His manifestation had come forth on the day after Jeanne D'arc rose. Awakening in a field, the wind being caught in his blackened cape and billowing as the weying morning sun's heat was absorbed by the almost black hole of his helmet.
A shrouded sword in his right, and a shield swathed in shadow within his left. His garb, his armor, veiled under as if within smoke, was that of a knight, not of this time but of the past.
This knight had lived, and he had died-an experience he had grown accustomed with the role he had given in his life.
This...this was different for him.
The body, the skin, the muscle, the blood and the atoms that made up his being was his, it felt like him. But he knew it was false-and moreso, incomplete.
This body had died while Artoria and her knights had fallen to their own insecurities and vices. He wasn't excluded from that fact-the blade had made sure of it.
He pitied them, wished he could have helped them sooner whence he heard of Mordred The Evil's coupe.
Though it wouldn't have mattered (maybe it was the blade talking), the Bastard Betrayer had the only weapon that could have truly killed him. And Mage of Flower's previous task had worn him out more than he could have imagined.
Was this to be contracted to the Throne? Feeling like yourself, yet not-realizing this wasn't your own body, but a copy birthed from the planet's own magic and wills of humanity?
No wonder The Mage of Flower's had warned him of this, even if his role as mentor to his descendants was broken-he would be brought back time and time again at the beck and call of others who may not have the best of intentions.
Even so, when the Sorcerer had called up on him and his ilk, told of the chaos brewing beneath the eyes of even the highest gods-better minds than he would have scoffed at this claim-the knight could not take that chance.
His oath had been to the human order-for better-or for worse. Even if the blade told him it was only cowardice of the unknown driving him. Fear of failing another civilization and its denizens.
Sheathing his vague blade, and placing the shrouded shield on his back he took note of the land. He had travelled it, a descendant of his perhaps-a great grandson, during the height of the black plague. The blade had been at its most insidious amidst the suffering.
He wondered why he was here. He had no connection to the land...though, he knew who did-
He turned his head, the smokey attire adjusting with small metallic *tangs* of the chainmail. It was distant, but he recognized the scream of someone in danger nonetheless followed by the thundering zounds of a crash and a roar, deep and draconic.
A small farm, several yards away, smoke drifting from its tip begins to burn.
He didn't have time to lose. Breaking into a sprint, the knight ran faster than he had in this body's life to reach the farmhouse. His body from a distance, looked as though it was shadow in physical form.
He passed through the abandoned garden, the occupants' tools had been left in a hurry. The fiery hole in its top revealed the silhouette of something big inside.
"Mommy please….don't leave me…" the whimper of a child tells the knight exactly what was at stake with no time to lose. Retrieving the escutcheon, he held it firm, bracing himself and then with hardened steps, precise in their intensity-he rammed the door to the wooden hobble.
The knight sight was quick, noting the main pillars in the room were slowly breaking down as the fire devoured the wood.
A woman had fallen over, a noticeable bruise on her forehead with a young boy no older than the age of five crying over her unconscious form.
The child, so caught in his own sorrow (what child wouldn't be) was unaware of the bipedal hulking form of a scaled beast the knight recognized.
A wyvern, with the body of a charred man in its maw. It bit down and absorbed whatever mana it could grasp the corpse's blood before tossing it away to focus on easy prey.
"...please...wake up…" whimpered the boy.
The scaly beast breathed in, and then released flame.
This would ensure death, that would not be.
The boy's eyes widened as fire flew past him and his mother's form on his left and his right. Tears streaming from his young eyes, he turned to find the white clad form of a knight.
The knight on his knees with his shield steadfast, waited-hand on the grip of his sword. When the fire ceased, he looked to the boy who still looked at him as if was a guardian angel sent by the Lord.
The shadowed knight was glad the boy did not fear his form, though maybe it was because he did not know any better.
The boy couldn't simply drag his mother out, he did not look as though he had strength. This would be difficult, but doing good was never necessarily easy was it?
Making a decision, he let the grip go. He pointed towards the blown out door as he came to the woman's aid and hefted her up with his free arm.
He made sure the boy was the first to exit the burning hobble as the wyvern pelted more fire.
Shield up, he made sure neither the mother or the son were burned as they reached the outside. When its attack failed, it roared as all beasts of its nature did when they failed to get their kill.
He knew the dragon's cousin would follow soon, it was a predator after all. He made another decision, risky, but these ignoble common folk would not be safe if he didn't. He laid her down within the garden just outside of the house.
The boy came to her side, as the hobble collapsed when the wyvern flapped its wings and soared into the air.
It would take seconds for it to return to them.
The knight looked into the air and saw it coming, fangs bared and its throat already starting to spark with its pyric spew.
They were sitting ducks, that was one perspective on this situation. But he wasn't one to just lay down and die in the face of overwhelming odds. He wouldn't be a very good knight if he yielded.
He ran from the side of the mother and child. Clanging the fuller of his sword to his shield in a manner he hoped would grab the beast's attention. Instead it went for easy prey.
It would take seconds before the dragon's cousin was upon them
The knight would have to be faster "..." frustrated, he doesn't relent. Sliding his sword into its scabbard, superhuman speed is used.
Its jowls wide and ready to take the boy whole, its neck is wrangled by arms adorned in chainmail.
The knight held for dear life and angled the fowl reptile for litteral greener pastures. His impact sent the beast off course. The boy's hair whipped wildly by its gliding wings as it rushed over him and his mother.
The wyvern tastes dirt, its large body tumbling with the knight still holding strong as he and the beast went up and down in a quicklike fashion until friction did its work in full. They left a trail of destruction, grass kicked up and the black soil below meeting the French sky for the first time in generations.
The Knight felt the wind slow and his motion stillen. The dragon's cousin was dazed, as was he. Mustering his motor controls, he let go of this scaly monster of myth and stood.
Body trembling, he knew time was of the essence.
The beast roused a confused screech as it began to gather its bearings. Flapping its wings, kicking up more dirt in the process-the Knight's next move would be his most important.
Wyvern were a subspecies of dragons if that wasn't obvious. The family is considered top of the top for phantasmal beasts. They were tough to kill, skin harder than adamant and vicious to a fault. But everything had a weakness, and for a wyvern it was the soft portion of their body going from their chin to their lower abdomen. Softer, yes-still harder than stone.
To kill one was easier than many but it was still tricky. You need to be skilled enough, have some sort of trait as part of your own being, have the blessings of thaumaturgy in some form or another.
For the knight, the state he was in now did not allow for his full might. The blade was no better than a regular sword-perhaps he was okay with that in some ways. But at the same time, if he was complete, the wyvern would have been minced meat.
The final alternative? An unrelenting will to strike down your foes despite odds that said otherwise.
It raised its head and stared into the knight's cunning eyes. The wyvern may not know the languages of man, but it knew the savage meaning of eyes ready to kill. And these eyes of a soul older than many, told the scaly monster that its end was nigh.
*schlick*
Its brain went blank fast, the full tip of the longsword had sunk into it in a swift and painless fashion.
Its body catching up to its dying state, the knight pulled the blade from its lower jaw. Stepping away, he watched as its body spasmed and returned to the mana from which it was formed. Breaking down into violet and indigo particles.
