAR THEM APART!"
The swarm of wyverns began to descend, leaving Mash's master with one option.
Without words, without a quip, an organism's most basic instinct kicked in as he hefted Mash and Jeanne with his arms–
And so, Peter Parker ran like hell…
Author's Note:
Back again, apologies for the wait. Hope you all enjoyed it, if not, sorry to hear that.
Updates, updates. Work is being done on the next chapter of the 'Last Bit of Red' comic, can't really give a date on when it's coming out but it's in the works. Spin A Fate has tv tropes page now, so that's pretty cool and many thanks to whomever set that up-I genuinely appreciate it. Going along with that, I'd like to give massive credit to Evowizard25 and Woohoopizzaman for their assistance/back-and-forth with me when it came to getting this chapter finished.
As for part 2 of Incendiary, expect it sooner rather than later. Should be out sometime around the holidays.
Other than that, I hope you all have a good morning, day or night-Peace!