He looked over the wyvern's blood on the tip of his shrouded blade. The liquid dematerializing like the body it originated. The blade, incomplete, still gained from the utter savagery of his actions. Shimmering, the knight could almost divine its ebony sheen before it became unclear once more.
Resting the word in his scabbard and escutcheon on his back, he found the hobble. It still looked to be burning but that didn't matter. What mattered was what he had managed to save, even this came at a price.
The boy looked up at him as he approached. Tears were still fresh, though danger was gone and the knight could understand. The child would have to grow up without a father to teach him and care for him. And his mother would have to cope with losing her dearly beloved who she had built a life with-not an uncommon occurrence in this era. But to stay the sting of such sadness did not exist would be a great lie.
Taking off one of his white gauntlets, he felt the neck of the mother. "What are you doing, Sir Chevalier?" The boy asked, sniffling and rubbing his eyes like any child that suffered heart ache would.
The knight did not say, he couldn't even if he wanted to. The woman's breathing was steady and her pulse, though weak, was nothing to worry about. But she may not awaken for a while.
He had a choice to make "..." he knew the task was important, he wouldn't have accepted it if it wasn't dire. Nevertheless...he could not live with himself if he just abandoned these two.
Wyverns did not live in this era, he knew that much. And the thing about wyverns was that there was never just one. They were like rats in that way.
"..." he grasped the mother, supporting her neck and her legs in a manner most gentlemanly.
He surveyed the horizon. There were towns and villages around. He knew their names from another life's memory. A small village to the west, not known for much, not around in the present-but he remembered it being a safe haven when amidst a conflict or two he had found himself in-he needed to ensure this family's safety. He had taken an oath, been given penance, and he wasn't to give up when his mind was set.
He knew the Sorcerer's Apprentice only by reputation, not well enough to know his true identity-but he knew that that young hero was resilient to a fault. Immature, yes. But he was a child and if the Sorcerer could vouch for him-the knight couldn't belittle such acclaim.
He motioned for the boy to follow as he walked and watched the skies above. All while the boy was quiet and sulked. Hours later, he would ask the knight question after question.
Unknown to the knight, a blackened king watched him from afar. The knight before her walked in the form of a smokey silhouette. Even with this vagueness, the tyrant would always recognize the innate and savage efficiency of this knight, it was her mage's hound.
A misbegotten fool to all who viewed him when his role as butcher wasn't needed. He failed her and had gone away when Sir Mordred rebelled.
Be that as it may, she was not here for him-her summoning had backfired it seemed. But knew she would find her master here, and then she would join him, teach him, mold him and his servant of familiar weaponry into her pawns. It was her right after all, and what idiot would deny a king's request?
"No, no you are not" Amakusa, amber eyes sharp as he stared down the Dragon Witch, Jeanne D'arc.
"Excuse you?" the dark beauty said with an aghast tone.
"As I said, you are not the Saint of the Flag…" he passed Peter and pointed to the dark garbed saint. "...her soul would never allow such carnage!" he accused. "It's an affront to God!"
Peter gave him a perturbed look, but before he could say anything the woman laughed.
Cruelly, she did so "HAHAHAHAHA...oh how wonderful-of course, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada, a lost lamb of our father who art in heaven would think me false…" she sighs and shrugs, "...but I'm not telling tales dear lamb with his head not currently on a pike!" she gestures to herself in a flamboyant manner, "I am this country's saviour who they burned without mercy or thought of the consequences"
Amakusa still shook his head, "Whatever you are…" he faltered for a moment, two worlds, two memories overlapping. He cringes but stays up straight "...you are a fake!"
Jeanne's eyes sharpen, "Oh, am I now? Curious how a fake saint calls me fake in a class he shouldn't even be summoned in. What right do you have to call me a fake?"
"What is she talking about?" Peter asks, his spider sense flaring as the danger begins to brew.
Romani speaks to only the group, "You all need to get out of there! A dragon is not something to fool around with-even with four servants its basically suicide to go against it!"
The pseudo-priest points Miike Tenta Mitsuyo at her. "Master...I know you have not known me long, but you have my word as a child of the Lord. Whoever is standing before us, whatever history has said of her character, even if she shares the name, face and voice of her-she is not Jeanne D'arc!" He does not use the katana instead, with his free hand a fan of rapier-esque blades appears from thin air. With a flick of the wrist, the blades fly forth towards the Dragon Witch.
She groans, snapping her fingers-the black dragon shields her with its wings. The blade never even pierced its hide. The attack had done nothing but irk her it seems, "A mistake to even try-just as this town was, just as this country" She opens her arms wide, "I am simply doing a service. All of humanity, its good is overshadowed by its evil. So with this service, I shall cleanse this land of those who commit and could commit such sin-it's the only way to be sure~~"
Peter rubs his temples, looking around, the destroyed buildings and charred smell of what was once wood and could have been flesh. He exhales, "So, screw everyone else right? Even if they didn't do anything to you or couldn't have done anything to you?" He clenches his fists as sparks pulse. "Because I'm sure those kids deserved burning because you got the raw end of the deal!" He stands shoulder to shoulder with Amakusa.
Jeanne, her yellow eyes stare into his eyes from a distance. She notes the command seal "Lost lamb's master, right? Fleshy and weak, thinking you can guilt trip me? You are as guilty as the rest. How hilarious, Gille would get a chuckle at such devotion to the good nature humanity gives" She motions to the sky, "The soils shall be quenched with their blood, for they deserve it, their bones ground up into fine powder to join my damned army for they need my salvation, their souls will feed my berserk servants-because I enjoy seeing their carnage ramp up!"
The black dragon roars, and for miles and miles, other roars respond in unison to their alpha. "Doctor, I think she has more than one dragon on her side…" Mash noted in a worried tone.
"Their cultivation of land, of architecture shall be as dust in the wind-this country a barren waste. As I, through my own hand or by proxy shall kill every single human that draws breath. Call it evil-call it sin-call it heresy-if it truly is, and our dear sky daddy is watching in the air-then I will be stopped!"
Shadows appear in the sky, Nameless looks in the air and an annoyed grimace forms across his face. "...in for a penny…"
"...in for a pound…" Peter finished, spider sense telling him that they were in the red.
"Do you realize what this is, this is my reign, the rule of sin, where the sky shall be blighted by evil dragons for hundreds of years-more than that-this is an end! And I shall write it, because I fucking deserve it!" The Dragon Witch declares in a dramatic fashion as she unsheathes her blade and points it towards the group. Her blade burns, "Even if you are strangers-you are still human, which means guilt is yours by association~~" She delivers him a smile, as winesome as it was vicious "Any last words?"
Peter couldn't help himself, even with his danger sense telling him to do just about anything else. He claps his hands, "Wow-great speech, I think they have an oscar with your name on it!"
Jeanne is lost for a moment, "What?"
Mash gave him an unsure look "Senpai…"
"Oh brother…" Of course he's doing this...it wouldn't be him if he didn't, EMIYA complained inwardly. Readying to deploy Rho Ais in ca-no, when his idiot of a master pissed her off.
"But I'm afraid the contents of your plan are kind of-unoriginal," he says with a critical smirk.
Jeanne blinked, "Unoriginal? UNORIGINAL!" The ground beside her bursts with flames.
"Yup...ever heard of Reign of Fire, it's a little known Christian Bale flick about-you guessed it, dragons killing everyone and turning the world into a wasteland...and I find it kind of disingenuous to act like what's you're doing is right up there with sliced bread." He groans and points at her, "I mean come on-you even stole King Arthur 's style! And not even the actual King Arthur, some weird version of her that looked like she listened to too much Kamelot and got a few fashion ideas!"
Amakusa gave Peter a smirk, Saber of Red would like his snark
"So come on, Jeannie-can call you Jeannie? Just stop this, I already feel like I'm listening to some punk garage band's idea of deep commentary on the human conditi-"
She casted a hellish rebuke, the fireball as dark as it was massive-towards the teenage vigilante. Let loose a breath, he back pedals, taking Amakusa by the arm and looking to Mash with a gesture.
She moved in, Peter leaped over her with a confused apocryphal saint. Webbing the ground to land quicker. He steadies himself against Mash who plants her shield firm to block the volley of inferno.
Thing was, it never even touched them-it never even flew past them.
The flame had been eviscerated by a newcomer.
Mash and he peaked over Lord Chaldeas and saw her stand there like a god sent angel with a flag in hand. They looked at each other and blinked as Amakusa picked himself up, a tad confused about his own master yet again.
Then his eyes fixated on the woman before him, and he couldn't help but smile. "Hate to say I told you so, Peter…"
Standing before the Chaldeans, garbed in violet attire with golden blonde hair beautifully tied in a long ponytail that reached below her backside. Her hair, like a beacon for all to see, had a luminosity as the sun hit it.
Before the chaldeans, stood a woman who was a dead ringer for the Dragon Witch herself. She looks over her shoulder, amethyst eyes full of shame and her features, though stoic, reveal some sense of hesitance.
"...but I believe that's Jeanne D'arc" the Japanese Catholic appraised, a tricky smirk across his tanned boyish features.
Nameless comes to the group's side, She really does look like Saber, doesn't she? His heart, the wall, cracks a little. A quick snapshot of his old self shines through-a hope, a wish, a vow-he smiles, joy finds him, then the depression sinks in. He knew it was false, some weak part of him that still yearned for a life that could not be. I'll never see her again… He grimaces, summoning his yin-yang colored blades, he readies himself.
Her stance was resolute, and voice commanding-"Why? Why would you do this?" The fires still burned, though lighter as the distant skies still swam with the bodies of the draconic. "How deep is your hate for humanity that you would cause such calamity?! Dragon Witch or not, there must be something in you, your soul must hurt for doing this!"
The Dragon Witch was astonished, it seems, "Heh...oh this is just wonderful…" she groans, "...this is just what I needed," she beckons for the black dragon to bring its hulking skull down. "...a remnant of what I used to be, a foolish farmgirl who still thinks it's all worth saving…" She steps on the dragon's snout.
A better part of him told him what he was about to do was stupid, like really stupid. His spider-sense wasn't warning him of danger which meant-She's pulling a getaway! Not on my dumbass watch! This was a bad fucking idea.
"...how cruel this country is, summoning a ghost, a fake, someone it betrayed without a second fucking thought to try and save it from its inevitable sentence. Pfft-what a cruel jo-"
Her mouth was webbed, and her flaxen eyes traced his coming as lines of white stuck the dragon's horns. Within seconds, she found herself going weightless, the black heels of the brunette's shoes hitting her chest, kicking the air out of her lungs and sending her flying head first off the black dragon.
The chaldeans blinked, along with the newcomer. She looked at them, at a loss for words. "...I...what?"
Peter landed on the head of the beast as it began to raise its head to retaliate. He raised his voice, "Distract Draco here while I see about Bowen!" Without a second word, he flung himself off the scaly titan to see where the other Jeanne had landed.
"Who's Bowen?" Amakusa asked, trying to grasp the previous few seconds.
The black dragon snapped, tracing its head to follow Chaldea's master-its right eye was struck by an arrow. Not piercing it, but annoying it enough to turn its head to the four servants.
With an annoyed grimace, EMIYA traced another arrow. Fucking cape…"Don't suppose any of you have a dragon trait or something?" He already knew the answer, but asked anyway-
The blonde Jeanne, gave no answer "Why would he just jump like that…" she was shook. Why would he forsake himself to fight my own sin-
The beast roared, flapping its wings, they staggered as they resisted the pull of wind. This was just a show of force, as it bared its fangs and began to barrel right at them.
Amakusa shook his head, "Questions for later, as I have few myself-for now…" he grants her his head. "I say we make haste!" Lead the beast out of the city. We'll be in the open, yes-but he will be as well "Nameless, draw its attention!" he ordered, "Mash, Jeanne-as he distracts we'll attack its blindsides!" Though only Siegfried can really take it down! This was a fool's errand, but with their master MIA-what could they really do?
"Roger…" the shielder responded in a demure manner as her eyes traced the direction her Master went. He's doing it again…
The Dragon Witch groaned, having made a hole in a three story building and falling through two floors due to the velocity of her flight.
She picked herself up, tearing the white substance of her lips as she heard the landing of heels upon the wooden flooring.
His stance almost animalien, he gave her a haughty smirk that pissed her right the hell off. "Did you really think you could just monologue and run? Do you know how rude that is?"
"GRAAH!" she sent forth flame, that the human sidestepped before webbing her extended arm to bring her close to him.
She used her strength to counteract the attack, the white line broke.
Without a second to breathe, the master was on her.
She swung her sword, then the brunette dodged away from her and to the other side of the room. "Hey-no fair having a sword and fire powers?" he complained, to the utter annoyance of the Dark Saint.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" She clenches the hilt of La Pucelle tightly, "I'm trying to kill you and you're acting like-like-"
"A stinker? Loon? Rude? I actually have a backlog of insults from other guys who have had your exact mindset-it's almost like villains can't come up with new mat-" Spider sense flares Ah crap! The entire house erupts in flame, and Peter barely has time to exit the way he came in. Landed on the ground below, he side-steps, limbos and webs fiery debris away from himself as the entire structure explodes like a Michael Bay action set piece.
The town's streets were littered with flaming chips of wood, raising the temperature in the area and making the teen break a sweat.
With staunch steps, Jeanne came forth from the ruined structure with her sword clutched with both hands. Her speed in his league, what went was second to second slices and near-hits as the dark saint tried to land a hit on the wall-crawler.
It was almost a dance with how ferocious it was. Their moves are equal in reaction, and equal in response.
When he fired his gunk, she burned it fast.
When she slashed, when she shot fire-he was able to be missed. All while talking his mouth off.
"I mean I get the French can be jerks-but is it really necessary to burn the countryside with an overgrown iguana?"
Their strikes never land.
"Also what's with the other you? Did you have a twin in life or something? Are you the evil one?"
Webs Fired, flames burn them to cinder.
"Can you just stop talking!" Jeanne demanded, flames pikes forming from nothing and flying towards the brunette.
He makes his leave for a moment, running up a wall and back flipping over over the pikes and landing on the ground crouched to continue the fight. "Nah!"
How is this human even keeping up with my attacks-this is impossible! She snarled, setting the ground below her alight with flame to give her some distance from the dashing brunette.
He landed and stretched in a nonchalant manner, "Tsk..." his spider sense told him to stay cautious. "...what's your endgame exactly?"
Jeanne's nostrils flared, "I beg your pardon?"
"You can't just want to destroy everything-that's crazy! Historians say that maybe you had some form of schizophrenia...but I leave that kind of stuff to guys with actual doctorates in psychology…" his tone was hard, "...so what's up?"
Jeanne let out a sigh, "What's up? You talk casually for someone I was going to burn…" she found that sort of confidence almost attractive in a way. "...is it unreasonable, strange master?" she darkly snickers, "I gave everything, my life, my blood and my own sanity to a God and his flock, that did nothing for me in the end."
"Oh, so you're blaming God for all your problems? Huh? That's very mature..." he scoffs, rolling his eyes.
"Heh...if it were only so simple...would you not be wrathful, angered, distraught if everything you believed in-every decision you had made-was all for not? Would you not want to let loose a little pent of aggression at the world that screwed you over?"
"Trash it up because reality was harsher than I expected" Peter listens to her words, "That'd feel good…but it wouldn't be right. I'd be giving into my id, and that goes against my whole philosophy. But you didn't answer my question? You know that history remembers you as a hero...why throw that all the way?"
"As I said, idiot-they let me die! I don't care what they did after! Using my face, my actions as a criminal before changing it into heroism! That shows how two-faced they are! How evil they truly are to their saviours-look at their original martyr? They worship the post he died on-sick isn't it? They immortalize his lowest moment as some sort of victory! Just as they do me!"
"Tch-So what? That's not everyone! Just because they're a few bad apples doesn't mean you have to burn down the whole freaking tree!" he begins to approach her, hands raised to show he had tricks up his sleeve "Tell me, was there no one who helped you, or showed you kindness before you died? I know groupthink is contagious...but it's not a rule and there's always an exception" He crosses his arms "I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt-maybe Shirou's right…" Still don't know who the other one is though "...and maybe you've been corrupted like another spirit I've met"
"...shut up!" Jeanne's pupils shrink and her features become unsure. An Englishman, with a paltry gift-he weeped for me, apoligzed...the executioner...he allowed him to give it-her head beats with pain, she lets out a hollow breath and barely has time to react to the brunette breaking into a dash and taking her by the wrists.
She feels his hot breath on her, and him hers as their eyes meet. "Gotcha!"
Her pupils shrink, features surprised as this boy restrained her "BASTARD!" something on her person glows gold.
Ah crap- he lets go of the Dragon Witch, a spear tip comes for his back, a rapier to his side. He pushes Jeanne away and leaps up and over the spearman that had come for him.
Landing behind the taller man clad in luxurious black with voluminous, Peter is given no time to rest as arrows fly forth. He bends backs, landing on all fours with his face to the sky as the tips sail past his frame.
No time to catch his breath, a tide of blood came forth to the left. He readies another leap, and spider senses warn him of another attack to the right. He is left no time, the ball of light hits from the right and sends into the tide of crimson ichor.
He gags nearly drowning as the wave sends him into the wall of a still standing structure. He slams in the base of it, pushing air from his lungs and forcing him to inhale the putrid red liquid.
The wave subsides, and Peter falls to his knees, heaving as he tries to catch his breath along with gagging at the overwhelming taste of iron in his maw. "*cough* *cough*" Danger sense flares, but he's too late as the abominable tendrils restrain his body to the ground.
His mystic code stained scarlet along with his entire body, he looks down as Jeanne bends down to look over him. She forces him to look up with his chin, he gives a rebellious look as she smiles at his misfortune. "Two-faced...you are like all the rest…" she pouts, to think I gave him the time of day!
"Would you like me to finish him off, Jeanne?" a frothy voice grey skin bug eyed man in an overbearing dark cloak. Pete makes out beside other individuals besides him standing in waiting behind the Dragon Witch. "Such a dolt deserves the cruelest of Prelati's beasts to eviscerate him for even thinking he could lay a hand on you!"
A pale woman, yellow in a guise close to a gothic dominatrix.
A chalkless skinned man, voluminous hair. Guy gave off Dracula vibes.
A fluorescently-garbed person almost like a flower. Could have been a man, could have been a woman. Peter could really not tell with the large hat wearing blonde individual.
A petite woman in a green skirt and long black boots. With yellow/lime colored long hair. As well as cat ears?
And finally, a solemn looking curvaceous woman with indigo hair. Carrying a red staff tipped with a cross and wearing something close to white nun outfit that revealed her assets.
The pale beauty purses her lips in thought, feeling the brunette's pulse though her ashened gauntlets. He's rather cute in this state...she shakes her head as the brunette's hazel eyes become feral.
The other shoe drops, the tentacles begin to strain as the strange master tries to stand. The action quick-his skull knocks into hers.
She backs away quickly, covering her face in distress. "YOU FUCKER!"
Peter's palms spark, the static moving up his forearms and shocking the living hell out the tendrils. So much so-they pop!
*splircht*
*splircht*
His arms free, he clenches the tendrils restraining his legs and pops them with the remaining static.
"I...don't...care…" he heaves "...how many bozos you bring to the party...I'm not going to let you just walk away after killing and killing just because you were hurt-you're going to be stopped!" He lets out a laugh, "So hit me with your best shot!" he raises his dukes, electricity still sparking upon them as he bares his fangs at Jeanne and her group.
"Are you suicidal, child…" the indigo haired holy woman asks under her breath. The more vicious of the group giving her irey looks.
The dominatrix laughs haughtily, as well as the dracula-lookalike. Followed by the fluorescent individual, and the bug eyed man who pulls out his book. It was a madhouse of cacophony, and it only drove the teenage vigilante's rage up.
The feline does not, as does Jeanne who frowns at him, "A fool, just as I was..." she shakes her head. "This country spat in my face, and devalued me...I was hurt, yes" she focuses, calling Fafnir to stop playing with the three unknown servants and the false her. "I was deceived by a voice in my head that left me in my time of need, and my weakness apparently still yet lived...I have no idea why I entertained your tomfoolery"
"What can I say-I'm a people person!" he quips harshly. He readies to leaps, spider senses warning him of danger beneath-but he finds himself stuck in the area he stood upon. He lets out a deep groan. Screw this magic crap!
"Well done, Gille" she compliments the bug eyed man, who swoons with her praise. She motions for her servants to be off, "Go-keep the bloodshed rolling, as long as humanity exists, their rage and their ills will forever burden us!"
The servants do as they are told, though the holy woman is hesitant for a moment. Her fair features were a mix of rage and sorrow for moments. She finally relents and follows her master's whims.
She mouths an apology to the bloodstained brunette as she begins to leave the city. This left only Jeanne and Peter. "The bounded field will last until I'm out of this village cleansed of sin-you won't be able to follow, and I can enjoy watching you simpering features cringe at my coming victory~~"
"So you're letting me live?" He wanted to say that was dumb, but he was holding his cards close to his chest now. "In that case, tell Lev, I'm assuming you know him-anyway, tell him I'm coming for his keester, and that there's a concrete cell waiting for him at the end of this!"
"A cell?" Fafnir sores overhead and lands, crushing buildings beneath his weight. He lets its head down to allow his master to mount him. "Huh, those eyes may tell one story, your strength and speed is close to a servant somehow even though you're human...but the fact that you didn't try to go for a lethal blow tells me one thing-you're not a killer!" She laughs at this revelation. "How splendid~~ How absolutely perfect, another lamb to the slaughter that believes in the righteous path!"
"Of course I'm not a killer-but you're not even alive, you're a literal magic ghost! I don't even need to hold back with you!" He shoots back, much to Jeanne's delight.
"Then why didn't you?"
This gives Peter pause for a moment. "I…"
Smiling at his reaction, the Dragon Witch begins to take her leave-"Enjoy watching France burn, strange master! Come for me if you must, but know your end will be by my blackened steel blade"
She mounts the black dragon, and his wings begin to flap. Rising into the air, Peter is left alone. Though his spider sense told him he was being watched by an enemy on the ground. This was only for a few moments, before the warning went away and Peter found himself able to move.
He didn't know exactly how to feel at the moment, "Doc, you there?" The projection of Romani appeared beside him.
"Yeah,"
'How bad was that?" he asks in a hollow voice.
"Like you said in Fuyuki, any crash you can walk away from is still a good one when you look back at it" he replies in a good humor tone that brings something close to a smile to the youth's face.
"Pretty dumb...taking her on alone…even though I'm just...human" He almost couldn't go through with the lie "...that doesn't even seem true at this point, right?"
Romani gives him an unsure look, "Human nowadays is up to interpretation, Pete...what matters is how we use what we have to do the correct thing. I'm not knocking you for trying to take out the woman with the holy grail-"
"Golden glow, yep that was a holy grail wasn't it? And I let it slip out of my hands" Peter laments.
"Yes, and it was probably really dumb to just leap at her when there's a freaking dragon in the mix. May that as it be, now you know who we're after, who's trying to burn our history this time around. Call this a loss if you want, or just call it reconnaissance. No war is won in one day, and no villainous plot in given the kibosh with a single fight"
"Yeah, you're right…" He knew that fact well, he was Spider-Man, and after all the villains he had gone against. He knew it was always darkest before the dawn. "...sounds like a comic book plot, honestly" He supposed the end of the world just made him forget that fact. I will get back home
"Or a manga plot, the key to is, well, in the words of *Magi*Mari* stay positive and keep reaching for the rainbows end!" he says in an almost dreamlike manner.
"*Magi*Mari*?" he asks,
Romani becomes sheepish, "Uh yeah, she's a pretty well known vtuber...always talking positively like she knows you're watching her and always says the right thing when you're down!" His nostrils flare in excitement, "She is the epitome of grace and wonder in this dark world of ours!" he says with vigor in his soul.
Peter holds in his laughter. "I bet she is…" lets out a heavy bit of air he didn't know he was holding until now as his nerves soften. "...I should probably make my way back to gang, not worry them-" But do I really wanna see Nameless's mug again? Hurt pride and memories of a defeat aside, he made his way back through the village. Mourning the lives of those he did not save, but vowing to make sure justice was coming to one responsible.
That was a hero's duty, even if the crime had been done and the crook got away scott fee. Clean-up was always needed, and Peter fancied himself a decent janitor. As sad as it was sometimes.
Romani slouched back in his chair, with a content sigh.
"I'm surprised you didn't let him know" he heard Da Vinci comment as she peered over him to watch the Parker Boy make his way through the now ghost town of a village.
Romani sent a careful expression, telling her to keep it vague.
She rolled her eyes, but her smile told him she would play along.
"He's a kid at the end of the day-still growing, and still learning. I'm not angry about him getting caught up in any angst...if he wasn't fretting the situation, I would think something was wrong"
The renaissance artist studies her student, "Yes, that may be so...that guilt complex of his isn't healthy...and I can already tell of the tension between him and his servants." She looked over her shoulders, only a few technicians were at their post. Some worked diligently, while others focused on other frivolities to pass the time. "I enjoy a grand debut as much as the next genius…" she whispers, "...but questions are already appearing to form. Maybe not from our staff-"
"They have seen weirder" Romani admitted
"But as you've seen, the servants are wondering how he's keeping up with them. They may not dwell on it-but they'll ask even without dwelling. Are you sure we should let this stage show go on?" The genius wasn't heartless, she was sympathetic to the boy's plights. But Mash was another factor, and his hesitance with honesty was creating friction already within the group. And she honestly did not want the girl to suffer heartbreak at the boy's own stringent ideals. He's a good one...and she doesn't deserve losing him to his own foolishness...
"Leonardo...I'm not blind, I know things aren't adding up." the fluffy haired doctor shakes his head. "But what can I do? You just can't reveal that you know a secret like that-do you know how important that is for people like him? It helps keep the world stable with a degree of separation, and who am I to take that away from him?" He inhales, and exhales "I owe guys like him a lot, they do what we can't. They are-were out there every day actually trying to help people while maguses toiled in their dark corners just thinking about themselves." A little guilt runs over him but he finishes his thought, "When the die was cast that day, it was the false gods that answered the challenge Annihilus raised, and they won…"
"Roman, you said it yourself, Peter is a kid. He's not Iron Man...he's not Captain America-"
"He's also not Mr. Fantastic!"
"And thank the Lord above for that," she says dryly, "Point still stands, we need to consider throwing out the facade-or else I think he'll be swallowed by his own lies'' He doesn't do it maliciously, but from what she gathered. It's second nature to him
The new director bit his lips, "Let's see how this singularity goes, then I'll think about"
"As you wish, Director…" she says sourly, features still picturesque as they watched Peter reach his three servants.
"MASTERI?!" Mash gasped, as the brunette sauntered over them in a casual manner. Hands in his pocket and his entire body drenched in red.
"That's a good look for you, master" snarked Nameless, who was elbowed by Amakusa
He raises his hand to greet them, "Yo!" nonchalantly, returning his hands to his pockets to meet up with the worried lavender head. "Good to see guys made it out in one pi-"
Having summoned her shield, she ran for her master and nearly tackled him. Clutching his shoulders tightly and getting his face to check on him. "WHAT HAPPENED?! ARE YOU HURT?!" she asked, voice high and rapid.
Peter diverted his eyes from her, "Got a bruise on my right shoulder from some sort energy ball-" he wrinkled his nose, "And I think I may have swallowed a lot of blood, not mine, so I may need to check if I caught anyth…" the frown on her face told the brunette she was being serious.
"What were you thinking?" she asks harshly, with a voice of worry.
Spider sense told me she was trying to make a quick getaway he knew he couldn't say that out loud, "I had a hunch, so I decided to see what Jeannie had up her sleeve if I could...I now know she has the holy grail, along with some servants following her command" he shrugs, "you know, reconnaissance" he maneuvers out of Mash's reach, though she looked as if she had more to say. "How'd it go on your end-any of you manage to knick Smaug?" he cringes at the reluctant look on his shielder's face Focus on the job Pete...you'll find some way to make it up to her later"
Nameless crosses his arms, "No-we were basically just playing cat and mouse with the damn thing...we didn't even break through its hide" the Archer explained "Maybe if our master didn't just jump headlong out of earshot, we could have used our noble phantasms...but I suppose you wanted some one on one time with her, right?"
Peter held in any bite back, this was the last thing he needed "Okay…"
The Japanese Catholic gives Peter an empathetic look, "We don't necessarily need our master to give the word on that, Nameless. We have a will of our own, even if we're contracted-you more so in your class" He blows out air, "And it wouldn't have matter, the black dragon we fought was Fafnir"
Peter queried his eyes, "Who?"
Mash jumped, "Fafnir, as in the dragon slayed by the Norse hero Sigurd in The Volsunga Saga?"
"And how would you know that, choir boy?" EMIYA asked with a critical glare of his grey eyes.
"I'm ruler, it's my role to divine legends of spirits, human or not...to answer your question, Mash-Yes...it was also slayed by the dragon-blooded knight, Siegfried in Nibelungenlied"
"How can a dragon be killed by two different guys in two different myths...wait, nevermind-it's a different retelling of the same story, right?" Peter asks, Amakusa nodding.
"Not exactly-the dragon is more a phenomenon than singular being" The pseud-priest places his hands to together, "But that is besides the point...and if I have this correctly-there could be chance that either hero has been summoned into this singularity due to their nemesis manifesting here"
"Or that means Jeanne has them in her ranks, possibly...whatever the case, I think we better gather some information. First we need to ask…" he then remembered who was missing, "...where did the other Jeanne go?"
Nameless laughs at the dumbfounded look on his face,
"Senpai, she left when the Dark Jeanne summoned Fafnir and returned with him to tell her something...she was really adamant on being alone" Mash explained, still giving him the blooddrenched boy a worried look.
His eyes widened, "And you guys didn't follow her?! Or try to say-waitaminute?! Why are there two of you?"
"We were waiting for you, master," the red bowman refuted. "A good servant doesn't leave without their master's acknowledgement"
"And I appreciate that, Andrews-"
He feels a calming hand on his shoulder, Amakusa, with a sigh says "She was shaken up after her counterpart delivered a parting message to her...she looked as she wasn't in the mood for questions"
I bet having something who looks like you, killing with your name would be pretty messed up...that if she's the real one "We should still at least follow her, even if we can't get a direct answer-we might be able to glimpse something about what's up with the Dragon Witch"
"Senpai, maybe we should get you a change of clothes...or at least a damp towel to wipe away the blood"
That would be smart, but… he remembered the faces of everyone he had lost, he remembered the proverbial tombstones, inscribed with every single one of his failures. He couldn't tell any of them this...they wouldn't understand, I have to focus on the bigger picture..."We're on a ticking clock, Mash… and we need answers, which way did she go? Or actually, Romani-can you get a beat on her?"
The Doctor gave the word, directing them towards a forest area. With that they went-
Amakusa directed his attention towards the town once known as La Charite. Clutching his cross, he knelt down, prayed and read them a last rites. "...may God welcome you to his kingdom with opens arms, amen"
"Before I was rudely interrupted, I'll repeat-it's a cruel joke you being sent here, me. But I suppose I can have some satisfaction in knowing that the last glimmer of my so-called 'hope' has been given form and will be audience to our vengeance"
"I wouldn't want this… I could never want this-until the end, I stayed true to my mast-"
"Deny it as much as you want, but I'm here because you want me to be-the part of yourself who will not tolerate the liars, the crooks and the bastards any longer. It bit us in the ass, so payback was always in order"
The black dragon hung over the poor farmgirl, the unholy woman who knew this was her blight upon the world. "What are you trying to prove… I fought to end the war that ravaged our home. We won in the end!"
The other her, in her rage-rolled her eyes. "Tsk, at the cost of our dear friend's sanity, the evil men got away without so much as a slap on the wrist-we left our brothers and sister, our mother, our father in a world without their youngest… Does that seem right to you? Our future stolen just because pigheaded dregs mislead us? We were abandoned, and the fact that I look into your poor illiterate eyes right now proves that you-we-I want this with all our soul...damn God and his sheep-it's time for us to look out for number one!"
"You don't mean that, I wouldn't mean that...it can't be all for not. I fought for the right cause, I made sure what I did was righteous. I could not have such hate in me!" she argued weakly.
"What a saint…" she snarks dryly with a shrug, "If you believe that, I welcome you to try and take me down in Orleans and prove yourself the 'real' Jeanne D'arc. Come and slay my berserk servants before they kill everyone one of these sinners...you won't, I wouldn't have gotten this far if our 'master' didn't allow it-or maybe the strange master was right, maybe something is just wrong with our head and he was never. Even. There." With this, the Dragon Witch departed, leaving Jeanne D'arc alone with the knowledge that she had caused all this suffering.
Dusk was descending, and Jeanne had dematerialized her flag after the battle with Fafnir, the talk with her other self. With a slow cantour, she moved forward through the overgrown brush of the ground and heavy shade of the treeline.
She didn't know where she was going honestly. She had been lost since she materialized in this era, her role as a ruler seeming inert, she couldn't even tell the identity of the servants she fought the side of. She was still fresh, in a word, she had opened her eyes after having the feeling of her own flesh burned. This felt like her first summoning.
She knew she was a servant, the throne had provided the bare minimum when she woke in this era where her name was feared and loathed. It wasn't so different to the day she had closed her eyes to her life. But there were no masters, except for the odd one, from what she had gathered, the other her had been running rampant for a day or two after her own execution.
She was beginning to realize how utterly foolish it had all been when faced with her own hatred. Though she did not feel that same rage as her counterpart, she could not have herself denied such insinuations from the person with her own face, her own voice.
And it made sense, what person wouldn't be angered at such a heinous fate. Because she wasn't. What is wrong with me? She wondered in a distraught manner, features on the edge. Can I really deny that part of myself-when I look it dead in the eye? How unbecoming of a saint, but she could not even begin to call herself a saint.
"Looks like you got a lot on your mind, I can't even imagine-I mean an evil twin, that's soap opera one-o-one" the voice jestful.
The blonde farmgirl nearly jumped out her skin when she looked to find the odd master beside her, walking with a casual canter and his form a pure red. Instead, her eyes widened-she looked away from him and kept walking. "Please, leave-I'll only bring you ruin…" she admitted sadly.
She was impeded by the boy, quicker than she expected. Jeanne found him standing between her and her path, arms crossed with a cocky stance. "Yeah, not gonna happen. Sorry not sorry but me and the rest of SG-1 have a few questions for you" He flings his arms back, in a quick show of precise aim or maybe it was just luck-the path before Jeanne had been impeded by what looked like a large spider's web.
He then flops against the barrier in a lazy manner like it was a hammock. He raises his index up, "Numero uno-who are you?"
Jeanne looked behind her and found the other three servants she had faced the black dragon with. Looks like I've been trapped...she clenched folded her digits into her palms, a deep shame running through her. "I am a sinner...who has done nothing but lead others to their death…"
The bloodstained brunette frowns, okay I opened up a can of worms I was not expecting. He took a breath, "Alright I probably came on a bit strong...let's break things down, Doc, can you give her the full run down?"
Jeanne was giving a full breakdown of the situation. From Lev's betrayal, Mash becoming a demi-servant, fighting King Arthur to the Chaldea's own fate if it ever caught up to the original timeline.
They had found that Jeanne was a ruler class servant and pretty fresh off the boat seemingly when it came to being a servant.
"Pretty much the long and short of it," Peter said, his face back to its normal shade after Mash talked him into finally cleaning at least his face.
"Mykyuu fou!" the fluffball agreed, seemingly appearing from nowhere at some point during the breakdown.
Where the fuck did you come from? Peter asked inwardly, beginning to just accept the little beasty was some sort of ninja.
"That's a lot to take in, especially hearing it from someone with his head in the clouds…" Jeanne cupped her chin as Romani back in Chaldea, silently drooped his head in despair, "...but I don't see how I can help you, a sinner such as myself who pretended to hold herself up as a humble servant of God" She shakes her head, "I would only cause more pain..."
Peter looks to Amakusa who gives an encouraging nod of his head before speaking, "Would you though, I mean you didn't pillage an entire town because you got the raw end of a deal-you helped us fight Fafnir. If you actually believed you were that bad, you wouldn't have stood against the Dragon Witch"
"Only because I wanted to confirm her identity and I came to realize...that sinister witch was some dark part of me that wasn't content with how our life ended"
"In essence, she's your id?" Mash asks. The little fluffer leaps on her shoulder to rest.
"Kyuu kyuu…" he yawned and took a nap on the lavender head's armored body.
"Id?" The saint asked with clear puzzlement.
Nameless, who had been silent up to this point, explained "What a person is when they lose all their inhibitions and allows all their negative aspects take over"
Peter lets a chuckle, "Didn't know the throne gave you info on Sigmund Freud, Andrews...or maybe that's a hint about who you really are? Did Friedrich Nietzsche enjoy archery in his spare time?" he jabbed.
"Nietzsche wasn't all doom and gloom, master...he had his more hopeful ideas."
"Nazis...that is my rebuttal to that statement"
The archer rolls his eyes, Jeanne laughing at their little feud. Much to both individuals' embarrassment. "...I guess you could consider her my id...who am I to really deny it. Or maybe I'm the fake and she's the real one"
With a considerate look, the japanese catholice took her hand "I don't believe that's true. If you were ever like that...they wouldn't praise your name in the present, you wouldn't be hailed as the Holy Maiden Saviour, you wouldn't be the ideal good men and women look up when a just cause is fought for"
Jeanne was taken aback by the kind priest's words "You talk as if you know me, mister…"
"Amakusa Shirou Tokisada, I'm but a simple servant of the Lord, and now to my master, Peter Parker, who came after your actions changed this country for the better. I've never met you…" In reality, our paths have crossed twice-as enemies, and as allies "...but does one need to have known you to tell your character? If your actions today are anything, you didn't turn and run when confronted with overwhelming odds."
"He's right, Ms. D'arc. What you did in life made France one of the stepping stones to a more egalitarian world for all" Mash added. "And without it, civilization would have stagnated or not have even gotten past the medieval era...at least that's what some historians have said" The lavender head said in a shy manner.
"Maybe so…" With a sad quiver of her lips, she turns away from them and towards the web. "...but I am no holy saviour, in the end...I was a simple farmgirl who thought she was doing the right thing"
Peter stops himself from rolling his eyes, "You've said that already-I'm not going to pretend to understand how there's two contrasting versions of you-my heads already being thrown through a loop because of that-but you can't just let a lookalike, or hell, rumors constrain you from doing anything worth a dime or a nickel…" Because I sure didn't
"Dime and nickel?"
"Point is, if you let everyone control the story you'll just be trapped by it. I honestly don't care if you're a saint, and I'm willing to admit my original idea of who you were was wrong. All I care about at the end is saving people, and making sure lives that were lost weren't in vain…" he lets out a sigh, "...but it's your choice, I'm not going to force you to help us. You've technically already have, you given us at least an idea about who we're trying to take down-more so than my little fight with her"
"Master, how'd that go by the way?" Nameless asks with a smirk, "I can't imagine it was easy for a normal human to take on a servant"
Peter groans, "Poorly, thank you-Jeannie, she's a rather surly lass" the brunette takes reign of the web and tears it apart with a swift pull "May need to come up with new nickname...I'll workshop it later" He motions for the farmgirl to keep walking if she wants "Thanks for the help, and if you change your mind-you're always welcome to help us out"
"...you wouldn't feel reluctant, if every negative trait you had was laid before you?" she asked the teen. "And it told you, that everything that you were in life, was false?"
Peter purses his lips, "I...I don't really have a choice. Even if I came face to face with my own demons, and it told me I was dirt, crap that every one of my wins just perpetuated evil at the end of the day. It would betray my promise to a good man who's long gone now...and I'd rather get kicked in the teeth a thousand times over by some self-righteous jackass like Baron Zemo than ever relent and let evil prosper" he sighs, "I already failed to stop the guy who caused this whole mess in the first place, before the bomb even went off, and I'm sure as hell not going to let him get away with it"
"Peter, what are you talking about? The Doctor said what Lev did was unforeseen-how could you have stopped him?" Amakusa asked.
Peter clenched his fists, ashamed of his own untruth-but this was the way the job was done. It saved everybody drama and trauma of who he was. "..." he didn't have a lie to back himself up with.
"Sounds a tad vindictive for a hero?" EMIYA commented "And what if you fail doing that?" he asked hashly.
"Better to die trying than to have never tried at all…because that's the option left...every shot you don't take is a miss...and I've made a lot of misses in my life" he admitted sorrowfully.
Mash came to his side and took his hand. He strained for a minute, but accepted it. The look she gave him...it was one that Mary Jane gave him every time it seemed like it was too much. That worrisome glower that said to stop being an idiot and just talk it out. "We need to talk later, please don't run this time…" she pleaded to him, her voice nice as its softness hit his ear.
Her amethyst eyes stared into his hazel, what she saw-was one so young, yet burdened by the weight of the world and all its sins. She understood the boy in a way. His eyes had some innocence left...but it was corroded by conflict after conflict. They were resolute yet hesitant to situations not of battle. Tactical and resilient when the situation was dire. He had the eyes of a martyr and maybe the soul of it. Ever so much like she was and is "The other me told me to meet her in Orleans if I was being honest with myself...I'd be glad to accompany you and see if there's truth in what she says...and if it is true...please take both me and her down so that we may never cause harm again"
"..." Peter nods. "...thanks"
"In essence, do you accept a sinner like me as your servant, master?"
"The more the merrier in my book"
"Then I believe the contract is made, thank you" She bows in a pious manner "But I believe it's my turn, if it's not a bother, to ask you some ques-" cries of wyverns overhead gave the group word-that chaos was still unfolding.
The apocryphal saint gave the groups exact thought on the subject "*sigh* no rest for the wicked it seems"
As night descended and the light of the sun disappeared, the five made their way through the forest's deep to find a village already burning as a pack of wyverns wreaked havoc upon it.
The screams of the innocent sound out, intermixed with the roaring of the draconic subspecies. "Sensors say there's a servant or two within the city-and possibly more coming!"
"In that case…" the brunette scratches his chin, "...you guys handle the flying lizards and the servants-I'll see about getting the survivors out in one piece!"
"Oh-you're not going to try and fist fight a servant again? I'm shocked, master!"
'Then why didn't you?' The other Jeanne's words echoed in his mind, "I know my limits, Andrews." He looks to the village, "Mash...can you stick with me and see about getting the people out?"
Mash nods in a dutiful manner, "Roger, master!"
"Well, alright then-" he breaks into a sprint faster than a normal man, "-last one there's a rotten egg!" with Mash keeping pace with him.
Jeanne looks at Amakusa and Nameless-"Is he perhaps a demi-servant like Mash?" she asked.
"I don't know...there hasn't been necessarily a moment to ask him...maybe"
EMIYA shakes his head, "Boy aren't you in for surprise..." the red bowman said under his breath as he began to tail the teens.
He's definitely hiding something the japanese catholic thought, "We better make haste, after you, Saint of the Flag…" he gestures
"Thank you, but I am still a long way from considering myself a saint"
"Well, you're humble-that's saintly enough for me" They followed suit as another battle in 15th Century France began.
The Knight had come to the village before the dark of night had shoved light out of the sky all the way.
He had seen the show of force in the sky, him and the boy, as whoever terrorized these lands unleashed the full might of evil dragons. Though they fortunately paid little mind to them as they made their way west.
At first, the village people were suspicious. A strange knight seemingly made of darkness with an unconscious maiden in hand. They thought maybe he was some agent of the Dragon Witch (whatever that was), come to make pretend before slaughtering them all.
He was lucky that the boy vouched for him, enough for the more paranoid of the them to put their guards down for the time being.
They gave room to the boy and his mother, the local doctor looking over her and assuaging any worries the boy had-something the knight had not been able to do.
When he had attempted to leave, the boy begged and pleaded for him to stay and protect him still. The knight could not, his duty was to find the Sorcerer's Apprentice to make sure he came out of this grail war unscathed.
He was unfortunate in the fact the boy had told the adults of the town that he alone had taken out one of the Dragon Witch's foul reptile servants. And after the sky had been filled with their ilk, they were scared that they were in line for an attack.
Fear and paranoia. Those two traits that had stayed consistent with all living things in existence, not just humanity as the Knight had eventually learned. To put their minds at ease, he had agreed through calligraphy to stay for one night-if a dragon came before he left at dawn. He'd kill it and make a big show of it so that anyone with ill intentions that came across the village would know to stay away.
The night to come was quiet-barely a bump in it.
In a room granted to him, the knight ate in silence, along without his crimson helmet. The food was basic, some bread and fish. But it would do. He didn't even know if he needed food as a heroic spirit-but he figured it was unbecoming of a knight to turn down an offering of food.
In his life, he passed the time playing jester for the townsfolk. A terrific subterfuge to distract from the butcher he would become. This allowed him time to woo his great love, Lady Rosamund...
He sheathed the blade in its scabbard and sat on the bed provided to him. He didn't feel the need to sleep-so instead he remembered bits and pieces of all lives lived. His victories, his failures and every one of his deaths. He remembered embracing his love, ehe gave him hell when she realized his secret. He remembered raising his two sons to wield blade, teaching them a code that he hoped would keep them away from the role had been damned with.
That failed...it always fails for me-
Reflection was broken for the knight. Rising suddenly from the bed, he clutched his emblazoned shield and pulled forth his blade.
Exiting his room, the owner of the house he stayed in looked at him. "Something the matter, Sir Chevalier? Are we under attack?"
The knight turned to the occupant, placing his index where his mouth would be under the helmet-he told the villager to stay quiet.
She nodded as the knight vacated the house.
Upon a dirt road, the knight cautiously observed his surroundings. Most if not all of the villagers had turned in for the night and the area around him was clear enough under the moonlight.
It took long for the knight to find what had caused him to rise from his thoughts. At the entrance of the village stood a figure, shorter than him, swung their blade hard and fast.
A wave of dark power came at him, destroying the ground it crossed in savage manner-the knight reacted fast.
The dark maelstrom met his crimson shield, his heels dug into the ground as his body was pushed six feet back.
This power dispersed seconds after, the knight moved his shield to see where his foe was only for his instinct to act fast as his blade crossed the blackened blade of the foe.
Sparks flew as the knight and foe found themselves at a standstill. He was taken back a moment as, even with the vagueness of night, his foe was one he had known, her blade that of legend-but she and it were off, altered.
Her pale lips smirked at the reaction of his eyes. "Surprised?"
"..."
The deadlock broken, they moved fast-onlookers who had heard the commotion could not even keep up.
Clanging blades and sparks popping and flashing in the air from said strikes of each respective sword.
When each combatant was viewable, they were gone before their features could be grasped.
One final clash resonated through the air, and both the knight and his foe slid on their heels away from opposite sides.
The onlookers held their breath as they faced off.
"..." the skirmish confirmed it for him. This woman before him, it couldn't have been anyone else.
With a gadfly expression, the yellow-eyed king rested the darkened sword of promised victory on her shoulder. "Quieter than I remember you...and your fighting prowess had advanced since you lived-even when we lived, I always beat you when we sparred..." she said sterilly, like there was no joy to be found.
"..." what was wrong with her? She didn't have such a cold persona in her time, no she was always distant. But this was a step beyond. A terrible thought began dredge up his skull. No..nononono-
The king of knights let out a chuckle, "Nevermind memories of my old foolish mindset…" pointing her blade at him "...kneel and listen,"
The knight brought his shield close and longsword ready to defend himself.
Smiling cruelly, she swings excalibur sideways-towards onlookers-
"..." quick the call, he jumps in the way of the dark wave of power. Taking the brunt of it with his shield and his armor.
Knees buckling for a moment, the villagers scattered. He heard her metal boots approaching him. Choking the pain down with sheer will, he stands to meet the tyrant king's challenge. His chalkless attire pulsate a moment, his true form materializing from the expulsion of energy then returning to shadow
He found his skull to the tip of her blade. This did not deter his resistance. He was a knight-no, he was a hero. And would not let this corruption take him down. But its always your fate to fall to corruption...
Artoria shake her head at his resistance, "I'm not looking to kill you, or these people...so calm your silly chivalric ideals for a moment and listen to a king you gave fealty to at one point" she gives him a trollish glare "Or will you be like all my other knights? Who betrayed me, failed me, brought me down with their own weakness at the end of the day?"
"..."
"I'm in search of my master...help me, and I won't reign terror upon this land and its people. You may be able to keep up with me-but I will beat you eventually...the choice is yours…"
He couldn't let her have the satisfaction, but he knew even with all the lifetimes of battle. Even if the blade was complete in its power, he could never hold a candle to Artoria Pendragon. He could hold out, but eventually she would win the war of attrition "..." he rests his blade, and kneels before his cousin, the King of Camelot.
"That's more like it" She turned away from him and dematerialized her legendary blade "Then let us be off…"
The Knight was beginning to realize helping the Sorcerer's Apprentice, just getting to him, was going to be a greater hassle than he thought.
"..."